THE SOCIAL AND DOMESTIC LIFE OF THE HAVASUPAIS
From the cradle to the grave the life of a Havasupai is practically an
out-of-door life. Their hawas--even the best of them--are partially
exposed and open, and in the summer hawas there is no pretence at what
among civilized peoples is essential privacy.
The games of the Havasupai children seem very few. I have seen only
three. Of the first importance is shinny, or, as they call it,
_tha-se-vi'-ga_. The goals are _go-ji-ga'_, the ball, _ta-ma-na'-da_,
and the playing stick _ta-so-vig'-a_. The boys enter into this with the
zest one would expect of such a time-honored game, yet, such is their
general indifference to prolonged effort, they do not play it very
often.
An easier game, but generally left to the girls, is,
_hui-ta-qui'-chi-ka to-ho'-bi-ga_, which I have fully described in my
book on the Grand Canyon.
The third game is stolen bodily from the Navahoes, except the name,
which with the Havasupais is _Tōd-wi-ga_. It is the Nan-zosh, and is
elsewhere fully described in these pages.
Such a paucity of games is indicative of low mental power, lack of
imagination and invention, and results in, or perhaps _from_ a slow,
heavy mental temperament. There is no comparison between the children
of the same ages of the Havasupais and the Navahoes or Hopis. And yet,
when they enter school, some of the Havasupais learn with a rapidity
equal to that of these other children.
It seems strange to find a people whose children have no equivalent for
dolls; nothing specifically to care for. They are capricious in their
treatment of their domestic animals, cats and dogs, sometimes petting
them to excess, and then lifting the yelping or squalling creatures
by the legs, twisting these members over their backs, or otherwise
torturing them.
The boys and the girls, as well as the men and women, are expert horse
riders. Every family has its horses, and the children ride from their
earliest years. Even as I write I catch glimpses now and then of a
red-shawled girl on horseback and hear the hard strike of the horse's
hoofs as he dashes along at break-neck speed along the trail near the
hawa of my host. All ride astride, and are as fearless in ascending and
descending the steep trails that give access and egress to their canyon
home as the wildest and most expert of the Rough Riders.
One of their great sports and gala times is when visiting
Indians--Navahoes, Hopis, or Wallapais--come with fleet horses and
races are arranged for. While they have no "Derby Day," they have
days on which half the personal property of the village is pledged
on the success of certain horses. They are inveterate gamblers; and
blankets, buckskins, saddles, bridles, Navaho jewelry, horses, burros,
and everything "gambleable" are risked on the outcome. And what an
exciting scene an Indian horserace is, and how picturesque! There is
not so much difference after all in human nature, when one penetrates
below the surface. The reserved Englishman, the excitable Italian,
the vivacious Frenchman, and the so-called stupid and stolid native
aboriginal American exhibit exactly the same traits of character under
the excitement of a horserace. But in Havasu Canyon the conditions are
quite different from Ascot, Doncaster, or Newmarket. Here are bucks
dressed in the breech-clout and excitement, and women gesticulating
and waving their si-dram´-as (our large flaming red or other "loud"
colored bandannas, fastened over the shoulders and across the breast).
Some suppress their excitement, others jabber like monkeys, and as the
horses come to the starting-point there is just as much talking and din
as after the start is made. One distinct feature is that many horses
are raced without riders. They seem to understand, and when the signal
to "let go" is given they dart off at full speed, just as if riders
were on their backs urging them forward. Compared with our finely bred,
beautifully chiselled horses, such as one sees, or used to see, in
Lucky Baldwin's or the late Senator Stanford's stables, what ragged,
scrawny, wretched creatures these are; and yet when they run how they
surprise you, how those ugly limbs seem to limber up, and those sleepy
eyes gain fire!
Gambling at these races is carried to an extraordinary extent. Men,
women, and children alike gamble all they possess, or even hope to
possess. This gambling spirit has grown wonderfully in the past few
years, for, during the Kohot Navaho's lifetime he constantly used his
powerful influence to discourage it.
Gambling, unfortunately, is not confined merely to horse-racing. All
the afternoon, as I have sat at my work, a group of eight women, some
young, some middle-aged, and one old, have gambled without cessation
for five solid hours. Two young mothers had their babies--surely not
more than two to three months old--and the youngest of the women was
one of these mothers, and she could not have been more than eighteen
years of age. Girls gamble at _Hui-ta-qui-chi-ka_ for safety-pins,
and boys for knives and the like, so that now it is a vice which has
affected every individual of the tribe.
The Havasupai children are expert ball tossers. With three or four
small melons they rival the conjurers and jugglers of our vaudeville
shows in feats of dexterity, keeping three or more balls in the air at
the same time.
Boys and girls alike run around in the fiercest rain, their feet and
legs wet and the few clothes they have on absolutely soaked. The idea
of changing them has never seemed to enter their primitive minds, and
without care, without a fire, unless he chooses to build one, the
youngster gets along as best he may. It is a case of the weaker going
to the wall, for here only the strong can survive.
