Santo Cerro

My study abroad program, being, perhaps, the best study abroad program in the history of study abroad programs, takes us on an extraordinary amount of field trips.  Partially, this is because travel is easier in the Dominican Republic than, say, Spain, so our tuition stretches farther, and partially, this is because our program directors like having an excuse to visit beautiful beaches and interesting historical sites, so they just arrange more excursions than the directors of, well, pretty much any other CIEE program.  These are a bit delayed as I am just now getting my pictures in order, but here is the first of several posts about the trips we've taken in the past month and a half...So, without further ado, I present our visit to the Santo Cerro (aka, the Holy Hill).

This hill, located about 30 minutes southeast of Santiago, was the site of the first large-scale battle between Europeans and American Indians.  Now, it houses the main street of a small town just a little way off the main highway connecting the country's major cities.  Most of the street looks like pretty much any other road in a small Dominican town - full of tiny, slightly run-down general stores, cafeterias, and houses, all with groups of people sitting around and shooting the breeze in front of them.  At the very end of the street, though, there is a pretty pastel church with a breathtaking view of the tree-covered slope of the hill and the gigantic green valley below.

Back in March 1495, the churchyard was the site of a newly-built Spanish fortress, and the valley was the site of the first major battle between American Indians and Europeans.  By that time, the Spaniards had explored a good deal of the island and were beginning to really anger the local people.  Not only were they making excessive demands for gold and food and causing a lot of trouble with the local women, but recently they'd made a few other especially pushy moves.

Columbus had, for example, tricked the Taíno chief who had killed the original 39 men he'd left on the island (see a few posts back) by telling him he wanted to negociate a truce, but actually handcuffing him and throwing him into jail until he could be brought to Spain for trial.  One of the Spanish generals had ordered his men to cut off the ears of a Taíno nobleman they'd accused of stealing their food.  This angered the Taínos a lot as, in the first place, the general had no authority in their eyes to punish anyone and, in the second place, they lived in a society where villages kept and shared all of their food in common, so they didn't understand what the man had supposedly done wrong.  Not to mention the fact that, you know, different groups of Spaniards had stolen plenty of food from various Taíno villages over the past few years.

After a while, though, things got so heated that Columbus decided he needed to show the Taínos who was boss.  He ordered a palisade to be built on the top of a hill overlooking a huge valley, close to one of the biggest and most rebellious Taíno towns.  Soon, both sides gathered for battle - about 220 Spaniards and 1,000 of their indigenous allies on top of the hill, about 30,000 of their indigenous enemies on the bottom of the hill.  The armored Spaniards, with their metal swords, crossbows, and hand cannons, believed that they were in decent shape against the naked Taíno's wooden lances and arrows with bone tips.  In reality, though, they were hopelessly outnumbered.  By the end of the day, the Taínos had beaten the Spanish all the way back up the hill and invaded their palisade.

Supposedly, the Taínos then tried three times to destroy the cross that the Spaniards had built inside their fortress - by burning it, pulling it down, and chopping it up - but were unable to hurt it.  Lynne, our program director and expert in this type of history, suspects something like that may have happened because the cross was made out of a live, green tree, not a piece of dead wood.  In any case, in the church where the palisade was, there is now a sign marking the spot where the cross had been.  Personally, I thought it was a bit creepy - I can't really imagine God being on the Spaniard's side that day, and it was weird to see a description of the battle that depicted it as deserved victory for the Europeans.  Kind of like the huge lighthouse built to honor Columbus near Santo Domingo.  Interesting public history choices.

In any case, though, eventually the Taínos left and the Spaniards were able to get back into their fortress, where they prayed for protection and prepared for the next day in battle.  At this point, all of their Taíno allies had been killed or left them, so they were alone - 200 of them against thousands of Taínos.  The next morning, they woke up, expecting another ferocious day in battle, looked out across the valley...and saw grass, trees, and nothing else.  Not a single Taíno had showed up to do battle.  The Spaniards thought it was a miracle.  They celebrated their win, they prayed in thanksgiving, they eventually went back to their settlements to continue their conquest. 

Where had the Taínos gone?  Home.  The Taínos rarely did battle and, when they did, they tried to avoid a lot of bloodshed.  They'd fight until one side clearly had the upper hand, then leave it at that.  The winners would get their way in the dispute, and the next day everyone would be back home with their families, going about their normal business.  So after the Taínos had backed their enemies all the way up the hill, they figured they'd won, so they left, assuming the Spanish would pack up their things and head back from whence they came.

Of course, as neither side thought it had been defeated, it wasn't long before they started fighting again.  But that is the story of the first big battle between Europeans and American Indians, in which both parties walked away thinking they'd won.