breech-clout and with a hoe on his shoulder. He stopped outside the
camp and put on an abbreviated cotton shirt, making himself somewhat
more presentable. Squatting on the sand with hands clasped around the
knees, a favorite Indian posture, the superannuated chief helped
himself to tobacco and prepared for the argument with the circle of
interested listeners. The day was very warm and a bank of clouds
slowly coming up from the San Francisco Mountains seemed to promise
rain which might convince the old man of the fallacy of his views.
Hence the progress of this rain storm was an object of uncommon
solicitude to the explorers. Dan, a school boy, who had been taught
English, acted as interpreter.
After a few preliminary remarks in which the old chief craftily laid
the blame of the edict to the chief of another town whom all the
Middle Mesa people fear, the discussion began as to whether the
contact with the white man had been beneficial or injurious to the
Hopi. Since circumstances, geographical and governmental, have
conspired to keep the Hopi away from strong drink and other
contaminations, the white man had a better case than usual. On his
side the old chief mumbled that in the good old times the fields were
more fruitful, the country covered with grass waist high, there were
no cares, the people were happy and long-lived, the gods propitious,
Urukiwa, the wind-god, did not drive away the rains; now all this was
changed.
The Walpi spokesman then in his turn pointed out the benefits which
the white man had brought. Said he:
"What were we before the white man from the far water came? Half
naked, working our scanty crops with hoes of wood, often suffering
from famine as the traditions relate, without sheep and beasts of
burden, without peach trees and many vegetables, without sugar,
flour and tobacco, and driven from place to place in the deserts
by our ancient enemies. Where did you get your shirt, your cotton
cloth, and your hoe? Has not Wasintona given us wagons and many
other things, and protected us from the Navaho and Apache? The
white man is _pash lolomi_, 'very good.'"
The old man seemed vexed at the force of this argument, and he
began a speech which lasted, it seemed to the listeners, about two
hours. It is a loss to science that this speech could not be taken
down. As near as could be gathered he began at the beginning when
the people came up from the underworld, and traced the history
through its various stages, detailing the events, weaving in
ancient lore arguing, expanding, and digressing until he brought
it down to the present.
As he drew his remarks to a close, a blast of wind charged with
sand blew down the canvas sun-shade. The old chief found in this a
corroboration of his contention, and, in the confusion, seized his
hoe and a can of peaches, which was a present, and made off
angrily, firing as a parting shot, "Go away; you are very bad!"
It is scarcely necessary to say that the next day, bright and
early, witnessed the exodus of all strangers from that quiet
valley near the Middle Mesa. Nashihiptuwa, clad in his natural
wrinkled bronze costume, was hoeing in his bean patch, looking
neither to the right nor to the left.
X
BRIEF BIOGRAPHIES
The former chief Snake Priest of Walpi was a young man of good
presence, of splendid physique, with regular features and grave,
dignified look; in whose face there seemed to be often a trace of
melancholy, arising perhaps from deep thought. For it takes a man to
be Snake Priest, and the office brings out all there is in one.
Kopeli was as well trained as any civilized man whatsoever, taking
into consideration the demands of the different planes of culture.
Education is as general among these Indians as it is among the more
enlightened people. It would be too long to go into details, but
briefly the Hopi child's life is largely a kindergarten of
play-instruction by kind teachers of things useful in active life. He
is wrapped in the customs which have become religion, he is initiated
into manhood, and takes his place, perhaps inherited, in the
fraternities. With all these he is taught the lore, the practices, and
the songs--minutiæ which require a strong memory. He learns the plants
and the animals to which the Hopi had given descriptive names long
before Linnæus or Cuvier. The sun is his clock, and all nature is near
to him. He must work also in the fields if he would eat--no drones are
tolerated. In short, there is a surprising complexity in this life,
and its demands are weighty. Thus Kopeli at the head of the most
powerful and awe-inspiring society of his people has been put to many
tests and bore upon his shoulders the weight of immemorial custom.
While there was in Kopeli a dignity which commands respect from the
mirthful Hopi, he could on occasion be as entertaining as any of his
tribe, and usually was cheerful and friendly. The exception is when
the Snake rites are in progress. Then he seemed a different person,
and it was not proper for him to recognize his best friend.