There is very little attempt on the part of their parents to control
them. They are generally allowed to do as they choose. I have often
seen a little girl take a cigarette from between her father's lips,
give it a few puffs, and return it, he all the while either indifferent
to or unconscious of the act.
The close proximity of Havasu Creek and its large ponds or reservoirs,
made by the irrigation dams, naturally suggests that they are swimmers.
Observation confirms this. From earliest childhood they are expert
swimmers, boys and girls alike learning the art often before they can
walk. I have seen mere babies placed in the creek and ditches by their
parents and older brothers, and one can scarcely say they are taught
to paddle, for it seems to come instinctively. There is not a child in
the village who cannot swim and dive expertly, and there is no greater
fun than to expend a dozen nickels by throwing them into one of the
reservoirs and having the children dive for them. Sometimes they can
be induced to bring the coins up in their teeth, even picking them in
that manner from the sandy bed of the reservoir. They are as expert
swimmers as the children of the South Seas. No Kanaka going out to meet
an incoming steamer could ride the billows more daringly than the boys
and girls of the Havasu swim in the rapid currents of their little
stream. I have been with them to-day for a couple of hours. The boys
dived into deep water and rose and fell like loons. I amused myself
by throwing a stone into ten or more feet of water, and four or five
of the boys would dive for it and get it almost as quickly as I could
throw it. It was no sooner in than it was out again. One of the little
girls, a sister of one of the boys, stood watching the sport. She
became so interested that, suddenly, without removing her calico dress,
she jumped into the deep place and enjoyed the fun with the rest.
Then, a Havasupai man, riding a burro, brought the animal down into
the stream where it was shallow and had a gravelly bed. For an hour he
and the boys amused themselves by swimming back and forth through the
deep pool, and every now and again one or another would jump on the
creature's back and, hanging on, overbalance him, or make him turn a
somersault. The burro bore it all good-naturedly and seemed to object
very little to the fun: the only time he showed decided inappreciation
was when the Indians got him down into deep water and forced his head
under for too long a time.
A little later on a horse was brought, who entered into the sport as
if he were used to it. He swam back and forth and took to the water as
willingly as a child takes candy. The boys hung on to his mane, got on
his back, his neck, or hung on to his tail, and, to all seeming, it was
all the same to him.
Though they are so fond of the water, the Havasupais cannot be called
in some respects a cleanly people. Far from it. Though they take the
sweat bath almost as a religious rite[7] and their skin is thus kept
clean, there is another kind of cleanliness in which they are very
remiss. It would be unreasonable to expect that people living in the
exposed wicker huts of the Havasupais could approach anywhere near the
ordinary white man's standard of cleanliness. But certainly they might
have a higher standard than they do. Lice swarm in the heads of the
children and most of the women. On the other hand, all the younger men
are particular to be cleanly in this regard, and dress their hair with
skill and neatness. Bed-bugs abound in Havasu Canyon as in no other
place on earth. They swarm everywhere, and are absolutely found in
clusters in the sand, under the old bark of decayed trees, and in every
conceivable and inconceivable lodging-place. The warm sand and the
seductive moisture that obtains during the major part of the year must
be especially conducive to their breeding, for they are ubiquitous.
Yet, strange to say, I have never known of an instance where a bed-bug
has been brought out of the canyon by a visitor. Though I have been
with the Havasupais scores of times I never detected one of these
vermin either in my clothing or bedding. The breed seems to be peculiar
to the warm, moist air of the canyon and to be unable to live away from
it, for which we give hearty thanks.
[7] See "In and Around the Grand Canyon."
Now and again scorpions may be found, and, after a rain, I have seen
a score of hundred-legged worms (perfectly harmless) rolled up on the
trail between the village and Bridal Veil Falls.
Rattlesnakes are not common anywhere in those portions of the canyon
much visited by the Havasupais, but now and then one may be found on
the trails or basking in the sun on the rocks near by. Elsewhere in
this canyon and its many greater or lesser tributaries they are common,
and the Indians can find any quantity if they are sent for them. In all
my years of wandering to and fro, though, I have not seen a half-dozen
rattlesnakes in Havasu Canyon.
Other pests are mosquitoes, gnats, and a small black fly which, in
certain seasons, persistently lodges in the eye, causing considerable
annoyance, and sometimes distress and pain. There are not many
mosquitoes, though at times they are troublesome enough to satisfy one
for their scarcity.
Many of the women are expert basket makers, and in my book on Indian
Basketry I have fully explained their methods of work and the charming
nature of their designs. The Havasu Canyon is a basket maker's
paradise, for the stream is lined for miles with willows suitable for
this work.
