not put it out; and although they grew blacker and blacker, they would
not give it up. So they became as black as crows are now; and ever since
then eagles have been speckled with brown and black, and crows have been
black, even to the tips of their beaks. And whenever in the Sacred Drama
Dance of our people old Mítsina appears, he sings the doleful song and
carries the light of pitch pine. He goes naked, with the exception of a
wretched old cloth at his loins; and he wears a mask with deep holes for
eyes, blood streaming from them.
Thus shortens my story.
HOW THE TWINS OF WAR AND CHANCE, ÁHAIYÚTA AND MÁTSAILÉMA, FARED WITH
THE UNBORN-MADE MEN OF THE UNDERWORLD[26]
[26] Reprinted from the _Journal of American Folk-Lore_, vol.
v., No. 16, pp. 49-56.
TRANSLATOR’S INTRODUCTION
Heretofore I have withheld from publication such single examples of Zuñi
folk-lore as the following, in order that the completer series might be
brought forth in the form of an unbroken collection, with ample
introductory as well as supplementary chapters, essential to the proper
understanding by ourselves of the many distinctively Zuñi meanings and
conceptions involved in the various allusions with which any one of them
teems. Yet, to avoid encumbering the present example with any but the
briefest of notes, I must ask leave to refer the reader to the more
general yet detailed chapters I have already written in the main, and
with which, I have reason to hope, I will ere long be able to present
the tales in question. Meanwhile, I would refer likewise to the essay I
have recently prepared for the Thirteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of
American Ethnology, on _Zuñi Creation Myths_ in their relation to
primitive dance and other dramaturgic ceremonies.
Ever one of my chief story-tellers was Waíhusiwa,--of the priestly kin
of Zuñi. He had already told me somewhat more than fifty of the folk
tales, long and short, of his people, when one night I asked him for
“only one more story of the grandfathers.” Wishing to evade me, he
replied with more show than sincerity:
“There is a North, and of it I have told you _té-la-p’-na-we_.[27]
There is a West; of it also I have told you _té-la-p’-na-we_. There are
the South and East; of them likewise have I told you _té-la-p’-na-we_.
Even of the Above have I not but lately told you of the youth who made
love to his eagle and dwelt apace in the Sky-world? And of the great
World-embracing Waters? You have been told of the hunter who married the
Serpent-maiden and journeyed to the Mountain of Sunset. Now, therefore,
my word-pouch is as empty as the food-pack of a lost hunter, and--”
[27] From _té-na-la-a_, “time or times of,” and _pé-na-we_,
words or speeches (tales): “tales of time.”
“Feel in the bottom of it, then,” interposed old Pálowahtiwa, who was
sitting near, “and tell him of the Underworld.”
“_Hi-ta!_ [Listen!] brother younger,” said Waíhusiwa, nonplussed but
ever ready. “Did you ever hear tell of the people who could not digest,
having, forsooth, no proper insides wherewithal to do so? Did you ever
hear of them, brother younger?”
“Nay, never; not even from my own grandfathers,” said I. “_Sons éso_ to
your story; short be it or long.”[28]
[28] The invariable formula for beginning a folk tale is, by the
raconteur: “_Són ah-tchi!_” (“Let us take up”)--_té-la-p’-ne_,
or “a folk tale,” being understood. To this the auditors or
listeners respond: “_É-so!_” (“Yea, verily.”) Again, by the
raconteur: “_Sons i-nó-o-to-na! Tem_,” etc. (“Let us (tell of)
the times of creation! When,” etc.) Again, by the listeners:
“_Sons éso! Te-ä-tú!_” (“Yea, let us, verily! Be it so.”)
“_Sons éso tse-ná!_” (“Cool your ‘_sons éso!_’ and wait till _I_
begin.”)--F. H. C.
ZUÑI INTRODUCTION
It seems--so the words of the grandfathers say--that in the Underworld
were many strange things and beings, even villages of men, long ago.
But the people of those villages were unborn-made,--more like the ghosts
of the dead than ourselves, yet more like ourselves than are the ghosts
of the dead, for as the dead are more finished of being than we are,
they were less so, as smoke, being hazy, is less fine than mist, which
is filmy; or as green corn, though raw, is soft like cooked corn which
is done (like the dead), and as both are softer than ripe corn which,
though raw, is hardened by age (as we are of meat).
And also, these people were, you see, dead in a way, in that they had
not yet begun to live, that is, as we live, in the daylight fashion.
