SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
That the present town-building tribes are the descendants of
the ancient peoples is indicated by tradition, by skeletal
evidence, and by material culture. The past connects with
the present without perceptible break and the implements and
utensils of to-day are, save for the intrusive elements of
white civilization, those of the past.—W. H. HOLMES.
The Southwest is more remarkable for its puzzles than for
its positive data. The problems presented by its social
organization are of supreme interest but our knowledge of the
data is exceedingly imperfect.—GOLDENWEISER.
By reason of their geographic position, the pueblos were the natural
channel through which passed the culture from the south to more northern
areas. This culture, of whatever sort, they transmuted by their own
endowment into something distinctive and characteristic of themselves.
Kroeber puts it happily:
Throughout, it was a flow of things of the mind, not a drift
of the bodies of men: of culture, not of populations. The
radiation was ever northward, counter to the drifts of the
migrations which had begun thousands of years before and which,
in part, seem to have continued to crowd southward even during
the period of northward spread of civilization.[142]
If we must feel that the Southwest learned from Mexico “how to grow
and weave cotton, to irrigate, to build in stone, to obey priests,”
we are at the same time impressed by an intrinsic difference in its
development and practice from that of Mexico, as we see it in the Pueblo
civilization.
[Illustration: THE ILLIMITABLE DESERT
_Bolton_]
Each pueblo is a tribal unit formed of few or many clans, as the case may
be, always matrilinear in descent. Each is wholly independent of every
other and all have had a republican form of government from the earliest
times. Under very great stress of emergency, tribes have been known to
combine for a brief period, but ordinarily they crossed one another’s
path in peaceful times only for purposes of trade, or as Bandelier puts
it, “It may be said that no two tribes were ever so hostile as never to
trade, or so intimate as never to fight each other.” The designation
of titles and of official duties in these self-governing villages
varies more or less from tribe to tribe, but in essentials the recent
investigations of scholars incline them to believe in a fundamental
similarity.
There has been much discussion as to the priority of clan or of kinship
in the up-building of the economic fabric of pueblo society. The position
of Kroeber seems the most simple and natural. He contends that clan
functions are too vague and remote to allow them precedence over the
normal and inherent relations of every created being. Quoting him: “To
blood ties they are blindly loyal and instinctively affectionate. Outside
all are but associates.” If further intercourse cements esteem, any
one, of whatever race, “even a Navajo,” may be held more dear and less
hostile than one of their own tribe. Again Kroeber says,
What is clear is, that there is in the Pueblo mind and has been
for centuries past, a concept of a definite and characteristic
scheme of clan organization which belongs to no one nation but
is common to all. The whole nature of the existing clans in the
Southwest is that of an organ in a body.[143]
One remarkable and characteristic feature that prevails in the clan
system is the grouping of clans in pairs. It is very prominent in Hopi,
and though not directly established for Keresan Pueblos, it appears
probable because the same pairs frequently occur in that nation.
Kroeber differentiates the family and clan as follows. The clan is a
ceremonial institution, whereas the family is the foundation of society
and is centred in the house as a basic concept. The house belongs to
the women of the family, not merely as they are living to-day, but from
the long past in successive generations. “There they have come into
the world, pass their lives, and within its walls they die.” True, the
clan is maternal and totemically named, and also the same terms of
relationship are applied to its members as to those of blood kindred.
While this is an undoubted source of confusion to strangers and to the
student of its culture, there never is the slightest ambiguity in the
native mind between the two.
Clans give color, variety, and interest to the life of the
tribe, [but are] not thought of in ordinary personal relations.
They are only an ornamental excrescence upon society, whose
warp is the family of actual blood relations and whose woof is
the house.... House-life, house-ownership, economic status,
matrilinear reckoning, clan-organization and functions, the
type of marriage and divorce, are all in direct conflict with
both theory and practice of corresponding Spanish, Mexican,
English and Catholic institutions, and yet maintain themselves
to-day,
from which he concludes that European contact had no important influence
upon Zuñi kinship, or, by inference, upon any other Pueblo community.