The Walpi Snake Ceremony, of which the public dance is known to many
persons, is well worth braving the journey to see. The grand entry of
the Snake and Antelope priests on the dance plaza headed by Kopeli and
Wiki is one of the most impressive spectacles that can be witnessed on
this continent. There is so much energy put into the work; with
strides positively tragic, the file of strangely costumed priests
march to the _kisi_, where the snakes have been deposited. Then
commences the weird dance with live rattlesnakes held in the mouth to
the distant chant of Antelope priests. Kopeli was here at his best. He
was a notable figure; no other participant displayed such eagerness
and force. These were some of the salient elements of his character,
and by these he succeeded, whether as a farmer or as Snake Priest, and
took his high position among his people. There is an interesting
mingling of the old and new at Walpi. Kopeli became a typical example
of the union of past and present. Wiki, his Nestor, was in every fiber
imbued with the usages and traditions of the past. One instinctively
admires the old man's firm belief, and his respect for the ancient
ceremonies. The leaven of the new was in Kopeli, as may be seen from
the following. A wide-awake town in New Mexico wanted the Hopi Snake
Dance reproduced at the fair held there in the autumn, realizing that
it would be a feature to attract many visitors. Kopeli was approached
and offered what seemed to him a large sum of money for the
performance. Though in some doubt as to the care and transportation of
the snakes, Kopeli and the younger snake priests were tempted to favor
the scheme, through his avaricious father, Supela. When Wiki, chief of
the related society of the Antelopes, heard the proposal, he became
very angry and put his foot down, reading the young men of lax morals
a severe lecture on their duties to their religion.
Even had this plan been carried out and had proved a death blow to the
so-called pagan and heathenish rites of the Hopi, one would have
regretted Kopeli's share in it. It is well known, too, that, at
present, money will admit strangers to view the sacred rites of the
Snake Dance, which formerly were kept inviolably secret. Evidently,
the Hopi are deteriorating, when they barter their religion for
silver; at no distant date, when the elder men are dead, the curious
ceremonies of the Hopi will decay and disappear, and let us trust that
a new and better light may be given them.
Some years ago Kopeli passed from the scene, and his brother, "Harry,"
took his place as Snake Chief.
Dr. J. Walter Fewkes has given an estimate of him as follows:
Kopeli, the Snake chief at the Tusayan pueblo of Walpi, Arizona,
died suddenly on January 2, 1899. He was the son of Saliko, the
oldest woman of the Snake clan, which is one of the most
influential as well as one of the most ancient in Tusayan. His
father was Supela, one of the chiefs of the Patki, or Rain-cloud
people, who came to Walpi from southern Arizona about the close of
the seventeenth century. As chief of the Snake priests at Walpi in
the last five presentations of the Snake dance at that pueblo,
Kopeli has come to be one of the best known of all the Hopi
Indians. He inherited his badge of office as Snake Chief from his
uncle, and was the only chief in Tusayan who had a Snake _tiponi_.
His predecessor in this duty was Nuvaiwinu, his uncle, who is
still living, and who led the Snake priests in a single ceremony,
after which it was found necessary for him to retire on account of
his infirmities. At the celebration of the Snake dance in 1883,
described by Bourke, Natciwa, an uncle of Kopeli, was Snake
chief. The oldest Snake chief of whom I can get any information
was Murpi, a contemporary of Macali, the Antelope chief preceding
Wiki. Kopeli was a relative on his mother's side of both these
men. At the time of his death Kopeli was not far from twenty-five
years of age; he had a strong, vigorous constitution, was of
medium size, with an attractive face and dignified manner that won
him many friends both among his own people and the Americans with
whom he was brought in contact. He was a thoroughly reliable man,
industrious and self-respecting. Although a conscientious chief of
one of the most conservative priesthoods in Walpi, he was a
zealous friend of the whites, and supported innovations introduced
by them for the good of his people. He believed in the efficacy of
the ceremonial rites of his ancestors and performed his duty as
priest without shirking. As Mr. Thomas V. Keam, who knows the
Walpi people better than any other white man, told the chiefs in
council a few days after the Snake chief's death: "Kopeli was the
best man of the Hopis." He was a _pac lolomai taka_, an excellent
man, whose heart was good and whose speech was straight. To most
Americans who are interested in the Hopi, Kopeli was simply the
energetic chief in barbaric attire, who dashed into the Walpi
plaza leading his Snake priests in the biennial Snake dance. This
is one of the most striking episodes of the ceremony, and its
dramatic effect is not equaled in any of the other pueblos. It was
through Kopeli's influence that the Snake dance at Walpi was the
largest and most striking of these weird ceremonies in the Hopi
pueblos. Kopeli welcomed the educational movement and had two
children in the school at Keam's Canyon at the time of his death.
