A Hopi Religious Rite. Interesting among Indians, because of their unique
houses on the summits of high mesas, reached only by precipitous trails,
the Hopi of northern Arizona always have possessed peculiar fascination on
account of their thrilling religious rite, known as the Snake Dance, an
account of which follows.*
* This Sacred Dance and the life of the Hopi Indians is more fully set out
in the author's larger work "The Indians of the Painted Desert Region".
The Painted Desert. The region they live in, named the Province of Tusayan
by the Spanish conquistadores, three hundred and fifty years ago, is a
region of color. The rocks of which the mesas are built, the sand of the
desert, the peculiarly carved buttes which abound on every hand, are all
strikingly colored, with such a variety of hues and tints that one does not
wonder at the name--the Painted Desert--which is applied to the country
through which we must travel to reach Hopiland.
A Saddle Trip from El Tovar. The traveler who wishes to visit this
fascinating and unique region can arrange for full equipment at El Tovar.
The trip will be a saddle one and all outfits will have to be transported
on pack burros.
The Old Hopi Trail. The road followed is practically the line of the old
Hopi trail. On the way out, the interested traveler may visit Grand View
Point and Hotel, Hance's Old Camp and Trail, the Red Canyon Trail, Moran's,
and all the other salient points at the eastern end of the Grand Canyon.
Especially should he stand on faraway Navaho Point, or Desert View. This is
the last of the promontories before the rim of the Canyon turns sharply to
the north. Below it, a vast amphitheatre is opened out with more
precipitous walls than at any other part of the Canyon. The sweep of the
river, the mouth of Marble Canyon, the superlative richness of coloring at
this point, combined with the unequalled views of the Painted Desert, which
lies to the right, or east, afford a place of varied delight, scarce found
elsewhere on the whole Canyon rim.
Hopi Cornfields. Crossing the Little Colorado River at the Tanner Crossing,
Moenkopi is visited, and then a day's ride of forty miles over the Painted
Desert brings one to the cornfields of the Hopi, as properly they should be
called. For years, they have been known as the Moki, a term of reproach
applied in derision by the Navahos. These cornfields are a wonderful
monument to the thrift of the Hopi. White men would have starved to death
in the place, before they would have dreamed of planting corn in such an
inhospitable-looking soil. No springs or streams sufficient to irrigate
with, unversed in digging wells and pumping water to the surface, one would
have thought an ignorant Indian would have looked elsewhere before planting
his corn in such a place. But the Indian is not so ignorant. His life, from
the cradle to the grave, is one of close observation. His very existence
depends upon its exercise. He soon discovered, therefore, that there was a
natural subsoil irrigation in certain parts of this desert, where his corn
would grow. And grow it does, most wonderfully. Sometimes water is scarce;
then the crop decreases, but generally a good crop may be relied upon. To
hoe his cornfield, a Hopi will often run over the desert forty, fifty,
sixty, and even eighty miles in a day. Sometimes, when the field is near
by, the Hopi will ride on his burro. These cunning creatures are almost a
necessity of Indian life. The streets would seem lonely without them. It
will be noticed occasionally that one of these animals has lost part of his
left ear. This is proof that he is possessed of kleptomaniac proclivities.
If a burro is found stealing corn, he is sentenced to have part of his ear
cut off.
Oraibi. On one of these burros we ride up the steep trail that brings us to
the westernmost village of the Hopi, Oraibi. It is perched high on the mesa
top, several hundred feet above the valley, and the various trails are
steep and rugged. Some of them are sheer climbs, up which no animal other
than man can go. There are six other villages, three of them ten miles, and
the other three about twenty miles, to the east of Oraibi. They, also, are
perched upon high mesas, which thrust themselves, like long fingers, into
the sandy desert. On the middle mesa are Shungopavi, Mashongnovi and
Shipaulovi, while on the eastern mesa are Walpi, Sichomovi and Hano.
Sandstone Houses. All the houses are built of rude pieces of sandstone,
cemented with mud. Steps are made of larger slabs of stone, and often the
only means of access is by long ladders, the poles of which tower high
above the buildings, and give a singularly picturesque aspect to the
village. In the olden days, there were neither doors nor windows in the
first story of the houses. They were built so purposely, since they must
serve for fortresses as well as homes.
