Part 13
Very when ago [long time] the Ute and Apache were always wishing to kill the Good People. They were very bad. At that time there was no trail up the great rocks to _Hopi-ki_ "Walpi." The people climbed up and down a long ladder which could be drawn up at night. I can show you where the ladder stood. It was bad for the people to be frightened all the time, so they sent messengers to ask the Tewa from the Great River to come and dwell at Walpi to fight their enemies. The Tewa came, many families of them; there was a battle at a spring north of Walpi and the Tewa killed as many Utes as there are marks cut in the rock below the Gap. The Ute did not come back again. The Tewa were given lands and springs to the eastward and their village was set at the head of the trail near the Gap so that they could guard the mesa.
This is the origin of the Tewa town of Hano on the East Mesa, through which everyone must go who seeks an easy entrance into Walpi. One cannot avoid thinking that the recorder of the battle of the spring was not sparing with his list of dead Ute, which he scored with a series of lines cut in a smooth sandstone face.
The explorations in the buried towns of a section of the ancient Hopi which extend in a line from the Gila River to their present mesa homes show that for all these centuries they have been unwarlike people. There is the greatest scarcity of weapons, such as arrowheads and spearheads, and there are few war axes to be found among the numerous relics of peaceful pursuits, though wooden clubs were no doubt used. This accords with the situation of the towns on high, easily defended positions and the building of houses in clusters, the outer walls forming a fortification which defied assailants.
Only once during their history did the Hopi light the fires of war, and this was a religious conflict carried on in true Indian fashion. About the beginning of the seventeenth century the Spanish priests had gained a foothold in the town of Awatobi, situated on a high mesa south of Walpi. The Awatobi Hopi had prospered, and their valley, presenting to the south a marvelous panorama of the lava buttes, produced abundant food besides cotton for woven fabrics. Awatobi was a large town of Hopiland; the walls of the mission church still stand high enough to be a landmark miles away. The houses were four stories high and they were sufficient to accommodate 1,000 souls.
Perhaps this prosperity caused envy; perhaps the submission to the priests roused enmity; the other Hopi said that the Awatobi were witches, and one night they gathered to exterminate them. The Awatobi men were conducting a ceremony in the underground rooms when blazing fagots were thrown down, followed by pepper pods, and they perished miserably. Those who were captured in the houses were led out to a spring and massacred. The women and children, many of them, were taken to other Hopi towns and their lives spared.
This massacre took place about the year 1700 and forms the darkest page in the history of Tusayan; it shows also that the Peaceful People can be overzealous at times. In times much before this, according to tradition, Sikyatki, the home of the Firewood people, who were the last potters of Tusayan, was destroyed, as were, no doubt, other pueblos of tribes of different origin from the Hopi.
The story of Saalako, who descends from a survivor of the Awatobi massacre, runs as follows:
The chiefs Wiki and Simo, and others, have told you their stories, and surely their ancestors were living here at Walpi when Awatobi was occupied. It was a large village, and many people lived there, and the village chief was called Tapolo, but he was not at peace with his people, and there was quarreling and trouble. Owing to this conflict only a little rain fell, but the land was fertile and fair harvests were still gathered. The Awatobi men were bad [_powako_, sorcerers]. Sometimes they went in small bands among the fields of the other villagers and cudgeled any solitary workers they found. If they overtook any woman they ravished her, and they waylaid hunting parties, taking the game and sometimes killing the hunters. There was considerable trouble at Awatobi, and Tapolo sent to the Oraibi chief asking him to bring his people and kill the evil Awatobeans. The Oraibis came and fought with them, and many were killed on both sides, but the Oraibis were not strong enough to enter the village and were compelled to withdraw. On his way back, the Oraibi chief stopped at Walpi and talked with the chiefs there. Said he, "I can not tell why Tapolo wants the Oraibis to kill his folks, but we have tried and have not succeeded very well. Even if we did succeed, what benefit would come to us who live too far away to occupy the land? You Walpi people live close to them and have suffered most at their hands; it is for you to try." While they were talking Tapolo had also come, and it was then decided that other chiefs of all the villages should convene at Walpi to consult. Couriers were sent out, and when all the chiefs had arrived Tapolo declared that his people had become sorcerers [Christians], and hence should all be destroyed.