He was buried among the rocks at the base of the Walpi mesa with
simple ceremonies appropriate to a chief of his standing.[18]
[18] American Anthropologist (N. S.), Vol. I, Jan., 1899.
Wiki, the genial, good-hearted old chief of the Antelope Society was
one of the celebrities of Walpi. His very presence breathed benignity
and his heart was full of kindness. The years were telling on Wiki,
however, and the marks of age were becoming apparent in his wrinkled
face. He gave one the impression of a Hopi gentleman of the old
school, a survivor of the best of the past generation. Still, Wiki's
form was not bent, nor his hair gray, and he led the Antelope dance
with all the fire of youth. Stored away in his brain was a vast stock
of ancient lore, of legend, myth, and song. Since he was quite deaf,
his body of information was somewhat difficult of access.
Wiki maintained a certain dignity and attention to his own affairs,
which commendable trait a few of the prominent Hopi possess. He has
long been known by the scientific explorers who have visited Tusayan,
and all who have come in contact with him speak highly of his good
qualities.
Supela is in some respects the antithesis of Wiki. Wiki was identified
with the Antelope Society or brotherhood, Supela assumed a part in
everything. Great must be Supela's ability, since he is capable of
counselling the numerous societies on any doubtful points in their
rites and ceremonies. In fact, it seems that no observance in Walpi
can get along without his aid, and even the farther towns often call
upon him to assist them in delicate points involved in the conduct of
their religious celebrations.
It is time we should have a pen picture of him. Short of stature,
thick, gray hair hanging to his shoulders around a not unpleasant,
mobile face. Nervous of movement, cordial, but occupied with pressing
business, going somewhere, has scarcely time more than to ask a few
curious questions, he seems to have the burden of Atlas on his
shoulders. He resembles a promoter or a ward politician and he covers
more ground in a day than Wiki could in a week.
If Supela seems head and front of everything religious in the summer,
in the winter he plays a more prominent part in the Soyaluna, which is
held at the last of December. Of this wonderful sun ceremony he is
chief, and is as illustrious a personage to the Hopi as Santa Claus is
to the fair-skinned children. At this time Supela is in his element
and proud of himself to the last degree, for does he not regulate the
rites that are to bring back the sun from his far winter wanderings?
Wiki was a man of action, coming forward to add power and dignity to
that most astounding ceremony ever originated by human brain, the
Snake Dance; Supela is a man of craft, a worker by formulas and
incantations, but first and last a believer in getting all the silver
he can in return for an insight into the mysteries--a thing that Wiki
has never stooped to countenance.
There are first families in Tusayan. Saalako enjoys the distinction of
being by birthright the chief snake priestess of all Hopiland. Hence
Kopeli, her son, was chief priest of the powerful Snake Society in
that metropolis of Tusayan, Walpi; while Supela, her husband, has no
credit for his share in passing on the inheritance. At present, her
son "Harry" is the Snake Chief in place of the beloved Kopeli.
Saalako is an old, wise woman. The mystery which hangs around her is
born of her connection with the fearful rites of the Snake cult and
her store of the knowledge which has been passed down from time
immemorial "by living words from lips long dust." This connection
carries her to distant pueblos to mix the "medicine" for the
ceremonies, no one in the whole province being better versed in herbs
and spells than she. One might meet her on this errand far out in the
desert or among the rugged mesas on the trail to Oraibi, afoot, moving
actively for a person apparently so frail. It is difficult to measure,
especially in a limited time and short acquaintance, the respect and
honor given by the Walpi people to Saalako and the Snake Chief's
family. It would seem that there is a certain dignity and reserve
natural to people of rank, although in the common associations the
Hopi are quite democratic. In any case Saalako is free from the habit
of begging, so often observed among her people, which is probably due
to this dignity. It is very evident, however, that the vice of begging
is becoming general among the Pueblos which have been most in contact
with white people.
