kivas about the middle of August, the rites commence. The events that
attract popular interest begin at once on the first day, when a party
of Snake priests, painted and costumed and with snake whips and
digging sticks in their hands, descend from the mesa to hunt snakes in
the north quarter. These men, keenly watching for snake trails,
eagerly search, beating the sage-brush and digging in holes that may
harbor their quarry, thrusting their hands into such places with the
utmost fearlessness. At sunset, after an exhausting day's work, they
return from the hunt with snakes, if they have been successful, which
are transferred from their pouches into the snake jars. For four days
the hunt goes on, each day to a different world quarter. If a snake is
seen it is sprinkled with meal, and as it tries to escape, one of the
hunters seizes it a few inches back of the head and places it in his
pouch.
When the snakes, big and little, venomous and harmless, have been
collected and stowed away in the jars like those used by the women to
carry water, there comes the great event of snake washing. The priests
assemble in the kiva and seat themselves on stone seats around the
wall, holding in the hand a snake whip made of two eagle feathers
secured to a short stick. On the floor dry sand has been spread out
and on it a medicine bowl of water. The snakes have been placed in
bags near by in the care of priests, and the snake washer, arrayed as
a warrior, sets himself before the bowl, while back of him stand two
men waving snake whips. A weird song begins, and the warrior thrusts
his hand into the bag and draws out a handful of snakes, plunges them
into the medicine water, and drops them on the sand. Then the snakes
are rapidly passed to the warrior, who plunges them and casts them
forth, while the priests wave their wands and sing, now low and now
loudly and vehemently. Some of the snakes try to escape, but are
herded on the sand field, which is for the purpose of drying them. The
snakes are left on the floor for a few hours intervening before the
public dance, a writhing mass, watched over by naked boys. These boys,
barefoot and otherwise entirely naked, sit down on the stones and with
their whips or naked hands, play with the snakes, permitting them to
crawl over and under their feet, between their legs, handling them,
using them as playthings, paying no more attention to the rattlesnakes
than to the smallest harmless whip-snakes, creating a sight never to
be forgotten. It must be admitted, however, that owing to the absolute
abandon and recklessness used by the boys in handling these snakes,
all of one's preconceived notions of the dangerousness of the
rattlesnake entirely disappear. Occasionally, one of the snakes,
being tossed to a distance of four or five feet, apparently resents
the insult, but before the snake has had sufficient time to coil, it
will be straightened out by one of the other boys or tossed back to
its original position, and so the sport (for it was nothing less to
these boys) continue, as has been stated, for more than two hours.[5]
[5] The Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and Antelope
Ceremonies. G. A. Dorsey and H. R. Voth. Field Columbian Museum,
Chicago, 1902, p. 247-248.
Dr. Fewkes thus describes the Walpi snake washing:
The Snake Priests, who stood by the snake jars which were in the
east corner of the room, began to take out the reptiles, and stood
holding several of them in their hands behind Su-pe-la, so that my
attention was distracted by them. Su-pe-la then prayed, and after
a short interval two rattlesnakes were handed him, after which
venomous snakes were passed to the others, and each of the six
priests who sat around the bowl held two rattlesnakes by the necks
with their heads elevated above the bowl. A low noise from the
rattles of the priests, which shortly after was accompanied by a
melodious hum by all present, then began. The priests who held the
snakes beat time up and down above the liquid with the reptiles,
which, although not vicious, wound their bodies around the arms of
the holders. The song went on and frequently changed, growing
louder and wilder, until it burst forth into a fierce,
blood-curdling yell, or war-cry. At this moment the heads of the
snakes were thrust several times into the liquid, so that even
parts of their bodies were submerged, and were then drawn out,
not having left the hands of the priests, and forcibly thrown
across the room upon the sand mosaic, knocking down the crooks and
other objects placed about it. As they fell on the sand picture
three Snake priests stood in readiness, and while the reptiles
squirmed about or coiled for defense, these men with their snake
whips brushed them back and forth in the sand of the altar. The
excitement which accompanied this ceremony cannot be adequately
described. The low song, breaking into piercing shrieks, the
red-stained singers, the snakes thrown by the chiefs, and the
fierce attitudes of the reptiles as they lashed on the sand
mosaic, made it next to impossible to sit calmly down, and quietly