The process of making strands or splints of the willows is a very
simple and primitive one. Here as I sit writing (Sept. 14, 1901),
Chickapanagie's squaw has a lot of willow shoots before her. Taking
hold of one end of the splint in her teeth, she pulls away the cuticle
with her fingers. These alone are her tools, and it is astonishing the
rapidity and regularity with which the process is accomplished.
As soon as a girl can frame her fingers to the work of basket making
she is required to begin. It is very interesting to watch the small
children in their endeavors to make the rougher baskets, and then, as
they grow in skill, try the finer work. Pul-a-gas´-a-a is not more than
eight years of age, and yet a basket--kü-ü--she brought to me was one
of her own make, and it now occupies a place in my collection. The work
is irregular and crude, but shows skill, and if the child has patience
to stick to it, in time she will become one of the most accomplished
basket makers of the tribe.
As soon as possible after attaining puberty the Havasupai girls marry,
generally between the ages of thirteen and fourteen. The parents
themselves urge these early marriages. Whether they fear the loss of
virtue in their daughters from evil white men, or the degenerate young
men of their own tribe, I do not know, but several parents have told
me that the sooner their girls marry, after they are marriageable, the
better pleased they are.
Marriage is generally arranged by purchase. When a young man sets
his affections upon any particular girl, he contrives to show his
preference for her, and, as soon as he finds that his attentions are
agreeable, he visits his fair one's father or nearest male relative,
and without parley begins to bargain for her as he would for a horse
or any other commodity. The standard price for a wife is ten to twenty
dollars, and where a trade cannot be made with a pony or blanket, the
money itself is offered. The bargaining completed, there are no further
preliminaries or ceremony, except that, three weeks or so before the
wedding, the bridegroom takes up his residence in the hawa of the
bride's parents. He is treated as one of the family, and at night
rolls himself up in his blanket and sleeps alongside his prospective
kinsfolk on the floor of the domicile. At the end of three weeks, if
the contracting young folks are satisfied that their dispositions are
harmonious, and if the marriage settlement is satisfactory, the wedding
takes place. The groom takes his bride, the old folk take the medium
of purchase, and the company laughs and banters the young husband and
wife. The man takes the woman to his hawa, and the announcement of
their marriage is made by the fact that they are living together and
have assumed marital relationship.
Sometimes an obdurate father or mother will refuse to sell a daughter,
and thus expresses disapprobation of the suggested match. Occasionally,
as among more civilized people, the young couple mournfully, but
dutifully, acquiesce in the decision of the older people, but, more
often--even, also, as white young people do--they rebel, and take the
decision into their own hands by eloping and living together. This ends
the matter. The ethics of the tribe are such that cohabitation once
entered upon, the parents have no authority to declare the marriage
void. And, as a further penalty for his obdurate obstinacy, the father
loses the ten dollars or its equivalent he might have had by being
kind and complaisant to the desires of the young couple.
The Havasupais are polygamists, and believe in having as many wives as
they can buy and support. At the time of his death Kohot Navaho had
three wives living with him, and I personally know of two others that
he had discarded on account of old age. When Hotouta, his oldest son,
was living, his mother was a thrust-out member of Navaho's household.
She was almost blind and decrepit, and Navaho with a wave of his hand
and ten words had dismissed her from his bed and board. Hotouta had a
tender heart and used to speak very bitterly about the injustice of
this custom which allowed an old and helpless wife thus mercilessly to
be discarded.
Shortly before Navaho's death his oldest wife evidently "ruled the
roost," and it certainly must have been by other means than her
physical beauty. And yet she was vain of her good looks, for, when I
made her husband's photograph, she became my strong ally in persuading
him to sit before the camera, on condition that I would make a
"sun-picture" of her own beautiful physiognomy and enchanting _tout
ensemble_. When I made the photograph, she secured her petticoats
between her legs in such a manner as to make them appear like rude
trousers, and when I commented upon the unfeminine appearance and asked
her to spread out her skirts in orthodox style, she boxed my ears with
a manner at once decisive, haughty, and jocular, and bade me proceed as
she was or not at all. The second wife was a meek kind of a creature,
who seemed to be entirely under the dominion of wife number one; but
the youngest wife, a buxom woman of twenty-three or four summers,
evidently knew how to hold her own, for she once or twice refused to
obey wife number one, though she readily obeyed the same request when
given by Navaho personally. This woman is now married to my old host,
Waluthama.
Marriage with a white man is unknown among the Havasupais, and unlawful
cohabitation with one is punishable by death.
The question of marrying is becoming a more serious one with the
Havasupais each year. While occasionally a man will marry a Wallapai
squaw, there is a strong sentiment against marriage outside of the
tribe. Yet the number of the tribe is so small, and intermarriage has
so long been carried on between them, that it is no uncommon thing for
a young man or woman to be debarred from choice in marriage. At the
present time Gōō-fwho's son can marry but one girl in the whole
tribe without violating their own laws of consanguinity, about which no
people are more particular.
