THE HOMES OF THE HOPIS, LITTLE PEOPLE OF PEACE
Now that the automobile has become a common mode of travel even in the
desert, you may reach the pueblos of the Hopi Indians quite comfortably
from Gallup.[55] The distance is about 130 miles to the first of the
villages. The road is via St. Michael’s (where the Franciscan Brothers
maintain a Mission for the Navajos); Ganado, where Mr. J. L. Hubbell’s
trading post stands; and Keam’s Cañon, where Mr. Lorenzo Hubbell,
hospitable son of a hospitable father, has another trading post. As far
as Ganado (70 miles) the way is identical with the first part of one
road to the Cañon de Chelly. From Ganado westward there are 60 miles of
pure wilderness, semi-desert, treeless, but in summer and autumn
splendid in places with sheets of wild flowers in purple and yellow. On
every hand—sometimes near, sometimes afar—are the characteristic mesa
formations of the Southwest carved by the elements into curious shapes
to which the fancy readily suggests names. One that you will pass is a
strikingly good model of a battleship’s dismantled hull, and goes by the
name of Steamboat Rock—a pleasant conceit for this desert, which, the
geologists tell us, was once a sea bottom. Nowhere is sign of humanity,
save perhaps, some wandering Navajos or a chance traveler like yourself.
[Illustration]
CASA BLANCA OR WHITE HOUSE
A prehistoric Cliff dwelling set amidst the stupendous scenery of
the Cañon de Chelly, Arizona—the reputed haunt of certain Navajo
gods.
[Illustration]
EL MORRO OR INSCRIPTION ROCK, N. M.
This remarkable cliff bears near its base a score or more of
autographs carved in the stone by the Spanish conquerors during the
17th and 18th centuries.
At last there comes a change over the country ahead of you—a
transfiguration to broad sweeps of pink and pallid yellow, with here and
there a streak of white or of green, and on the far horizon a wall of
purple. The Painted Desert is before you, and upon the very tip of a
long promontory streaked horizontally with brown and red and yellow, and
laid upon the desert like a gigantic arm thrust out, you see the
castellated sky-line formed by the pueblos of the First Hopi Mesa. The
geography of the Hopi country is like this: Three long, narrow mesas
extending fingerlike into the Painted Desert, the tips about 10 miles
each from the next. On the First Mesa (which is the easternmost) are
three villages in an almost continuous row—Hano (called also Tewa),
which you plump breathlessly into at the top of the one steep trail
which is your means of access to all; then Sichúmovi, and lastly, at the
mesa’s extremity with all the desert in front, is Walpi, a most
picturesque pile rising in terraces to 4 stories and suggesting some
mediaeval fortress. The Second Mesa is forked at its tip, with
Mishóngnovi and Shipaúlovi set superbly along one tine, and
Shimópovi[56] on the other. On the Third Mesa stands old Oraibi, largest
and until recently most populous of all. Some years ago, however, it
suffered a secession of fully half its population, who are now
established a few miles away on the same mesa forming the independent
pueblos of Hótavila and Bácavi.[57]
The situation of these little towns is magnificent beyond words,
overlooking the Painted Desert, ever changing, ever wonderful, ever
challenging the spiritual in you, and stretching to where the San
Francisco Peaks, the Mogollones and the White Mountains notch the dim
horizon line. The elevation (6000 feet above the sea) and the purity and
dryness of the air, combine to make the climate particularly healthful
and enjoyable. Winter brings frosts and some snow, alternating with
brilliant sunshine. Summer, the season that interests the average
visitor, is as a rule delightful—the afternoon thunder showers of July
and August being only a refreshment and a source of added
picturesqueness in the form of superb cloud effects, spectacular
lightning, and splendid rainbows. Mid-day is warm enough for old men to
loiter in the sun in a costume that is pared down to a breech clout and
little children joyously wear nothing at all; yet both need covering in
the shade. As for the summer nights, they are always deliciously cool
and for outdoor sleeping are ideal. The flat-roofed, eaveless houses are
usually of flat stones laid in mud mortar, and though terraced, do not
usually exceed two or three stories in height. The arrangement is in
streets and plazas, the _kivas_ or ceremonial chambers (corresponding to
the _estufas_ of the Rio Grande pueblos) being underground and reached
by a descending ladder, whose upper part—two rungless poles—stick
picturesquely up in the air. There is a growing tendency to build the
new houses at the bases of the cliffs, particularly at the First and
Third Mesas—a reversal to first principles; for when Don Pedro de Tovar,
a lieutenant of Coronado, with Padre Juan de Padilla (of whom we heard
at Isleta) and a few soldiers, visited in 1540 this province of Tusayan,
as they called the country, they reported the Hopis dwelling at the foot
of the mesas. It was only later, probably after the Pueblo Rebellion of
1680, that the towns were rebuilt upon the mesa summits where we now
find them. The sites of two former Walpis may still be traced below the
First Mesa together with the ruins of an ancient Franciscan Mission,
some of whose timbers, they say, form part of the existing pagan
_kivas_. The Hopi never took kindly to missionary effort by the whites.
