Again Big Eater drove through the water with all his strength. Again he gained on her; again he almost caught her. Then from the stern of her canoe the woman threw the eggs out. At once the water turned into eggs, and once more Big Eater was stuck. The eggs were worse than the mortar and pestle, because Big Eater couldn’t carry his canoe over them. Then he hit the eggs, smashing them one by one and cleaving a path through the gooey mess. He hit clear water, and his wife’s canoe was only a little dot on the horizon.
Again he paddled mightily. Slowly he gained on her again. It took a long time, but finally he was almost even with her. “This time I’ll catch you!” he shouted. “You have nothing left to throw out.”
But his wife just laughed. She pulled out a long hair from her head, and at once it was transformed into a lance. She stood up and hurled this magic hair lance at Big Eater. It his him square in the chest, piercing him through and through. Big Eater screamed loudly and fell down dead. That’s what can happen to a man if he marries a ghost-witch.
—Retold from several nineteenth-century sources.
THE ORIGIN OF THE
HOPI SNAKE DANCE
[TEWA]
Long ago two Summer People society members—a father and his son—lived in one of the Hopi villages. Whenever offerings were made to the supernaturals, the son would always say, “I don’t believe that these things are ever taken by the gods. I wonder if there really are any gods.” At last he decided, “I’ll find out the truth. I’m going to the Lower Place to see if the gods really are there, and if they’re all they’re supposed to be.” Explanations from his father and other religious leaders that the gods do not take the offerings themselves, but only the essence or the core, did no good. He set out on his way.
After he had traveled for several days, the Silent One, a Tewa rain god, appeared to the young man. The Silent One asked: “Where are you going?”
“I am going to the Lower Place to look for the gods.”
“Even if you travel until you grow old, you will never get there,” the Silent One replied. “The Lower Place is too far for you to reach. Go no further, and do not doubt the existence of the gods.” After saying this, the Silent One turned himself into his supernatural form and then back into a man again. The youth was frightened and impressed, but he could not let the rain god deter him. He insisted on continuing his journey.
After the young man had traveled further, the Deer-Kachina-Cloud god appeared, also in human form. Again the youth did not recognize him as a god, and again the god scolded him and urged him to go back. “I have horns,” the god said, “and I am the gamekeeper of your people.” Whereupon he also transformed himself into his supernatural form and then back to a man. Despite these warnings, the youth insisted on going on. “Snake Village is closer than the Lower Place, and that is as far as you can go,” said Deer-Kachina-Cloud. “After visiting Snake Village, you must return to your own people.” Reluctantly the young man agreed to this.
When the youth had gone another short distance, Star-Flickering-Glossy Man appeared, dressed in the feathers of many birds. He warned the young man again: “You can go only to Snake Village; no further. The snakes will try to bite you, because you are a doubter. Use this herb on them. In the middle of the village lives the governor of the snake people, and you should go there right away. The snakes are also spirits who can change themselves into people.”
When the youth reached the village, the snakes did indeed try to bite him, but he spat the herb in their direction and they retreated. He reached the snake governor’s home unharmed and was received kindly, though the governor also warned him not to proceed further.
The snake governor had two beautiful daughters, who treated the youth so well that he slept with one of them that night. The next day as he prepared to start on his long journey home, the governor offered him his choice of the two daughters to take with him. He chose the one he had spent the night with.
Next the governor told him to make piki, ceremonial bread, in white, yellow, red, and blue, and to scatter it, on his return, before a mountain north of his village. After he had made the piki, he and his wife began their trip in the company of some of the snake people, who went with them for a part of the way.
So great was the distance that the young man’s wife had become pregnant and was due to give birth any day by the time they reached the Hopi village. On their way the young man had already scattered the piki before the mountain in this order: white, yellow, red, and blue. Immediately four bands of these colors appeared across the mountains. They were intended to be used by the Hopi people, and so they have been ever since: the red for painting pottery, the yellow and red for painting moccasins, and the blue (or green) for painting their bodies.
