grandmother, who, by custom, is the mistress of ceremonies, a fact
which seems a little strange, for though the child takes its descent
from the mother, the father's people name the baby and conduct the
ceremony. The grandmother sees to the fire and attends to the stew of
mutton with shelled corn, called _nukwibi_, and the sweet corn
pudding, called _pigame_, cooking for the feast in the morning. While
she is bustling about, boiling a tea of juniper twigs, placing a few
stones in the fire to heat for use in the morning, and pounding
soaproot, the relatives are bringing plaques of basket-work heaped
with fine meal as presents to the new-born. These the mother receives
with the woman's words of thanks, _eskwali_--the men's word being _kwa
kwi_--and invites the guests to partake of food. It is late when the
relatives depart, and the mother busies herself with getting ready the
return presents, adding, perhaps, with a generous hand, more than was
given, while the object of all this preparation is sleeping oblivious,
hidden beneath his blanket.
At the first glint of dawn the godmother arises, renews the fire, and
draws with fine meal four short parallel lines on the walls, floor,
and ceiling of the room, and on the lines on the floor puts a prayer
feather tied to a cotton string, and above that places a bowl of amole
suds. The mother kneels by the bowl, her long black hair falling in
the foam, and the godmother dips an ear of corn in the suds four times
and touches each time the head of the mother with the end, then bathes
her head. Perhaps others of the guests who have come early for the
ceremony use the suds in turn with an idea of getting some imaginary
benefit; the practical benefit of cleanliness is obtained at any rate.
The mother's arms and legs are bathed in the juniper tea; the heated
stones placed in a cracked bowl and some of the tea thrown over them,
form an impromptu sweat bath, while she stands, wrapped in a blanket,
over the steam. This finishes the part of the ceremony designed for
purification.
The old woman carefully sweeps up the room and puts all the sweepings
in a bowl which she throws over the mesa, while another woman
sprinkles water on the floor, saying, "clouds and rain," the two magic
words which are often on the lips and in their thoughts. Now the baby
is waked from his blissful sleep, bathed in soapsuds, and rinsed with
a mouthful of water applied in the manner of a Chinese laundryman.
This time it is not ashes but white corn meal with which he is rubbed,
and all the company rub suds on his head with ears of corn dipped in
the wash bowl. The godmother puts meal on the baby's face and neck,
and, waving an ear of corn, prays over the mother and child. This is
the prayer: "May you live to be old, may you have good corn, may you
keep well, and now I name you Samiwiki," ("roasting ears"), or she
bestows any name which strikes her fancy. All the other relatives give
the baby a name and it is a matter of chance which one survives.
The naming of the baby being ended, the dedication of the child to the
sun is next in order. As a preliminary, the baby is introduced to the
hard lot of the cradle. The cradle may be a bent stick interlaced with
twigs, a cushion of frayed juniper bark placed on it and a bow
attached to the upper end to protect the baby's face. A small blanket
or two form the covering. The mother tucks the little fellow in,
placing his arms straight along his sides and finishes by lashing him
round and round with a sash until he resembles a miniature mummy. The
godmother has not been idle meanwhile. She has taken meal and made a
white path out the door, and at a signal from the father, who has been
anxiously watching for sunrise from a neighboring housetop, she
quickly takes up the cradle and carries it low down over the path of
meal, out to where the sun may be seen. The women have put on their
clean mantas, the mother has arrayed herself in her embroidered cotton
wedding blanket, and they stand in the clear dawn, a picturesque group
of sun-worshippers. The godmother draws away the blanket from the
baby's face, holds a handful of meal to her mouth, and says a short
prayer over it and throws it toward the sun; so also does the mother,
and the ceremony is over.
The assembly then turns to the _nukwibi_, _pigame_, and other good
things, for among the Hopi a feast always follows a ceremony, just as
enlightened people enjoy a good dinner after church; but before they
begin the repast, a pinch of the food must be taken out and thrown by
the ladder or into an inner room as an offering to the sun. The baby,
being guest of honor, is first to eat of the food, though the act
would seem a mere pretense. Directly he is laid aside to resume his
broken slumbers while all assembled fall to with keen appetites. Soon
the guests arise to depart, and receiving their "Indian gifts" return
to their homes.
