Relation of Man to Nature--Dancing as a Form of Worship Learned
from the Animals--Tarahumare Sacrifices--The Rutuburi Dance Taught
by the Turkey--The Yumari Learned from the Deer--Tarahumare Rain
Songs--Greeting the Sun--Tarahumare Oratory--The Flowing Bowl--The
National Importance of Tesvino--Homeward Bound.
Since the people obtain their subsistence from the products of the
soil, they naturally are deeply concerned in the weather upon which
their crops depend. Rain, therefore, is the focal point from which
all their thoughts radiate. Even the plough is dipped into water
before it is put to use, in order that it may draw rain. The people
may try to force the moon and the sun to give them rain. In times
of drought they reproach especially the moon for making the people
live on the leaves of the ash-tree and what other poor stuff they
can find; on her account they are getting so thin that they can no
longer recognise themselves. They scold her, and threaten to denounce
her to the sun. The sun himself may be rebuked for lack of rain. At
other times they may throw up water to heaven with many ceremonies,
that Tata Dios may replenish his supply. Generally, however, their
relations with the gods, as with men, are based on the business
principle of give and take.
Sacrifices of food, the meat of domestic animals or of game, and
of tesvino, are needed to induce Father Sun and Mother Moon to let
it rain. The favour of the gods may be won by what for want of a
better term may be called dancing, but what in reality is a series of
monotonous movements, a kind of rhythmical exercise, kept up sometimes
for two nights. By dint of such hard work they think to prevail upon
the gods to grant their prayers. The dancing is accompanied by the
song of the shaman, in which he communicates his wishes to the unseen
world, describing the beautiful effect of the rain, the fog, and the
mist on the vegetable world. He invokes the aid of all the animals,
mentioning each by name and also calls on them, especially the deer
and the rabbit, to multiply that the people may have plenty to eat.
As a matter of fact, the Tarahumares assert that the dances have
been taught them by the animals. Like all primitive people, they
are close observers of nature. To them the animals are by no means
inferior creatures; they understand magic and are possessed of much
knowledge, and may assist the Tarahumares in making rain. In spring,
the singing of the birds, the cooing of the dove, the croaking of
the frog, the chirping of the cricket, all the sounds uttered by the
denizens of the greensward, are to the Indian appeals to the deities
for rain. For what other reason should they sing or call? For the
strange behaviour of many animals in the early spring the Tarahumares
can find no other explanation but that these creatures, too, are
interested in rain. And as the gods grant the prayers of the deer
expressed in its antics and dances, and of the turkey in its curious
playing, by sending the rain, they easily infer that to please the
gods they, too, must dance as the deer and play as the turkey.
From this it will be understood that dance with these people is a very
serious and ceremonious matter, a kind of worship and incantation
rather than amusement. Never do man and woman dance together, as in
the waltz and polka of civilised people. The very word for dancing,
"nolavoa," means literally "to work." The wise old man may reproach
laggard, inexperienced younger ones, saying, "Why do you not go to
work?" meaning that they should go to the dance and not stand idly
about while the feast is going on. If the Tarahumares did not comply
with the commands of Father Sun and dance, the latter would come down
and burn up the whole world.
The Indian never asks his god to forgive whatever sin he may have
committed; all he asks for is rain, which to him means something to
eat, and to be free of evil. The only wrong toward the gods of which
he may consider himself guilty is that he does not dance enough. For
this offence he asks pardon. Whatever bad thoughts or actions toward
man he may have on his conscience are settled between himself and
the person offended. I once asked a prominent heathen shaman why the
people were not baptised, and he said: "Because Tata Dios made us
as we are. We have always been as you see us. People do not need to
be baptised, because there is no devil here. Tara Dios is not angry
with us; why should he be? Only when people do bad things does he
get angry. We make much beer and dance much, in order that he may
remain content; but when people talk much, and go around fighting,
then he gets angry and does not give us rain."
Dancing not only expresses prayers for rain and life, but also
petitions the gods to ward off evil in any shape, as diseases of man,
beast, or crops. The people may dance also in case too much rain is
falling, or for luck in field work, hunting, despatching the dead,
etc.; and in this way they also give thanks for the harvest. By
dancing and with tesvino they express all their wants to the gods,
or, as a Tarahumare told me, "We pray by dancing and the gourd."