This sketch of Saalako would be incomplete without the mention of her
chief shortcoming, inordinate curiosity. Apologists commend rather
than excuse laudable curiosity, affirming it to be a desirable quality
in an investigator. No doubt Saalako owes her acquaintance with nature
to this class, but she is famous for curiosity in other minor matters.
No visitor to Walpi escapes the ordeal of her questions, and popular
account has it that very few happenings escape her notice. The Hopi of
both sexes are most curious; Saalako has the trait in greater degree.
The hoary error of attributing curiosity to woman alone has small
countenance in Hopi. However, Saalako's curiosity is well meaning and
harmless. It is only an expression of the infantile which blossoms in
this peaceful and isolated people.
Saalako felt it her duty to give a name to one of the exploring party
under the direction of Dr. Fewkes. After several days meditation,
having tried and rejected several queer sounding appellations, she at
last dubbed him _Kuktaimu_, briefly, "Investigator," and kindly
offered to adopt him; the adoption, however, was not consummated.
Kuktaimu owes his name to the ardor with which he collected plants,
insects, and geological specimens, this not escaping the sharp eyes
of Saalako.
This sketch is given as a tribute to a remarkable Hopi woman whose
history is worthy of fuller presentation.
Intiwa was another celebrity whose acquaintance early ripened into a
regard for his true worth. His was a modest personality; in him one
saw the living presentment of the sages who guided the people before
America dawned upon history. A striking instance that came to notice
concerning him gives an interesting sidelight on Hopi customs.
One day Intiwa went down to his cornfield to see how the crops were
getting on. As he was reaching under the drooping corn blades, feeling
for the ripening ears, a rattlesnake struck him on the hand. He
hurried home and applied all the remedies which Hopi medical knowledge
could suggest, but got no relief. Some white visitors who happened to
be near were called in and did all they could for the man, and
finally, after much suffering, Intiwa recovered. Now comes the curious
sequel of the snake bite. The Snake Fraternity decided that Intiwa,
being specially favored by the bite of the snake, must of necessity
belong to their order. Perhaps Intiwa was not impressed with the
alleged favor of the snake. Still he took the initiation and became a
full-fledged snake priest. This is the first record of such happening
in Tusayan.
Beside the honor thus thrust upon him, Intiwa was the _Kachina_ chief
of Walpi, and thus an important man, the _impresario_ and chief
entertainer of his town, honored by the rain-bringing serpent, blessed
with a large family, ample house and abundant food--gifts no doubt of
the good fairy _Kachina_.
Several years ago Intiwa took a journey to the underworld across the
deserts and down through the _sipapu_, or earth-navel, finding at last
that wondrous land whence all people came out and where they finally
must return, according to Hopi belief. Walpi will suffer the loss of
his great knowledge; who knows but that he will emerge, and, sitting
with the zealous _kachinas_, watch over the scene of his earthly
triumphs?
The first meeting with the Hopi and with the Honani family was one of
the most pleasurable experiences of the journey from Winslow to the
Middle Mesa several years ago.
The party had toiled to the north for nearly three days through the
brilliantly painted deserts that lie between the Little Colorado and
the Hopi villages. The grotesque black buttes whose contours had
changed so many times during the journey were left behind to the south
and the gray cretaceous mesas began to narrow in on the dry washes,
fringed with sage-green desert plants that characterize the region of
the Hopi villages. Everyone felt that though many miles of loose sand
still intervened, this was the home stretch to the goal. Far ahead on
the plain several black dots were sighted, and with lively interest
the party began to speculate as to what they might be. After a while
it could be seen that a mounted party was coming, perhaps Navaho on
first thought, likely Hopi on reflection. Soon they were decided to be
a number of Hopi mounted on burros and ponies, and in a short time
they were greeting the Americans with the fervor of a long-lost
brother, their faces wreathed with smiles. These, then, were the
taciturn Indians of the story-books.