Custom demands, however, that other things for the welfare of the
child be done. A boy should have a swift insect called _bimonnuh_ tied
to his wrist to make him a runner, and a girl a cocoon of a butterfly
to make her wrists strong for grinding corn. Later, for some reason, a
band of yucca is put on the child's wrist and ankle and left on for
several days, when the child is held over an ant hill, the bands taken
off and left to the ants.
It is pleasant to know that the Hopi are good to the old. In the
ceremony just described they are given special gifts of food and meal,
and if the grandmother is an invalid she is tenderly carried to the
dedication.[2]
[2] From Natal Ceremonies of the Hopi Indians. J. G. Owens,
Journal of American Ethnology and Archaeology, Vol. II, 1892.
When the number of children born is considered, there seems to be no
reason why the Hopi should not soon have a dense population, instead
of remaining stationary. When more is known, though, of the unripe
melons and other green things given the children to eat at their own
sweet will, the wonder is that any of them ever reach the years of
discretion. It is a wise provision of custom that the children are not
required to wear any clothes whatever, and one soon becomes accustomed
to the graceful, animated little bronzes that swarm in the quaint,
terraced pueblos.
Nowhere are these little flowers of the tree of life more cunning and
interesting. Like the Japanese children they seem to deserve no
correction, and it is as rare a sight as green grass, in the land of
Tusayan, to see a parent strike a child. Always instead there is
kindness and affection worthy of the highest praise. It is refreshing
to observe the association of children with their parents or near
relatives, and how quiet and obedient they are. This close parental
attention must be the secret of good children wherever the country may
be. The Hopi children are fortunate in having many teachers who, at
home or in the fields or in the country, explain to them the useful
things which they should know in order to become good citizens of
Tusayan. It surprises visitors to find out how much the little people
have learned, not only of the birds, plants, and other sides of
nature, but of their future duties in the house, the fields, and the
village, and one comes to respect the Hopi kindergarten in which the
children are taught through play-work and unconsciously come to "know
how." Even the odd-looking dolls, which the Hopi children love with
the same fervor as the rest of the little men and women of the child
world, assist in teaching. These dolls, carved from cottonwood and
brilliantly decorated with paint, feathers, and shells, represent the
numerous beings who inhabit the spiritual world supposed to rule the
destinies of the Hopi. The children are given these wooden figures to
play with, and thus they learn the appearance of the gods and at the
same time get a lesson in mythology.
In their sport, several little fellows armed with bows and arrows may
pretend to guard the pueblo, and no doubt they have the same proud
feeling in possessing these savage weapons of war as a small white boy
has when master of a toy gun. Little tots scarcely able to walk will
be encouraged to shoot at a target made of a bundle of sage-brush set
up in the sand at no great distance, and loud is the applause from the
parents and other onlookers when one of these infants bowls over the
target. The girls congregate in a secluded street and play, their soft
voices quite in contrast with any such group of white children.
Perhaps the game is "play house," with the help of a few stones and
much imagination. The moment, however, a visitor casts his eye in
their direction the game is broken up and all become painfully
conscious of his presence. Should a rain fill the water holes on the
mesa the children have great sport bathing, splashing around like
ducks and chasing one another. This must be a rare treat to the
children, because, like Christmas, the good fortune of a rainwater
bath may come but once a year.
Wherever the grown people go, the children go along, berrying,
gathering grass and yucca for baskets, or seeds of the wild plants for
food, watching the cornfield, or gathering the crops, each having a
little share in the work and a good portion of amusement. One soon
sees that the children of the Hopi help in everything that is going on
and take care not to hinder. If a house is being built, the little
ones work as hard as their elders, carrying in their baskets a tiny
load of stones or earth for the building with an earnestness that is
really amusing. Outside of the Hopi towns one usually finds a number
of inscriptions in picture writing on the rocks. Besides the
inscriptions there are many cup-shaped depressions that have puzzled
more than one visitor. One day some children were seen hammering
diligently on the rocks with hand-stones, and it was found that they
were digging cup-cavities in the soft sandstone, perhaps making tiny
play-reservoirs to catch rain water. The children may also be
responsible for many of the queer pictures that adorn the smooth sides
of the rocks around the villages; and who knows but that many ancient
inscriptions on the Arizona rocks were cut by childish hands.