With the dances is always connected the sacrifice of an animal;
the greater portion of the meat is eaten by the people themselves,
who, beside, bring forth all kinds of nice food, the best they
have. Such dancing festivals, as a matter of course, are given either
by individuals or by the community. It is thought that Tara Dios
himself comes down each time to make his demands on the Tarahumares
for dancing and sacrificing. He communicates his wishes in a dream
to someone, not necessarily a shaman; and in the dry season, when the
Indians begin to prepare their fields, most of these notices come and
are generally made known to all at a race, where many people always
come together. During all these months hardly a day passes without
a messenger being sent out from some place in the country to advise
one or the other of the principal shamans that God has come down and
demanded a feast. Sometimes Tata Dios asks for an ox to be killed;
at other times he wants only a sheep. Frequently he indicates that
the animal must be white; on other occasions he is not particular
about the colour. The threat is added that if the sacrifice is not
forthcoming, and the people do not dance soon, all the corn will
be burned up, and they will have to die of hunger. Or, if there has
been too much rain, the notice may say that, unless they sacrifice
and dance at once, all will be drowned, because it is going to rain
tremendously. Occasionally it is directed that they dance only a
little while, then rest, then dance again; or else they have to keep
on dancing for a night and a day, or two nights in succession. When a
great many sacrifices have been made and animals begin to be scarce,
Tara Dios may have to content himself with iskiate and tortillas. The
people may continue to make feasts and to dance, and yet get no other
results but fresh messages, ordering still more sacrifices. Then the
Indians begin to argue with Tata Dios that he must not be so greedy;
he has filled himself up with oxen and sheep and tesvino, and they
cannot give him any more. When such revolt seems imminent the shaman
may throw out an ominous hint that the sacrifices have to be made;
for what would the Tarahumares say if Tata Dios wanted one of them
to be killed?
Among the reasons given by the Christian Tarahumares for continued
dry weather are the following. The Devil has made Tara Dios sick and
has tied him up; or the Moon (Virgin Mary) is sick; or the people
have not given Tara Dios enough food and he is very hungry; or the
railroad engines of the Americans are making so much smoke that Tara
Dios is angry; or, finally, someone at a feast has infringed upon
the law of decorum, and thereby annulled its value.
At present domestic animals are considered more valuable at sacrifices
than the beasts of the field and the forest; yet squirrels (chipawiki),
turkeys, deer, rabbits, and fish are still used to some extent,
especially by those who do not possess domestic animals. Twenty men
may go out to hunt a deer, or from six to ten men try to bring in
four or five squirrels for a communal feast, to which all contribute
the corn necessary for the tesvino, say, half an almud, more or less,
according to the means of each householder. Never does any one man
give all the corn required for a tribal feast, though he may donate
all the meat, in the shape of an ox, a cow, or a sheep. Goats are
sacrificed only at burial functions. If the people do not give the
best they have for the sacrifice, they will obtain only poor results.
The dances are always held in the open air, that Father Sun and Mother
Moon may look upon the efforts of their children to please them. They
dance on the level space in front of the dwelling, preferably each
danced on its own patio. Some people have as many as three such
dancing-places, but most of them have to content themselves with
one. If a Tarahumare could afford it, he would have ten patios to
accommodate more people and dances near his house.
To my knowledge there are six different dances, but of these I will
describe only two, the rutuburi and the yumari, as these are the most
important and the two almost exclusively used in the central part of
the country. The other four I saw only among the southern Tarahumares.
The rutuburi was taught to the people by the turkey. Generally three
crosses are put up, and there are three shamans, the principal
one being in the middle; his assistants need not be shamans,
but the master of the house and his son, or some trusted friend,
may officiate. When the dancing is about to begin, these men take a
position in a line before the crosses, facing east, and shake their
rattles continuously for two or three minutes from side to side,
holding the instruments high up in the air, as the rattling is
meant to attract the attention of the gods. Then, with the singing
and shaking of the rattles--now down and up--they move forward in a
manner similar to that of a schoolgirl skipping over a rope, passing
the crosses to a point as far east as the starting-point was to the
west, altogether about eighteen yards. They then turn around and move
back to the starting-point. In this way they keep on dancing forward
and back three times, always in an easterly and westerly direction,
swinging their rattles down and up, while passing from one point
to the other, and from side to side whenever they reach it. The
down-and-up movement of the rattle is not a simple down and up, but
the down stroke is always followed by a short after-clap before the
arm rises for the new swing, producing thus a three-part rhythm. They
sing the following stanza, repeating it over and over again:
Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na
Rutuburi, from one side to the other moving! Rutuburi,
from one side to, etc.