Hopi Wafer. Bread. One is often likely to find a woman engaged in making
piki. Piki is a wafer bread, peculiar to the Hopis. It is finer than the
finest tortilla of the Mexican, or oatcake of the Scotch. No biscuit maker
in America or England can make a cracker one-half so thin. The thinnest
cracker is thick compared with piki, and yet the Hopi make it with
marvelous dexterity. Cornmeal batter in a crude earthenware bowl, is the
material; a smooth, flat stone, under which a brisk fire is kept burning,
is the instrument; and the woman's quick fingers, spreading a thin layer of
the batter over the stone, perform the operation. It looks so easy. A lady
of one of my parties tried it once, and failed. My cook, a stalwart Kansas
City man, knew he would not fail. And he didn't. He had four of the
best-blistered fingers I have seen in a long time. But the Hopi woman
merely greases the stone, dips her fingers into the batter, carries them
lightly and carelessly over the heated surfaces, and, in a moment, strips
the already baked sheet from the stone. When several are baked, she folds
them over and over until they are about the size of an elongated shredded
wheat biscuit.
Hopi Women as Builders. It is a reversal of our conception of things to see
the "gentler sex " engaged in building a house, as is often the case in
Hopiland. Yet to the Hopi there is nothing strange in this scene, for the
woman, and not the man, is the owner of the house. Hence, the Hopi reasons,
why should she not build it? It is hers, so let her make it; and she does.
She uses no spirit-level, no plumb line, no square, no saw, and yet she
makes a creditable house, fairly square and plumb, warm and cosy in winter,
and cool and comfortable in summer. The mud of the winter's watercourses is
used as mortar, and the pieces of disintegrated sandstone, that abound on
the mesa tops, form the building material.
Men Who Weave and Knit. In accordance with Hopi logic, the antithesis of
the woman house-builders is to be seen daily in the men who are engaged in
weaving the women's garments; men, also, knit the stockings, and follow
other so-called feminine occupations. There is nothing incongruous in these
things to them. They are part of "the way of the old," handed down to them
by their forefathers.
Hopi Method of Weaving. To watch a weaver at work is to acquire a new
respect for Indians. As one sees the crude, home-made appliances, and then
watches the yarn climb up, thread by thread, battened down by hand so that
the garment will hold water, until the article is finished, artistically
designed, and perfectly fitted for its required purpose, he comes to the
conclusion that the Hopi weaver, at least, is a skilled artificer.
Hopi Rituals. The Hopi are a remarkably religious people. I question
whether there is to be found elsewhere in the world so ritualistic a people
as they are. They have ceremonies--all of religious character for every
month of the year, and some of them require from eight to sixteen days for
their observance. Their dances are propitiations of the gods they worship,
and whose aid they implore. One of the most noted and world-renowned of
their ceremonies is the Snake Dance, and I wish to conclude this chapter
with a brief description of this wonderful act, which I have now witnessed
thirteen separate times. It has been woefully misrepresented by careless
writers.
The whole ceremony is conducted with a dignity and solemnity that is not
surpassed by any Christian observance.
Hopi Mythology Regarding Snake Dance. It is not a dance, in our sense of
the word. It is a prayer for rain, and of thanksgiving for the blessings of
harvest. Neither is it an act of snake worship. According to Hopi
mythology, the snake and antelope clans, or families, are descended from
the union of Tiyo and his brother with two sisters, daughters of the snake
mother,--Tiyo being the paternal Ancestor of the Snake Clan, and his
brother of the Antelope Clan. The story of Tiyo's visit, using a sealed-up
hollow pinion log as a boat, and sailing down the Colorado river through "
shipapu" to the underworld, is one of the most interesting pieces of
aboriginal folk-lore. It appears elsewhere,* and forms the burden of the
sixteen dramatic songs sung in the secrecy of the underground ceremonial
kivas of the snake and antelope clans, in the nine days of preliminary
ceremonial, which culminate in the open-air public dance.
* See Indians of the Pointed Desert Region.
