Island craftsmen cut amulets from stone the islands do not have

During the Early Ceramic Age a skilled lapidary industry developed in the islands, working amethyst, carnelian, jadeite and other semi-precious stones into beads and small amulets. The best known pieces come from La Hueca and carry animal forms, among them a bird identified as a condor or king vulture. That identification is informative in itself, since the bird is not an island species. Neither are the stones. None of these minerals occurs naturally in the Antilles, so every bead and amulet arrived through exchange with the South American mainland or with other distant sources. The industry therefore records two things at once: craft specialists able to cut and polish hard stone to a fine standard, and trade routes long enough to keep them supplied. Ornament of this kind is never only decoration. It marks rank, membership and belief, and the people wearing it belonged to a network reaching far beyond the island they lived on.

Textbooks teach a sequence for metals in which copper comes first and iron follows long after, because that is how it went in Europe and the Middle East. South of the Sahel the order runs the other way. Iron smelting was established across two thirds of Africa before copper was worked at all, and knowing how to hold a furnace at heat is what led people to recognise copper ores and smelt them. The clearest case is the belt of copper rich country running from central Zambia into the southern Congo. Bantu speakers of the Sabi group began working those ores no later than the fourth century CE, several centuries after iron reached them. Copper and copper goods then moved out along the Zambezi watershed and up the rivers into the Congo basin. From about the eighth century a further set of Bantu communities spread through the same region, their speech ancestral to the Luba dialects heard there now, and the older Sabi language fell out of use while the mines kept growing.

Latin speakers had a single word family for substances that acted in ways nobody could watch. Uenenum covered a potent herb, a magical influence and a poison, and out of it came a verb meaning to bewitch or to infect, a noun for the act itself, and uenefucus, a word for the person who did such things, used of men and of women. In the late republic the Roman state grew worried enough about those people to pass a law in 81 BCE against causing sudden or unexpected death by concealed means, whether the means were chemical or magical. The law treated the two as one offence. Sixteen centuries later, courts in Martinique and Suriname were still hearing cases in which nobody could say whether the accused had used a plant, a powder or a spell, and the statutes they used descended from this one. The vocabulary carried the ambiguity across two thousand years.

Around the middle of the fifth century CE, people speaking Arawakan languages arrived on Aruba, Curacao and Bonaire, the islands lying off the coast of Venezuela, and brought pottery making with them. Their arrival marks the start of the Ceramic age on those islands. Somebody was already there. The earlier inhabitants belonged to the Archaic age, made a simpler set of tools, and are physically distinguishable in the skeletal record by the shape of the skull. They were displaced. Rouse records the sequence in the flat language of archaeology, and the flatness is worth noticing, because the displacement of one population by another is a thing that happens to people. These three islands sit where the South American mainland meets the Caribbean, which makes them a gauge for movements that later reached the whole chain of the Antilles. What happened here in the fifth century had happened elsewhere before and would happen again, long before any European ship arrived to start the count.