The children belong to the mother’s clan, and marriage within that
clan is forbidden. Though permitted within the clan of the father, it
is disapproved. A reason for this as given to Dr. Parsons was that
the children born of such union are never as strong as when diverse
clans are mingled. The family organization among all Pueblos tends
toward a compound type, consisting of as many as three generations. The
young children are much in the care of the old people, especially of
grandparents, by which division of labor the parents are released for
their active toil in the fields or at their crafts. One sees in such a
village as Ácoma quite little girls carrying far too heavy babies in a
blanket on their backs, but one is told that there the men frequently
carry the little children, which is not a usual pueblo custom.
There are no terms in Keresan for son or daughter, the words child, boy,
girl, being used instead. Ácoma distinguishes according to sex but not
according to age in expressing relationships between brother and sister.
There is no specific terminology for relatives by marriage, but such
exists for “cross-cousins,” that is, the children of a blood brother and
sister. Dr. Parsons says that “Ácoma kinship terms correspond closely to
Laguna,” but that brother-and-sister terms are applied in Ácoma to all
cousins, which is not the common usage, though it is done at Zuñi. She
has compiled elaborate tables for kin- and clanship at Laguna, in which
Ácoma is frequently alluded to, and has included one long table of Ácoma
terms.[144] Kroeber likewise gives a table of Ácoma-Laguna kinship-terms,
compiled by himself, some of which he considers “not only not European,
but far more extreme than Zuñi,” although the “generic resemblance of
Keres to Hano and Zuñi is preserved.”
The next important question is the relation of the clan to the
fraternities. Kroeber says that the one is social, and the other
religious. Certain fraternities are widely distributed, and he has
established for Zuñi, as Mrs. Stevenson did for Sía, that membership is
voluntary, not clan-controlled, but follows blood or marriage connection.
It is apparently true that in “certain cases succession to office in
fraternities does depend on clanship.”[145] This is rather different from
the situation in the Hopi pueblos, where the fraternities are at least
definitely associated in the native mind with the clans of the same name.
The function of the fraternities consists mainly in medicine-giving and
in jugglery; though they take part in some of the communal ceremonies,
they have no masked representations of deities, nor do they exercise
their powers primarily for the bringing of rain. They have no right to
the _kivas_, their meeting-place being in the front rooms of houses; they
have official heads, but no priests.
At Sía and presumably at Ácoma, the Koshare and the Cuiranná form one
fraternity whose duty it is to guide and attend the K’at’sina in their
masked dances. At Zuñi the clan is then a body of
mildly social type, with prevailing if not important
ritualistic functions,—those being exercised by individuals
in virtue of their clan-membership, and never by the clan
as a body.... Clans, fraternities, priesthoods, _kivas_,
gaming-parties, are all dividing agencies, but by countering
each other they cause segmentations which produce marvellous
complexity, but never break national entity apart.[146]
Certain other complexities of strain have arisen through the coming in to
the pueblo of women from other nations. One Zuñi governor married a woman
from the Cherokee Wolf clan, and as a matter of course she was received
into their Coyote clan. In two or three generations it will be forgotten
that her descendants were ever anything but Zuñi. Our author admits that
the social fabric of Zuñi may be more closely knit than some others, but
is of the opinion that all Southwestern tribes are so intimate that what
is true of one may be predicated of the rest.
At bottom, all Pueblo government is theocratic. Civil officers are chosen
and may be deposed by certain priesthoods which are clan-associated.
However great the divergence of opinion during the choice of candidates,
no decision may be announced until a complete unanimity is agreed
upon. The civil government is chiefly concerned with property, and
equities in material things, individual or communal. The governor and
lieutenant-governor must be of different clans, and, theoretically at any
rate, so also are their aids. Certain officials serve only one year at a
time, and as there is a general disposition to give equal representation
in public affairs to each clan, such diffusion of power tends toward a
community thoroughly welded together.
According to Kroeber,
The source of all Zuñi authority, sacred or profane [and of
all other Pueblos as well?] lies in certain priesthoods, and
since these receive their origin, venerability, permanence,
and even name from the _ettowe_ (fetishes) with which they are
associated, the depth to which these fetishes underlie all Zuñi
life becomes apparent.
