Part 17

The cradle was brought forward by the grandfather, and the diminutive Navajo blanket spread over it. The tiny sheet was laid on the doctress’s lap under the child. The writer was then requested to rise and receive the child; and as she held the little one wrapped in the sheet the grandfather offered a prayer of thanksgiving, and after sprinkling meal upon the writer gave her a pinch of it. She could not dream what was expected of her, but she ventured to make four lines on the child’s breast, and sprinkled the remainder of the meal to the east. The venture was a happy one, for it was just right. The grandfather said: “The child is yours; I make it a gift to you.” The writer then returned the child to the doctress, and the grandfather proceeded to arrange the cradle, which has a transverse ridge, provided with a niche for the neck. Two bits of calico, folded several times, were laid on the blanket, and on this a piece of white cotton. The infant was placed nude upon its bed, and a piece of white cotton was laid over it from the neck to the lower part of the abdomen, extending on either side of the body and passing under the arms, the ends of the cloth being folded over the arms and tucked in on the inner sides. The little sheet was laid over the child, and the blanket folded around it; and then it was strapped to the cradle, which was deposited to the left side of the mother, on a white sheepskin. The ear of corn which had been such an important element previous to the birth was laid by the right side of the child. The grandfather, taking his seat at the foot of the cradle, deposited before him the three medicine bags which had been used in the ritual previous to the birth, and, holding his eagle plumes in his right hand, repeated a prayer. Two loosely twisted cords of native cotton, which had been prepared by the father of the infant immediately after the birth of the child, were placed under the mother’s pillow, to her right side; these were afterwards tied around the ankles of the infant, to indicate that it was a child of Sûs´sĭstinnako and that it might know this father. After the prayer the grandfather touched the head, either side and foot of the cradle, and the child’s body, with a spear point of obsidian; this was repeated four times for strength of body, limbs, heart, and mind of the child; and the spear was passed over the mother’s limbs and body for the same purpose. The grandfather then gave the child its first food by placing in his own mouth a pinch of a specially sacred and valuable medicine composed of the pollen of medicinal and edible plants and transferring it into the infant’s mouth from his. He then placed a bit with his fingers in the mother’s mouth. The medicine was given to the child that he might know all the medicines of the earth, and to the mother that her milk which was to nourish the infant might be good, so that the child’s heart and mind would be good.

No attention was given to the woman by the doctress for two hours after the birth, when a fresh gown was put on, the gown being changed every morning and evening for four days, the one worn in the evening having been washed and dried the same day. The sheepskin on the bed was changed daily. About 9 o’clock a. m. the grandmother prepared a bowl of tea made from freshly gathered cedar twigs steeped in water, and the woman drank two gourdfuls. This tea is constantly drunk for a designated period, which differs with different clans; some drinking it regularly for four months, others taking it but three, and some only two months. No water is drunk during the time this liquid is used, and continency is observed for the two, three, or four months; the husband, however, sleeps during this time in the same room, and in this particular case the husband slept by his wife’s side. Should a woman break the continency, an animal would enter her abdomen and she would surely die, for so said the first mother of her clan.

After the first draft of the tea the woman ate a hearty breakfast of tortillas, jerked meat, and corn-meal gruel. Her female relatives and friends called to see her and the baby during the day, and she chatted as merrily as if nothing had happened.

The Sia infant is nourished regularly from the time it is born; and in this particular case the infant was nursed by a woman whose child was three months old, until the third morning, when the mother took it in charge. Though the door of the room could not be left open until the child should have passed out the fourth morning to see its sun father, and the two small windows being stationary, the most fastidious could have found no fault with the purity of the atmosphere. The father of the woman scarcely left her during the four days. He sat by her bed-side, weaving garters, and showing her the tenderest care, and her mother did little else than look after the wants of the invalid and infant and admire and caress the latter. The woman’s husband was absent all day working in the fields, but upon his return in the evening he could be found by his wife’s side admiring the baby and saying pleasing words to the woman of his choice. The family all slept in the same room as usual with the addition the first two nights of the woman engaged to furnish nourishment to the child, who also had her infant with her.

