When they asked about the odd markings, the Spanish explained to the native people that they were words. This caused even greater confusion. How could they be words, the Native Americans reasoned, if they made no sound, yet could be heard by the Spaniards over great distances? The only words they knew were the ones they heard spoken, nothing they could see. Since these soundless words seemed illogical to their cultural way of thinking, in the beginning of their dealings with the Spanish, they looked on writing as a form of magic and regarded it with superstitious awe. To them it seemed that the marks on the parchments could hear and see in their silent, mysterious way and then tell others what they knew. At first, they could conceive of no way to get around these magical missives that seemed to know everything yet uttered not a word that a normal person could hear. But awed or not, the native people started to seek ways to outwit the conquerors’ magic.
Finally, two runners thought they had hit on a workable tactic. It began when the Catholic Prior they served ordered them to deliver a letter and two strapped-on baskets of delicious fruit—apples, oranges, mangos, bananas, berries, and nuts—from their fertile Peruvian valley farms to the commandant of a Spanish fort in the Andes. The journey was long and the young runners, increasingly tempted by the succulent fruit they were carrying, lusted for a taste.
“If we eat the fruit, the letter will tell the commandant and we will be whipped,” whispered one runner so the letter could not hear him.
For a long time, they jogged on in their tireless trot, ascending ever higher along the twisting mountain trail. Finally, one of them stopped, excited by an idea that might allow them to outsmart the all-knowing letter.
“If we hide the letter behind a tree or a rock while we eat without saying anything,” he explained “it won’t see or hear what we’re doing and can’t say anything to the Spaniards, can it?”
“Who knows, brother? I want a taste of the fruit as much as you do, but I fear their magic even more.”
But eventually hunger wore down his reservations and the two hid the letter and silently but happily ate some of the fruit. But when they reached the fort, the commandant read the message, checked the baskets, and asked about the missing fruit. Naturally the frightened men at first denied any knowledge of it but finally had to confess they had eaten it. The commandant ordered his lieutenant to whip them. But before their punishment, one runner asked the commandant how he knew about the fruit.
“Señor Comandante, we hid the letter, so it couldn’t see or hear us, so how could it know what we were doing?”
The amused commandant replied with a straight face, “Oh, but the letter knows anyway. Our letters always see and hear everything, so don’t lie again. This time you get off with only a whipping. If you do it again, your punishment could be much more severe. And beware; the letters will be watching you.”
The sore and chastened runners jogged back to the valley and spread the word to their kinsmen. The warning worked, but not for long. In time the Native Americans caught on and began to master the mystery of the written word themselves.
As I said, the mysterious soon becomes mundane.