Movie Makers (Jan-Dec 1952)

148 JUNGLE JACK REPORTING I HAVE just returned from a jungle Indian hunt down here in Ecuador. South America, a country where I have made my home for the past twelve years. Shooting savage or semi-savage aborigines has long been a hobby of mine — but with a camera rather than a gun. During late June last year I filmed the Andean Otavalo Quichuas in their annual fiesta to Inti, the sun god, and now I have put the strange Colorados, or self-styled "Tchachillas" on 16mm. film. These latter Indians, denizens of the lush rain forest, paint their bodies and even their hair a brilliant scarlet with the seed dye of the achiote plant. Pictured against the backdrop of jungle greens, they make a startling and vital subject on color film. Long tropical residence and frequent contact with Indian tribes in South America have given me, perhaps, something of an insight into the character of these jungle and mountain folk. If you are coming down this way, my findings may prove of interest and value to you. First of all, ingratiate yourself. Be a good fellow. Don't march in to an Indian village, set up your tripod and camera and start firing away without so much as a "byyour-leave." You wouldn't relish an utter stranger barging up to your front door with a superior attitude, unlimbering a strange apparatus and poking it at your nose. Well, the Indians don't either. So take it easy. Leave the camera and tripod in their cases. Walk about. Show an interest in what's going on. Pass around your smokes; smile, drag out a bag of candy for the little ones, and get acquainted! Once you are established as a friend, it's time to talk about picture taking. Since you're after something from the Indians (pictures), it is only fair that you should give something in return. But what you give and, more important, how you give it, will determine the amount of film you will be allowed to shoot, and how good your pictures will turn out. So give, but don't bargain. The fellow JOHN M. SHEPPARD, ACL who flashes a bank-roll and then offers to buy his pictures may get them all right; but it's six, two and even that they'll be posed, stilted and harsh. The Indians will wear their fixed tourist smile which does little to conceal their "get-it-over-with" attitude. And trying the oftenadvised telephoto lens at long distance is just another way of stealing your shots. When you point your camera at an Indian, don't think that because you have moved back several yards he is fooled. If a man points a pistol at your head from six feet, or a heavy-calibered rifle at you from a hundred, it's the same thing, isn't it? And so it is with your camera. Actually, five-grain tablets of bisulphate quinine have brought me more good pictures than dollar bills, and with far greater enthusiasm. If you're in the jungles you can be sure of two things: first, some of the Indians will have malaria. Second, some of them are sure to be suffering from dysentery. In South America, the Jefe or chief, and the Brujo or medicine man of practically every tribe can be depended upon to speak some Spanish, or in Brazil, Portuguese. Probably thirty percent or more of the men (but not the women) also will understand a smattering of Spanish. And you don't have to be a linguist to learn that paludismo means malaria, and disenteria means dysentery. So get hold of the Jefe or the Brujo and, repeating the ailment for which it is intended, present him with a box of quinine or atabrin tablets for malaria, of carbontren for dysentery. This gesture can be an easy open-sesame for you. Some tribes down here such as the Aushires, more commonly known as "Aucas," must be carefully avoided. These untamed savages kill on sight; and there is no such thing as friendly overtures as far as they and certain kindred tribes are concerned. But I have worked with the Jivaro head hunters, the Cayapas, Colorados and Quichuas with perfect immunity and with fair to excellent results by first establishing friendship and then frankly asking their cooperation in my movie making. Almost invariably it is given with a smile, espe [Continued on page 157] How an American amateur, long a familiar of the southern rain forests, hunts the head-hunters with camera, color film — and quinine A COtORADO INDIAN boy, with both hair and body painted red with native seed dye. MARIA AtVAREZ, Ecuadorean wife of the author, and their five year old daughter, Jarita Jacklin, are important aids (he says) in getting friendly cooperation of Indians.