It was then arranged that in four days large bands from all the other villages should prepare themselves, and assemble at a spring not far away from Awatobi. A long while before this, when the Spaniards lived there, they had built a wall on the side of the village that needed protection, and in this wall was a great, strong door. Tapolo proposed that the assailants should come before dawn, and he would be at this door ready to admit them, and under this compact he returned to his village. During the fourth night after this, as agreed upon, the various bands assembled at the deep gulch spring, and every man carried, besides his weapons, a cedar-bark torch and a bundle of greasewood. Just before dawn they moved silently up to the mesa summit, and, going directly to the east side of the village they entered the gate, which opened as they approached. In one of the courts was a large kiva, and in it were a number of men engaged in sorcerer's rites. The assailants at once made for the kiva, and plucking up the ladder, they stood around the hatchway, shooting arrows down among the entrapped occupants. In the numerous cooking pits fire had been maintained through the night for the preparation of food for a feast on the appointed morning, and from these they lighted their torches. Great numbers of these and the bundles of greasewood being set on fire were then cast down the hatchway, and firewood from stacks upon the house terraces was also thrown into the kiva. The red peppers for which Awatobi was famous were hanging in thick clusters along the fronts of the houses, and these they crushed in their hands and flung upon the blazing fire in the kiva to torment their blazing occupants. After this, all who were capable of moving were compelled to travel or drag themselves until they came to the sand hills of Miconinovi, and there the final disposition of the prisoners was made.
My maternal ancestor had recognized a woman chief (_Mamzrau monwi_), and saved her at the place of massacre called Maski, and now he asked her whether she would be willing to initiate the women of Walpi in the rites of the Mamzrau. She complied, and thus the observance of the ceremony called Mamzrauti came to the other villages. This _Mamzrau monwi_ had no children and hence my maternal ancestor's sister became chief, and her badge of office, or tiponi, came to me. Some of the other Awatobi women knew how to bring rain, and such of them as were willing to teach their songs were spared and went to different villages. The Oraibi chief saved a man who knew how to cause the peach to grow, and that is why Oraibi has such an abundance of peaches now. The Miconinovi chief saved a prisoner who knew how to make the sweet, small-ear corn grow, and this is why it is more abundant there than elsewhere. All the women who knew prayers and were willing to teach them were spared, and no children were designedly killed, but were divided among the villages, most of them going to Miconinovi. The remainder of the prisoners, men and women, were again tortured and dismembered and left to die on the sand hills, and there their bones are, and the place is called Mastcomo, or Death Mound. This is the story of Awatobi told by my people.[17]
[17] "Preliminary account of an expedition to the cliff villages of the Red Rock country; and the Tusayan ruins of Sikyatki and Awatobi, Arizona, in 1895." By J. Walter Fewkes, from the Smithsonian Report for 1895, pp. 568-569.
It is difficult to conceive of the conservatism of some of the older Hopi. A glimpse of the clinging to the myth of the golden age is shown by the speech of the old chief Nashihiptuwa, to whom the past was an ideal time of plenty and contentment under the bright sky of Tusayan.
It was Sunday and the camp by a peach orchard in a deep valley at the Middle Mesa was made lively by the presence of about thirty Indian laborers, mostly Walpi "boys." Far above on the rocky mesas could be seen three Hopi towns which bear names difficult of pronunciation, "The place of peaches" being most picturesque. To the West were innumerable barren hillocks, furrowed and gullied, rising toward the warm sandstone cliffs bearing the pueblos at the top. Along the wash which from time immemorial had been carving out this wonderfully sculptured valley were the bean and melon patches of the Indians, and on the higher ground dark green peach orchards. Out of the mouth of the valley there stretched the wide plain, merging into the many-hued desert.