When the couple reached the foot of the mesa, the wife said she would remain there until he returned. She told him, however, that no one must touch him and he must touch no one until he came back to her. When he climbed to his village at the top of the mesa, the young man told his people to take him to the kiva, to build a large fire there, and to gather the whole village. As was expected of him, he told his whole story from the time he had set out to the Lower Place. This took the whole of that night.
The following morning as he walked down to the bottom of the mesa to take his wife some food, he met a woman with a water jar coming up. She was a former lover of his, and without warning she ran to him and embraced him. When he reached his wife, she already knew what had happened. Weeping, she said: “You don’t care for me, so I shall leave and return to my people. But your child will always remain with you.” She gave birth to a baby who, like herself, could change into a snake at will. Then she departed.
That’s why the Hopis dance the snake dance today. The dancers are the descendants of the child born to the young man and his snake wife.
—Translated from the Tewa by Alfonso Ortiz.
BLUE JAY VISITS GHOST TOWN
[CHINOOK]
One night the ghosts decided to go out and buy a wife. They chose a woman named Io’i, and gave her family dentalia as a dowry. They were married one night, and on the following morning Io’i disappeared.
Now Io’i had a brother named Blue Jay. For a year he waited to hear from her, then said, “I’ll go and search for her.” He asked all the trees, “Where do people go when they die?” They remained silent. He asked all the birds, but they did not tell him either. Then he asked an old wedge. It said, “Pay me and I’ll carry you there.” He did, and it took him to the ghosts.
The wedge and Blue Jay arrived near a large town, where they saw no smoke rising from any of the houses except the last one, a great edifice. Blue Jay went into it and found his elder sister, who greeted him fondly. “Ah, my brother,” she said, “where have you come from? Have you died?” “Oh, no,” he said, “I am not dead at all. The wedge brought me here on his back.” Then he went out and opened the doors to all the other houses. They were full of bones. He noticed a skull and bones lying near his sister, and when he asked her what she was doing with them, she replied: “That’s your brother-in-law.” “Pshaw! Io’i is lying all the time,” he thought. “She says a skull is my brother-in-law!” But when it grew dark people arose from what had been just bones, and the house was suddenly full of activity.
When Blue Jay asked his sister about all the people, she laughed and replied, “Do you think they are people? These are ghosts!” Even hearing this, though, he resumed staying with his sister. She said to him, “Do as they do and go fishing with your dip net.” “I think I will,” he replied. “Go with that boy,” she said, pointing to a figure. “He is one of your brother-in-law’s relations. But don’t speak to him; keep quiet.” These people always spoke in whispers, so that Blue Jay didn’t understand them.
And so they started in their canoes. He and his guide caught up with a crowd of people who were going down the river, singing aloud as they paddled. When Blue Jay joined their song, they fell silent. Blue Jay looked back and saw that where the boy ha
d been, there were now only bones in the stern of the canoe. They continued to go down the river, and Blue Jay kept quiet. Then he looked at the stern again, and the boy was sitting there. Blue Jay said in a low voice, “Where is your fish trap?” He spoke slowly, and the boy replied, “It’s down the river.” They paddled on. Then Blue Jay said in a loud voice, “Where is your trap?” This time he found only a skeleton in the stern. Blue Jay was again silent. He looked back, and the boy was sitting in the canoe. He lowered his voice and said, “Where is your trap?” “Here,” replied the boy.
Now they fished with their dip nets. Blue Jay felt something in his net, lifted it, and found only two branches. He turned his net and threw them into the water. When he put his net again into the water, it soon became full of leaves. He threw them back, but some fell into the canoe and the boy gathered them up. Then Blue Jay caught another branch and some more leaves and threw them back; but again a few leaves fell into the canoe, and again the boy gathered them up. As they continued fishing, Blue Jay caught two more branches that he decided to take back to Io’i for making a fire.