O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si. O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si.
All! many! Arms crossed! All! many! Arms crossed!
This is the introduction and prelude to the whole dance. After this
formal opening the men take their places in line to the right of the
shamans, and the women to the left. They stand for a few minutes while
the shamans sing and swing their rattles, the men silently holding
their arms folded over their breasts, as described in the song. This
crossing of the arms I take to mean a salutation to the gods. While
the Tarahumares of to-day never salute each other by shaking hands,
neither is there any trace at present of their ever having saluted
each other by crossing arms over the breast, which form was probably
never used except with the gods, at ceremonies.
All the people are closely wrapped in their blankets, which they wear
throughout the dance. In its general traits, the dance is performed
in the same way as the opening ceremony. The shamans, or sometimes
only the leader, jumps along as described, but the men just walk
to and fro, and have to take long steps in order to keep abreast
with the leaders. The women follow the men after the latter have
gone several yards ahead, skipping in the same way as the shamans,
though less pronounced. They stamp the, hard ground with the right
foot and run without regard to time, so that the pattering of their
naked feet reminds one of a drove of mules stampeding. They overtake
the men, so as to turn around simultaneously with them and wait again
for a few seconds for the men to get ahead of them. Thus the dance
is continued without interruption for hours and hours. This may sound
as if the spectacle was monotonous; but such is not the case. On the
contrary, there is a certain fascination in the regular, rhythmical
movement from side to side--like the double pendulum of some gigantic,
unseen clock. The shaman specially captivates the attention of the
observer, being the very incarnation of enthusiasm. He swings his
rattle with energy and conviction, as if bent on rousing the gods
out of their indifference, while he stamps his right foot on the
ground to add weight to the words, which he pours forth in a loud,
resonant voice from his wide-open mouth. Although the Tarahumare, as
a rule, has a harsh and not very powerful singing voice, still there
are some noteworthy exceptions, and the airs of the rutuburi songs
are quite pleasing to the ear. These, as all their dancing-songs,
are of great antiquity and strangely enchanting.
Rutuburi Dance.
Va-sa-ma du-hu(-hu-ru)-si Sae-va-ga wi-li
In flowers (is) jaltomate, [7] in flow-ers stands up,
Sae-va-ga wi-li wu-ka wu-ka.
In flowers stands up getting ripe, getting ripe.
Rutuburi Dance.
Ra-ya-bo va-mi va-mi-(ru) ra-ya-bo
(On the) ridge yon-der, yon-der (On the) ridge
be-mo-ko ra-ya-bo be-mo-ko.
fog (on the) ridge fog.
The water is near;
Fog is resting on the mountain and on the mesa.
The Bluebird sings and whirs in the trees, and
The Male Woodpecker is calling on the llano,
Where the fog is rising.
The large Swift is making his dashes through the evening air;
The rains are close at hand.
When the Swift is darting through the air he makes his
whizzing, humming noise.
The Blue Squirrel ascends the tree and whistles,
The plants will be growing and the fruit will be ripening,
And when it is ripe it falls to the ground.
It falls because it is so ripe.
The flowers are standing up, waving in the wind.
The Turkey is playing, and the Eagle is calling;
Therefore, the time of rains will soon set in.
In the wet season, when the rabbits are about, the shamans sing of
the rabbit. In winter time they sing of the giant woodpecker, and
in harvest time, when the people begin to make merry, they sing of
the blackbird.
