the epidemic had nearly spent its force, although deaths were still
occurring every day or two. The condition of the Indians was pitiable in
the extreme; nearly every woman in the tribe had her hair cut off close
to her head and her face and arms deeply gashed by knives, in token of
mourning, while some had even chopped off a finger as a sign of grief at
the loss of a favorite child. The men also had their hair cut off at the
shoulders and had discarded their usual ornaments and finery. On one
occasion, while driving near the camp, the author's attention was
attracted by a low wail, and on looking for the cause he saw, sitting in
the tall grass near the roadside, a bereaved father stripped to the
breech-cloth, with his hair cropped close to the head and the blood
dripping from gashes which covered his naked body; he did not look up or
turn his head as the wagon passed, but continued the low wail, with his
eyes cast to the ground. Wagons, harness, tipis, blankets, and other
property were burned, and horses and dogs shot over the graves of their
owners, to accompany them to the world of shades, the destruction of
property in this way amounting to thousands of dollars. Every night and
morning the women went into the hills to wail for their lost ones, and
returned to camp with the blood dripping from fresh gashes in their
faces and arms; this continued for weeks and months, far into the fall.
The responsibility for this terrible calamity rests upon the school
superintendent, who sent the infected children into camp, and upon the
agent who permitted it. The superintendent of the Comanche school,
so soon as the disease appeared on the reservation, suspended teaching,
turned the school into a temporary hospital, with the teachers as
nurses, and stationed a guard of police to keep the parent from interfering
with or withdrawing the children. The result was that not one died
in his school and only one was affected. The census of the Kiowa and
Apache tribes for this year shows a decrease from the preceding year
of two hundred and twenty-one, or 15 per cent, among the two tribes,
due almost entirely to this epidemic. The agent reports, after noting
the mortality:
The above deaths occurred chiefly among the infants and young
children, and can be attributed to the fact that in most every case
they invariably immersed their sick in the water, thereby causing
death in every case thus treated (_Report, 115_).
Dr J. D. Glennan, attending surgeon to the Indian troop at Fort Sill,
had already distinguished himself at Wounded Knee two years before by
his bravery and coolness in attending to the needs of the wounded and
dying while bullets were flying thick around him. Now, when the epidemic
broke out among the Kiowa, he gave his services with the same quiet
devotion to duty, with such good result that, although for months the
hospital camp was crowded with stricken Indians, whose relatives outside
were dying all over the reservation, only six of those under his care
died, and these not from the prevailing epidemic, but from a
complication of diseases. In recognition of his services the Kiowa
soldiers afterward raised a sum of money with which to purchase a horse
for him, but as the doctor already had a horse, the testimonial took the
form of a valuable piece of silver.
The Anko calendar has also a row of circles, representing dollars, to
indicate a large payment of grass money by the cattlemen this summer. As
by this time the Indians had learned that the leasing of their surplus
grass lands was very much to their advantage, they held a council in
February, 1892, to select delegates to go to Washington for the purpose
of negotiating leases for the whole reservation; also to secure some
back payments due from previous leases. Quanah, Lone-wolf, and Whiteman
were chosen on behalf of the Comanche, Kiowa, and Apache, respectively,
and proceeded to Washington, where they received the desired permission,
under which authority leases were negotiated producing for the three
tribes an average income of about $100,000. On their return they
received through a special agent nearly $70,000 due under the new and
old leases. This large payment gave occasion for general rejoicing and
marked an era in their history. A large part of the money was invested
in lumber for building permanent houses; so that in this way, and with
the additional help of a small appropriation for the hire of carpenters,
the agent reports about sixty houses built within the year, and says:
With the assistance of the Indian Office as to the pay of
carpenters, together with the revenues from their grass leases, I
see no reason why in the near future the tepee should not be
banished and comfortable houses he substituted in their stead
(_Report, 116_).
* * * * *
Here end the yearly calendars. The subsequent events, including
the unratified treaty negotiations and the present condition of the
tribes, will be found noted in the preliminary tribal sketch.
KIOWA CHRONOLOGY
TERMS EMPLOYED
Now--_íñhogo_ (_íñhoti_=this).
Then (past)--_óhyo_ (same as _there_).
Second, minute, hour--unknown.
Day (from sunrise to sunset)--_kíădă_, abbreviated _kíă_.
A day (of twenty-four hours, i. e., one day and one night)--_pägo kiă´_
(="one day").
