Mosquitoes on the Amazon
The Amazon, 1669. Nobody in the canoe could sleep.1
Father João Filipe Bettendorff, a Jesuit from Luxembourg, ran his order's mission, and he had come to visit the Tupinambaranas on their point of high ground above the river.1, 2 After a long day of baptisms and weddings, he had the big canoe taken out to the middle of the calm river. At nightfall the priests climbed in, hoping the mosquitoes would not follow. They followed. Not a priest, not even an Indian, could close an eye.1
So he told Tomás, an Indian trumpeter in the party, to play towards a hill with an echo, to get them through the night. In the dark the village looked like a blazing fire, and by dawn it was bigger still, loud with crying children. In the morning they learned why from Manuel Coelho, a settler travelling with them on business. The villagers had lit fires under their hammocks against the mosquitoes, and the crying came from children tormented by the bites.1
At Mass the villagers asked Bettendorff to excommunicate the mosquitoes. He told them it would not work. The mosquitoes were in their own land and cared nothing for excommunication, so the people should move instead. They did, a day's journey inland to a lake.1, 3
Bettendorff turned back there, because in those years only missionaries marching with soldiers went further.1 Upriver lived the Andirazes. Twenty-nine years later, writing his chronicle of the mission in 1698, he set down their treasure.3
They have in their forests, he wrote, a little fruit they call guaraná. They dry it, pound it and shape it into balls, "which they value as the whites value their gold". Grated with a little stone into a gourd of water, it gives such strength that hunters go from one day to the next without hunger. It also makes you pass water, and takes away fevers, headaches and cramps.3
Then the old Jesuit gave his own verdict. "Its power to make you pass water I can vouch for. Of the rest I know nothing for certain, except what I commonly hear."3
The boy's two eyes
Guaraná is a climbing vine, first tamed in the forests between the lower Tapajós and the lower Madeira, south of the Amazon. When the fruit ripens, its red skin splits and white flesh opens around a black seed. Each one looks like a human eye.4
Bettendorff's Andirazes were ancestors of the people now called the Sateré-Mawé, who still live between those rivers and still grow it.4, 5 They call it waraná. One of their clans is named after it, and in their stories the guaraná was their first chief. To the Portuguese they were the Maués or the Magués.5
In 1978 Colombo, son of the old chief Manoelzinho of Nova Esperança on the Marau river, told how it began. A boy had been killed by his uncles. His mother was Uniawasap, mistress of Nusoken, the paradise, and she tended his body and called to him. "Hey, my son, look here!" When he looked, she took out his left eye, and that became guaranarana, the false guaraná. She called again, took his right eye and planted it. From it grew the true guaraná.5
"You were dead, my son," she said, "but now you are in the guaraná." In Colombo's telling the women sit grating it, everyone drinks from the big gourd, and then they all go to work. "For everything they will need you," the mother told her son, "to hunt, to work, to heal, to drink again."5
That drink is çapó, the stick grated into water. It is an everyday drink, a ritual one and a sacred one, drunk in great quantities, and a chief offers it to every guest.5
The bishop's headache
The bishop of Grão-Pará was a Benedictine monk called Dom João de São José. At one in the morning on 10 November 1762 he left Belém to tour the backlands of his diocese. On 5 December he put in at Santarém, at the mouth of the Tapajós, and the fort fired a salute.6
One afternoon there, worn down by a pressing headache and the great heat, he took the advice of old hands and drank guaraná. It "certainly relieved us a great deal," he wrote.6
The bishop also noted that in larger amounts it took away sleep and stood in for it, and killed hunger, sustaining like chocolate, only better. It should be a medicine, not a treat, as people now took it, because too much brought on dizziness.6 For the Magué nation it was the most precious provision before a battle, and they used its seeds as money. People credited it with so much that the only thing nobody prescribed it for was sudden death, "a sign that it has many devotees".6
The bishop was a hard judge of the Indians around him. In the same pages he complains that Santarém's Indian women went into the river naked in front of his windows. Back in Belém, stopping it had meant arresting sixty or seventy of them.6 He called the Magués traitors. They had killed João Portes, a man from São Paulo, and Bernardino Monteiro, the director of Pinhel, after promising to come down with them to be taught the faith. Many Magués had been brought down to Pinhel, and some to Santarém. That year five families fled Santarém for the forest, and forty people fled Pinhel.6
A judge on the Madeira
Twelve years later a crown judge came through. Francisco Xavier Ribeiro de Sampaio was chief magistrate of the captaincy of Rio Negro, and he travelled in a canoe with eight rowers a side.7 On 25 September 1774, rowing up the Madeira, he noted the channel just upstream where the Abacaxis, Canumá and Maués rivers flow out. The fiercest nations of wild Indians lived there, he wrote.7
The Maués were famous for making the celebrated drink guaraná, "very cooling", and already used in Europe. They roasted the fruit, pounded it into loaves and dried the loaves in smoke. Drinkers grated a loaf with the bony tongue of the pirarucu, one of the Amazon's biggest fish, and stirred the powder into water.4, 7