On this particular Sunday the exploring party felt out of sorts. The Indian workmen who had been digging in the ruins of an ancient pueblo near by had been served notice by the chief of the neighboring village to quit and a warning sent to our party in this wise, "Go away, you are bad; you bring the wind and keep away the rains." This is a grave charge in a country where winds disperse the thunder clouds with their precious burden before they reach the corn fields. No invention could devise a more damaging statement. The Walpi, who are freer from superstition than most of the Hopi, felt less desire to earn the coveted silver after this announcement. Finally it was decided to ask Nashihiptuwa to a council, talk it over with him and persuade him to withdraw his ultimatum. A boy was dispatched to find him in his field where he was at work.
Shortly the old chief of Shumopavi appeared in the distance, clad in a breech-clout and with a hoe on his shoulder. He stopped outside the camp and put on an abbreviated cotton shirt, making himself somewhat more presentable. Squatting on the sand with hands clasped around the knees, a favorite Indian posture, the superannuated chief helped himself to tobacco and prepared for the argument with the circle of interested listeners. The day was very warm and a bank of clouds slowly coming up from the San Francisco Mountains seemed to promise rain which might convince the old man of the fallacy of his views. Hence the progress of this rain storm was an object of uncommon solicitude to the explorers. Dan, a school boy, who had been taught English, acted as interpreter.
After a few preliminary remarks in which the old chief craftily laid the blame of the edict to the chief of another town whom all the Middle Mesa people fear, the discussion began as to whether the contact with the white man had been beneficial or injurious to the Hopi. Since circumstances, geographical and governmental, have conspired to keep the Hopi away from strong drink and other contaminations, the white man had a better case than usual. On his side the old chief mumbled that in the good old times the fields were more fruitful, the country covered with grass waist high, there were no cares, the people were happy and long-lived, the gods propitious, Urukiwa, the wind-god, did not drive away the rains; now all this was changed.
The Walpi spokesman then in his turn pointed out the benefits which the white man had brought. Said he:
"What were we before the white man from the far water came? Half naked, working our scanty crops with hoes of wood, often suffering from famine as the traditions relate, without sheep and beasts of burden, without peach trees and many vegetables, without sugar, flour and tobacco, and driven from place to place in the deserts by our ancient enemies. Where did you get your shirt, your cotton cloth, and your hoe? Has not Wasintona given us wagons and many other things, and protected us from the Navaho and Apache? The white man is _pash lolomi_, 'very good.'"
The old man seemed vexed at the force of this argument, and he began a speech which lasted, it seemed to the listeners, about two hours. It is a loss to science that this speech could not be taken down. As near as could be gathered he began at the beginning when the people came up from the underworld, and traced the history through its various stages, detailing the events, weaving in ancient lore arguing, expanding, and digressing until he brought it down to the present.
As he drew his remarks to a close, a blast of wind charged with sand blew down the canvas sun-shade. The old chief found in this a corroboration of his contention, and, in the confusion, seized his hoe and a can of peaches, which was a present, and made off angrily, firing as a parting shot, "Go away; you are very bad!"
It is scarcely necessary to say that the next day, bright and early, witnessed the exodus of all strangers from that quiet valley near the Middle Mesa. Nashihiptuwa, clad in his natural wrinkled bronze costume, was hoeing in his bean patch, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
X
BRIEF BIOGRAPHIES
The former chief Snake Priest of Walpi was a young man of good presence, of splendid physique, with regular features and grave, dignified look; in whose face there seemed to be often a trace of melancholy, arising perhaps from deep thought. For it takes a man to be Snake Priest, and the office brings out all there is in one.