The yumari was learned from the deer. According to tradition it is
the oldest dance. At the hour appointed, the shaman, facing the cross
and the east, here, too, opens the proceedings by shaking his rattle
to both sides to notify the gods. Then he begins to walk around the
cross, humming a song and marching in time to the rattle, which he
now swings down and up. He makes the ceremonial circuit, stopping at
each cardinal point for a few seconds. After this he begins his dance,
and the rest of the assemblage gradually join in. The dance consists
in short walks, forward and backward, with lock-step, the men being
arrayed in line on both sides of the shaman, their eyes fixed on
the ground, their elbows touching. In this way they swing to and
fro, generally describing a curve around the cross, or, sometimes,
forming a circle against the apparent movement of the sun. The women
dance in a similar way, in a course of their own behind the men;
but they frequently break ranks, jumping forward and backward with
movements wholly devoid of grace. When the dance goes in a circle,
the women move with the sun.
The tones marked with the accent > in each of the following yumari
songs are grunts.
The yumari songs tell that the Cricket wants to dance; the Frog wants
to dance and jump; and the Blue Heron wants to fish; the Goatsucker
is dancing, so is the Turtle, and the Grey Fox is whistling. But it
is characteristic of the yumari songs that they generally consist
only of an unintelligible jargon, or, rather, of a mere succession
of vocables, which the dancers murmur.
Unlike the rutuburi, the yumari soon becomes tiresome, in spite of
its greater animation. Yet the spectacle has something weird in it,
especially when seen by the fitful flicker of the fire, which throws
a fantastic light upon the grotesque figures, like goblins moving
about on the same space. Many mothers carry their sleeping infants on
their backs. Sometimes, the blanket which supports the baby loosens,
and the little thing hangs half out of it, following every movement
of the parent.
At most feasts both these dances are performed, and the Indians
themselves consider them to have the same general purpose. It is,
therefore, not easy to see the relation of the two dances to each
other. Rutuburi is the more serious dance, and is more efficacious
than yumari, though the latter, of course, has its own special value;
for instance, it expresses a prayer that the shaman may have strength
to cure. In yumari, all sing and dance, and very frequently all the
performers are drunk, while during the former dance absolute decorum
is observed. Both dances are for the sun and the moon--rutuburi,
in order to call them down; yumari, to despatch them. Therefore, the
usual dancing-feasts commence with rutuburi. When the function is about
to be concluded, an hour or two before sunrise, yumari is commenced,
and leads over to the second part of the festival, the eating and
drinking. After this, yumari may be continued throughout the day,
while the Indians get drunk. Rutuburi is also danced at thanksgiving
for the harvest, while on such occasions yumari asks for a good year
to come. Then, again, rutuburi may be danced throughout the day, and
yumari at night; but generally the former dance commences soon after
sunset. On one occasion, while I was waiting for the performance
to begin, the son of the house, in answer to my query, pointed to
the sky, and told me that the dance would not commence until the
Pleiades reached a certain spot in the heavens, which I calculated
to mean about eleven o'clock. This indicated that the stars have some
connection with the dancing.
At the break of dawn busy hands begin to get everything ready for the
great ceremony of the sacrifice. For several days the women of the
household and their friends have been making tortillas and boiling
beans and _tamales_ (small quantities of unsalted ground corn, wrapped
and boiled in corn-husks). An animal was killed on the preceding day,
and the meat has been boiling (without salt) in large jars all day
and all night. Tata Dios does not like bones, therefore no bones
are cooked with this meat. Several of the women have been dividing
their time between dancing and watching the food-supply, to guard
it against mishap from any source: A blanket is spread underneath,
just to the west of the cross, or the three crosses, as the case may
be, and on it in a line they place the jars of tesvino; behind these
are set three small earthenware bowls filled with the stringy mass
of the meat; then come three baskets of tortillas; and finally three
little jars with wooden spoons in each are brought on and put in their
proper places, behind the rest of the food. The latter vessels contain
medicines to be taken, for the welfare of the people is looked after
from every point of view.