Dawn--_kíăt'ä´_ (literally, "first light," _t'ä; t'ä_ seems to be
connected with _t'aiñ_, white; _gyäpá-iñgya_).
Sunrise--_paí-báda_, literally, "the sun has come up."
Morning--_kíädä´_, literally, fall day; cf. Day and Dawn; _gyäpá-iñgya_;
very early in the morning--_gíñaga_ (cf. Night); late morning, shortly
before noon--_kyähíñ kíäsá_.
This morning--_íñhoti gyäpá-iñgya_.
Noon--_kíäsá_.
Afternoon (early, until about 3 oclock)--_dekíäsa_.
Afternoon (late)--_déhíñ_.
Evening--_dám-kóñkya_ (literally, first darkness); _dekómdóle_ (_-gya_,
from an archaic root referring to slight darkness).
Night--_gíñde; gíñăgya_; one night, _pägo gi_.
Midnight--_gíñ-kopá-iñgya_; after midnight--_gíñă-tógya_ (_togya_, after
or past).
Tonight--_íñhoti gi_.
Today--_íñhoti kiă_.
Yesterday--_kíädédal_.
Tomorrow--_kyähíñgă_.
Day after tomorrow--_añgádal kíăgyă kyähíñ_ (literally, a day--_kíăgyă_;
beyond or more--_añgádal_; tomorrow--_kyähíñ_); abbreviated, _añgádal
kyähíñ_.
Day before yesterday--_tópde kíädédal_, literally, before yesterday; day
next before, understood.
Journey--estimated by "darks," _koñ_, i. e., nights, instead of by
"sleeps." Thus, if one asks how far away is a certain distant place, he
is told that it is _pä´go koñ, yía koñ_, one dark, two darks, etc., i.
e., that to reach it he must be one night, two nights, etc., on the
road. They understand now how to measure short distances by the mile,
_on_, literally, "a measure."
Week--The Kiowa did not originally group the days into weeks, but have
now learned to make such a period, counting by Sundays or by the
biweekly ration issue. Thus Sunday is _Dakíădă_, literally, "medicine
day," i. e., "sacred day." One week is _pä´go Dakíădă_; two weeks, _yía
Dakíădă_, etc. Next week--_ki-gía Dakíădă_, literally, after Sunday;
also, _koñtä´kia_, literally, middle of (issue) nights.
One issue--_pä´go kóñakán_, literally, one end or series (_akán_) of
darks or nights. The regular ration issue is made every two weeks, on
Friday, and as this is the great gathering time of the Indians, when
they meet their friends and talk over matters of mutual interest, it has
become a red-letter day and a starting point, like our Sunday.
Month or moon--_p'a_. The same word means river or stream, while _pa_,
without the aspirate, signifies a buffalo bull.
Year--The years are counted hy winters; one year, _pägo sai_, literally,
one winter or cold season, from _saí-gia_, or _sai_, winter; plural,
_säta_.
Days of the week (modern)--Sunday, _Dakíădă_; Monday, _Dakía kyähíñ_;
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, have no names, but are counted as
two, three, four, or five days after Sunday; Saturday, _Dakía-sän_
literally, little Sunday.
Christmas (modern)--_Píä-kíădă_, "eating day," or "feast day."
Fourth of July (modern)--_Tsolaí_ (i. e., July, which they take to be
the name of the day); _Tsä´nkia kíădă_, "race day," because on that
occasion races are held by the Indians at the agency and at Fort Sill.
THE SEASONS
The Kiowa distinguished only four seasons, unlike some of the
agricultural tribes of the east, who distinguished five, separating the
autumn season into _early_, when the leaves change color, and _late_,
when the leaves fall, but assigning entirely different names to each.
The Kiowa begin the year with the beginning of winter as fixed by the
first snowfall. This seems to have been the case also with the Pawnee
and perhaps with other prairie tribes. To an agricultural people the
renewal of vegetation would seem a more natural starting point.
The first season is called _Saígya_ or _Säta_, abbreviated _Saí_, which
is considered to begin on the first fall of snow. In western Oklahoma
this is generally about the first or middle of December, although on one
occasion, about ten years ago, this occurred as early as October. Cold
weather and frost may come, but it is not called _Saígya_ until snow
falls.
Next comes _Áségya_, spring. This is an archaic term which cannot be
analyzed. It is sometimes called by the more modern name of _Són-páta_,
"grass springing." It is considered to begin when the grass and buds
sprout and the mares foal (about first of March), and is known to be
near at hand when the breasts of the eagles begin to turn white and when
the panther whelps are born. The old men say that one half of the month
_Ka`gúăt P'a Sän_ belongs to _Saí-gya_ and the other half to _Áségya_.
