For centuries, the traditional narrative surrounding the name "Matanzas" has been accepted as historical fact. According to this widely held belief, the name, which translates to “massacre,” originated from a violent event in which indigenous people of Cuba supposedly drowned a group of Spanish survivors by overturning their canoes while crossing the Bay of Matanzas. This was followed by the hanging of the remaining survivors in a ceiba tree. But upon closer inspection, it becomes evident that this version of events may not be entirely accurate, or even true at all.
A critical reevaluation of historical sources, led by modern scholars, offers a compelling argument that the accepted story of Matanzas may be more myth than reality. Their work, based on an analysis of Diego Velázquez’s Carta de Relación—a letter written by the Spanish governor of Cuba in 1514—presents an alternative view of the events. While Velázquez's letter is by no means free from potential bias, it offers a primary source account that contradicts the violent narrative propagated by later chroniclers like Bartolomé de las Casas and Bernal Díaz del Castillo.
Velázquez’s Account: A Primary Source with a Different Story
Velázquez’s Carta de Relación stands as one of the earliest -and closest in time- accounts of the Spanish interactions with the indigenous people in Cuba. Written in April 1514, just a few years after the events it describes, the letter contains details about the pacification efforts of the Spanish in Cuba and the rescue of three Spanish survivors: García Mexía and two women who had been held by indigenous leaders of the western region of the island. Velázquez notably omits any mention of a massacre or violent confrontation with the indigenous people during this rescue operation.
However, Velázquez does refer to a different massacre, known as the Massacre of Caonao, which is a significant event in Cuban history. This massacre, part of the often violent interactions between Spanish conquistadors and the indigenous population, took place in central Cuba, far from the region where the name Matanzas was superposed. The confusion surrounding the naming of Matanzas may have arisen from later chroniclers conflating these two unrelated events.
In fact, the survivors whom Velázquez rescued were not connected to the area that would later become Matanzas. These individuals had shipwrecked in Guaniguanico, located in present-day Pinar del Río, after a failed expedition from Central America. They were not fleeing from or involved in a massacre in Matanzas. Velázquez’s rescue mission likely took place in the southern territory of what is now Havana, between late 1512 and early 1513. This critical distinction, overlooked or misinterpreted by later chroniclers like Las Casas, highlights that the events in the Bay of Matanzas may have been wrongly attributed to violence, when in reality, it was part of a more complex series of interchanges and interactions.
Questioning the Later Accounts
Bartolomé de las Casas and Bernal Díaz del Castillo are key figures in the perpetuation of the violent narrative associated with the naming of Matanzas. However, both of these chroniclers wrote their accounts decades after the events, and their motivations for shaping the narrative must be considered. Las Casas, in particular, was driven by a moral agenda to highlight the mistreatment of indigenous populations by the Spanish colonizers. His accounts, while influential, are also known for their exaggeration, particularly when it comes to emphasizing Spanish brutality.
In his Historia de las Indias, Las Casas details a massacre in which indigenous people are said to have drowned and hanged Spanish survivors. This story, however, was written long after the fact and cannot be corroborated by primary sources from the time. He himself mentions that he is not remembering these events clearly. Likewise, Díaz del Castillo’s account, written many years after the events, contains discrepancies regarding the number of survivors and the circumstances of their rescue, further complicating the narrative. The unquestionable and excessive use of these, and other chronicles who followed and copied, exacerbated and perpetuated the legend even still.
The discrepancies between these later accounts and Velázquez’s primary source raise important questions about the reliability of the traditional narrative. While Las Casas and Díaz del Castillo have been influential in shaping the story of Matanzas, their works must be viewed with caution, particularly when they contradict earlier, more immediate accounts like Velázquez’s.
Velázquez’s Bias: A Reasonable Concern?
