On a Mission

'Do not sniff' would be a wise turn of phrase to add to my flailing Spanish lexicon, I thought as I sheepisly handed in my dirty washing in at the lavandaria. I pay the pound twenty to breath life back to my dusty combats and mission into town to raise supplies for tomorrow's 0630 bus trip to the Jesuit Ruins of San Ignacio. Lemon biscuits, chocolate milk and pizza doritos - a nutritious breakfast for one - and a litre and a half of Chablis for tonight. Good call. I love this place.

After an evening of wine, queso pasta, tall traveler tales and many games of Table Tennis (where I more than admirably represent England, defeating Sweden and Israel, but being destroyed by Holland) I hit the hay. I spend a few hours turning my immaculately laid bed into a ball of sheets at the foot of my bed and before I know it I am up again, quietly packing away my bundle of clean laundry joy.

After toweling down with my bedsheet (no-one likes to pack a wet towel) I realise I itch all over. A squadron of bed bugs and Mozzies must be kicking back nearby, feet up & bellies full, celebrating a successful mission. Packed up, I pass the respective hobos en route to the Terminal De Omnibus and watch the night fade and full moon sink beneath broken teal clouds. The last thing I desire at 6am is biscuits, chocolate or crisps. Perhaps not such a good call.

After a 4 hour, 4 sterling bus journey, I'm chucked off on the side of an earthy road in San Ignacio, still in the Missiones Province. The driver points down a long dusty street, says 'San Ignacio, chao!' and tears off in a dusty cloud. Rather bemused I stroll on, 18kgs on my back, 8 on my front, through the red dirt and baking midday sun in search of 'Libre dormis'. After a good few circles and laps I find a place with dorms, by total coincidence, bang in front of the ruins. Lady luck, you treat me real good.

So, a bit of (in my opinion) fascinating history... THE JESUITS: COLONISTS WITH A CONSCIENCE!

Back along, in 1607, the Priests of The Society of Jesus pulled into South America on a mission to evangelise to the native Guarani Indian tribes. They'd had a word with the King of Spain and were granted a chunky region of northern Argentina, Brazil, Bolivia & Paraguay in exchange for regular tributes. They proved rather successful in colonising the area, creating over 30 intricately carved red-stone cities containing up to 5000 indians in each. In a massive contrast to the Spanish / Portuguese 'slave and pillage' colonial managerial style, they adopted a more paternalistic, benevolent governmental method. The Jesuits brought 'civilisation' to the jungle tribes, with stone houses and education for all as well as protection from marauding slave hunters.

Male and female Indians were given defined roles to do during a short working day. Women made food, art and clothes. Men learned carpentry, bookmaking and leather tanning. All received spiritual instruction, education and were allowed to embark on commercial endeavors. The promising even received a classical education. All this in exchange for manual labour and half-baked Catholic devotion.

After a short time the natives became a literate tribe with a defined European influenced architectural style (known as Guarani-Baroque). The sympathetic Jesuits both learned from and used the Guarani and became rich and powerful, with control and trade throughout a large area of Northern South America. Mission complexes followed a set layout, with a large main square, a massive central church, ornate living quarters, hospitals, schools and homes for the widowed. The became larger, more powerful and more fanciful, with an army of Indians to boot. So all of a sudden the Spanish Crown sat up and looked over with a furrowed brow. Hmmm, they thought, 'Not sure about this shit...'

So in 1767, 160 years after their arrival, the Spanish Crown 'expelled' the Jesuits. As though they'd lit a paper aeroplane and thrown it at the teacher.

Expelled meant sending their armies in to kill anything Jesuit and Indian. It seems the Jesuits (used to the odd scuffle from marauders and angry cannibalistic Tribesfolk not down with 'civilisation') and the fierce Guarani warriors put up a reasonably admirable fight. But the Spanish had swords, guns and big cannons. Quite the match for bows and arrows. Even Legolas would've struggled.

Hence the ruins.

Some Jesuits escaped to the North and hid in Brazil, and while Jesuits still fully exist today, that was the end of the Jesuit missions. While the Spanish Crown was making plenty of cash from the creative Jesuits, they feared the power they'd accrued through humanitarian and sympathetic means. Apart from the national tithes, they didn't appear to take from the country for The Crown, they built cities for the Lord and the Indians. Who knows if the Priests became corrupted and lavishly rich, but the stories speak of fatherly Priests who built fantastic churches in celebration of Catholicism. They were one of the only colonists I've heard of who didn't take natural resources and slaves, and actually learned from the locals, integrating their native language and skills into the colonisation.

Crazy stuff eh?

That evening after San Ignacio, watching an amazing stormy sunset over the ruins chewing on dry lemon biscuits from my empty dorm balcony, I reflected on the madness of history and power. I just wish the Spanish didn't have cannons. Cos while attractively overgrown, the ruins are in pretty bad shape. I suppose to stop escapees returning. But strolling around the San Ignacio ruins in Argentina, and the Paraguian ruins of Jesus and Trinidad, I got the same feeling as wandering round Kirkstall or Bolton Abbey in England, and felt an urge to write a strongly worded letter...

”Dear Henry the 8th and the Spanish Crown. Ok, you're pissed off cos they're the 'wrong' religion or they've gotten legitimately powerful, but if you're gonna engage in a spot of genocide please leave their awesome buildings in good nick for me to look at in 400 years. May I suggest keeping the buildings as they were, but turn them into a supermarket or knocking shop or summut, to rub it in. Just don't reduce them to rubble. Otherwise I'll have to employ my imagination in years to come, and that ain't what it was. You see we in the future don't need imaginations when we 'grow up'. Cheers dudes. Barnaby Aldrick, aged 27.”

For more information on the Jesuit story, consult the excellent movie 'The Mission' staring Robert Denero & Liam Neeson as Jesuit Priests, missioning round the Igassu Falls. Not only is it a great watch, but it also has a badass soundtrack.

Adios amigos,


Barns
Beard: Apart from on large baldy patche, beneath my chin is passably beard-like. The rest is still rubbish.