note the events which followed one after another in quick
succession. The sight haunted me for weeks afterwards, and I can
never forget this wildest of all the aboriginal rites of this
strange people, which showed no element of our present
civilization. It was a performance which might have been expected
in the heart of Africa rather than in the American Union, and
certainly one could not realize that he was in the United States
at the end of the nineteenth century. The low weird song continued
while other rattlesnakes were taken in the hands of the priests,
and as the song rose again to the wild war-cry, these snakes were
also plunged into the liquid and thrown upon the writhing mass
which now occupied the place of the altar. Again and again this
was repeated until all the snakes had been treated in the same
way, and reptiles, fetiches, crooks and sand were mixed together
in one confused mass. As the excitement subsided and the snakes
crawled to the corners of the _kiva_, seeking vainly for
protection, they were pushed back in the mass, and brushed
together in the sand in order that their bodies might be
thoroughly dried. Every snake in the collection was thus washed,
the harmless varieties being bathed after the venomous. In the
destruction of the altar by the reptiles the snake _ti-po-ni_
stood upright until all had been washed, and then one of the
priests turned it on its side, as a sign that the observance had
ended. The low, weird song of the Snake men continued, and
gradually died away until there was no sound but the warning
rattle of the snakes, mingled with that of the rattles in the
hands of the chiefs, and finally the motion of the snake whips
ceased, and all was silent.
On the previous day the Antelope society had celebrated its race and
public dance, which duplicate those of the Snake society, except that
the former take first place, and instead of snakes, the priests dance
about, the leader holding a bundle of cornstalks in the mouth.
Now comes the stirring dawn race of the Snake society. The race is
from a distant spring to the mesa and is full of excitement, filling
one with surprise at the endurance of the runners. The winner will
arrive at the kiva, breathing more freely, perhaps, than usual, but
showing almost no traces of his strenuous efforts, and will wait
quietly for the award of the prize. In the kiva meanwhile the priests
have been enacting a drama of the Snake legend.
After a few hours, when the sun is getting low, the Antelope priests
file out and after circling the plaza stand in line awaiting the Snake
priests, who advance with tragic strides. They circle the plaza three
times, each stamping on a plank in front of the cottonwood bower,
_kisi_, to notify the denizens of the underworld that a ceremony in
their honor is progressing. They face the Antelope chorus, the rattles
tremble with a sound like the warning of the rattlesnake, and a deep,
low-toned chant begins like a distant storm. The chant increases in
volume, the lines sway, then undulate backward and forward, and at
last, in a culminating burst of the chant, the Snake men form in
groups of three and dance around the plaza with a strange step like a
restrained leap. The snakes have been placed in the _kisi_ in care of
the passer hidden among the boughs. As the trios in succession arrive
before the _kisi_ the carrier drops to his knees, secures a snake
which he grasps in his mouth, rises and dances around in a circular
path four times, when the snake is dropped to the ground and is picked
up with lightning rapidity by the third member of the trio who retains
the squirming reptile in his hands. Thus these groups of _demons_
circle until all the snakes have been carried. The chant ceases; a
priest draws a cloud symbol in white meal on the rock floor of the
mesa, and with wild action the gatherers throw the snakes on the meal;
a fierce scramble ensues, and in a moment one sees the priests running
down the trails to deposit their brothers among the rocks a mile or so
away.
After all, no ceremony goes on in Hopiland without the aid of the
gentler sex. While the dance has focussed the attention of every eye a
group of maids and matrons, neat and clean as to hair and costume, and
holding trays of sacred meal, have sprinkled the dancers and snakes
as they passed by. The Antelopes take up their line, march around the
plaza the required number of times, file away to their kiva, and the
public dance is over. Those who wish, however, go to the mesa side to
see the effects of the powerful emetic taken by the Snake priests as a
purification. At Walpi, the old Snake Woman, Saalako, brews the
medicine, and she knows how many black bettles must be stewed in this
concoction of herbs. Last, but not least, comes the feast consumed
with the appetite of youth amid general rejoicing if the August rain
cumuli burst over the fields. For several days after the Snake Dance
the young and not too old play jolly comes the feast consumed with the
appetite of youth, childlike simplicity.