The present Head Chief--Kohot--of the tribe is Man-a-ka-cha, a heavily
built man, who is popular with the younger element. But he suffers much
in comparison with the former Kohot, Navaho, who died in 1898.
Kohot Navaho's was a strong face, marked and furrowed with bearing the
cares of his little nation. A firm chin, powerful nose, gentle mouth,
courageous forehead, eyes which were once fiery as well as piercing,
but of late years had little of their primitive fire,--these gave a
key to his character, in which firmness, courage, bravery, and gentle
tenderness were commingled. His whole demeanor was of dignity and
pride. No European sovereign in the days of despotic power could have
worn the "air" of a monarch more regally than Navaho. But it was real
with him. His kingship was within himself as well as in the affection
of his people.
[Illustration: WALUTHANCA'S DAUGHTER, WITH ESUWA, GOING FOR WATER.]
[Illustration: LANOMAN'S WIFE. A HAVASUPAI.]
As might be expected with their powerful physical development, the men
are great wrestlers, and often may be seen indulging in friendly, but
none the less hard and exhausting bouts, where Havasupai methods of
cross-buttocking and other "throws" are tested to the utmost. One of
the former teachers was an expert wrestler,--learned doubtless among
the Sioux, with whom he used to live as a United States teacher,--and
one secret of the influence he had over the Havasupais was his ability
to "down" them in a wrestling match. Time and again he had given their
best men great "falls," and the more he threw, the more they respected
and obeyed him.
As runners and trailers they almost equal the Mohaves, Apaches, and
Hopis, though, on the desert, their endurance is not so great as that
of these two desert tribes. As canyon climbers, however, they surpass
either of them. The climbing muscles, by life-long and constant
practice, are remarkably developed, and they run up and down the long,
wearisome, steep trails of canyons in a manner to excite the envy of
a college athlete, and the astonishment of one who has, but a short
time before, laboriously and tediously essayed a brief trip in which
ascending or descending a steep trail was an essential feature.
As riders they are skilful and full of endurance, but they are neither
as graceful nor as daring as the Navahoes.
Men and women both dress the buckskins for which the Havasupai is so
famous. Amole root is macerated and beaten up and down in a bowl of
water until a good lather and suds are produced. Then the operator
takes a mouthful of the liquid and squirts it over the skin, which he
manipulates and softens, rubs, scrubs, and pulls with his fingers and
feet, moistening it again and again as occasion requires. Wild catskins
are treated in the same way.
From this excellent buckskin the men make moccasins for themselves and
their women. The first time I saw Kohot Navaho he was sitting naked,
upon a blanket outside his hawa, his three wives near by, they cutting
and preparing peaches for drying, he busily engaged making a pair of
moccasins. The sole is of two or three thicknesses of heavy rawhide, to
which the uppers of buckskin are deftly sewn, with strings of catgut or
deer intestines, the holes being made by a bone awl.
Every summer trading-parties of both Hopis and Navahoes come down to
the village, bringing blankets, ponies, pottery, and the like, for
exchange. In 1898 there were three separate bands of Navahoes and two
of Hopis. Trading is a serious process. Laws of barter or sale are
first made, before the traders open their packs, and all the people are
expected to abide by these loosely promulgated laws without question.
Then the hawa of the Havasupai host is turned into a store. Poles are
suspended in every possible direction on which to show off the blankets
to best advantage. A crowd of chattering men and women stand outside,
or, now and again, come inside, during the whole day, and at night-time
the men who have done business come in, squat on the ground, and spend
the hours in smoking, tale-telling, and gossip.
There is difficulty in the Havasupai mind at trading for more than one
thing at a time. If you wish to buy six articles from the same Indian,
you cannot pay a lump sum for the six. Each one must be traded and paid
for separately.
In most things there is no fixed standard of price. Fictitious values
are placed upon articles of no value whatever, but to which the Indian
mind has attached singular virtue and importance. On the other hand
baskets, which require days to manufacture, taking no account of the
time and arduous labor expended in gathering the materials, dyes, etc.,
for that purpose, are sold at varying prices, but nearly always far too
low to begin to compensate them for the efforts expended.
Yet they are keen traders in their way. "What can I get out of him?"
is the normal attitude of mind, and the price is made to correspond to
what the seller imagines is the ability of your pocket.
In dealing with them, I adopted the plan years ago, as a fixed rule,
from which I seldom deviate, to state a figure I will give for things
offered to me, and that sum, no more, no less, is what I will pay. They
soon learn this, and, though at times it seems to be a disadvantage, it
gains the confidence of the Indian and he will the more readily trade
with me.