In the meantime the dancing goes on with undiminished force. Nearly
every night during the dry season, for nobody knows how many centuries,
the Morning Star has been looking down upon his sons, the Tarahumares,
as they dance in the heart of the sierra, casting his last rays
upon the weird scene around their dying fires before he flees from
the approaching keeper of the day. Just before the first beam of
the rosy light announces the coming of Father Sun, the dancing
ceases, and the rattles are added to the sacrificial offerings on
the blanket. Everybody now is ready to do homage to the deity about
to appear above the horizon. The shaman greets him with the words,
"Behold, Nonorugami is coming!" and then solemnly proceeds toward
the cross, while the people form a line behind him and preserve a
respectful silence throughout the ensuing ceremony. He fills a large
drinking-gourd with tesvino, and, holding it in his left hand, throws a
small dipperful of the liquor with his right hand into the air, three
times to each cardinal point, making the ceremonial circuit. Then
the meat and the tortillas are sacrificed in the following way:
The shaman takes up from the ground the vessel in front of him, and
lifts it three times toward heaven. Then with his fingers he takes
up a little meat, offers it to the cross with the word "Koa!" (Eat),
and throws it up into the air. Next he breaks off a small piece of
tortilla, and repeats the same ceremony. Thus he sacrifices to all
the cardinal points. The two assistants of the shaman follow their
principal in every act he performs.
The solemnity of the scene is by no means impaired by the numerous
dogs, which are gathering to see what they can snatch up. Of course,
the people drive them away, but in the end they always get Nonorugami's
share of the food, while the god is supposed to eat only the nourishing
substance.
What is left in the jars or bowls after the sacrifice is placed back on
the blanket under the cross. The broth of the meat, too, is sacrificed,
and so is the blood of the animal that has been killed for the feast.
Whenever the shaman returns to the people after performing the
sacrifice, he says, "This was done on behalf of Nonorugami," and
all the people respond: "Matetrava! Matetrava! Kalahupo!" (Thank
you! Thank you! It is all right!)
When the gods have had their share of the tesvino and the food,
the curing begins. The medicines are cold infusions of different
medicinal plants. The shaman standing directly in front of the
middle cross, takes up the jar containing the chief medicine, palo
hediondo; his assistant to the north takes up the bowl containing
a root called ohnoa; and the one on the south maguey water. After
having duly sacrificed to the gods, the great shaman himself takes
three spoonfuls of the medicine, and gives the same quantity to his
assistant to the north, who in turn first takes his remedy and then
gives some to the shaman. In the same way the latter exchanges with
his assistant to the south, and then the two assistants exchange
remedies. The bowls are then handed by the shaman to the owner of the
house, who in turn passes them on to the first man in the row, and
from him they go from hand to hand to the last man in the line, each
man taking three spoonfuls out of each bowl, while each of the women
gets four. The man who drinks last gives the bowls back to the owner
of the house, who in turn hands them to the shaman, who puts them back
on the blanket underneath the cross. Meanwhile the incense-burners
have been filled with hot coals, on which the shaman now throws
some copal, the smoke of which he waves over all the people. He, as
well as the other men, open their blankets a little to get the smoke
on their bodies. This finishes the curing act, and now a speech is
made. At private festivals the shaman is the orator of the occasion,
but at communal or tribal festivals the gobernador is expected to,
and generally does, perform this part of the proceedings. Rhetoric is
one of the accomplishments of the Tarahumares, though it is not to be
judged in accordance with the white man's standard. Here is a speech
made by the gobernador at the end of one of the feasts I witnessed:
Listen to me! Stand up in a row and listen to what I have to tell
you. All of you stand up in line, men, women, and children, because
I am going to give you my words, to present to you the words which
the One Above bids me to tell you. Now all is over! We have done
something good to Tara Dios, and he has given you life to dance; and
now he is giving you life for another year. All of you will have to
make feasts like this. You have no experience; therefore listen to
me and hear what I have to tell you. If you do not believe what I am
telling you, the Devil will carry you off. You all are inexperienced,
all of you who are standing here in a row around. Be quiet, and do all
your business quietly. Drink quietly, talk quietly, sing quietly. And
do not fight, because if in the fight you kill somebody, what will
you have afterward? Nothing but sorrow and sadness! The One who
is above us bids me to tell you, to say to all of you, men, women,
and children, that this water, this tesvino that we are drinking is
what makes us lose our heads. You know it all, and the One Above
knows that this is the truth that I am telling you. Don't fight,
don't pull each other's hair, don't beat anyone in the face until he
bleeds. For the blood and the hair belong to Tata Dios, and you pull
his hair and shed his blood. Drink tesvino to your hearts' content,
get much drunk, but then lie down and sleep, and in the morning you
return to your homes without coming to blows with anyone.