By half past 4 on the fourth morning the woman had donned her woolen dress and belt and sat upon the bed awaiting the arrival of the doctress, who soon came, and after a greeting handed ashes from the fireplace to the woman, who receiving the ashes in her right hand rubbed her legs and breast for purification, and then put on her moccasins. The grandmother took the infant from the cradle and wrapping it in its blanket handed it to the doctress, while the father of the woman gave her the two stone fetiches from under her pillow, which she placed in her bosom. The doctress then took from the fireplace a bit of charcoal and put it into the woman’s mouth that the cold winds might not enter through her mouth and congeal her blood and prevent its flow, for should this occur the woman would surely die. The father then handed sacred meal to his daughter and the doctress, and again helping himself he gave some to the writer. The doctress led the way, carrying the infant in her arms and pressing to its breast the ear of corn which had played such an important part during parturition, and had since lain by the side of the child; the woman followed, also carrying an ear of corn, a companion of the first ear (everything associated with life must have its dual, and “corn is life itself, for it comes from the heart of Ût´sĕt; were it not for the mother corn none could live.” These two ears of corn are afterwards wrapped together and laid under the child’s cradle, where they must remain until the next corn-planting time, when it is sown in two or four rows, apart from the main field, and when ripe it is eaten by the child, who takes the nourishment of the mother corn as it draws the milk from its mother’s breast). The writer followed after the woman and, passing a few feet to the right of the entrance after leaving the house, they stood while the grandfather went from the door directly to the eastern gateway of his placita and stood facing east, where he was joined by the others, the doctress leading the way; she stooped at his right. The father of the infant was not present any of the time and the grandmother did not leave the house. The grandfather prayed and sprinkled meal to the east (Pl. XXXIII); the mother then whispered a short prayer and sprinkled meal to the same point; the doctress afterward stooping until she almost sat upon the ground bared the child’s head as she held it toward the rising sun and repeated a long prayer, and addressing the child she said, “I bring you to see your sun father and Ko´pîshtaia that you may know them and they you.” At the close of the prayer she led the way to the house, and upon entering the woman sat on her bed with her legs extended and received the infant from the doctress, who laid the child across the mother’s arms with its head to the east; the doctress then laying the ear of corn lengthwise on the child’s breast requested the writer to hold the corn with her. The grandmother and the two boys stood to the left of the woman while the grandfather standing at the feet of the child offered a prayer. The doctress then repeated the long baptismal prayer, naming the child.[28]

She then placed the infant in the writer’s arms, saying, “The child is named; it is yours.” When the child was returned to her she washed its head in yucca suds, and bathed its body by again filling her mouth with water and spirting it over the child. It was afterwards rubbed with ashes, especially about its face, and the doctress gave it some warm water to drink by dipping her fingers into the vase and letting the drops fall from them into the infant’s mouth; the child smacked its lips in evident satisfaction; and it was then strapped to the cradle which was handed the doctress by the grandmother; and the child in the cradle was placed on the mother’s lap, and she proceeded to nourish it.

The grandfather brought an Apache basket containing a pyramid of meal and held it to the infant’s face, then to the mother’s, who blew upon the meal. The grandmother then blew upon it (that it might be blessed with the best thoughts of the breath of life) and, stooping, the grandfather held the basket with both hands while the doctress (Fig. 19) held it on the opposite side with her two hands, the grandfather whispering a prayer and then retiring to the far end of the room. The doctress offered a silent prayer, and left the room without farther ceremony, carrying the basket of meal, which was a gift to her from the infant, it being her only compensation for her services. The mother of the infant ate heartily and at half past seven in the morning she walked fully 200 yards from the house down a declivity, and on her return to the house was bathed for the first time since her confinement, she herself doing the bathing.

Fig. 20 is the copy of a photograph of the infant the fourth morning after birth.