A bite from a venomous snake so rarely occurs that there is no eye
witness, so far as is known, to such happening. The fangs are not
extracted, nor are the snakes stupefied. Careful handling and the
herding of the reptiles with others of their kind before the ceremony
perhaps give the explanation.
The Snake Ceremony, whose wild scenes rack the nerves of the onlooker,
is a prayer for rain and is based on a legend whose sentiment might be
applauded if the other passive actors were not subject to an
instinctive enmity. Snakes are blood brothers of the Hopi Snake clan.
The legend relates that a youth, having the curiosity to know where
the waters flowed, embarked in a hollow log, closed except a small
orifice, and went down the Great Colorado to its mouth, thus
antedating the perilous feat of Major Powell by a long time! Here he
found the Spider Woman, who prompted him in his dealings with the
people living there. After many strange adventures, during which he
was taught the rites now practiced by the Snake society, he won the
daughter of a Snake chief and brought her to his country. The first
fruits of this union were snakes, who bit the Hopi and who were driven
away on this account. Later, children were human, and with them
originated the Snake clan, whose wanderings brought them at last to
Walpi; and tradition affirms that they were among the first arrivals
there.
The Flute Ceremony, which alternates with the Snake-Antelope Ceremony,
is most pleasing and interesting. Visitors to Hopiland in August of
the proper year are always charmed with the dramatic performance and
beautiful songs of the Flute society. In Walpi there is only one
priesthood of the Flute, but in other pueblos of the Middle Mesa and
in Oraibi there are two, one of the Blue Flute and the other of the
Gray Flute.
On the first day the sand altar is made and at night the songs are
begun. Within the kiva the interminable rites go on, and daily the
cycle of songs accompanied with flutes is rehearsed. A messenger clad
in an embroidered kilt and anointed with honey runs with flowing hair
to deposit prayer-sticks at the shrines, encircling the fields in his
runs and coming nearer the pueblo on each circuit. During the seventh
and eighth days a visit is made to three important springs where
ceremonies are held, and on the return of the priests they are
received by an assemblage of the Bear and Snake societies, the chiefs
of which challenge them and tell them that if they are good people, as
they claim, they can bring rain.
After an interesting interchange of ceremonies the Flute priests
return to their kiva to prepare for the public dance on the morrow.
When at 3 A. M. the belt of Orion is at a certain place in the heavens
the priests file into the plaza, where a cottonwood bower has been
erected over the shrine called the entrance to the underworld. Here
the priests sing, accompanied with flutes, the shrine is ceremonially
opened and prayer-sticks placed within, and they return to the kiva.
At some of the pueblos there is a race up the mesa at dawn on the
ninth day as in other ceremonies.
On the evening of the ninth day the Flute procession forms and winds
down the trail to the spring in order: a leader, the Snake maiden and
two Snake youths, the priests, and in the rear a costumed warrior with
bow and whizzer. At the spring they sit on the north side of the pool,
and as one of the priests plays a flute the others sing, while one of
their number wades into the spring, dives under the water, and plants
a prayer-stick in the muddy bottom. Then taking a flute he again wades
into the spring and sounds it in the water to the four cardinal
points. Meanwhile sunflowers and cornstalks have been brought to the
spring by messengers. Each priest places the sunflowers on his head
and each takes two cornstalks in his hands, and the procession, two
abreast, forms to ascend the mesa. A priest draws on the trail with
white corn meal a line and across it three cloud symbols. The Flute
children throw the offerings they hold in their hands upon the symbols
and advance to the symbols, followed by the priests who sing to the
sound of the flutes. The children pick the offerings from the ground
with sticks held in the hand, and the same performance is repeated
till they stand again in the plaza on the mesa before the cottonwood
bower, when they sing melodious songs, then disperse.
The Flute legend, of which the ceremony is a dramatization, relates
that the Bear and Snake people in early times lived along the Walpi.
The Horn and Flute people came that way and halted at a spring. Not
knowing whether other people lived in their neighborhood, they sent
out a spy who returned and reported that he had seen traces of other
peoples. The Flute people set forth to find them, and so they came to
the Walpi houses, halting at the foot of the mesa and moving up the
trail, as in the ceremony, with songs and the music of flutes.