Kopeli was as well trained as any civilized man whatsoever, taking into consideration the demands of the different planes of culture. Education is as general among these Indians as it is among the more enlightened people. It would be too long to go into details, but briefly the Hopi child's life is largely a kindergarten of play-instruction by kind teachers of things useful in active life. He is wrapped in the customs which have become religion, he is initiated into manhood, and takes his place, perhaps inherited, in the fraternities. With all these he is taught the lore, the practices, and the songs--minutiæ which require a strong memory. He learns the plants and the animals to which the Hopi had given descriptive names long before Linnæus or Cuvier. The sun is his clock, and all nature is near to him. He must work also in the fields if he would eat--no drones are tolerated. In short, there is a surprising complexity in this life, and its demands are weighty. Thus Kopeli at the head of the most powerful and awe-inspiring society of his people has been put to many tests and bore upon his shoulders the weight of immemorial custom.
While there was in Kopeli a dignity which commands respect from the mirthful Hopi, he could on occasion be as entertaining as any of his tribe, and usually was cheerful and friendly. The exception is when the Snake rites are in progress. Then he seemed a different person, and it was not proper for him to recognize his best friend.
The Walpi Snake Ceremony, of which the public dance is known to many persons, is well worth braving the journey to see. The grand entry of the Snake and Antelope priests on the dance plaza headed by Kopeli and Wiki is one of the most impressive spectacles that can be witnessed on this continent. There is so much energy put into the work; with strides positively tragic, the file of strangely costumed priests march to the _kisi_, where the snakes have been deposited. Then commences the weird dance with live rattlesnakes held in the mouth to the distant chant of Antelope priests. Kopeli was here at his best. He was a notable figure; no other participant displayed such eagerness and force. These were some of the salient elements of his character, and by these he succeeded, whether as a farmer or as Snake Priest, and took his high position among his people. There is an interesting mingling of the old and new at Walpi. Kopeli became a typical example of the union of past and present. Wiki, his Nestor, was in every fiber imbued with the usages and traditions of the past. One instinctively admires the old man's firm belief, and his respect for the ancient ceremonies. The leaven of the new was in Kopeli, as may be seen from the following. A wide-awake town in New Mexico wanted the Hopi Snake Dance reproduced at the fair held there in the autumn, realizing that it would be a feature to attract many visitors. Kopeli was approached and offered what seemed to him a large sum of money for the performance. Though in some doubt as to the care and transportation of the snakes, Kopeli and the younger snake priests were tempted to favor the scheme, through his avaricious father, Supela. When Wiki, chief of the related society of the Antelopes, heard the proposal, he became very angry and put his foot down, reading the young men of lax morals a severe lecture on their duties to their religion.
Even had this plan been carried out and had proved a death blow to the so-called pagan and heathenish rites of the Hopi, one would have regretted Kopeli's share in it. It is well known, too, that, at present, money will admit strangers to view the sacred rites of the Snake Dance, which formerly were kept inviolably secret. Evidently, the Hopi are deteriorating, when they barter their religion for silver; at no distant date, when the elder men are dead, the curious ceremonies of the Hopi will decay and disappear, and let us trust that a new and better light may be given them.
Some years ago Kopeli passed from the scene, and his brother, "Harry," took his place as Snake Chief.