I once excited the hearty laughter and some scorn of the Havasupais
by buying a lot of old baskets, blankets, etc., that they had long
deemed of no value. I was seeking their older styles of work and
urged them to bring me "any old trash" they had discarded. The usual
crowd assembled around my camp, and, as each specimen of dilapidation
was half-shamefacedly revealed a shout of laughter arose, directed
partially at the would-be seller for her temerity in supposing that
such rubbish could ever find a purchaser, and partially at myself for
being so foolish as to want to carry it away. But I obtained some fine
specimens, though much worn, of the workmanship I desired, so could
afford to be very complaisant at the derision I aroused.
The Havasupai is one of the most jolly, frolicsome, and light-hearted
of mortals. With his stomach full he has no cares, and he goes into fun
with a zest and energy that are pleasing. He is fond beyond measure of
practical jokes,--when he is not the victim,--and cares very little who
suffers so long as he can obtain fun. Consequently if one meets with a
misfortune, especially a laughable one, he need expect little, if any,
sympathy in Havasu Canyon.
They are a singular mixture of frankness and cunning, of honor
and deception, of truth and frankness, of reliability and
untrustworthiness. They will as deliberately and coolly lie to a white
man about anything and everything--if it suits their purpose--as they
will tell the truth. Ask a man his name--an insult, by the way--and he
will lie to you, even though you are a good friend; as, for instance,
when, after being the guest of "Supai Charley" for several days, I
quietly and without seeming intent asked him his name, which I knew
to be Wa-lu-tha-ma, that I might send him some gifts I had promised.
For a few moments he hesitated, and then said "Qu-ar-ri"--a Wallapai
name that has no relation to the Havasus whatever. Sinyela was full of
deception, and yet, when a friend told him he might catch one of his
horses and ride it so far, and we reached that point and I suggested to
him that he take the pony forward and leave it at the designated spot
on his return, he would not listen to it for a moment.
They are petty thieves, but years of experience have taught me that
they could not be persuaded to engage in larceny on a grander scale.
One of my first experiences in this line was to have some little
thing taken from my camp many years ago (I forget now what it was).
Immediately I sent for Hotouta, and told him the article must be
returned. In a few hours the boy thief (now a hang-dog looking buck)
came and brought back the article.
On my last visit, coffee and candy were taken from my sacks at
Wa-lu-tha-ma´s hawa, and three necklaces which I had taken as presents
for some of the children. I spoke angrily to my host of his negligence
to protect my goods when they were in his care, and, as for the
necklaces, said if they were not returned by morning I should complain
to the agent, and have the thief discovered and punished. Long before
sunrise in the morning the necklaces were returned.
There is a good deal of craft about some of them. For a long time
Captain Jim and a few others had wished to have a road or trail made
around Hue-gli-i-wa that would make it less dangerous, and add much
to the comfort of the people, who lived both above and below this
spot, when they wished to visit each other. For years nothing was
done. But when, this year, he took the matter up again, he did it in a
round-about way that won success. He urged that an invitation be sent
to the leading horsemen of the Wallapais to bring their best horses and
come and run races with them. The Wallapais accepted the invitation.
Now was Captain Jim's opportunity for the display of his finesse. He
casually suggested to some of the most ardent racers that the way to
beat the Wallapais was to make a race-track just the same as the white
men did, and, when it was completed, train their horses to run on it
until they were so familiar with it that, when the Wallapais came, they
would be able to take all the advantages this additional knowledge
would give. The suggestion worked like a charm. It was Tom Sawyer's
woodpile over again. The young men waited on the Kohot, Manakacha, and
asked permission to cut a road a mile long through the middle portion
of the canyon. The only place where this could be done was just where
Captain Jim desired the road. He was appointed to see that the work
was properly done, and the first few days of my visit were enlivened
by the echoing roars of the powder explosions that were set off. When
I went down to the lower part of the village it was over the new and
completed road, a full mile in length, and well cut out and graded.
Such a consummation was devoutly to be wished, and while races are not
an unmixed good, one could tolerate them the easier for the Havasupais
if they would always be the means of accomplishing such desirable ends.
The Havasupais are far from being dull and stupid, as casual observers
suppose. They can see the point of things as quickly as some of their
white neighbors. For instance; I have elsewhere, in my Grand Canyon
book, told how Silver, Hotouta's fine horse, was given to Mr. Bass.
This horse has always been an object of envy to some of the young men
of the tribe. Mr. Bass also bought from Sinyela a red mule of some of
my exciting experiences. Having once had possession of this mule was in
itself an overpowering temptation to those Indians, who, in the days
of Sinyela's ownership, had been permitted to ride it. Consequently
Mr. Bass was often annoyed by finding, on his return from an absence
of a few days, that Silver and the mule, one or both, had been taken
from the pasture and ridden by the Indians. When he completed his
trail across the river and finally established the ferry that bears
his name--the only ferry, by the way, across the Grand Canyon, and the
only one on the Colorado River between Lee's Ferry and the one below
the mouth of the canyons--he decided to swim Silver and the mule across
the river and keep them for use on the north side. When this was done
Chickapanagie was present. With a twinkle in his eye he said: "Bass
heap sopogie (understand). Havasupai no ride 'em Silvern, and Red Mule
no more."