The fetishes are preserved in certain houses and are normally kept
in jars of special design, fed at appointed times, but handled and
exposed only on occasions of extreme ritualistic importance. The true
understanding of Zuñi life other than its purely practical operations
can be had only as we centre it about the _ettowe_.
When a family abandons a house, the room where the _ettowe_ usually lies
is kept in repair, and its priests continue to go in _watto_ (to pray)
there.[147] Each clan possesses its _ettowe_, and probably each set of
priests is more or less clan-associated.
Around these priesthoods, fraternities, clan-organization, as
well as most esoteric thinking and sacred tradition, group
themselves, while in turn _kivas_, dances, and acts of public
worship can be construed as but the outward means of expression
of inward activities that radiate around the nucleus of the
physical fetishes and the ideas attached to them.[148]
The visitor to any particular pueblo, if forearmed with some such general
ideas of its policy, will assuredly gain a little better understanding
of even the superficial occupations that he may chance to observe. We
were consequently keen to learn how many of the old customs survive in
this conservative community of Ácoma. It was not difficult to realize
the deeply intimate family relationship of three generations of women of
the Eagle clan with whom we associated. We also visited a more modern
house of the Sun clan and we got some confirmatory impressions of many of
the civil functions of its male population. In Ácoma, then, as in most
Pueblo settlements, the family life is a mutually supporting partnership.
Everything within the house belongs to the woman, even if brought there
by her husband. Although the man goes forth to the hunt, once he has laid
within the threshold a rabbit or a deer, he may not thereafter touch it
if his wife objects, and all domestic animals, like sheep and chickens,
belong to her and may not be sold without her permission. However, the
man has his own prerogatives. To the man belong his blankets and his
weapons, his horses and burros, his farm implements and all other tools.
The right to hold office in the pueblo, to attain to priesthood in the
fraternities, and to frequent the _kivas_ (ceremonial chambers) are
alone open to the men. From this fact it is evident that in spite of
this semblance of a matriarchate the women have no voice in government.
Further, it is true that so long as a man is a legitimate member of a
household he is ruler of its affairs. The curious anomaly is seen (at
Zuñi) in the contrasting fact that if a man divorces his wife even for
the most flagrant immorality, it is he who leaves the house to her use,
though, as sometimes happens, he has rebuilt it, and he does this without
the faintest feeling of any injustice done to himself.
The Ácomas use the Catholic form of sponsorship at marriage, and no
divorce is permitted. The parents of either one of the bridal pair
choose a man and his wife to be the “best man” and “best woman,” and
these two take the couple directly home from the ceremony to their house,
wash their heads, and give them advice. The man speaks first and gives
a present to the groom; then his wife does likewise with the bride. The
bridegroom also gives his bride a present, perhaps a dress.
Although at Ácoma divorce is said to be unknown, it is very likely that
here, as in most pueblos, the simple device of putting beyond the doorway
all the man’s personal belongings is all the information he needs that
his wife no longer wishes him to live with her. Similarly, if a man
throws his blanket over his shoulder in a certain way and departs, his
wife is notified of his intention to separate from her.
A definite idea was certainly given us at Ácoma in 1922 that the
government there is fundamentally theocratic. I am, however, indebted to
Dr. Parsons for the details of its organization as she understood it in
1918.
The officials of Ácoma are a cacique (_ti-á-moni_, arch-ruler), a
governor with purely administrative functions, two lieutenant-governors
(_tenientes_), three war chiefs (_tsatichucha_), and their two cooks
(_cocineros_). There are besides, ten _principales_, who, like the
cacique, are chosen for life, whereas all other officials serve but one
year at a time.
