The big islands absorb the small ones before Europe arrives at all

In the last pre-Columbian centuries the societies of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico reached the height of their power and pushed outward, east into the Lesser Antilles and west toward Cuba. Smaller island societies were drawn into that structure. Lines of cultural development that had run on their own for centuries were interrupted, and what replaced them was an order centred elsewhere, in which local communities held a subordinate place. None of it happened at once. The archaeological record shows a gradual reworking of hierarchy, island by island, until autonomous chiefdoms had given way to a broadly shared political and religious system. I keep this on a Haitian timeline for what it does to the standard account. The Caribbean that Columbus sailed into was no scatter of unconnected villages waiting for history to arrive. It was a region with its own expanding powers, its own dependencies and its own recent losers, and Hispaniola sat at the centre of it.

Alvise da Cadamosto, a Venetian working for the Portuguese, sailed to Senegambia in 1455 and opened his first negotiation with Budomel, a Jalof lord who promised captives in exchange for horses. To show good faith Budomel handed over a girl of about twelve. Cadamosto wrote that she was given for the service of his chamber, that he accepted her, and that he sent her to the ship. He recorded no objection to any part of the transaction and said nothing further about her. What she understood of it, and what the women and girls left behind under Budomel understood, went unwritten, though the terms would have been plain enough to all of them. Cadamosto came back to the Gambia river in 1456. His narrative was printed in Italian in 1507 and translated into Latin, German and French within eight years, which made it one of the first accounts through which European readers learned that people on that coast could be bought.

Portuguese speakers built their sorcery vocabulary out of a Latin root meaning manufactured or artificial. A feitico was a made thing, a charm or a spell, and feiticaria was the practice of making them. The earliest surviving records of both words are legal, in anti sorcery legislation of 1385 and 1403. The root carries two ideas at once. One is doubt over whether the thing is real or only constructed to deceive. The other is seduction, the swaying of another person against their will. In the late middle ages Portuguese speakers made protective charms from broken mirrors and pieces of hangman's rope. Three centuries afterwards, in Bahia, the same word was applied to objects and illnesses that Africans described in entirely different terms, and the Lisbon Inquisition tried people for feiticaria on the strength of it. Colonial officials used feitico and veneno almost interchangeably, which is how an illness became a poisoning.

Anacaona was born in 1464 at Yaguana, the place we now call Léogâne. Her name in Taíno means Golden Flower. She was a cacique, meaning a head of state, and she was also a composer of areítos, the sung poems that carried Taíno history. She ruled Xaragua, negotiated with the Spanish, hosted them, and was hanged by Governor Nicolás de Ovando in 1504 after a massacre of her nobles at a banquet. Now follow the chain, because this is where the timeline stops being a list and starts being an argument. With Taíno labor destroyed and Taíno leadership executed, the colonial administration needed a replacement workforce. The importation of enslaved Africans to Hispaniola accelerates directly out of that gap. Anacaona's death is not only the end of one story. It is the procurement decision that begins another.