They arrived at home and went up to the house. Blue Jay was angry that he had not caught anything, but the boy brought up a mat full of trout, even though Blue Jay had not seen him catch a single one in his net. While the people were roasting them, the boy announced, “He threw most of the catch out of the canoe. Our canoe would have been full if he had not thrown so much away.” His sister said to Blue Jay: “Why did you throw away what you had caught?” “I threw away nothing but branches and leaves.” “That is our food,” she replied. “Did you think they were branches? The leaves were trout, and the branches were fall salmon.” He said, “Well, I brought you two branches to use for making a fire.” So his sister went down to the beach and found two fall salmon in the canoe. She carried them up to the house, and Blue Jay said, “Where did you steal those salmon?” She replied, “That’s what you caught.” “Io’i is always lying,” Blue Jay said.
The next day Blue Jay went to the beach. There lay the canoes of the ghosts, now full of holes and covered with moss. He went up to the house and said to his sister, “How bad your husband’s canoes are, Io’i!” “Oh, be quiet,” she said. “They’ll become tired of you.” “But the canoes of these people are full of holes!” Exasperated, his sister turned to him and said, “Are they people? Are they people? Don’t you understand? They are ghosts.”
When it grew dark again, Blue Jay and the boy made themselves ready to go fishing again. This time he teased the boy: as they made their way down the river, he would shout, and only bones would be there. When they began fishing, Blue Jay gathered in the branches and leaves instead of throwing them away. When the ebb tide set in, their canoe was full. On the way home, he teased all the other ghosts. As soon as they met one he would shout out loud, and only bones would lie in the other canoe. They arrived at home, and he presented his sister with armfuls of fall salmon and silver-side salmon.
The next morning Blue Jay went into the town and waited for the dark, when the life came back. That evening he heard someone announce, “Ah, a whale has been found!” His sister gave him a knife and said, “Run! a whale has been found!” Anxious to gather meat, Blue Jay ran to the beach, but when he met one of the people and asked in a loud voice, “Where is the whale?” only a skeleton lay there. He kicked the skull and left it. A few yards away he met some other people, but again he shouted loudly, and again only skeletons lay there. Then he came to a large log with thick bark. A crowd of people were peeling off the bark, and Blue Jay shouted to them so that only skeletons lay there. The bark was full of pitch. He peeled off two pieces and carried them home on his shoulder.
He went home and threw the bark down outside the house. He said to his sister, “I really thought it was a whale. Look here: it’s just bark from a fir.” His sister said, “It’s whale meat, it’s whale meat; did you think it’s just bark?” His sister went out and pointed to two cuts of whale meat lying on the ground. “It’s good whale, and its blubber is very thick.” Blue Jay stared down at the bark, astonished to find a dead whale lying there. Then he turned back, and when he saw a person carrying a piece of bark on his back, he shouted and nothing but a skeleton lay there. He grabbed the bark and carried it home, then went back to catch more ghosts. In the course of time he had many meals of whale meat.
The next morning he entered a house and took a child’s skull, which he put on a large skeleton. And he took a large skull and put it on that child’s skeleton. He mixed up all the people like this, and when it grew dark the child rose to its feet. It wanted to sit up, but it fell down again because its head pulled it down. The old man arose. His head was too light! The next morning Blue Jay replaced the heads and switched around their legs instead. He gave small legs to an old man, and large legs to a child. Sometimes he exchanged a man’s and a woman’s legs.
In course of time Blue Jay’s antics began to make him very unpopular. Io’i’s husband said: “Tell him he must go home. He mistreats them, and these people don’t like him.” Io’i tried to stop her younger brother’s pranks, but he would pay no attention. On the next morning he awoke early and found Io’i holding a skull in her arms. He tossed it away and asked, “Why do you hold that skull, Io’i? “Ah, you have broken your brother-in-law’s neck!” When it grew dark, his brother-in-law was gravely sick, but a shaman was able to make him well again.