The third season is _Paígya_ or _Paíta_, abbreviated _Pai_, summer. The
name seems to have a connection with the word for sun, _pai_. It begins
after the grass has ceased sprouting (_sónpáta_) and is considered to
continue until fires are needed in the tipis at night, i. e., from about
June to September. During this season the fires are made outside the
tipis, or, rather, outside the leafy arbors under which the people sit
and sleep during the hot weather.
Next comes the fourth and last season, _Paóngya_ or autumn. The term is
archaic and seems to refer to the thickening of the fur (_pa_) of the
buffalo and other animals as the cold weather approaches. It is
sometimes called _Aídeñ-gyägúădal-ómgyä-i_, the time "when the leaves
are red." The season is supposed to begin when the leaves change color
and fires become comfortable in the tipis at night, that is, about the
first of September.
In addition to these recognized divisions the summers or warm weather
periods, as distinguished from the winters, were usually counted by
_k`ádós_ or sun dances, which were commonly held once a year, the time
being fixed by the whitening of the down on the cottonwoods, about the
beginning of June.
The following table is a good approximation of the manner in which the
Kiowa divide the year, beginning about October 1:
SAÍGYA: WINTER
Gákiñăt'o P'a, _last half_.
Ä`gâ´nti.
Tépgañ P'a.
Gañhíña P'a.
Ka`gúăt P'a Sän, _first half_.
ÁSÉGYA: SPRING
Ka`gúăt P'a Sän, _last half_.
Ka`gúăt P'a.
Aideñ P'a.
Pai Ä`gâ´nti, _first half_.
PAÍGYA: SUMMER
Pai Ä`gâ´nti, _last half_.
Pai Tépgañ P'a.
Pai Gañhíña P'a.
T'águñótal P'a Sän.
T'águñótal P'a, _first half_.
PAÓNGYA: AUTUMN
T'águñótal P'a, _last half_.
Gákiñăt'o P'a, _first half_.
Autumn seems to be less definitely noted than the other seasons.
KIOWA MOONS OR MONTHS
While the Kiowa note the changes of the moon and have a fixed name for
each moon or lunar month, it is not to be supposed that their system
could have the exactness of the calendar systems of the more cultivated
nations of the south, or perhaps even of the sedentary tribes of the
east, whose interests so largely depended upon noting carefully the
growth and ripening of crops, the appearance of the various species of
fish in the streams, etc. Nevertheless, they have a system, imperfect
though it be, and it can not be said of them, as Matthews says of some
northern tribes, that "they have no formal names for the lunar periods."
In this, as in other matters of tribal lore, they defer to the superior
knowledge of certain old men who assume the position of experts on the
subject.
The Kiowa recognize twelve or more moons or months, beginning the year,
according to one authority, with the first cold weather, about the end
of October, or according to other authority, with the first snowfall,
about a month or more later. They have seven distinct moon or month
names, and some of these are duplicated and distinguished as _great_,
_small_, or of _summer_, to make the full number for the year. These
moons of course do not coincide closely with our calendar months, and as
the system is necessarily imperfect, there is a discrepancy of
authorities, some recognizing twelve moons while a few count as many as
fourteen or fifteen, the additional names being a further duplication of
some of the others, as already explained; all authorities agree on the
first eight as here given, and all but one agree on the ninth, after
which there is a discrepancy. The author has made no arbitrary attempt
to harmonize conflicting statements, as the result would be artificial
and not aboriginal; and we must expect a certain amount of uncertainty
and disagreement on such a complicated subject, among primitive people.
Our own calendar system has been of slow growth, and more than one
hundred million Europeans still refuse to accept it. The list here given
is that obtained from Anko, the best calendar authority in the tribe,
and is that generally accepted by the Kiowa. By means of tally dates
from his picture calendar their periods can be pretty closely assigned,
although, as will be noticed, even he varies a month in some instances
in the course of three years. Some of the old men put another moon, _Pai
Ka`gúăt P'a Sän_ (see number 5), between _Pai Gáñhíña P'a_ and
_T'águñ´ótal P'a Sän_.