In every Hopi child's life the time comes when he must join some one
of the brotherhoods or societies, which take in nearly every one in
the pueblos, so that a young man to have any standing must belong to
one at least of the Kachina brotherhoods. The boys during their solemn
initiation are soundly whipped by the "flogger," whose name need but
be mentioned to the little ones to make them scamper.
But this takes us beyond the age of tender childhood in the children's
Paradise. To a children's friend the Hopi tots are a perennial joy.
Their bright eyes are full of appreciation, though bashfulness may
make them hide behind mother's skirts, but there is a magic word they
have learned from the white people which overcomes that. A picture
still dwells in the writer's mind of a little fellow who approached
some visitors as near as he dared and spoke the two words of English
he knew: "Hello, kente" (candy).
Although the ceremony of marriage is of small importance in comparison
with the endless ceremonies of the Hopi priesthoods, yet a great deal
of interest clusters around it and it is really a complicated affair.
The trying antecedent stage of courtship, so amusing to those not
concerned, is the same as among civilized young men and maidens. One
of the first questions Hopi women ask one is, "Have you a wife?" and
if the answer is negative, they express condolence and sympathy, if
they do not go so far as to inquire the reason. As elsewhere, the
young man must show some possession and likewise an ability to provide
before he can take the step of matrimony, and of course, the most
inflexible rule of all those which regulate the affairs in Hopiland is
observed in making the choice of a wife--the absolute prohibition
against marriage between members of the same clan. If both have the
totem of the tobacco plant, for instance, it would be hopeless to
think of union even if it were imaginable that such a thing would ever
enter a Hopi's thoughts. There may be no relationship, but if the clan
name is the same, there is an effectual bar.
One of the sure signs that matters are going smoothly is when a girl
is seen combing a young man's hair, seated perhaps in the doorway
where all the world may stare. This is taken to mean a betrothal, but
long before this in a community where everyone's business is known,
the "match" has been no secret. Hopi courtship presents advantages. No
prospectively irate parents have to be asked; the Peaceful People do
not put thorns in the path of true love, but let things adjust
themselves in a simple, natural way. There are no first families with
pride of birth or wealth, no exclusive circles or cliques, there is no
bar except the totem in this perfect democracy.
When the young people decide to be married, the girl informs her
mother, who takes her daughter, bearing a tray of meal made from white
corn, to the house of the bridegroom where she is received by his
mother with thanks. During that day she must labor at the mealing
stones, grinding white corn, silent and unnoticed; the next day she
must continue her task with the white corn. On the third day of this
laborious trial she grinds the dark blue corn which the Hopi call
black, no doubt glad when the evening brings a group of her friends,
laden with trays of meal of their own grinding, as presents, and
according to custom, these presents are returned in kind, the trays
being sent back next day heavy with choice ears of corn.
After this three days' probation, which would indicate that a Hopi
maiden must be very devoted to undertake it, comes the wedding. Upon
that day, the mother cuts the bride's front hair at the level of her
chin and dresses the longer locks in two coils, which she must always
wear over her breast to give token that she is no longer a maiden. At
the dawn of the fourth day the relatives of both families assemble,
each one bringing a small quantity of water in a vessel. The two
mothers pound up roots of the yucca used as soap and prepare two bowls
of foaming suds. The young man kneels before the bowl prepared by his
future mother-in-law as the bride before the bowl of the young man's
mother, and their heads are thoroughly washed and the relatives take
part by pouring handsful of suds over the bowed heads of the couple.
While this ceremonial head-washing is going on, some of the women and
girls creep in between the couple and try to hold their heads over the
bowls while others strive to tear away the intruders, and a great
deal of jollity ensues. When the head-washing is over the visitors
rinse the hair of the couple with the water they have brought, and
return home. Then the bridal couple each takes a pinch of corn-meal
and leaving the house go silently to the eastern side of the mesa on
which the pueblo of Oraibi stands. Holding the meal to their lips,
they cast the meal toward the dawn, breathing a prayer for a long and
prosperous life, and return to the house as husband and wife.