There is wide diversity in the attitude different members of the tribe
hold towards the whites. Some are friendly, others openly hostile
and ugly, while others merely receive strangers on sufferance as a
necessary evil, useful for the purchase of baskets and such other
things as they may have to dispose of.
Manakacha was elected to his kohot-ship because the majority of the men
were in favor of keeping out the whites from Havasu Canyon, and he was
ever averse to the white man.
Those, however, who are friendly, are good and true friends, as those
who knew Hotouta, Spotty, and others who are gone can testify.
Spotty was a genial, kindly soul, with whom I had various dealings.
He was intelligent and reliable in his intercourse with me, though a
medicine-man and ready to dispense charms, incantations, and native
medicines on the slightest pecuniary provocation. On one of my early
trips to Havasu I negligently overlooked taking a sufficient supply
of extra films. What an idea! To start on such a trip and forget one's
camera rolls. There were about thirty exposures left on my film and I
was sure I should need two hundred and fifty. Indeed, long before I had
reached the Havasupai village all the roll was exhausted, and no more
pictures could be taken.
I was disgusted with my own want of forethought, and generally
disgruntled, when lo! on sight of Spotty the idea occurred as if by
inspiration: "Why not send Spotty for it?" No sooner suggested mentally
than I broached the subject. The round trip was a good fifty-five to
sixty miles, and much of the road up Havasu Canyon, and I must have the
roll within twenty-four hours. Spotty's eye was on the main chance, and
he at once expressed his willingness to go provided there was "enough
in it." "How much you give me?" he inquired. I considered for a while,
and then with a Pecksniffian air of benignant charity offered him "two
dollar!" "Al lite, I go! Maybe so I go quick you catch 'em two dollars
and a half?" he asked. I studied over it awhile before committing
myself, and then queried "When you start, Spotty?" Looking up towards
hue-a-pa-a (the man image) on the upper rim of the near canyon wall,
he pointed. "I go when you see 'em _ha-ma-si-gu-va´-te_ (the evening
star)."
"When you come back?"
"I come back next day all same time you see 'em _ha-la'-ha_ (the moon).
Maybe so I come back sooner you see 'em, you give me two dollar half?"
A twenty-four hours' ride on horseback--nearly sixty miles--through
a solitary country where his only company would be coyotes, mountain
lions, and other wild animals, and a large portion of it ridden
in the dark night, for two dollars, with a bonus of fifty cents if
the trip was made within twenty-four hours--it was not extravagant
pay, so I cheerfully acceded to his request for the bonus. But now
came the difficulty of fully explaining to Spotty what I wanted, and
where he could find it. The tent at Bass Camp was divided into five
compartments,--two small rooms with canvas walls on either side of a
long room which ran through the centre of the tent, its entire width.
Making a plan of the tent on the ground, so, and giving him the compass
points, I showed that my "all same white man's basket made of leather,"
viz., my valise, was in the northeast corner of the southwest room. The
film was in the valise, but I also needed my ruby lamp, so I deemed it
best for him to bring valise and lamp, which latter was separate. Off
he went cheerfully and merrily, and two hours before the moon rose he
was back at the camp with valise and lamp safe and secure. He received
his bonus and we were both happy.
[Illustration]
Like all other Indians, they used to have an abnormal dread of the
camera.
One of my Havasupai friends, U-math-ka, thus stated his reasons for
refusing to be photographed. With graphic gesture of horror and dread
he said: "If you make my picture I die pretty soon. I look at the Sun.
He get heap hot. I no breathe. I lie down. I die!" When I assured him
no possible injury could result, he yielded to my urgent entreaties
so far as to consent to allow me to make his sun-picture, on the sole
condition, however, that I did not ask him to look at the camera, or
to cease talking (he was relating some Havasupai myths at the time).
His condition was what I desired, for it enabled me to secure the
accompanying natural and life-like photograph.
In speech the Havasupai tongue is not very musical or agreeable. The
voices of men and women are soft and sweet, as a rule, and either when
singing their rude aboriginal songs or those that they have been taught
at school, they show a natural appreciation of tone that is not usual
or common. In a sentence the last syllable of the last word is often
a third higher than the rest of the word. This gives a singularly
emphatic effect.
The voices of the men are not unpleasant, though generally they are
thrown too high--head tones--to be agreeable; and as conversation
increases they often allow their voices to rise to an almost querulous
note. There is a good deal of the chant about it of a half-musical
nature.
The women's voices are usually sweet and musical, but the language
itself does not lend itself to the display of vocal sweetness. It is
not a "liquid" language. It is full of crooks and twists, gutturals
and harsh labials, and seems to be ground out in angles with a
machine-like regularity. In some cases, the women, having imitated
the querulous tone of some of the men, have developed a harshness
that is disagreeable. The rapidity with which they learn new words
is remarkable. Lanoman, one of the present policemen, asked me the
English of a number of words, and all during the day I heard him
repeating them over to himself, and seldom would he need correction.