A chief duty of the cacique[149] is to act as penitent for the sins of
his tribe; and when he goes out into the wilderness by untrodden paths to
fast for an uncertain length of days, the whole pueblo is in solemn mood,
and the chance visitor is not made welcome.[150] Contrary to the custom
in most pueblos, at Ácoma the cacique has no subordinates; neither does
he have to be a _cheani_ (medicine man) himself, although he is always
appointed by the _cheani_. The true character of the cacique’s position
has never been clearly defined for us, since he will not reveal the
secrets of his office to anyone, unless to the man he looks upon as his
successor. Although his title is that of “Arch-ruler,” he is evidently
not all-powerful, for the war captain (_hócheni_)[151] is his warden,
with power to punish him if he becomes arrogant or remiss in his duties.
Upon every important occasion the cacique must fast, either having only
one meagre meal in a day, or sometimes none for four days; consequently
the office is not a very popular honor. It demands a long, severe
tutelage in physical endurance as well as in the deeper mysteries of the
esoteric orders. During all fasts and ceremonies, unbroken continence is
exacted, for the cacique is Watcher of the Sun. Moreover, he has to help
the war captains to look after the _Katsina_, or masked impersonators of
the gods which “function for rain, crops, animals, and the sick.” In
times of war he is both surgeon and nurse for the wounded. Nevertheless
the cacique has certain perquisites; for, although the people do not
plant for him they do bring in to him his harvests. Also, each year they
hold four rabbit hunts for him, one in each of the cardinal directions.
This hunt comes “after the war chiefs say they have been fasting for four
days and it is time to have a hunt.” A little later comes a general hunt
in which women may join.[152]
The ten _principales_, who are always of the Antelope clan, and who enjoy
a life tenure, seem to act as a higher court. They may be quite young,
and they instruct the cacique if he is old, as to what is going on,
and what he must do. The _principales_ control the land distributions,
agricultural land being allotted to individuals and grazing fields being
held in common.
“The war chiefs[153] have undoubtedly sacerdotal as well as military
functions. They are said to pray morning and night and at ceremonials
for the people, for their animals, for crops and for rain.” But of these
rites Dr. Parsons[154] learned nothing definite. The present writer saw
three of the war chiefs going forth about six in the morning, gorgeously
blanketed and bedecked with many and various pendant ornaments, but too
far away to be distinguished.
Bandelier[155] says that the war captain occupies among the Keres a
position of peculiar distinction. He is the military leader and sheriff.
His supremacy over both governor and cacique arises from an old belief
that he is representative of Ma-se-ua, one of the two sons of the Sun
Father and Moon Mother. The other son, Oyo-ya-ya, is represented by the
war captain’s lieutenant, who bears his name.
These two brothers, equivalent no doubt to the Twins in Zuñi myths,
are held in almost greater reverence than the sun and moon, and one of
the chief public dances of the Keres is given in their honor, whereas
formerly it was addressed to the sun.
Although different informants gave Dr. Parsons no clear statement as to
whether or not there is definite ranking of the clans, she concluded that
it is the Antelope clan (_Kuüts Hanoch_) that governs, and that it has
undoubtedly ceremonial prerogatives.[156] Its members choose the _Kasik_,
who is the spiritual, and nominally the temporal, head of the pueblo, and
is almost invariably a man distinguished for uprightness and wisdom.
On the first of the two brief visits made to Ácoma in the summer of
1922, I was told by a man who spoke English readily that the cacique is
“always Antelope,” and that, though his duties are chiefly sacerdotal,
it is he who names the officers for the ensuing year at the election in
December. On the second visit the same informant referred for the first
time to the cacique as his “uncle,” adding, “He is very old and nearly
blind.” There was no question that the man with most authority in 1922
was the _hócheni_ or war captain, a situation due very possibly to the
physical disability of the cacique.