And so, it would seem, partly like ourselves, they had bodies, and
partly like the dead they had no bodies, for being unfinished they were
unfixed. And whereas the dead are like the wind, and take form from
within of their own wills (_yän′te-tseman_), these people were really
like the smoke,[29] taking form from without of the outward touching of
things, even as growing and unripe grains and fruits do.
[29] The Zuñi classification of states of growth or being is as
elaborate as that of relative space in their mythology--both
extremely detailed and systematic, yet, when understood, purely
primitive and simple. The universe is supposed to have been
generated from haze (_shí-wai-a_) produced by light (of the
All-container, Sun-father) out of darkness. The observed analogy
of this in nature is the appearance of haze (both heat and
steam) preceding growth in springtime; the appearance of the
world, of growing and living things, through mist seemingly
rising out of the darkness each morning. In harmony with this
conception of the universe is the correlative one that every
being (as to soul, at least) passes through many successive
states of becoming, always beginning as a _shí-u-na hâ-i_ (haze
being), and passing through the raw or soft (_k’ya-pi-na_), the
formative (_k’yaí-yu-na_), variable (_thlím-ni-na_), fixed or
done (_ak-na_), and finished or dead (_ä-shï-k’ya_) states;
whilst the condition of the surpassing beings (gods) may be any
of these at will (_i-thlim-na_, or _thlim-nah-na_, etc.). There
are many analogies of this observed by the Zuñi, likening, as he
does, the generation of being to that of fire with the
fire-drill and stick. The most obvious of these is the
appearance, in volumes, of “smoke-steam” or haze just previously
to ignition, and its immediate disappearance with ignition.
Further, the succession of beings in the becoming of a complete
being may be regarded as an orderly personification of growth
phenomena as observed in plants and seeds; for example, in corn,
which is characterized by no fewer than thirteen mystic names,
according to its stages of growth. This whole subject is much
more fully and conclusively set forth in the writings to which I
have already referred.
Well, in consequence, it was passing strange what a state they were in!
Bethink ye! Their persons were much the reverse of our own, for wherein
we are hard, they were soft--pliable. Wherein we are most completed,
they were most unfinished; for not having even the organs of digestion,
whereby we fare lustily, food in its solidity was to them destructive,
whereas to us it is sustaining. When, therefore, they would eat, they
dreaded most the food itself, taking thought not to touch it, and merely
absorbing the mist thereof. As fishes fare chiefly on water, and birds
on air, so these people ate by gulping down the steam and savor of their
cooked things whilst cooking or still hot; then they threw the real food
away, forsooth!
THE TALE
Now, the Twain Little-ones, Áhaiyúta and Mátsailéma,[30] were ever
seeking scenes of contention; for what was deathly and dreadful to
others was lively and delightful to them; so that cries of distress were
ever their calls of invitation, as to a feast or dance is the call of a
priest to us.
[30] For the mythic origin of these two chief gods under the
Sun, as his right- and left-hand being, their relation to
chance, war, games, etc., I again refer the reader to the _Zuñi
Creation Myths_.
On a day when the world was quiet, they were sitting by the side of a
deep pool. They heard curious sounds coming up through the waters, as
though the bubbles were made by moans of the waters affrighted.
“Uh!” cried the elder. “What is that?”
The younger brother turned his ear to the ground and listened.
“There is trouble down there, dire trouble, for the people of the
Underworld are shrieking war-cries like daft warriors and wailing like
murder-mourners. What can be the matter? Let us descend and see!”
“Just so!” said Áhaiyúta.
Then they covered their heads with their cord-shields[31]--turned upside
down--and shut their eyes and stepped into the deep pool.
[31] _Pi-a-la-we_ (cord or cotton shields), evidently an ancient
style of shield still surviving in the form of sacrificial
net-shields of the Priesthood of the Bow. But the shields of
these two gods were supposed to have been spun from the clouds
which, supporting the sky-ocean, that in turn supported the
sky-world (as this world is believed to be supported by
under-waters and clouds), were hence possessed of the power of
floating--upward when turned up, downward when reversed.
“Now we are in the dark,” said they, “like the dark down there. Well,
then, by means of the dark let us go down”--for they had wondrous power,
had those Twain; the magic of in-knowing-how thought had they.
Down, like light through dark places, they went; dry through the
waters; straight toward that village in the Underworld.
“Whew! the poor wretches are already dead,” cried they, “and
rotting”--for their noses were sooner accustomed to the dark than their
eyes, which they now opened.
“We might as well have spared ourselves the coming, and stayed above,”
said Áhaiyúta.
“Nay, not so,” said Mátsailéma. “Let us go on and see how they lived,
even if they are dead.”