The dress commonly worn by the women consists of a short skirt and
waist, made of colored calico, and a _si-dram'-a_, which may be
described as a rude shawl, two corners of which are tied obliquely
across the chest. When at work this is often slung over one side of
the body so that one arm is free. Among the Havasupais the si-dram-a
that is most desired and sought after is one made of four large bandana
handkerchiefs, with red as the choice of colors.
The men, when I first visited them, seldom wore anything more than the
breech-clout except in cold weather, but as school influences began to
permeate the village, blue overalls and the cast-off trousers and other
clothing of the white man were donned, until now it is a rare sight
to see a man clothed in any other than the ordinary fashion, though
the influence of the outside Indians is seen in the Spanish "cut" of
all home-made garments. Moccasins are the common foot-gear, though
occasionally a man or woman may be found wearing "civilized" shoes.
Fish, pork, chicken, all kinds of birds and eggs, are tabooed as food
by the Havasupais, but they eat rats, deer, antelope, rabbit, prairie
dog, and mountain sheep. They are especially fond of beef, and horse
and mule meat, no matter how the animals come to their death, are
esteemed luxuries. They will even eat lizards and lice.
The prickly pear and the fruit of the amole, or hosh-kon, are much
favored when ripe. The latter is roasted in the coals until the
outside is completely blackened. A hole is made in this carbonized
surface to let out the steam, and, when cold, the fruit is eaten as
a great delicacy. I have often eaten and enjoyed it, though it has a
sickish-sweet vegetable taste that at first is somewhat unpleasant. The
pinion nut, sunflower and squash seeds are also regarded as delicacies.
Practice has made the Havasupais dexterous in eating these husk-covered
seeds. The novice finds it a wearisome task to hull them, but the
expert throws a handful of seeds into his mouth, cracks the shells,
and by skilful manipulation eats the nuts on one side of his mouth and
expels the shells on the other. When I can do this I shall make a meal
on pinion nuts, as they are of exquisitely sweet and delicious flavor.
Sunflower seeds, squash seeds, and a variety of wild grass seeds
and corn are parched by the women by placing them in saucer-shaped
baskets--or kü-üs´--with hot ashes, and then tossing them up and down
and to and fro until sufficiently cooked. The seeds are then scooped
out with the fingers, and ground on a slab of basaltic rock, by rubbing
one stone over the other. On the occasion of one of my visits, when I
was the guest of Chickapanagie, I made the accompanying photograph of
his wife as she thus parched corn in a basket. It was the placing of
a covering of clay inside the kü-ü, to prevent its burning, that led
Frank Cushing to the belief that here was the explanation of the origin
of pottery.[8]
[8] See chapter "Basketry the Mother of Pottery," in "Indian Basketry,"
by George Wharton James.
Green squash is cooked after being hacked into pieces in an apparently
reckless but most effective manner. With the squash in one hand,
the woman takes a large butcher knife in the other and strikes
indifferently at the squash, turning it around and at different angles
the while. In a few moments chips, as it were, begin to fall into
the cooking pot, and after the exterior is cut and hacked in every
direction the cook begins to slice it into the pot. When well cooked,
it is eaten without any other improvement than a little salt.
Corn and beans are plentiful with them, and both are as delicious and
tender as any I have ever tasted elsewhere.
Mescal is one of their chief foods. It is made by them exactly as the
Wallapais make it. That fibrous portion of the plant that cannot be
treated in this manner is boiled, and the drink therefrom, when fresh,
is a sickish-sweet liquid, that, however, might soon become agreeable.
This liquid is of a dark brown color, and when boiled for a long time
becomes a species of thin molasses.
The Havasupais know no process of fermentation so far as I have been
able to learn, and the elders of the people long objected to the coming
of the white man because one of the bad things he brought to the Indian
was whiskey and other intoxicants.
Quail and ducks abound in various parts of the Havasu Canyon region.
Even to this day many of the latter are shot, for sale to the white
man, with the arrow instead of the gun. The Havasupais claim that the
arrow is far less liable to scare away the flock than is the loud
report of a gun, so they keep up their practice with the antiquated bow
and arrow, and some of them show wonderful skill in their use. I have
often placed a ten-cent piece in a notched stick and enjoyed watching
the young men as they fired their arrows at it at a distance of fifty
paces. Their skill was such that on one occasion I lost a dollar thus
within half an hour.
At one time in February I found the canyon alive with quail, the
whirring of whose wings met us on every hand as we rode along from hawa
to hawa.
