THE INDIAN AND CERTAIN SOCIAL TRAITS AND CUSTOMS
In the treatment of younger children by those who are older, the white
race may learn much from the Indian. While it must be confessed that
Indian youth are cruel to the lower animals, I have never seen, in
twenty-five years, an older child ill-treat a younger one. There seems
to be an instinctive “mothering” of the little ones. The houses of the
Hopis are built on the edges of frightful precipices, to fall from
which would be sure and certain death; yet, although the youngsters are
allowed to play around with the greatest freedom, such are the care and
constant oversight of the little ones by those who are older that I
have never known of an accident.
There seems to be none of that impatient petulance among Indian
children that is so common with us; no yelling or loud shouting, and
certainly no bullying or cowardly domineering.
Then, too, there is a very sweet and tender relationship existing quite
often between the very old and the very young. I know this is not
unusual or peculiar to the Indian, but I deem it worthy of note here.
I have often seen a grandfather going off to his work for the day in a
corn-field with his naked grandson on his back, and the youngster clung
to the oldster with an affection and confidence that were absolute.
[Illustration: AN APACHE GRANDMOTHER AND HER PET.]
It should also be observed that respect and reverence are nearly always
paid to age. In a council the young men will invariably wait until
the old men have spoken, unless they are definitely called upon. If a
cigarette is offered to a young man in the presence of his elders, he
will not enjoy it until the older ones have lit theirs and taken a few
puffs. A girl or young maiden will not sit down until places are found
for the older ones and they are comfortably seated, and, of course, the
same rule applies to the boys and youths.
It may also seem strange to some of my readers that I insist that the
native Indian is inherently honest. I did not use to think so, and
I know of many dishonest Indians. But as a rule these are the ones
that are partially civilized. They have had so many things given to
them without rhyme or reason that they come to regard all things of
the white men as theirs. Scores of times I have left my wagon, laden
with provisions and other materials, such as cameras, camera plates,
clothes, etc., and I have been gone for a week or a month. As I now
write I can remember only twice that anything was taken. Once a young
man, who had been to our schools, broke into a box of oranges that I
had taken as a great luxury after a desert tramp, and ate several of
them. I soon learned who the culprit was, made complaint against him,
had him brought to my camp, and asked him why he stole my oranges. It
must be remembered that it is an unwritten, but well-understood, law of
the desert regions that a truly hungry man is always allowed to help
himself to needful food, but without waste or extravagance, and with
due care for the owner or those who may come after.
This young man claimed that he had taken my oranges because he was
hungry. I gave him the lie direct; for, said I, “Had you been hungry,
you would have been willing to eat meat and potatoes and bread.
Instead of that you went prowling around until you smelled these
oranges and then you stole them. In future, even if you are hungry, you
must keep away from my wagon and camp, for if ever you touch my things
again, I shall see that you are severely punished.” It was a stern
reprimand, yet in this case it seemed to be necessary.
The other time that things were taken from me was when I had promised
certain women and girls some calico and bead necklaces in return for
something they had done for me. Foolishly I showed them the bag in
which the calico was. My hostess was also to be a participant in the
distribution of favors. While I was away on a several days’ exploring
trip she took it into her head that she ought to have the first
choice, and, as I had promised the piece to her, there would be no
harm in taking it. When she had made her own choice, and told of it,
of course she could not protest against the others making theirs, so,
when I returned to my Indian home I found the bag pretty well looted.
It was not long before, little by little, the whole story leaked out.
When I was sure, I told my host, and informed him that I wanted every
piece of calico and every necklace returned instanter. In twelve hours
everything was back in place, as if by magic. Then for several days I
kept the promised recipients in a “state,” for I intimated that their
conduct was so reprehensible that I doubted whether I should give them
anything or not. This made them very anxious, and when they “dropped
in,” two or three at a time, I took the occasion to tell them how I
resented their helping themselves to my things while I was absent.
With these two exceptions, in twenty-five years’ experience I have met
with nothing but perfect honesty. (No, now I remember, a small whip was
taken from my camp many years ago, but when I complained, it was found
and returned.) I have left camera plates by the score in boxes that
could have been opened, and the results of my months of labor destroyed
by nothing but idle curiosity. But when I have explained that I was
going away and expected to find everything untouched on my return, I
had no fear, no misgivings, and invariably found everything in perfect
order when I came back. I doubt whether I could leave things where the
whole population of any of our American cities could get at them and
find them untouched after a week’s or a month’s absence.
Another interesting fact about the Indian is that when he gives a name
to a child or an adult, it generally means something. Among ourselves
names are often-times either quite meaningless or senseless. For
instance, my parents gave to me the name George. When I was old enough
to begin to care about such things, I asked and found out that “George”
means “a husbandman.” And all through my life I have borne that name--a
husbandman--when my ignorance of agricultural pursuits, I am sorry to
say, is simply dense and unspeakable. What is the sense of giving such
names to children? And when we come to the Algernons, and Reginas, and
Sigourneys, and Fitzmaurices, and all the high-sounding but altogether
meaningless names with which we burden our children, I long for the
simplicity of the Indian’s habit, the poetry, the prayer, that so often
are connected with the names they give. The old Hebrews knew something
of this, for we read of many of their names having a definite and
decided significance.
One day I found a Chemehuevi Indian with the name
Tow-um-bow-i-si-co-rum. After a little working of it out, I found
the name signified: “The reddish golden pathway of glory made by the
setting sun from the zenith to the horizon.” I asked the man’s mother
how he came to have such a name, and here is her reply! “As I gave
birth to my son, I looked up in the heavens and there I saw the golden
reddish glory reaching from above where I lay to the faraway west,
where the sun was just setting. So I said, ‘It is an omen, and may it
also be a prophecy,’ and my heart went out in prayer to Those Above,
that the pathway of life of my newly-born son might be one of golden
glory until he, too, passed out of sight in the west; so I called him
Towumbowisicorum, which signifies what I have said.”