“Very well,” said the elder; and as they fared toward the village they
could see quite plainly now, for they had made it dark (to themselves)
by shutting their eyes in the daylight above, so now they made it light
(to themselves) by opening their eyes in the darkness below and simply
looking,--it was their way, you know.
“Well, well!” said Mátsailéma, as they came nearer and the stench
doubled. “Look at the village; it is full of people; the more they smell
of carrion the more they seem alive!”
“Yes, by the chut of an arrow!” exclaimed Áhaiyúta. “But look here! It
is food we smell--cooked food, all thrown away, as we throw away bones
and corn-cobs because they are too hard to eat and profitless withal.
What, now, can be the meaning of this?”
“What, indeed! Who can know save by knowing,” replied the younger
brother. “Come, let us lie low and watch.”
So they went very quietly close to the village, crouched down, and
peered in. Some people inside were about to eat. They took fine food
steaming hot from the cooking-pots and placed it low down in wide
trenchers; then they gathered around and sipped in the steam and savor
with every appearance of satisfaction; but they were as chary of
touching the food or of letting the food touch them as though it were
the vilest of refuse.
“Did you see that?” queried the younger brother. “By the delight of
death,[32] but--”
[32] _Hé-lu-ha-pa_; from _hé-lu_, or _é-lu_, “hurrah,” or “how
delightful!”--and _há-pa_, a corpse-demon, death.
“Hist!” cried the elder. “If they are people of that sort, feeding upon
the savor of food, then they will hear the suggestions of sounds better
than the sounds themselves, and the very demon fathers would not know
how to fare with such people, or to fight them, either!”
Hah! But already the people had heard! They set up a clamor of war,
swarming out to seek the enemy, as well they might, for who would think
favorably of a sneaking stranger under the shade of a house-wall
watching the food of another? Why, dogs growl even at their own
offspring for the like of that!
“Where? Who? What is it?” cried the people, rushing hither and thither
like ants in a shower. “Hah! There they are! There! Quick!” cried they,
pointing to the Twain, who were cutting away to the nearest hillock. And
immediately they fell to singing their war-cry.
“_Ha-a! Sús-ki!
Ó-ma-ta
Há-wi-mo-o!
Ó-ma-ta,
Ó-ma-ta Há-wi-mo!_”[33]
sang they as they ran headlong toward the Two, and then they began
shouting:
“Tread them both into the ground! Smite them both! Fan them out! _Ho-o!
Ha-a! Há-wi-mo-o ó-ma-ta!_”
[33] This, like so many of the folk-tale songs, can only be
translated etymologically or by extended paraphrasing. Such
songs are always jargonistic, either archaic, imitative, or
adapted from other languages of tribes who possibly supplied
incidents to the myths themselves; but they are, like the
latter, strictly harmonized with the native forms of expression
and phases of belief.
But the Twain laughed and quickly drew their arrows and loosed them
amongst the crowd. _P’it! tsok!_ sang the arrows through and through the
people, but never a one fell.
“Why, how now is this?” cried the elder brother.
“We’ll club them, then!” said Mátsailéma, and he whiffed out his
war-club and sprang to meet the foremost whom he pummelled well and
sorely over the head and shoulders. Yet the man was only confused (he
was too soft and unstable to be hurt); but another, rushing in at one
side, was hit by one of the shield-feathers and fell to the ground like
smoke driven down under a hawk’s wing.
“Hold, brother, I have it! Hold!” cried Áhaiyúta. Then he snatched up a
bunch of dry plume-grass and leaped forward. _Swish!_ Two ways he swept
the faces and breasts of the pursuers. Lo! right and left they fell
like bees in a rain-storm, and quickly sued for mercy, screeching and
running at the mere sight of the grass-straws.
“You fools!” cried the brothers. “Why, then, did ye set upon us? We came
for to help you and were merely looking ahead as becomes strangers in
strange places, when, lo! you come running out like a mess of mad flies
with your ‘_Ha-a sús-ki ó-ma-ta!_’ Call us coyote-sneaks, do you? But
there! Rest fearless! We hunger; give us to eat.”
So they led the Twain into the court within the town and quickly brought
steaming food for them.
They sat down and began to blow the food to cool it, whereupon the
people cried out in dismay: “Hold! Hold, ye heedless strangers; do not
waste precious food like that! For shame!”
“Waste food? Ha! This is the way _we_ eat!” said they, and clutching up
huge morsels they crammed their mouths full and bolted them almost
whole.