Every _padre_ among them was murdered at the time of the Rebellion, and
they would never tolerate another. Even kind Padre Garcés (of whom we
shall hear in a subsequent chapter) the Oraibians kept sitting outdoors
in a street corner for two days, and then evicted him from their town.
In 1700, one pueblo whose inhabitants showed a hospitable feeling to the
preaching of a persistent friar, was attacked by neighboring Hopis, set
on fire and such of the inhabitants as were not killed, were carried to
other towns. Of that pueblo—its name was Awátobi—you may see some ruined
remnants yet about 9 miles southeast of Walpi.[58]
The attraction that draws most visitors to the country of the Hopi
Indians is the famous Snake Dance held annually in August. The date is a
movable one and not known positively until 9 days in advance, when the
information may be had of the Santa Fe railway officials, who make it a
point to be posted. This remarkable ceremony, in which live snakes, a
large proportion of them venomous rattlers, are handled by the dance
participants as nonchalantly as if they were kittens, is in fact a
prayer for rain, in which the snakes (never harmed or their fangs
extracted as is sometimes ignorantly supposed), are intermediaries
between the people and the gods of water. It is moreover the
dramatization of a Hopi myth concerning the origin of the two
clans—Antelope and Snake—who perform the ceremony. The myth has to do
with the adventures of a young man who, impelled by curiosity to know
where the river waters went, made a trip on a hollow log down the
Colorado to its mouth. There he had many dealings with the Snake people,
in whose ways he was instructed by the friendly Spider Woman. Finally he
married the Snake chief’s daughter, and brought her to his own country.
The first children of this union were snakes, which the Hopis drove
away, but the next were human, and these, the ancestors of the present
Snake Clan, came to Walpi to live. The entire ceremony continues
throughout 9 days, and is conducted secretly in the underground _kiva_
until near sunset of the last day. Then the priests dramatically emerge
into the upper air, and the dance with the snakes occurs. It is all over
in about half an hour, but that half hour is what brings the crowd—about
the most thrilling and wide-awake performance that is offered anywhere
in America. Though the Snake Dance takes place annually, all the
villages do not hold it the same year. The most frequented presentations
are those at Walpi, held in the odd years, as 1917, 1919, etc., and at
Oraibi, the latter in the even years, as 1918, 1920, etc.
The Snake Dance attracts largely through the horror awakened in most of
us by reptiles, though it possesses many elements of majestic beauty,
too. There are numerous other Hopi ceremonies whose dominant feature to
the white onlooker is simple beauty; for instance, the picturesque Flute
ceremony held at springs below the mesas, and then along the ascending
trails to the mesa-top accompanied by songs, the music of native flutes
and the scattering of flowers. This ceremony, which is also the
dramatization of a legend[59] as well as an invocation for rain,
alternates with the Snake Dance, being held at about but not at the
identical time with it, and always at other pueblos than those holding
the Snake Dance. This permits attenders at one to witness the other
also. Then at all the pueblos there are the autumnal Basket Dances of
the women, and in spring and summer the many beautiful Katchina Dances.
