In the story of Vandaih we are given a curious glimpse into Indian
friendship. The reference to smoking, too, is interesting. The Pimas
had no true pipes. They used only cigarettes of tobacco and corn-husk,
or else short tubes of cane stuffed with tobacco. These I have called
tube-pipes. They smoked on all ceremonial occasions, but appear to
have had no distinctive pipe of peace. The ceremonial pipes of cane
had bunches of little birds' feathers tied to them, and in my photo
of the old seeneeyawkum he holds such a ceremonial pipe in his hand.
"He gambles with the gain-skoot:" The gain-skoot were the Pima
dice--two sticks so marked and painted as to represent the numerals
kee-ick (four) and choat-puh (six), and two called respectively
see-ick-ko, the value of which was fourteen, and gains, the value of
which was fifteen. These were to be held in the hand and knocked in
the air with a flat round stone. At the same time there was to be on
the ground a parallelogram of holes with a sort of goal, or "home,"
at two corners. If the sticks all fell with face sides up they counted
five. If all fell with blank sides up it was ten. If only one face
side turned up it counted its full value, but if two or three turned up
then they counted only as one each. If a gain was scored the count was
kept by placing little sticks or stones (soy-yee-kuh) in the holes as
counters. If the second player overtook the first in a hole the first
man was "killed" and had to begin over. Among all Indians gambling
was a besetting vice, and there was nothing they would not wager.
Sometimes instead of the gain-skoot they used waw-pah-tee, which
was simply a guessing game. They guessed in which hand a certain
painted stick was held, or in which of four decorated cane-tubes,
filled with sand, a certain little ball was hidden and wagered on
their guess. These tubes were differently marked, and one was named
"Old Man," one "Old Woman," one "Black Head," and one "Black in the
Middle." Sticks were given to keep count of winnings.
The moral advice which Ahahnheeattoepahk Mahkai gives Vandaih, is very
quaint, and the shrewd cunning with which he loads the dice, pockets
the proceeds, and yet finally unloads all the blame on poor Vandaih,
is quite of a piece with the confused morals of most folk-lore in
all lands. On these points it is really very hard to understand the
workings of the primitive mind. Here is certain proof that the modern
conscience has evoluted from something very chaotic.
It will be noticed that Vandaih drinks the pinole, which bewitches
him, five times instead of the usual four. Whether this is a mistake
of the seeneeyawkum, or significant I do not know. Perhaps four is
a lucky and five an unlucky number.
Another variation in the numerical order is in the woman whistling
only three times, in putting Vandaih to sleep.
As I have before pointed out the reference to white men, and pens and
ink, is evidently a modern interpolation, not altogether lacking in
flavor of sarcasm.
There are suggestions in this story of Jack the Giant Killer, of
the Roc of the Arabian Nights, of the harpies, and of the frightful
creatures, part human, part animal, so familiar in all ancient
folk-lore.
The latter part of this tale is particularly interesting, as perhaps
throwing light on the origin of that mysterious process of purification
for slaying enemies, so peculiar to the Pimas.
It seems to have been held by the Awawtam that to kill an Apache
rendered the slayer unclean, even tho the act itself was most valiant
and praiseworthy, and must be expiated by an elaborate process of
purification. From old Comalk Hawk Kih I got a careful description
of the process.
According to his account, as soon as an Apache had been killed, if
possible, the fact was at once telegraphed to the watchers at home
by the smoke signal from some mountain. This custom is evidently
referred to in Ee-ee-toy's cloud over a high mountain as a signal of
success. The Indians apparently regarded smoke and clouds as closely
related, if not the same, as is shown in their faith in the power of
tobacco to make rain.
As soon as the Apache has been killed the slayer begins to fast
and to look for a "father." His "father" is one who is to perform
all his usual duties for him, for he is now unclean and cannot do
these himself. The "father," too, must know how to perform all the
ceremonial duties necessary to his office, as will be explained. If a
"father" can be found among the war-party the slayer need only fast
two days, but if not he must wait till he gets home again, even if it
takes four or more days. It appears that this friend, who has charge
of the slayer, is humorously called a "father" because his "child"
is usually so restless under his long fast, and keeps asking him to
do things for him and divert him.
If there is no "father" for him in the war-party, as soon as possible a
messenger is sent on ahead to get some one at home to take the office
for him, and to make the fires in the kee, that being a man's special
duty. And the wife of the slayer is also now unclean by his act,
and must purify herself as long as he, tho she must keep apart from
him. And she also must have a substitute to do her usual work. She
must keep close at home, and her husband, the slayer, remain out in
the bushes till the purification is accomplished.
For two days the fast is complete, but on the morning of the third
day the slayer is allowed one drink of pinole, very thin, and no more
than he can drink at one breath. The moment he pauses he can have no
more at that time.
When presenting this pinole, the "father" makes this speech:
"Your fame has come, and I was overjoyed, and have run all the way
to the ocean, and back again, bringing you this water.
On my return I strengthened myself four times, and in the dish in
which I carried the water stood See-vick-a Way-hohm, The Red Thunder
Person, the Lightning, and because of his force I fell down.
And when I got up I smelled the water in the dish, and it smelled as
if something had been burned in it.