The people were so horrified and sickened at sight of this, that some of
them sweated furiously,--which was their way of spewing--whilst others,
stouter of thought, cried: “Hold! hold! Ye will die; ye will surely
sicken and die if the stuff do but touch ye!”
“Ho! ho!” cried the Twain, eating more lustily than ever. “Eat thus and
harden yourselves, you poor, soft things, you!”
Just then there was a great commotion. Everyone rushed to the shelter of
the walls and houses, shouting to them to leave off and follow quickly.
“What is it?” asked they, looking up and all around.
“Woe, woe! The gods are angry with us this day, and blowing arrows at
us. They will kill you both! Hurry!” A big puff of wind was blowing
over, scattering slivers and straws before it; that was all!
“Brother,” said the elder, “this will not do. These people must be
hardened and be taught to eat. But let us take a little sleep first,
then we will look to this.”
They propped themselves up against a wall, set their shields in front of
them, and fell asleep. Not long after they awakened suddenly. Those
strange people were trying to drag them out to bury them, but were
afraid to touch them now, for they thought them dead stuff, more dead
than alive.
The younger brother punched the elder with his elbow, and both pretended
to gasp, then kept very still. The people succeeded at last in rolling
them out of the court like spoiling bodies, and were about to mingle
them with the refuse when they suddenly let go and set up a great wail,
shouting “War! Murder!”
“How now?” cried the Twain, jumping up. Whereupon the people stared and
chattered in greater fright than ever at seeing the dead seemingly come
to life!
“What’s the matter, you fool people?”
“_Akaa kaa_,” cried a flock of jays.
“Hear that!” said the villagers. “Hear that, and ask what’s the matter!
The jays are coming; whoever they light on dies--run you two! _Aii!_
Murder!” And they left off their standing as though chased by demons. On
one or two of the hindmost some jays alighted. They fell dead as though
struck by lightning!
“Why, see that!” cried the elder brother--“these people die if only
birds alight on them!”
“Hold on, there!” said the younger brother. “Look here, you fearsome
things!” So they pulled hairs from some scalp-locks they had, and made
snares of them, and whenever the jays flew at them they caught them with
the nooses until they had caught every one. Then they pinched them dead
and took them into the town and roasted them. “This is the way,” said
they, as they ate the jays by morsels.
And the people crowded around and shouted: “Look! look! why, they eat
the very enemy--say nothing of refuse!” And although they dreaded the
couple, they became very conciliatory and gave them a fit place to bide
in.
The very next day there was another alarm. The Two ran out to learn what
was the matter. For a long time they could see nothing, but at last they
met some people fleeing into the town. Chasing after them was a
cooking-pot with earrings of onions.[34] It was boiling furiously and
belching forth hot wind and steam and spluttering mush in every
direction. If ever so little of the mush hit the people they fell over
and died.
[34] The onion here referred to is the dried, southwestern
leek-clove, which is so strong and indigestible that, when eaten
raw and in quantity, gives rise to great distress, or actually
proves fatal to any but mature and vigorous persons. This, of
course, explains why it was chosen for its value as a symbol of
the vigor (or “daylight perfection” and invincibility) of the
Twin gods.
“_He!_” cried the Twain;
“_Té-k’ya-thla-k’ya
Í-ta-wa-k’ya
Äsh′-she-shu-kwa!_
--As if food-stuff were made to make people afraid!” Whereupon they
twitched the earrings off the pot and ate them up with all the mush that
was in the pot, which they forthwith kicked to pieces vigorously.
Then the people crowded still closer around them, wondering to one
another that they could vanquish all enemies by eating them with such
impunity, and they begged the Twain to teach them how to do it. So they
gathered a great council of the villagers, and when they found that
these poor people were only half finished, ... they cut vents in them
(such as were not afraid to let them), ... and made them eat solid food,
by means of which they were hardened and became men of meat then and
there, instead of having to get killed after the manner of the fearful,
and others of their kind beforetime, in order to ascend to the daylight
and take their places in men born of men.
And for this reason, behold! a new-born child may eat only of wind-stuff
until his cord of viewless sustenance has been severed, and then only by
sucking milk or soft food first and with much distress.
Behold! And we may now see why, like new-born children are the very
aged; childish withal--_á-ya-vwi_[35];--not only toothless, too, but
also sure to die of diarrhœa if they eat ever so little save the soft
parts and broths of cooked food. For are not the babes new-come from the
_Shi-u-na_[36] world; and are not the aged about to enter the
_Shi-po-lo-a_[37] world, where cooked food unconsumed is never heeded by
the fully dead?