Honani, "the Badger," citizen of Shumopavi, was escorting his family
on an outing of many miles after berries. Berries, such as they are,
do grow in the desert, but they may be enjoyed only by those who never
tasted any other variety. Honani's wife and her three pretty daughters
were astride ponies, while the baby was securely fastened in his
mother's blanket; the old grandfather and grandmother who bestrode
burros made up the rest of the party, which formed a very picturesque
group. The women asked for water, and Honani spoke the magic word
_piba_, tobacco, followed by the word, _matchi_. These words one very
soon finds are the indispensable preliminary to a "smoke talk" in
Hopiland.
Honani's better half is no light weight. So thought her pony which,
without warning, proceeded to lie down. Amidst the screaming and
chattering, the stout lady managed to extricate herself, being much
hampered by her prudence in tying her blanket to the horn of the
saddle. When all were quieted and the pony soundly thumped, they
started again on their way berrying.
Honani is quite a prominent man and was one time chief of his pueblo.
He is one of the very few Hopi who have made the grand tour to
Washington--_Wasintona_, as they call it. He has a farm in the
country, where he lives in summer. The vagrant Navaho who encroach on
his premises are the bane of his life, and when none of this tribe is
near he wishes them all sorts of unpleasant things. Honani himself is
no saint; from all accounts, it is advisable to leave nothing loose
while he is around. His wife has a pleasant, matronly face that one
cannot help admiring. She is a skillful basket-maker and keeps her
house neat and clean, which is more than can be said of her
contemporaries.
There is a good deal of feeling, mingled with a large element of
jealousy, against Honani in the minds of his fellow villagers, because
of his friendliness toward the white man and his stand in favor of
educating the children in the schools provided by the Government. At
Zuñi, through some pretext or other, Honani would be hung as a wizard,
whereas the amicable Hopi merely ignore him for a while.
On another occasion, while the party was encamped in a sheltered
valley of the Middle Mesa, the "Honanis" came visiting. It was about
supper time; the connection of the time and visit needs no
explanation. Among the scanty utensils of the party two cans of
similar shape contained respectively salt and sugar. Honani's wife
liberally sweetened her coffee and gave the baby a taste. In a moment
his hitherto placid face assumed the contortions of a Hindu idol, and
he squirmed and yelled. His mother, not knowing what was the matter,
shook him and punched his fat stomach to find out. Then she took a sip
of coffee and screamed out, "_Ingiwa!_" (salt). Her reproachful look
seemed to convey the idea that someone had designs on the baby. A few
words of explanation soon put her mind at rest on that score, and
smiles were again restored. When she heard that several of the party
had been at times sufferers from those same malicious salt and sugar
boxes, she enjoyed the joke hugely; fellow sufferers are always
appreciated the world over.
There is at least one open and above-board infidel at the East Mesa.
Chakwaina is his name, and he is a Tewa of Hano. The old nature faith
in this pueblo does not show many signs of weakening, so that were
Chakwaina less in possessions and in consequent influence, he might
have been brought to book long ago for his sins. Chakwaina says "the
_kachinas_ are no good." Perhaps the poor people who so depend on the
crops for their existence believe devoutly in the gift-bearing
_kachinas_ from ignorance or selfish motives, while _Chakwaina_, who
has sheep, flour, and money, feels independent of any spiritual aids;
this is the old story. Chakwaina undoubtedly feels able to take care
of himself, for no one has succeeded in getting ahead of him at a
bargain. Of course when a pair of sheep shears or a stone is too
frequently found in a bag of wool after weighing, people will suspect
cheating. It is well to keep watch on Chakwaina!
On the other hand, Chakwaina was one of the first to move down
permanently from the mesa when the Government offered inducements to
the Hopi to descend from their eyrie. He has always been friendly to
the white people; he aided in the establishment of a day school at the
"Sun Spring," and used his influence to persuade the people to send
pupils to the school at Keam's Canyon. He has also traveled much,
adding Spanish, Navaho, and a smattering of "American" to his
Hopi-Tewan repertory of languages, for the Tewa, besides being the
most progressive inhabitants of Tusayan, are the best linguists. This
is due to the fact that the people of the little town of Hano have
preserved their own language, and being within a stone-throw of Walpi,
must also know Hopi. Hence the step toward learning other tongues is
made easier.