The ceremony over, the mother of the bride builds a fire under the
baking stone, while the daughter prepares the batter and begins to
bake a large quantity of paper bread. After this practical and
beautiful starting of the young folks in life the mother returns to
her home. But there is much more to do before the newly married merge
into the staid married folks of Tusayan. The wedding breakfast follows
closely on the heels of the ceremony and the father of the young man
must run through the pueblo with a bag of cotton, handfuls of which he
gives to the relatives and friends, who pick out the seeds and return
the cotton to him. This cotton is for the wedding blankets and sash
which are to be the trousseau of the bride.
The practical side and the mutual helpfulness of the Hopi come out
strongly here, when a few days later the loud-voiced crier announces
the time for the spinning of the cotton for the bride's blankets.
This takes place in the kivas, where usually all the weaving is done
by the man, and with jollity and many a story the task is soon
finished. The spun cotton is handed over to the bridegroom as a
contribution from the village, to be paid for, like everything else
Hopi, by a sumptuous feast which has been prepared by the women for
the spinners. Perhaps ten sage-brush-fed sheep and goats, tough beyond
reason, are being softened in a stew, consisting mainly of corn;
stacks of paper bread have been baked; various other dishes have been
concocted, and all is ready when the crier calls in the hungry
multitude. They fall to, like the genius of famine, without knives and
forks, but with active, though not over-clean digits, at the start.
When they are through, there is little left for the gaunt,
half-starved dogs that scent the savors of the feast outside the door.
If one desires to see the Hopi at his happiest he must find him
squatted on the floor before an ample and well-spread feast.
With the spun cotton serious work begins for the bridegroom and his
male relatives lasting several weeks. A large white blanket five by
six feet and one four and a half by five feet must be woven, and a
reed mat made in which the blankets are to be rolled. A white sash
with long fringe, and a pair of moccasins, each having half a deerskin
for leggings, like those worn by the women of the Rio Grande pueblos,
complete the costume. The blankets must have elaborate tassels at the
four corners. Shortly before sunrise the bride, arrayed in her
finery, performs the last act in the drama, called "going home." It
must be explained that up to this time the bride has remained in the
house of her husband's people. Wearing the large white blanket
picturesquely disposed over her head and carrying the small blanket
wrapped in the reed mat in her hands, she walks to her mother's house,
where she is received with a few words of greeting, and the long
ceremony is over.
In this land of women's rights the husband must live with his wife's
relatives. The children, also, are hers, taking their descent from her
and are nearer kin to her brothers and sisters than to the father. The
house they live in is hers, and all the corn and other food brought
into its grain room. In case of domestic troubles, she alone has the
right of separation and can turn the man from her door. Though this
dark side of the picture is sometimes presented, the rule is that
husband and wife are faithful and live happily, as becomes the
Peaceful People.
It may be interesting to follow the history of the wedding costume,
which plays such a prominent part in the ceremony. The moccasins are
soon put to use and worn out, and thereafter the woman goes barefoot
like the rest of her sisters. The sash and blankets are rolled in a
mat and hung from a roof-beam in a back room. Perhaps the larger
blanket is embroidered, when it becomes a ceremonial blanket, or it
may be pressed into use for carrying corn and watermelons from the
fields. The smaller blanket is kept as one of the most sacred
possessions; the young mother puts it on only at the name-giving
ceremony of her first-born, and often it enshrouds her for the last
rites among the rocks below the mesa where the dead are laid away. At
the farewell ceremony of the Kachinas all the brides of the year dress
in their white robes and appear among the spectators, look on for a
time, and then return to their homes. This review of the brides adds
much to the picturesqueness of this festive occasion.[3]
[3] The details of the marriage ceremony are taken from an
article by H. R. Voth in the American Anthropologist, N. S.,
Vol. 2, No. 2, April-June, 1900.
There is no doubt that to the wise customs of the pueblo dwellers is
due their survival in the deserts of the Southwest. One can only
admire the workings of the unwritten laws which have lived from out of
the experience of past centuries and continue yet to regulate the life
of Tusayan.