[35] Dangerously susceptible, tender, delicate.
[36] Hazy, steam-growing.
[37] Mist-enshrouded.
Thus shortens my story.
THE COCK AND THE MOUSE
NOTE.--While on their pilgrimage to the “Ocean of Sunrise” in the
summer of 1886, three Zuñis--Pálowahtiwa, Waíhusiwa, and Héluta--with
Mr. Cushing, were entertaining their assembled friends at
Manchester-by-the-Sea with folk tales, those related by the Indians
being interpreted by Mr. Cushing as they were uttered. When Mr.
Cushing’s turn came for a story he responded by relating the Italian
tale of “The Cock and the Mouse” which appears in Thomas Frederick
Crane’s _Italian Popular Tales_. About a year later, at Zuñi, but
under somewhat similar circumstances, Waíhusiwa’s time came to
entertain the gathering, and great was Mr. Cushing’s surprise when he
presented a Zuñi version of the Italian tale. Mr. Cushing translated
the story as literally as possible, and it is here reproduced,
together with Mr. Crane’s translation from the Italian, in order that
the reader may not only see what transformation the original underwent
in such a brief period, and how well it has been adapted to Zuñi
environment and mode of thought, but also to give a glimpse of the
Indian method of folk-tale making.--_Editor._
ITALIAN VERSION
Once upon a time there were a cock and a mouse. One day the mouse said
to the cock: “Friend Cock, shall we go and eat some nuts on yonder
tree?” “As you like.” So they both went under the tree and the mouse
climbed up at once and began to eat. The poor cock began to fly, and
flew and flew, but could not come where the mouse was. When it saw that
there was no hope of getting there, it said: “Friend Mouse, do you know
what I want you to do? Throw me a nut.” The mouse went and threw one and
hit the cock on the head. The poor cock, with its head all broken and
covered with blood, went away to an old woman. “Old aunt, give me some
rags to cure my head.” “If you will give me two hairs I will give you
the rags.” The cock went away to a dog. “Dog, give me two hairs; the
hairs I will give the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to cure
my head.” “If you will give me a little bread,” said the dog, “I will
give you the hairs.” The cock went away to a baker. “Baker, give me
bread; I will give bread to the dog; the dog will give hairs; the hairs
I will carry to the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to cure
my head.” The baker answered: “I will not give you bread unless you give
me some wood.” The cock went away to the forest. “Forest, give me some
wood; the wood I will carry to the baker; the baker will give me some
bread; the bread I will give to the dog; the dog will give me hairs; the
hairs I will carry to the old woman; the old woman will give me rags to
cure my head.” The forest answered: “If you will bring me a little
water, I will give you some wood.” The cock went away to a fountain.
“Fountain, give me water; water I will carry to the forest; forest will
give wood; wood I will carry to the baker; baker will give bread; bread
I will give dog; dog will give hairs; hairs I will give old woman; old
woman will give rags to cure my head.” The fountain gave him water; the
water he carried to the forest; the forest gave him wood; the wood he
carried to the baker; the baker gave him bread; the bread he gave to the
dog; the dog gave him the hairs; the hairs he carried to the old woman;
the old woman gave him the rags; and the cock cured his head.
ZUÑI VERSION
Thus it was in the Town of the Floods Abounding,[38] long ago. There
lived there an old woman, so they say, of the _Italia-kwe_,[39] who, in
the land of their nativity, are the parental brothers of the Mexicans,
it is said. Now, after the manner of that people, this old woman had a
_Tâkâkâ_ Cock which she kept alone so that he would not fight the
others. He was very large, like a turkey, with a fine sleek head and a
bristle-brush on his breast like a turkey-cock’s too, for the
_Tâkâkâ_-kind were at first the younger brothers of the Turkeys, so it
would seem.
[38] Venice.
[39] “Italy-people.”
Well, the old woman kept her Cock in a little corral of tall close-set
stakes, sharp at the top and wattled together with rawhide thongs, like
an eagle-cage against a wall, only it had a little wicket also fastened
with thongs. Now, try as he would, the old _Tâkâkâ_ Cock could not fly
out, for he had no chance to run and make a start as turkeys do in the
wilds, yet he was ever trying and trying, because he was
meat-hungry--always anxious for worms;--for, although the people of that
village had abundant food, this old woman was poor and lived mainly on
grain-foods, wherefore, perforce, she fed the old _Tâkâkâ_ Cock with the
refuse of her own eatings. In the morning the old woman would come and
throw this refuse food into the corral cage.