It is reasonable to question whether Velázquez himself may have been biased in his reporting. As the governor of Cuba and a key figure in the colonization efforts, Velázquez certainly had reasons to present himself and his actions in a positive light. His letter to the crown was meant to showcase his control over the island and the success of his efforts in pacifying the indigenous population. However, even with this potential bias in mind, the absence of any mention of a massacre in Matanzas is significant. If such an event had occurred, Velázquez would have had to address it in some form, if only to justify his actions or downplay the extent of the violence.
Moreover, Velázquez’s letter is not the only source used by Orihuela and Viera in their analysis. They also draw upon archaeological evidence and a study of the region’s toponymy—specifically, the names “Guanima” and “Yucayo,” which have been erroneously linked to the events surrounding the founding of Matanzas. Their research reveals inconsistencies in these place names and shows that the connection between the supposed massacre and the toponymy of the region is likely a later invention, further undermining the traditional narrative. In fact, the Matanzas (= in the form of "Matancas") does not appear in the charts and documents until after 1525.
The Archaeological Evidence
Archaeological findings in the region provide additional support for Orihuela and Viera’s argument. To date, no physical evidence has been found that corroborates the story of a massacre in the Bay of Matanzas. Instead, the archaeological record suggests that the indigenous populations in the area had a significant and prolonged presence, with evidence of sustained interaction with the Spanish, rather than outright conflict.
Additionally, the etymology of the name “Matanzas” may have more to do with the economic activities in the region, such as cattle slaughtering, than with a violent event. The term "matanza" was commonly used in Spanish colonies to refer to the killing of animals for food, and it is plausible that this is the true origin of the name, rather than a massacre of Spanish sailors.
The Silent Majority: The Role of Indigenous Peoples in Colonial History
This revised interpretation also sheds light on the often overlooked or minimized role of indigenous populations in the narratives of conquest and colonization. For centuries, indigenous peoples have been portrayed as either victims of violence or passive participants in the colonial process. However, new historiographical approaches are helping to recover the agency of these groups as active players in the history of the Caribbean and Latin America.
In particular, the indigenous peoples of Cuba, like those collectivelly called Taino, were not merely silent witnesses to their own demise. They engaged in complex interactions with the Spanish, negotiating, resisting, and sometimes cooperating with them, depending on the circumstances. The recovery of indigenous agency is an important trend in contemporary scholarship on the conquest of the Americas, and this reinterpretation of the Matanzas story is a part of that broader effort to understand the colonial past in a more nuanced way.
A Revisionist Perspective
In the end, Orihuela and Viera’s work is not merely about defending Velázquez’s account. It is about critically reassessing the evidence, questioning long-held assumptions, and separating myth from historical fact. By reexamining the available documentation, cross-referencing accounts, and considering archaeological data, they offer a revisionist perspective that challenges the traditional story of Matanzas’ naming.
Their approach invites us to rethink the way we understand the early encounters between the Spanish and indigenous people in Cuba. While the idea of a violent massacre may have been compelling to chroniclers like Las Casas, the evidence suggests a more nuanced and peaceful interaction, at least in this instance. It also serves as a reminder that history is often shaped by the interests and biases of those who record it, and that our understanding of the past must be constantly reevaluated in light of new evidence.
Conclusion
The traditional narrative of the massacre at Matanzas may have been a myth, woven together by chroniclers long after the events they described. Through careful analysis of primary sources like Velázquez’s Carta de Relación and a critical evaluation of archaeological and toponymic evidence, Orihuela and Viera provide a fresh interpretation of the events. While Velázquez may have had his biases, the absence of any significant mention of violence in his account, coupled with the lack of corroborating evidence from other sources, suggests that the true story of Matanzas may be far less violent than we’ve been led to believe.
This revisionist perspective encourages us to question the accuracy of historical myths and to seek out the truth behind the legends that have shaped our understanding of the past. As with any historical inquiry, the search for truth is ongoing, and Orihuela and Viera’s work is an important step in the ongoing effort to uncover the real story of Matanzas.
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