Katchinas are the deified spirits of the Hopis’ ancestors, and are
intercessors with the greater gods for divine favors for the Hopis. They
are supposed to reside amid the San Francisco Peaks, where the home of
the Sun god is, the great dispenser of blessings. Their annual visits
(Indians of the pueblo impersonating the gods) are the occasions of much
merry-making, of songs and processions, and dances in mask and gay
costumes. Each god has his distinctive mask and dress, and the queer
little wooden “dolls” (as the traders call them, though “Katchina” is
the better word), which the visitors find in Hopi houses are careful
representations of these, made for the children of the household to
familiarize themselves with the characteristic aspect of each divinity.
“These dances,” to quote Mr. Walter Hough, whose excellent little work,
“The Hopi,” should be read by every intending visitor, “show the
cheerful Hopi at his best—a true spontaneous child of nature. They are
the most characteristic ceremonies of the pueblos, most musical,
spectacular and pleasing. They are really more worthy of the attention
of white people than the forbidding Snake Dance, which overshadows them
by the elements of horror.”
Visitors who allow themselves to be hurried up to the Hopi towns the day
before the Snake Dance and then packed off home the next morning, as
most of them do, may think they have had a good time, but it is largely
the bliss of ignorance. They do not know what they have missed by not
spending a week or two. To be sure accommodations are limited and
primitive, but one must expect to rough it more or less in Indian
country. Still the Hopis are not savages and one can be made
comfortable. It is generally possible to rent one of the small houses at
the foot of the mesa, if one does not bring one’s own camp outfit, and
there are traders at most of the villages where supplies of necessaries
may be obtained. Climb the trail to the sunny, breeze-swept mesa top;
get acquainted with the merry, well-behaved little children—easy enough,
particularly if you have a little stock of candy; watch the women making
_piki_ (the thin wafer-like corn-bread of many colors that is the Hopi
staff of life), or molding or burning pottery; see the men marching off,
huge hoes on shoulder, to cultivate their corn and beans, sometimes
miles away, in damp spots of the desert, or coming inward-bound driving
burros laden with firewood or products of the field. All this, in an
architectural setting that is as picturesque as Syria, replete with
entrancing “bits” that are a harvest to the artist or the kodaker. After
a day or two you will have had your measure pretty well taken by the
population, and granting your manners have been decent, you will be
making friends, and every day will show you something new in the life of
this most interesting race. Of course there is a difference in the
different towns—the customs of some have been more modified than others
by contact with the whites and the influence of the Government
educational system. The Walpians and their neighbors are perhaps the
most Americanized; the people of Hótavila and Shimópovi, the least so.
The Hopis possess arts of great interest. Pottery of beautiful form and
design is made at Hano[60] of the First Mesa. This tiny village has the
honor of being the home of the most famous of Indian potters, Nampéyo,
whose work is so exquisite that it looks distinctive in any company. Her
daughter Kwatsoa seems nearly as gifted. Then there is basketry.
Curiously enough the East Mesa makes no baskets whatever, and the
baskets of the Middle Mesa are quite of another sort from those of the
Third Mesa, and both so different from all other Indian baskets
whatsoever, as to be recognized at a glance. The Third Mesa baskets are
woven wicker work usually in the form of a tray or plaque, the design
symbolizing birds, clouds, butterflies, etc., in glaring aniline dyes.
Those of the Second Mesa are in heavy coils sewed together with a thread
of the yucca wrapping, and in various shapes from flat to globular, the
latter sometimes provided with handles. Weaving is an ancient Hopi art
that is now unfortunately decadent. In pre-Spanish days and for some
time afterwards, the Hopi cultivated a native cotton,[61] and cotton is
still woven by them into ceremonial kilts and cord. Formerly they were
famous weavers of rabbit-skin blankets. The visitor may still run across
an occasional one in the pueblos, but the blanket of wool has long since
displaced them. The Hopis make of weaving a man’s business, which is
usually carried on in the _kivas_ when these are not being used for
religious purposes. They specialize in women’s _mantas_, or one-piece
dresses, of a dark color with little or no ornamentation.