The annual election of officers forms an important part of the winter
solstice ceremonies. After a week of commingled pagan and Christian
festivities, the installation takes place either on December 30 or
January 1, which is known as “King Day.” To inform the pueblo when and
where this function will take place, the town crier (_kahera_) makes
the circuit of the several roadways (as is the custom at Ácoma) calling
out his instructions. When the men have assembled in the long-house
(_Komanira_) near the church, the nominations made by the cacique are
announced by the outgoing war chiefs; after this a general vote is
taken, though a pure formality, for even if a nominee demurs he cannot
help himself. We are told of cases when men ran away to avoid office,
but were forced to return and serve as chosen. In installing officers,
says Dr. Parsons, those going out “kneel on both knees, make the sign
of the Cross, say the prayer beginning, ‘Padre santo-spirito. Amen,’
and pass the cane of office to their successors. All present kneel, of
course removing their hats. Bandas are not removed.”[157] The election
festivities continue through January 10, dances being performed in
different houses in honor of the newly elected officers. The governor
told Dr. Parsons that the people would stay on for ten days or so: “They
have to, we have not given them the rules yet,” he said.[158]
One writer[159] describes a ceremony at Ácoma that I have found mentioned
nowhere else. He witnessed it on a spring morning in 1864. He describes
the “single steep, narrow, winding path” from the plain to the top of the
mesa, which “near the top narrows and is flanked on each side by a tall
much-worn pillar of the sandstone-rock formation of the mesa, requiring
no very vivid imagination to portray them as sentinels keeping watch over
the approaches to this citadel.” A dance of purification for a recent
victory over the Navajos was to be celebrated that day. The visitors
noticed that one of these two stone pillars “appeared to be an object
of especial regard; ribbons were hung on it; heads of corn and pieces
of cake were flung up with an effort to lodge them on its flattened or
concave summit.” The Alcalde of the pueblo joined the Americans and told
the story of the pillar, in substance as follows:
Many long years ago the peace of the Indian country was threatened by
a great force of Spaniards coming from Mexico. Warning was given by
runners from pueblo to pueblo in order that a concerted resistance might
be made to stop the “ruin and desolation that marked the Spaniard’s path
in this cruel warfare. Soon these warnings ceased.” But because there
was plenty of evidence that the invaders were still despoiling the land,
the young men of Ácoma agreed among themselves to keep a vigilant watch
from the summits of one of these stone pillars. Many days passed and
all was quiet. The pillar top was well stocked with provisions for the
watcher. And then one night, after rain and wind had made the darkness
unwontedly thick, he was startled as the dawn came, to see the Spaniards
actually scaling the steep. They were, in fact, so close that he could
not leave his post to give the alarm. All he could do was to blow his
“loud-sounding horn-note of imminent danger to his friends” and try as
best he could to keep the enemy at bay for the few precious moments
before help could reach him. He was well equipped “with bow and arrows,
shield and spear. Without descending from his post, the narrow path,
whose width only admitted of one person passing at a time, was soon
blocked with the disabled foe.” Wounded, the sentinel hero fell back on
his lofty perch, but not till the village men had hurried to his aid, and
these, fresh and strong, were more than a match for those Spaniards who
gained the top of the cliff. A short, impetuous fight brought victory
to the Ácomas, and the long dread was vanquished, but the hero of the
pillar was dead at his post. “And for this,” said the Alcalde, “we every
year have our rejoicings near the foot of the pillar and by our joy and
praises thank the spirit of the hero who so bravely sacrificed himself to
save his people.”
This story was confirmed during my second visit to the mesa. Although we
saw no such weather-worn pillars on the summit of Ácoma, I hazard the
guess that they may have stood at the top of the so-called “Runners,”
or “Deadman’s trail,” which our informant told me had been out of use
for many years but which once had served to preserve the pueblo from
the Spaniards. At that time I thought he was trying to persuade me
that the Ácomas won the famous fight of Zaldívar, but he probably knew
the tradition of this other invasion by the Spaniards, for he was very
positive in his statement that the white men were all killed or driven
off in a fierce encounter at that point, and that the second name was
given to that particular trail because of this event.
Another noteworthy remark of Gwyther’s is that the Ácomas were somewhat
surly until they found that the visitors were all Americans; it was only
toward Mexicans that they cherished any ill-will, and thereafter the
visitors were treated with entire cordiality.
Who will go to Ácoma and become by slow degrees a familiar and trusted
dweller among the people, even as Cushing did at Zuñi? That person alone,
I am convinced, talking their language, eating their food, observing
quietly their customs, will avail to penetrate the heart of the Ácoma
secret.