The Walpi people had drawn a line of meal across the trail, closing it
from all comers, and demanded whence the Flutes were going and what
they desired. Then the Flute chief said:
"We are of your blood, Hopi. Our hearts are good and our speech
straight. We carry on our backs the tabernacle of the Flute Altar.
We can cause rain to fall." Four times they challenged the Flute
people as they stood before the line of meal and four times this
reply was given. Then the Walpians erased the meal barrier and the
Flutes passed into the pueblo, set up their altar, sang the
cloud-compelling songs and brought the welcome rain. Then the Bear
and Snake chiefs said, "Surely your chief shall be one of our
chiefs."
It will be seen that this legend, collected by Dr. J. Walter Fewkes,
is enacted in the ceremony just described. And the Flute priests also
think they are more successful rain makers than the Snake-Antelope
priests, and do not hesitate to so declare.[6]
[6] The Walpi Flute Observance, Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, Jour. Am.
Folk-Lore, Vol. 7, Oct.-Dec., 1894.
In the September moon the Hopi women of five of the pueblos hold a
celebration of their own, which is not the least interesting ceremony
in the calendar. It is called the Lalakonti, and like the other
ceremonies of this part of the year extends over nine days. Sometimes
it is called the Basket Dance--from the great use made of the sacred
plaques in the ceremony--a quite appropriate use, since these baskets
are peculiarly the product of women's taste and skill. The details of
the kiva rites, such as _paho_ making, the construction of a sand
altar, initiation of novitiates, dispatching of messengers, songs,
etc., need not be entered into, since they belong to all the
ceremonies and have much in common.
On the morning of the fourth day, if one is up at the faintest dawn he
may see a procession emerging from the kiva and marching single-file
to deposit, with much ceremony, offerings at a shrine. At six in the
evening of the eighth day a picturesque procession winds down the
trail among the rocks to the sacred spring, where _pahos_ are planted
and rites performed. Then comes the stirring event, the race up the
trail to the kiva. Under the supervision of an old priest an even
start is made and the women run up the trail. As Hopi women in
contrast with the men are stout, the chances are that a lithe,
clean-limbed young girl will win the goal over her breathless sisters.
At daybreak on the ninth day the Lalakonti race is eagerly awaited by
the spectators and by the Lakone maid, who stands gorgeously costumed,
basket in her hand, on the trail by which the runners will come. As
the dawn brightens, they may be seen, mere specks on the trail over
the plain, and soon they run up the trail to the villages amid great
excitement and applause for the winner. The priestesses have marched
to the dance plaza, where they form a circle, and as the racers come
they rush through the circle and this act of the drama is over. Later
in the day comes the public dance, when the circle of priestesses,
each carrying a basket plaque, again forms in the plaza and begins
singing in chorus. The baskets are held in the two hands with concave
side to the front, and as the song continues the women sway their
bodies and raise the baskets slowly, first to one breast, then to the
other, and finally bring them downward to a line with the hips. In a
short time two gorgeously decorated maidens, wearing ceremonial
blankets and having bundles on their backs, advance within the circle.
All interest is centered in them as they untie their bundles and stand
for a moment at opposite sides of the circle, holding up in their
hands a basket, and then crossing back and forth and exchanging
places. All at once they throw their baskets high in the air and into
the crowd of young men. Then begins a titanic struggle that would put
a football melee in the shade. Fiercely they wrestle, till out of the
squirming, perspiring, now ragged mass emerges the lucky young man
with a much damaged basket for his prize. Sometimes these struggles
last a long time, but there is no slugging and no blood is spilt, and
there is a great deal of jollity. This closes the Lalakonti ceremony
and the celebrants return to their homes to take up their ordinary
avocations. Supela is one of the two men who aid the women in the
Lalakonti ceremony, and he also has an important place in the
Mamzrauti ceremony, described below, of which his wife, Saalako, is
the chief priestess.