I am told there is no fish in Havasu Creek above Mooney Falls, but
from the base of this fall on to the river both large and small fish
are abundant. I rather doubt this, as on the occasion of my attempt to
reach Beaver Falls down the course of the creek from Mooney Falls I saw
no fish, nor signs of any.
One of the Havasupais tells me that mountain sheep may be seen on the
northern rim of the Grand Canyon in small bands. When the snow is deep
upon the Buckskin Mountains and the Kaibab Plateau they descend to
the more temperate regions of the canyon where grass may be found in
plenty, and then the Paiuti and Paieed Indians kill them, drying the
flesh for later use. This they do regardless of a territorial law,
which forbids even an Indian killing mountain sheep at any time. The
Indian regards his as a prior right, existing long before there was any
territorial legislature, and he acts accordingly.
Mountain lions, wildcats, lynxes, coyotes, badgers, deer, and antelope,
with an occasional mountain sheep and bear, are the larger quarry of
the Havasupai hunters. The deer and antelope they find in the open
grassy glades of the forests on the canyon rim and reaching towards
the desert. The other game is generally found in the recesses of the
canyons or on the slopes of the far-away mountains of Hue-han-a-patch-a
(the San Franciscos), Hue-ga-wool-a (Williams Mountain), or
Hue-ga-da-wi-za (Red Butte).
Some of the skins are dressed with the hair on and are used for
clothing, as sleeping mats, or are sold to the travellers at the trains
or traded at the stores on the railway. But many of the better skins
are carefully tanned and dressed and converted into buckskins, as
before stated.
This, indeed, is one of their staple articles of trade, good buckskins
fetching as high as five dollars and even ten dollars cash. I have
several times seen a blanket for which I had offered eight dollars or
ten dollars readily exchanged for a simple buckskin, and it is not an
unusual occurrence to note a trade where a fair Navaho pony is given
for a large and well-dressed skin.
The outside Indians that the Havasupais are familiar with are the
friendly Wallapais, whom they call their cousins, the Hopis and the
Navahoes. They have often had wars with the hated Mohaves, Apaches, and
Paiutis. The Chemhuevis, Pimas, and Maricopas are their distant, little
known, but accepted friends. Far-away Zuni is Si-u, and still farther
Acoma is Ac-o-ca-va, and though intercourse with the people of these
villages is rare, it has always been friendly.
For the grazing and watering of their horses and other stock each head
of a family has a certain region allotted to him, over the boundaries
of which he may not allow his stock to wander, except when removing
them or by special permission. Manakacha, the head Kohot, takes the
range formerly owned or controlled by Captain Navaho, the late Kohot,
viz., the region of Black Tanks. Rock Jones (the chief medicine-man)
has Topocobya Canyon and the plateau above as far as the other side
of the Grand Canyon towards the Mystic Spring Trail, where begins the
territory of Vesna, Captain Burro, and Chickapanagie. This includes
the south banks of the Grand Canyon towards the Little Colorado River
and including the Mystic Spring, the Bright Angel, the Grand View,
Hance's old and the Red Canyon Trails, in the neighborhood of which,
for centuries, the Havasupais have been descending. Indeed, it was
the Havasupais who made the "Indian Gardens" that are so charming a
feature of the Bright Angel Trail. Sinyela has the upper part of Havasu
Canyon reaching to Bass's camp at the Caves, named by the Havasupais
Wai-a-mel. Uta and Waluthama have the lower portion of Havasu Canyon,
around to the head of Beaver Canyon and all the territory on the south
side as far as Hack-a-tai-a--the Colorado River.
Thus there are no disputes arising over the wrongful pasturage of
stock, as each Indian regards himself as bound by the strictest ties
of honor not to deviate from these established and long-observed
boundaries.
As I have before stated, the Havasupais at one time owned the whole
of the Kohonino Forest region and also the trails into Hack-a-tai-a
(the Grand Canyon). From time immemorial they have hunted from Havasu
(Cataract) Canyon to the Little Colorado, and, of course, have had
access to the water pockets, or rock tanks, in which rain water
accumulates all along this dry and springless region. In talking
with one of the Indians recently he asked me if the Great Father
at Washington could do nothing for him and his people so that they
might still continue to use the water pockets of their ancestral
hunting-ground. He said, "You sabe Ha-ha-poo-ha (Rain Tank) and
Ha-wai-i-tha-qual-ga (Rowe's Well) and Ha-ga-tha-wa-di-a (the water
hole near Hance's Camp) and Ha-ha-i-ga-sa-jul-ga (Red Horse Tank),
Havasupai use these water holes when him go hunt deer and antelope.
Now white man him come and say, 'D-- you, you get away. I've got no
water for any blanked Indian.' We no catch 'em water, we no go hunt,
and we no go hunt we no catch 'em deer and antelope and jack rabbit,
and by-em-by our squaws and boys and gels go heap hungry. Maybe so you
see 'em Great Father at Washington and you tell him, and ask him what
Havasupai do."