Dr. J. Walter Fewkes has given an estimate of him as follows:
Kopeli, the Snake chief at the Tusayan pueblo of Walpi, Arizona, died suddenly on January 2, 1899. He was the son of Saliko, the oldest woman of the Snake clan, which is one of the most influential as well as one of the most ancient in Tusayan. His father was Supela, one of the chiefs of the Patki, or Rain-cloud people, who came to Walpi from southern Arizona about the close of the seventeenth century. As chief of the Snake priests at Walpi in the last five presentations of the Snake dance at that pueblo, Kopeli has come to be one of the best known of all the Hopi Indians. He inherited his badge of office as Snake Chief from his uncle, and was the only chief in Tusayan who had a Snake _tiponi_. His predecessor in this duty was Nuvaiwinu, his uncle, who is still living, and who led the Snake priests in a single ceremony, after which it was found necessary for him to retire on account of his infirmities. At the celebration of the Snake dance in 1883, described by Bourke, Natciwa, an uncle of Kopeli, was Snake chief. The oldest Snake chief of whom I can get any information was Murpi, a contemporary of Macali, the Antelope chief preceding Wiki. Kopeli was a relative on his mother's side of both these men. At the time of his death Kopeli was not far from twenty-five years of age; he had a strong, vigorous constitution, was of medium size, with an attractive face and dignified manner that won him many friends both among his own people and the Americans with whom he was brought in contact. He was a thoroughly reliable man, industrious and self-respecting. Although a conscientious chief of one of the most conservative priesthoods in Walpi, he was a zealous friend of the whites, and supported innovations introduced by them for the good of his people. He believed in the efficacy of the ceremonial rites of his ancestors and performed his duty as priest without shirking. As Mr. Thomas V. Keam, who knows the Walpi people better than any other white man, told the chiefs in council a few days after the Snake chief's death: "Kopeli was the best man of the Hopis." He was a _pac lolomai taka_, an excellent man, whose heart was good and whose speech was straight. To most Americans who are interested in the Hopi, Kopeli was simply the energetic chief in barbaric attire, who dashed into the Walpi plaza leading his Snake priests in the biennial Snake dance. This is one of the most striking episodes of the ceremony, and its dramatic effect is not equaled in any of the other pueblos. It was through Kopeli's influence that the Snake dance at Walpi was the largest and most striking of these weird ceremonies in the Hopi pueblos. Kopeli welcomed the educational movement and had two children in the school at Keam's Canyon at the time of his death. He was buried among the rocks at the base of the Walpi mesa with simple ceremonies appropriate to a chief of his standing.[18]
[18] American Anthropologist (N. S.), Vol. I, Jan., 1899.
Wiki, the genial, good-hearted old chief of the Antelope Society was one of the celebrities of Walpi. His very presence breathed benignity and his heart was full of kindness. The years were telling on Wiki, however, and the marks of age were becoming apparent in his wrinkled face. He gave one the impression of a Hopi gentleman of the old school, a survivor of the best of the past generation. Still, Wiki's form was not bent, nor his hair gray, and he led the Antelope dance with all the fire of youth. Stored away in his brain was a vast stock of ancient lore, of legend, myth, and song. Since he was quite deaf, his body of information was somewhat difficult of access.
Wiki maintained a certain dignity and attention to his own affairs, which commendable trait a few of the prominent Hopi possess. He has long been known by the scientific explorers who have visited Tusayan, and all who have come in contact with him speak highly of his good qualities.
Supela is in some respects the antithesis of Wiki. Wiki was identified with the Antelope Society or brotherhood, Supela assumed a part in everything. Great must be Supela's ability, since he is capable of counselling the numerous societies on any doubtful points in their rites and ceremonies. In fact, it seems that no observance in Walpi can get along without his aid, and even the farther towns often call upon him to assist them in delicate points involved in the conduct of their religious celebrations.
It is time we should have a pen picture of him. Short of stature, thick, gray hair hanging to his shoulders around a not unpleasant, mobile face. Nervous of movement, cordial, but occupied with pressing business, going somewhere, has scarcely time more than to ask a few curious questions, he seems to have the burden of Atlas on his shoulders. He resembles a promoter or a ward politician and he covers more ground in a day than Wiki could in a week.
If Supela seems head and front of everything religious in the summer, in the winter he plays a more prominent part in the Soyaluna, which is held at the last of December. Of this wonderful sun ceremony he is chief, and is as illustrious a personage to the Hopi as Santa Claus is to the fair-skinned children. At this time Supela is in his element and proud of himself to the last degree, for does he not regulate the rites that are to bring back the sun from his far winter wanderings?