Antelope Race and Corn Scramble. There are two other ceremonies connected
with the Snake Dance that may be witnessed by all who like. These are the
antelope race and the corn scramble. The former takes place on the morning
of the eighth day before sunrise. Though apparently a mere test of athletic
ability, it is in reality a religious ceremonial. For centuries, the Hopi
lived surrounded by warlike people who preyed upon them. Being few in
number, living in a desert land, and beset by murderous marauders,
fleetness of foot and great "staying" powers while running over the long
trails of the sandy deserts became an essential condition of national
preservation. Hence the priests made the cultivation of the bodily powers a
matter of religion. Every youth was compelled to exercise to the utmost.
The result is a fine athletic development. Each year many great races are
run, and two of the chief of these are at the Snake Dance, there being a
race on both the eighth and ninth mornings.
At the end of that fierce race across the hot sands and up the steep mesa,
the winner exultantly stands before the chief priests. The lightning bearer
then throws the zigzag symbols over him, and rain clouds are pictured at
his feet. Then he is hurried on to the antelope kiva, where another priest
gives to him the sacred gourd full of water and a sack full of sacred
meal, with certain ceremonial prayer sticks, which, placed and used in his
cornfield, ensure to him an extra fine crop at the next harvest.
In the meantime, a number of young men and boys have followed the rest of
the racers, bearing in their hands cornstalks, melon vines and fruit. As
soon as they reach the level mesa top, the women and girls dart upon them,
and a most good-natured but exciting scuffle takes place. For five to ten
minutes this scramble lasts, and when every corn or vine carrier is rid of
his gifts, the play is at an end, and all retire to await the great event
of the whole ceremony,--the open-air dance, when the deadly reptiles are
carried in the mouths of the priests.
Preparation for Snake Dance. At noon a secret ceremony takes place in the
dark recesses of the kiva, viz.: the washing of the elder brothers (as the
snakes are called), which I have fully described in "The Indians of the
Painted Desert Region." When the afternoon shadows lengthen, every
available place in the dance plaza is speedily occupied by the villagers
and visitors, who wait the march of the antelope priests. The photographers
present must keep within a certain line.
Arrival of Snake Priests. After circling in front of the kisi (a cottonwood
bower in which the snakes are kept) the antelope priests line up with their
faces fronting from the kisi. There they sing and dance awhile, waiting for
the snake priests. These come from their kiva to the south of the dance
plaza, and, as they arrive, all sounds are hushed and all attention
concentrated upon them. They circle before the kisi, and then line up
facing the antelope priests.
Appearance of Priests. Some people say they are hideous; others have said,
with me, that the sight is sublime. If one looks merely at the half-nude
bodies, made repulsive by a coating of reddish black paint, with dabs of
whitewash in several places, at their faces painted with the reddish black
stuff, at the strings of white beads around their necks, and the snake
whips in their hands, then indeed it is easy to say that they are hideous.
But if one looks at their faces, he will see intense earnestness, deep
solemnity, profound dignity, and unflinching belief in the necessity for
and power of the prayer about to be offered. Then, too, with what simple,
trustful bravery they handle the snakes, when that part of the ceremony
comes! They know the danger; no one more so. Indeed, if a priest is afraid,
he is not allowed to participate. Not only would his fear prevent his own
proper worship, but it would interfere with that of his comrades.
Variety of Snakes. There were few snakes at Oraibi, the year I last saw the
dance there, but those they had were active and vicious. There were several
rattlers, some red racers, and a few bull snakes. The light was good, and
several first-class photographs were made which actually show the snakes in
the mouths of the priests. At the Snake Dance in the other villages, the
priest swings the snake out of his mouth, and allows it to fall. Here, I
noticed that every snake was gently placed upon the ground by the priest
who had been carrying it in his mouth. The antelope men never leave their
line, during the handling of the snakes. They continue to sing during the
whole performance.
Purification of Priests. While waiting for the priests to return, after
taking the snakes into the valley, I learned of several slight changes,
owing to changed circumstances. The rain had made numerous small pools at
the top of the mesa. The priests, in returning, divested themselves of all
their ceremonial paraphernalia, and washed the paint from their bodies,
before returning to the kiva and drinking the emetic. Generally, they have
gone to their homes at Oraibi or at Walpi, have had the women bring water
to the west side of the mesa, and there washed themselves.