All the time the speech is punctuated with expressions of approval,
and at the end they all say: "Matetrava! Matetrava! Kalahupo!" (Thank
you! Thank your It is all right!)
A speech is also often made in the beginning of the feast, when much
the same sentiments are expressed. The orator tells the people to
follow the good example of the host, that sacrificing and dancing may
go on here, there, and everywhere, so that the gods will get plenty to
eat and grant the prayers of the Tarahumares. He strongly admonishes
them to keep away from women, as otherwise the value of the feast
would be lost. This day belongs to Tara Dios, and nothing else is to
be thought of. If anyone transgresses this command, he will have to
give an ox or a sheep and tesvino, to make the feast all over again.
While the dancing and singing, sacrificing and speechmaking, are going
on, the people behave with decorous solemnity and formality. The
ceremonies are never interrupted by unseemly conduct; everybody
deports himself with grave sobriety, and refrains from loud talking and
laughing and from making any disrespectful noise. But after the gods
have been given their share, the people go in, no less energetically,
for enjoying themselves.
Food and tesvino are never distributed by the same man, nor are men
and women waited on by the same functionary; in other words, one man
is appointed for each sex, to dispense the tesvino, and two others
to serve the food.
They eat but little of the solids, as it is customary for the
guests to take home their portions, the women bringing jars and
baskets along for the purpose. Little or nothing of the tesvino is
spared, and it is the avowed intention and aim of everybody to get
"a beautiful intoxication." They all like to get drunk. An Indian
explained to me that the drunken people weep with delight, because
they are so perfectly happy. Every Tarahumare has in his heart a
cross which Tata Dios placed there long, long ago, and this cross
they respect. When drunk they remember Tata Dios better. At their
feasts they sit alongside of him and drink with him. The women sit
alongside of the Moon and remember ancient times.
But unfortunately this blissful stage of their intoxication does not
last long, and then the animal nature in them manifests itself. Under
the influence of the liquor, men and women rapidly lose that
bashfulness and modesty which in ordinary life are such characteristic
traits of their deportment. Furthermore, whatever grudge one man
may' have against another now crops out, and very likely a fight
will ensue, in which the two opponents recklessly pull each other's
hair and punch each other's faces. Sometimes in such an outbreak of
unreasoning animalism one of the combatants will seize a stone and
batter the other one's head to crush it. Afterward, when sober again,
the murderer may deeply deplore his deed--if he remembers it at all.
Mothers, when overcome by the spirit of the feast, may unawares allow
their babies to fall out of the blankets and into the fire. Children
may frequently be seen with bruises and scars which they carry as
mementoes of some tesvino feast. I know one man who had no hair on
one side of his head, having when a child been a victim of such an
accident. But seldom, if ever, is a child allowed to become fatally
injured.
Taking it all in all, it is a good-natured, jolly, silly crowd,
out for a good time and enjoying themselves. All are good friends,
and familiarity becomes unlimited. Late in the afternoon those still
able to walk start on their way home. Rarely, however, can they
reach their domiciles, if these are any distance off, before nature
enforces her rights; and the track is strewn with men and women, who,
overcome with the effects of their spree, have lain down wherever
they happened to be, to sleep themselves sober. Tarahumare society has
not yet advanced far enough to see anything disgraceful in debauches
of this kind, which, if viewed from their standpoint, are _pro bono
publico_; and we ourselves need go back only to our grandfathers'
and great-grandfathers' time to find that inebriety was not at all
inconsistent with good morals and high standing. Moreover, no matter
how often the Tarahumares indulge in such saturnalia, as soon as they
recover their senses they are as decorous and solemn as ever. Their
native stimulant does not seem to affect either their physical or
their mental faculties, and, all scientific theories to the contrary,
their children are strong, healthy, and bright.
Aside from social and religious considerations, the drinking of tesvino
is a vital factor in the national life of the tribe. Incredible as
it may sound, yet, after prolonged and careful research into this
interesting psychological problem, I do not hesitate to state that
in the ordinary course of his existence the uncivilised Tarahumare
is too bashful and modest to enforce his matrimonial rights and
privileges; and that by means of tesvino chiefly the race is kept
alive and increasing. It is especially at the feasts connected with
the agricultural work that sexual promiscuity takes place.