It was an approved remedy for mild diarrhoea, headaches and urinary troubles. Heavy use upset some stomachs and caused sleeplessness "and, they say, impotence".7 Pará drank it anyway. Many people took it at any hour, without sugar like the Indians, though it was quite bitter.7
Sampaio called the Maués brave, but trade with them was now forbidden. In 1769 Governor Fernando da Costa de Ataíde Teive had banned it, citing their bad faith and the killing of some of the men who ran it.7
A parcel from Rio
In 1817 a parcel from Rio de Janeiro reached the Paris pharmacist Charles-Louis Cadet de Gassicourt. A French officer who had followed his ambassador to the court of Brazil had sent him two local remedies.8
The second was a half-sphere, dark red, marbled inside like a gum resin and smelling faintly rank. Its label read "Piece of guarana. Indian remedy, highly esteemed for dysenteries, retention of urine, etc."8 Cadet tested it and still could not say what plant it came from. Naturalists gave the name to a kind of curlew and to a small songbird, he wrote, "but no plant has yet been called guarana by the botanists".8
Botany caught up in two steps. In 1821 Carl Sigismund Kunth was working through the plants Alexander von Humboldt and Aimé Bonpland had brought back. He named a climbing Paullinia from the Orinoco cupana, after the local people's word.9 In 1826 the Bavarian botanist Carl von Martius identified the Amazon plant. He named it Paullinia sorbilis, the drinkable paullinia, which botanists now count a variety of Kunth's cupana.5, 10
Martius's younger brother Theodor, an apothecary in Erlangen, analysed the paste and drew out crystals. He called them guaranine.10, 11, 12
Nothing other than caffeine
In 1840 two Paris pharmacists, Berthemot and Dechastelus, got hold of a good quantity of guaraná. They set out to make guaranine again, to learn what it really was.12 They steeped the powder, changing the water every few hours so that it would not turn mouldy and ferment, and coaxed crystals from the extracts.12
The crystals had the same look, the same shape, the same taste, the same solubility and the same reactions as caffeine. Burned and weighed in the laboratory of the chemist Pelouze, they had the same make-up too. Martius's guaranine, they concluded, "is nothing other than caffeine".12
Caffeine had been found in coffee, then in tea, and now in a third plant family. "We take nothing from the merit of Martius's work," they wrote, "but we simplify science by uniting two identical substances."12
The tribe that wasn't there
The same issue of the journal carried a paper on guaraná by the Paris pharmacist and naturalist Julien-Joseph Virey. Its name, he declared, belonged not to the plant but to the people who made it, the Guaraní tribes between the Paraná and Uruguay rivers. He blamed a diet of manioc, yams and maize for leaving them weak, pale and listless, easy for the Jesuits to subdue, and so in need of a tonic.10
On the next page Virey wrote that the people who made most of it were the Maués, near Topinambarana on the Amazon.10 The Guaraní stayed in the story anyway. They went into the 1911 Encyclopaedia Britannica, "so called from the Guaranis", into American pharmacy books, and onto health sites today.13, 14, 15
Virey's own geography sinks the claim. He put the Guaraní between 27 and 30 degrees south, more than 2,000 kilometres south of the Maués.10 And 142 years before him, Bettendorff had written that the Andirazes called their fruit guaraná.3 The Sateré-Mawé say waraná is the plant's first name, and guaraná the Portuguese word made from it.16
Two smaller slips travel with the big one. Some histories, including one from Brazil's farm research agency, date Bettendorff's account to 1669, the year of the mosquitoes. He wrote it in 1698.3, 17 And in 2003 a food-industry magazine found manufacturers still saying guaranine was like caffeine but not the same, 163 years after Berthemot and Dechastelus.18
Washing the bread
Over the centuries slavers, militias and missionaries preyed on the Sateré-Mawé, and traders cheated them, swapping overvalued goods for their guaraná.19 In 1981 and 1982 the French state oil company Elf-Aquitaine cut 344 kilometres of trails and 82 clearings through their forest. Four Indigenous people died of poisoning. The Sateré-Mawé took Elf and the Brazilian oil company Petrobras to court, with their lawyer, Dalmo Dallari, and won. In 1986 Brazil confirmed their land, the Andirá-Marau Indigenous Land, at 788,528 hectares.5
On 20 October 2020 Brazil's industrial property office granted their waraná a protected designation of origin, for the native guaraná and for the smoked sticks they call bread.20
Their rules for making it read like a rite. The master baker shapes the paste into a stick by hand, leaving no hollow inside. Then his wife washes the bread in a gourd for ten minutes, the way a newborn is washed, and everyone present drinks the water. It is always done in public, so that everyone can keep a check on the baker. The bread then sits in the smoke of muruci and araçá wood for three months, raised higher each month.16
A good stick, the rules add, is black and shiny, rings when struck and breaks with a single blow.20 In the twentieth century Brazil also turned guaraná into a soda and a national icon.19 What modern trials found is in the Research tab.
In 1698 Bettendorff wrote that the Andirazes grated their guaraná with a little stone into a gourd of water. Their descendants' rules taste the bread the same way, grated on a stone. It has to be basalt.3, 20