1. _Gákiñăt'o P'a_--"Ten-colds moon." It is so called because the first
ten days of it are cold, a premonition of winter, after which it grows
warm for a time; this moon is about equivalent to late September and
early October. It is the first and last moon of the Kiowa year, the old
year and the summer being considered to end with the full moon of this
period, after which the winter and the new year begin; by the time this
moon ends the leaves are off the trees; in talking with Anko on
September 23 (1895) he said: "This is _Gákiñăt'o P'a_, but it is still
summer. After the moon is full and again begins to wane, then winter has
begun, and we are in the _winter half_ of _Gákiñat'o P'a_." Snow
sometimes comes in this moon.
2. _[.A] gâ´nti or Ä`ga´ntsänha_ (does not take _p'a_), from
_ä`gâ´ntsän_--"wait until I come," or "I am coming soon." According to
Kiowa folklore, this moon says to his predecessor, "You went, but did
nothing. _Hítugŭ´ ä`gâ´ntsän_--wait, and I'll go, and I'll show what
I can do in the way of storms and cold weather." This moon includes
parts of October and November. A tally date is the lunar eclipse of
November 4, 1892, which is noted on the Anko calendar as occurring in
this moon. Some authorities speak of it also as _sä-kop p'a_, "midwinter
moon," i. e., midway between two consecutive sun dances, which would
seem to bring it nearer to December.
3. _Tépgañ P'a_, "Geese-going moon," so called because the geese now
begin to pass overhead on their migration southward; it may bo
considered to include parts of November and December, and is sometimes
called _Bonpä P'a_, "sweathouse moon," for some unexplained reason. (See
number 9, _Pai Tépgañ P'a_.)
4. _Gañhíña P'a_, "Real-goose moon," so called because in this moon the
great southward migration of wild geese occurs; it may be considered to
comprise parts of December and January, although some put it later, as
one old man talking on the subject on January 25, said: "We are now in
the beginning of _Gañhíña P'a_."
5. _Ka`gúăt P'a Sän_, "Little-bud moon." This may be considered to
include late January and early February; in this moon the first buds
come out, especially those of the elm, called by the Kiowa _tá-ä_, or
_gádal-ä_, "saddle-wood," or "buffalo-wood." The first part of this moon
is regarded as belonging to winter (_saígya_), the latter part to spring
(_áségya_). Anko says that the mares foal in this moon and that the
white men (in Oklahoma) usually begin to plow. A tally date from his
calendar makes a February event occur in this moon.
6. _Ka`gúăt P'a_, "Bud moon." It is sometimes distinguished from the
preceding by adding _edal_, "great;" the buds are all out and it is now
full (_áségya_), spring; it is considered to include parts of February
and March.
7. _Aideñ P'a_, "Leaf moon." The leaves are all out by the end of this
moon, which approximately comprises late March and early April. Anko
remarks that the moon names already given, with the two _T'aguñótal
P'a_, are all old recognized names, but that this moon has no proper
name. It is here also that the discrepancy begins on the other lists; a
tally date on the Anko calendar gives April 19 as belonging to this
moon.
8. _Pai [.A]gâ´nti_, "Summer _Ägâ´nti_" (see number 2). This moon is so
named because, in Kiowa folklore, it says to its predecessor, "Just
watch me; pretty soon I'll make it hot. Spring (_áségya_) ends and
summer (_paígya, pai_) begins after this moon is full and begins to
wane; it maybe considered approximately to include late April and early
May, but a tally on the Anko calendar puts an event of June 14 within
this period.
9. _Pai Tépgañ P'a_, "Summer _Tépgañ_ moon" (see number 3). It is
possible that this moon is so called on account of a northward migration
of wild geese, although it seems too late in the season. According to
the testimony of white observers on the Kiowa reservation, wild geese
appear first in October, stay all winter in the lakes and ponds, and go
north again in March and April. The wild ducks, in the rivers, remain
all the year. The name may have kept this place as part of the series
from the time when the Kiowa lived in the far north, where the seasons
are of course later. It usually comprises parts of May and June,
although in one place Anko puts the 4th of July in this moon; in other
places he puts the same date in the next or second moon following. It is
one of the summer moons.
10. _Pai Gañhíña P'a_, "Summer _Gañhíña_ moon" (see numbers 4 and 9).
This is also a summer moon, approximating June-July. Tallies from the
Anko calendar put events of July 4 and July 20 within this moon, to
which also he says belongs the time of school closing, about June 20.
11. _Táguñótal P'a Sȧn_, "Little-moon-of-deer-horns-dropping-off,"
because the deer now begin to shed their horns. This is another summer
moon, equivalent to July-August, and was considered to begin after the
annual sun dance. Tallies from the Anko calendar give to it an event of
July 29, and in one instance the celebration of July 4.