And when I got up I strengthened myself four times, and there came
from the sky, and stood in the dish, Tone-dum Bah-ahk, The Eagle of
Light. And he turned the water in the dish in a circle, and because
of his force I fell down, and when I rose up again and smelled the
water in the dish it was stinking.
And when I had started again I strengthened myself four times, and
Vee-sick the Chicken Hawk, came down from the sky and stood in the
dish. And by his force I was thrown down. And when I stood again and
smelled the water in the dish, it smelled like fresh blood.
And I started again, strengthening myself four times, and there came
from the East our gray cousin, Skaw-mack Tee-worm-gall, The Coyote,
who threw me down again, and stood in the dish, and turned the water
around, and left it smelling as the coyote smells.
And when I rose up I started again, and in coming to you I have rested
four times; and now I have brought you the water, and so many powerful
beings have done wonderful things to it that I want you to drink it
all at one time."
After the third day the "father" brings his charge a little to eat
every morning and evening, but a very little.
On the morning of the fourth day, at daybreak the slayer takes a
bath of purification, even if it is winter and he has to break the
ice and dive under to do it. And this is repeated on the morning of
each fourth day, till four baths have been taken in sixteen days.
The slayer finds an owl and without killing him pulls long feathers out
of his wings and takes them home. The slayer had cut a little lock of
hair from the head of the Apache he had killed (for in old times, at
least, the Pimas often took no scalps) and now a little bag of buckskin
is made, and a ball of greasewood gum is stuck on the end of this lock
of hair which is placed in the bag, and on the bag are tied a feather
of the owl and one from a chicken hawk, and some of the soft feathers
of an eagle, and around the neck of the bag a string of blue beads.
(And during this time the women are carrying wood in their giyh-haws
to the dancing place.)
Now the Apaches are contemptuously called children, and this bag
represents a child, being supposed to contain the ghost of the dead
Apache, and the slayer sits on the ground with it, and takes it in
his hands as if it were a baby, and inhales from it four times as
if he were kissing it. And when it is time for the dance the slayers
who are a good ways off from the dancing place start before sunset,
but those who are close wait till the sun is down. And the "father"
goes with the slayer, through woods and bushes, avoiding roads. And
before this the "father" has dug a hole at the dancing place about
ten inches deep and two feet wide, just big enough for a man to squat
in with legs folded, and behind the hole planted a mezquite fork,
about five feet high, on which are hung the weapons of the slayer,
his shield, club, bow, quiver of arrows, perhaps his gun or lance.
(The shield was made of rawhide, very thick, able to turn an arrow
and was painted jet black by a mixture of mezquite gum and charcoal,
with water, which made it glossy and shiny. The design on it was in
white, or red and white. The handle was of wood, curved, placed in
the centre of the inside, bound down at the ends by rawhide, and the
hand fended from the rough shield by a piece of sheepskin.)
In this hole the slayer sits down and behind him and the fork lies down
his dancer, for the slayer himself does not dance but some stranger who
represents him perhaps a Papago or a Maricopa, drawn from a distance
by the fame of the exploit. Nor do the slayers sing, but old men who
in their day have slain Apaches. These singers are each allowed to
sing two songs of their own choice, the rest of the veterans joining
in. And as soon as the first old man begins to sing, the dancers get
up, take the weapons of the men they represent, and dance around the
fire, which the "fathers" keep burning, keeping time with the song.
And the women cook all kinds of good things, and set them before the
singers, but the bystanders jump in and snatch them away. But sometimes
the wife of an old singer will get something and save it for him.
And the relatives of the slayers will bring presents for the dancers,
buckskin, baskets, and anything that an Indian values. And as soon as
presented some relative of the dancer runs in and takes the present
and keeps it for him.
And while this big war-dance is going on the rest of the people are
having dances in little separate groups, all around. And as soon as
the dance is over the weapons are returned to the forks they were
taken from.
By this time it is nearly morning, and the slayers get up and take
their bath in the river, and return and dry themselves by the expiring
fire. Then returning to the bushes they remain there again four days,
and that is the last of their purification.
As this dance is on the eve of the sixteenth day, there were twenty
days in all.
Grossman's account differs considerably from this, and is worth
reading.
During the time of purifying, the slayers wear their hair in a
strange way, like the top-knot of a white woman, somewhat, and in it
stick a stick, called a kuess-kote to scratch themselves with, as
they are not allowed to use the fingers. This is alluded to in the
Story of Paht-ahn-kum's War. A picture of a Maricopa interpreter,
with his hair thus arranged, is in the report of Col. W. H. Emory,
before alluded to. This picture is interesting, because it shows that
the Maricopas, when with the Pimas, adopted the same custom. When I
showed this picture to the old see-nee-yaw-kum he was much interested,
saying he himself had known this man, who was a relative of his,
there being a dash of Maricopa blood in his family, and that he
had been born in Mexico and had there learned Spanish enough to
be an interpreter. His Mexican name, he said, was Francisco Lucas,
but the Pimas called him How-app-ahl Tone-um-kum, or Thirsty Hawk,
a name which has an amusing significance when we recall what Emory
says about his taste for aguardiente, and that Captain Johnston says
of the same man, "the dog had a liquorish tooth."