A large gathering is not necessary in order to pray to the gods by
dancing. Sometimes the family dances alone, the father teaching the
boys. While doing agricultural work, the Indians often depute one
man to dance yumari near the house, while the others attend to the
work in the fields. It is a curious sight to see a lone man taking his
devotional exercise to the tune of his rattle in front of an apparently
deserted dwelling. The lonely worshipper is doing his share of the
general work by bringing down the fructifying rain and by warding off
disaster, while the rest of the family and their friends plant, hoe,
weed, or harvest. In the evening, when they return from the field, they
may join him for a little while; but often he goes on alone, dancing
all night, and singing himself hoarse, and the Indians told me that
this is the very hardest kind of work, and exhausting even to them.
Solitary worship is also observed by men who go out hunting deer or
squirrels for a communal feast. Every one of them dances yumari alone
in front of his house for two hours to insure success on the hunt;
and when putting corn to sprout for the making of tesvino the owner
of the house dances for a while, that the corn may sprout well.
In certain parts of the country, near Aboreachic, for instance,
a dance called valixiwami is in vogue. Here the line of the women
faces that of the men, and the two rows dance backward and forward,
following each other all the time.
In a dance called cuvali, which is found still further south, the
movements are the same as in the dance just mentioned, but the steps
are different. It is danced for the same reason as rutuburi is, and
it makes the grass and the fungi grow and the deer and the rabbits
multiply. This is the only dance known to the Tepehuanes.
In the winter they dance for snow, a dance called yohe; and finally
there is a dance called ayena, which calls the clouds from the north
and south that they may clash and produce rain.
I was present at feasts in which four of these dances were performed,
and the order in which they followed each other was: Rutuburi, yumari,
valixiwami, cuvali.
According to one version of the tradition, both yumari and rutuburi
were once men who taught the Tarahumares to dance and sing. They live
with Father Sun. Valixiwami and cuvali were also men and companions
of the former, but much younger.
At certain feasts for the benefit of the moon, three cigarettes are
offered under the cross. The shaman takes one of them, gives a puff,
raising the cigarette at the same time upward toward the moon and
saying: "Sua" (rise) "vami" (yonder) "repa" (upward). This is repeated
three times. The master of the house and his wife do the same. The
ceremony is performed in order to help the moon to make clouds. Now
all present may smoke. The Tarahumare never smokes in the middle of
the day; he would offend the sun by so doing. He indulges in the
"weed" mostly at feasts when drunk. When an Indian offers another
man tobacco and a dry corn-leaf to roll his cigarette it is a sign
that everything is well between them.
Every year between March and May a large performance takes place on a
special patio in the woods. Its purpose is to cure or prevent disease,
and much tesvino is consumed. A straw-man, about two feet high, dressed
in cotton drawers, and with a handkerchief tied around its head is
set up next to the cross. It represents Father Sun, and the cross
is his wife, the Moon. Sometimes a stuffed recamuchi (cacomistle,
_bassariscus_) is used either in the place of a straw-man or in
addition to it. After the feast is over, the manikin is taken to
the place from which the straw was obtained, in order to make the
grass grow. The Christian Tarahumares keep it in the sacristy of
their church.
The latter also celebrate Christmas, and on this occasion some of
them, the so-called _matachines_, paint their faces and carry on their
backs stuffed animals, such as the grey fox, squirrel, or opossum,
while dancing to the music of the violin. They jokingly call the skins
their _muchachitos_, and hold them as women carry their babies. At
present the only object is to make the beholder laugh; but of course
the play is a remnant of some ancient custom, the meaning of which is
now forgotten through the new associations with which the missionaries
of old imbued the ceremonies and rites found among the pagans.
A similar suggestion of antiquity is unmistakably embodied in the
deer masks, as well as in the heads with antlers attached, which the
same men also may wear.
During Easter week live rattlesnakes are carried about, but the heads
of the reptiles are tied together so that they can do no harm. One
man may have as many as four serpents with him.