Finally Blue Jay decided it was time to go home. His sister gave him five buckets full of water and said, “Take care! When you come to burning prairies, save the water until you come to the fourth prairie. Then pour it out.” “All right,” replied Blue Jay. He started out and reached a prairie. It was hot. Red flowers bloomed on the prairie. He poured water on the prairie, using half of one of his buckets. He passed through a woods and reached another prairie, which was burning at its end. “This is what my sister told me about.” He poured the rest of the bucket out on the trail. He took another bucket and poured, and when it was half empty he reached the woods on the other side of the prairie. He came to still another prairie, the third one. One half of it was burning strongly. He took a bucket and emptied it. He took another bucket and emptied half of it. Then he reached the woods on the other side of the prairie.
Now he had only two and a half buckets left. He came to another prairie which was almost totally on fire. He took the half bucket and emptied it. He took one more bucket, and when he arrived at the woods at the far side of the prairie, he had emptied it. Now only one bucket was left. He reached another prairie which was completely ablaze. He eked out the last drop of water. When he had gotten nearly across he had run out of water, so he took off his bearskin blanket and beat the fire. The whole bearskin blanket blazed up. Then his head and his hair caught fire and soon Blue Jay himself was burned to death.
Now when it was just growing dark Blue Jay returned to his sister. “Kukukukukuku, Io’i,” he called. Mournfully his sister cried, “Ah, my brother is dead.” His trail led to the water on the other side of the river. She launched her canoe to fetch him. Io’i’s canoe seemed beautiful to him. She said, “And you told me that my canoe was moss-grown!” “Ah, Io’i is always telling lies. The other ones had holes and were moss-grown, anyway.” “You are dead now, Blue Jay, so you see things differently.” But still he insisted, “Io’i is always telling lies.”
Now she paddled her brother across to the other side. He saw the people. Some sang; some played dice with beaver teeth or with ten disks. The women played hoops. Farther along, Blue Jay heard people singing conjurers’ songs and saw them dancing, kumm, kumm, kumm, kumm. He tried to sing and shout, but they all laughed at him.
Blue Jay entered his sister’s house and saw that his brother-in-law was a chief, and a handsome one. She said, “And you broke his neck!” “Io’i is always telling lies. Where did these canoes come from? They’re pretty.” “And you said they were all moss-grown!” “Io’i is always telling lie. The others all had holes. Parts of them were moss-g
rown.” “You are dead now, and you see things differently,” said his sister. “Io’i is always telling lies.” Blue Jay tried to shout at the people, but they laughed at him. Then he gave it up and became quiet. Later when his sister went to look for him, he was standing near the dancing conjurors. He wanted their powers, but they only laughed at him. He pestered them night after night, and after five nights he came back to his sister’s house. She saw him dancing on his head, his legs upward. She turned back and cried. Now he had really died. He had died a second time, made witless by the magicians.
—Based on a tale reported by Franz Boas in 1894.
[BRULE SIOUX]
Once there was a man, a fine hunter and good provider, who was very much in love with his handsome wife. They had two beautiful children, with a third on the way.
When his wife was about to give birth, she was in labor for a long time. The baby wouldn’t come out, and it hurt so much that the woman cried. The husband fetched an old woman who knew about such things, and she tried birthing medicine and all her other powers. But nothing helped; the child wouldn’t come out, and the young wife died.
The husband was crazy with grief. He had loved her so much, and now he didn’t know what to do. He ate almost nothing. He cut his little finger off to show how much he missed her. He held all kinds of ceremonies for her.
Sometime after she had died, the man was walking near his tipi one night when he saw a ghost. It was something like a white fog, a mist shaped like a woman. It was his wife, calling him. She said: “I couldn’t stand seeing you grieve so much. I took pity on you. It’s not at all bad where I am, and I can arrange for you and the children to join me. Then we can walk the Milky Way together and never be separated again.”
AMERICAN INDIAN MYTHS AND LEGENDS Page 53