The Mamzrauti ceremony, held at the October moon, is a harvest dance,
and fortunate are the Hopi when they can celebrate it with joyful
heart and abundant feasting. The Mamzrau resembles in many points the
Lalakonti, but the differences are more important. A sand picture is
made, a frame of painted slabs erected back of it, and fetiches placed
around the medicine bowl and sand picture. Novices are initiated in a
tedious ceremony lasting through several days, and messengers are sent
to springs and shrines to deposit prayer-sticks. There are ceremonial
head washings as in other ceremonies, and various secret rites are
performed in the kiva. On the fourth day the final initiation of the
novices takes place, and the priestesses dance around a pile of
peaches on the kiva floor, and, what is more, enjoy a good feast of
this prized fruit. On the sixth day a public dance is held by actors
who imitate certain _kachinas_, and on the seventh day, just at
sunset, the priestesses, some disguised as men, dance the spirited
buffalo dance. On the eighth day, disguised as clowns, they parade
around the pueblo and are attacked by the men who throw water none too
clean and various unpleasant things upon them, and after much noise
and fun, the women run home.
There is no dawn race on the morning of the ninth day, but early the
priestesses have donned their costumes and assemble in the court where
they dance and throw green cornstalks among the men who crowd around.
Later in the day comes the concluding dance, when the celebrants,
holding gaily painted slabs of wood in each hand, march into the plaza
and form a horseshoe figure with the opening toward the east. From the
kiva now come two women dressed as men, having bows and arrows in
their hands. As they advance they throw before them a package of corn
husks and shoot their arrows at it, the act representing lightning
striking and fertilizing the fields. Thus they advance by stages to
the circle of dancers and throw the bundle in their midst, shooting at
it, then shooting two arrows in the air they return to the kiva. In a
few minutes they appear again, carrying trays of dumplings of sweet
corn meal which they toss one by one to the eager spectators. Then the
circle of dancers disperse, but again and again throughout the day,
the distributors return to dispense their offerings. At sunset, the
sand pictures, fetiches, and altar slabs are removed by Saalako and
the Mamzrau is over.
At night there is a serenade by two parties of men, each party singing
loudly as though to drown the voices of the other. This serenade is
said to be in honor of the women for their pious celebration of the
Mamzrau.[7]
[7] The Mamzrauti: A Tusayan Ceremony, by J. Walter Fewkes and
A. M. Stephen, American Anthropologist, Vol. 5, No. 3, July,
1892.
One of the most complicated ceremonies of the Hopi is the New Fire,
which occurs in November at five of the pueblos. Every fourth year the
ceremony is extended by the initiation of novices, but in ordinary
years it is abbreviated. Four societies take part and these include
almost every male adult in the villages, so there is no lack of
performers.
The first event that is noteworthy is the making of new fire by two of
the societies. Two pairs of fire makers each place a piece of
cottonwood on the kiva floor and drill upon it with a slender rod
revolved between the palms of the hands, until the friction of the
drill on the wood ignites the dust which has been ground off. The
little coal of fire is fed with shredded bark until flame is produced;
from this the fuel on the kiva fireplace is lighted and with a bark
fuse is carried to the kivas of the three other societies. This fire
is sacred and no one may blow upon it, or take a light from it, and
after the end of the ceremony it is suffered to go out and the ashes
are thrown over the mesa with prescribed rites. Sacrifices of pine
needles are made to the sacred fire soon after it is kindled. Most of
the Hopi are familiar with the ancient method of making fire by the
friction of wood, and it is not many years since they knew no other
way. Now matches of a particularly sulphurous variety are easy to get,
and the primitive fire drill is in force only in the New Fire
ceremony.
From day to day there are processions of the celebrating societies,
who dance through the pueblo, forming a line with locked hands and
moving with a sidelong halting step forward and backward, while the
women from the houses drench them with water and shout rude jests. At
night there are patrols of the celebrants, who ring cowbells or beat
on tin cans and make night hideous. The novices take their nocturnal
rounds at breakneck speed led by a priest, somewhat in the way of a
college initiation. These poor fellows have a hard life of fasting and
vigils; one of their ordeals is to go to a mountain about fifteen
miles away to dig soap root and white earth with which they return
gaunt and worn.
This ceremony presents more life and public exhibition than almost any
other in Hopiland, hence a description of it in brief compass is
impossible. To an onlooker it must exhibit a chaos of acts by the four
powerful fraternities that perform it, a bewildering pageant by day
and alarms and sallying forth by night, with rites also in progress in
all the kivas.