12. _Táguñótal P'a_ (_Edal_), "(Great-)
Moon-of-deer-horns-dropping-off," because when it is at an end, all the
deer have shed their antlers. This moon comprises August-September;
summer ends and fall (_páongya_) begins in the middle of this moon. It
is sometimes also called _Aídeñgúak`o P'a_, "Yellow-leaves Moon,"
because the leaves now begin to change color.
MOONS OR MONTHS OF OTHER TRIBES
Some extracts from standard authorities on other wild tribes may be of
interest in connection with the moons or months of the Kiowa.
_Hidatsa and Mandan_--"Many writers represent that savage Indian tribes
divide the year into twelve periods corresponding to our months, and
that each month is named from some meteorological occurrence or phase of
organic creation observable at the time. Among others, Maximilian
presents us with a list of twelve months; 'the month of the seven cold
days,' 'the pairing month,' 'the month of weak eyes,' etc.; he
introduces this list in one of his chapters descriptive of the Mandans.
He does not say it is their list of months, but publishes it without
comment, and yet it is presented in such a manner as to lead the reader
to suppose that it is the regular and original Mandan calendar. Other
authors present lists of Indian months in much the same way. As the
results of my own observations, I should say that the Mandan and
Minnetaree are generally aware that there are more than twelve lunations
in a year, that they as yet know nothing of our manner of dividing the
year, and that although, when speaking of 'moons,' they often connect
them with natural phenomena, they have no formal names for the lunar
periods. I think the same might be said of other tribes who are equally
wild.
"The _Hidatsa_ recognize the lapse of time by days, lunar periods, and
years; also by the regular recurrence of various natural phenomena, such
as the first formation of ice in the fall, the breaking of the ice in
the Missouri in the spring, the melting of the snowdrifts, the coming of
the wild geese from the south, the ripening of various fruits, etc. A
common way of noting time a few years ago was by the development of the
buffalo calf _in utero_. A period thus marked by a natural occurrence,
be it long or short, is called by them the _kadu_, season, time, of such
an occurrence. Some long seasons include shorter seasons; thus they
speak of the season of strawberries, the season of service-berries,
etc., as occurring within the season of warm weather. They speak of the
seasons of cold weather or of snow, of warm weather, and of death or
decay, which we consider as agreeing with our seasons of winter, summer,
and fall; but they do not regularly allot a certain number of moons to
each of these seasons. Should you ask an interpreter who knew the
European calendar what were the Indian names of the months, he would
probably give you names of a dozen of these periods or natural seasons,
as we might call them, corresponding in time to our months. In a few
years, when these Indians shall know more of our system of noting time
than they now do, they will devise and adopt regular Hidatsa names for
the months of our calendar" (_Matthews, 4_).
_Pawnee._--"They had no method of computing years by calendric notation.
Occasionally a year that had been marked by some important event, as a
failure of crops, unusual sickness, or a disastrous hunt, was referred
to as _a year by itself_, but at a few years' remove even this mark
became indistinct or faded altogether away. Any occurrence ten or twelve
years past was usually designated as _long ago_. Their great use of the
past was not as history, but simply as a storehouse of tradition, and
this tendency soon enveloped the most important events with a
semi-traditional glamour. When time was computed by years, it was done
by winters. The year comprised alternately twelve and thirteen moons or
months.... The intercalary month, _ŭsarĕr´ăhu_, was usually
inserted at the close of the summer months. The regular months were
grouped as with us by threes, the first three constituting winter
(_pi´[`c]ĭkŭt_), the second three spring (_ora´rĕkaru_), the next
three summer (_li´ŭt_), the last three autumn (_lĕtskukĭ_). The
year was also divided into two seasons (_kŭt´ĭharu_), a warm and a
cold. As may be readily anticipated, there was much confusion in their
system of reckoning by moons. They sometimes became inextricably
involved and were obliged to have recourse to objects about them to
rectify their computations. Councils have been known to be disturbed, or
even broken up, in consequence of irreconcilable differences of opinion
as to the correctness of their calculations."
"As an aid to the memory, they frequently made use of notches cut in a
stick or some similar device for the computation of nights (for days
were counted by nights) or even of months and years. Pictographically a
day or daytime was represented by a six or eight pointed star, thus, *,
as a symbol of the sun. A simple cross, thus X (a star), was a symbol of
a night; and a crescent, thus ☾, represented a moon or lunar month"
(_Dunbar, 1_).