There is no more interesting chapter of human beliefs than that which
deals with the ideas entertained by primitive peoples of death and the
hereafter. The Hopi, like other peoples, have thought out the deep
questions of origin and destiny, peopled the mysterious spaces with
spiritual beings, and penetrated the realm of the hereafter to
describe the life after death. Thus they say that the breath body
travels and has various experiences on its way to the underworld, and
"as everyone came up from out of the _sipapu_, or earth navel, so
through the _sipapu_ to the underworld of spirits must he go after
death. Far to the west in the track of the sun must he travel to the
_sipapu_ which leads down through a lake. Food must he have for the
journey, and money of shell and green turquoise; hence bowls of food
and treasures we place in his grave. Masauah, the ruler of the
underworld, first receives the spirit. If it is the spirit of a good
man, straightway he speeds it along the pathway of the sun to the
happy abode, where the ancestors feast and dance and hold ceremonies
like those of the Hopi on the earth. Truly, we received the ceremonies
from them, long ago."
If the spirit is not good, it must be tried, so Masauah sends it on to
the keeper of the first furnace in which the spirit is placed. Should
it come out clean, forthwith it is free; if not, on it goes to a
second or a third master of the furnace, but if the third fire testing
does not cleanse the spirit, the demon seizes it and destroys it,
because it is _pash kalolomi_, "very not good!" Just how much of this
has been influenced by later teachings is a vexed question and must be
left open.
In the underworld the spirits of the ancestors are represented as
living a life of perennial enjoyment. Often they visit the upperworld,
and since the Hopi believe that their chief care is to guard the
interests of the pueblos of Tusayan, they must be appeased by prayers
and offerings in order to secure their good will.
The last offices of the dead are very simple. In sitting posture with
head between the knees, with cotton mask, symbolic of the rain cloud,
over the face, and sewed fast in a ceremonial blanket, the body is
carried down among the rocks by two men, who have cleared out a place
with their hoes. The relatives follow and without a word the body is
placed in the rude grave. A bowl containing food is set near by under
the rocks, and all return, the women washing their feet before
entering the house.
For four days the relatives visit the grave and place upon it bowls
containing morsels of food, and they also deposit there feathered
prayer-sticks. At the end of four days the "breath body" descends to
the underworld, whence it came, and is judged by the ordeal of fire.
In a closely-built town like Walpi the house is not vacated after a
death, but it would seem that this widespread custom is observed in
some of the pueblos. The Navaho, in pursuance of this custom, throw
down the earth-covered hogan over the dead, and in the course of time
a mound filled with decaying timbers marks the spot. Hopi burial
customs have not changed for centuries; they have never burned their
dead, as formerly did the Zuñi and the peoples of the Gila valley. The
ancient Hopi ceremonies contain almost the only records of their past
history in the pottery, ornaments, weapons, and relics of bone, shell,
stone, traces of prayer-sticks, cloth, baskets, and matting. These
serve to give an idea of the life and arts of the ancient Americans
who left no written record.
When one inquires for a person who, perchance, is dead, the Hopi say
he is _shilui_, which means, "gone." On closer inquiry they may tell
of the mysterious journey of the dead, through the _sipapu_, to the
land of the underworld, which is below the far-off lake.
VII
RELIGIOUS LIFE
The chief feature attracting popular interest to the Hopi is the
number and remarkable character of their ceremonies. These "dances,"
as they are usually called, seem to be going on with little
intermission. Every Hopi is touched by some one of the numerous
ceremonies and nearly every able-bodied inhabitant of the seven towns
takes an active part during the year.
This keeps the Hopi out of mischief and gives them a good reputation
for minding their own business, besides furnishing them with the best
round of free theatrical entertainments enjoyed by any people in the
world, for nearly every ceremony has its diverting as well as its
serious side, for religion and the drama are here united as in
primitive times. The Hopi live and move and have their being in
religion. They have peopled the unseen world with a host of beings,
and they view all nature as full of life. The sun, moon, stars, rocks,
winds, rain, and rivers are members of the Hopi pantheon to be
reckoned with in their complicated worship.