CLOSING ONE EYE

When we taught the Biami how to use cameras, they found it difficult, at times impossible, to close one eye at a time. There was much fumbling as they held down one eyelid with one hand while trying to hold & operate a camera with the other. Sometimes friends assisted by holding down an eyelid, allowing them the use of both hands.

Closing one eye soon became a daily game. One morning a group approached us, pushing one man ahead. He stepped forward, grinned broadly and - to the delight of his companions - closed one eye. Soon the big wink became a daily greeting.

Very young children have difficulty closing one eye. I believe this is characteristic of most, perhaps all, illiterates. The ability to close one eye at a time seems to be associated with literacy. Literacy involves a unique sensory pattern. It shatters the "natural" orchestration of the senses & permits far greater control over individual senses, especially when one sense is used in isolation.

I've never been impressed by the marksmanship of natives - until they learn to read. The T. E. Lawrence myth of the romantic Englishman leading an illiterate army of deadly sharpshooters is just that: romantic myth. A rifle in the hands of an illiterate can be a deadly weapon, but for the wrong reasons. Illiterates rarely use the safety as if it were an eyelid, that is, lift it only when the rifle is visually on target. As a result, accidental discharges are common & premature firing is standard.

Native hunters rely upon their considerable skills as trackers. They often know how to get in close to animals before shooting. Here the bow can be preferable to the rifle, for it's quiet & if a hunter misses, he may get another chance.

Most Canadian Indians, in my experience, prefer not to hunt with dogs, for if a hunter misses his first shot or merely wounds the animal, dogs pursue it. Otherwise the wounded animal flees only a short distance, then lies down to lick its wound. A sensible hunter pauses to brew tea, knowing the animal's muscles will tighten up & that he is likely to get another shot.

Under certain circumstances, good marksmanship can be a disadvantage. During certain seasons, seals lose their fat & buoyancy: if a hunter kills one from too great a distance, it sinks before he reaches it.

A rifle is an extension of the eye: the marksman conceives of himself as a point in space, separated by a middle distance from his target, another point in space. He connects the two by sight, making adjustments for wind, if necessary, but ideally limiting the experience to a highly specialized use of the eye: focused sight. He tracks his moving target the way a reader scans a printed line.

Great marksmanship is probably a by-product of literacy. Literate American colonists, who outshot illiterate British regulars, lengthened the British musket, rifled its barrel, and added front & rear sights to create the Kentucky rifle.

The compass, used for navigation, and artillery, used with precision, belong to literate man: both are extensions of the reader's eye.