The lochial discharge ceased after the fourth day, and from this time until the expiration of the nine days but one fresh gown was worn each day. The infant was bathed each of the first four mornings by the doctress, and afterwards by the grandmother until the tenth morning, when the mother bathed the child. The infant’s bed was changed several times daily, the bedding being put upon the cradle a couple of hours after washing. The night of the fourth day the doctress came about 9 o’clock and bathed the child; the ashes which had been applied to the child from its birth after each bath not being omitted. The fifth day the skin of the infant showed evidence of exfoliation, and the grandfather remarked, “When the new skin comes then all will be well.” The sixth day the remnant of the umbilical cord was removed by lifting the raw cotton, and a finely powdered pigment of bluish-gray color was rubbed upon the umbilicus and a cotton cloth laid over it. When there is any appearance of suppuration the mother milks a few drops from her breast upon the umbilicus and applies fresh pigment.

Prof. F. W. Clark furnishes the following analysis of this pigment: “A slight amount is soluble in water, this consisting of sulphates of lime and magnesia. The main portion consists of a mixture of a hydrous carbonate of copper (presumably malachite) with a ferruginous sand. The copper mineral dissolves readily in dilute acids and, in addition to the copper, contains traces of iron and of phosphoric acid. Probably an impure malachite pulverized.”

Though the woman is considered an invalid and exempt from all household duties until the tenth morning after childbirth, she passes in and out of the house after the fourth morning and occupies herself sewing, not more than half of her time being spent in a reclining position.

The greatest attention was shown this woman and her child by her father, mother, and husband, the two men performing the most menial services for her and frequently waiting upon the infant.

MORTUARY BELIEFS AND CUSTOMS.

It was stated in a previous chapter that the Sia do not believe in a return of the spirits of their dead when they have once entered Shipapo. There was once, however, an exception to this. The story is here given in the theurgist’s own words:

“When the years were new and this village had been built perhaps three years, all the spirits of our dead came here for a great feast. They had bodies such as they had before death; wives recognized husbands, husbands wives, children parents, and parents children. Just after sundown the spirits began arriving, only a few passing over the road by daylight, but after dark they came in great crowds and remained until near dawn. They tarried but one night; husbands and wives did not sleep together; had they done so the living would have surely died. When the hour of separation came there was much weeping, not only among the living but the dead. The living insisted upon going with the dead, but the dead declared they must wait; that they could not pass through the entrance to the other world; they must first die or grow old and again become little children to be able to pass through the door of the world for the departed. It was then that the Sia first learned all about their future home. They learned that the fields were vast, the pastures beautiful, the mountains high, the lakes and rivers clear like crystals, and the wheat and cornfields flourishing. During the day the spirits sleep, and at night they work industriously in the fields. The moon is father to the dead as the sun is father to the living; the dead resting when the sun travels, for at this time they see nothing; it is when the sun returns to his home at night that the departed spirits work and pass about in their world below. The home of the departed spirits is in the world first inhabited by the Sia.”

It is the aim of the Sia to first reach the intermediate state at the time the body ceases to develop and then return gradually back to the first condition of infancy; at such period one does not die, but sleeps to awake in the spirit world as a little child. Many stories have come to the Sia by those who have died only for a time; the heart becomes still and the lips cold and the spirit passes to the entrance of the other world and looks in, but it does not enter, and yet it sees all, and in a short time returns to inhabit its earthly body. Great alarm is felt when one returns in this way to life, but much faith is put in the stories afterwards told by the one who has passed over the road of death.

A ho´naaite holds a corresponding position in the spirit world.

When a death occurs any time before sundown, the body is buried as soon as it can be prepared for the grave; but if one dies after dark the body must not be touched until after sunrise, when it is bathed and buried as soon as possible. It is usual for an elderly woman of the clan to bathe the body, cold water being used; the head is washed first in yucca suds. Sometimes, however, this method is deviated from, if the remaining wife or husband has a special friend in some other clan. In the case of a man the breechcloth he has worn during his last illness is not removed. The immediate relatives in consanguinity and clan are present during the bathing and make the air hideous with their lamentations. The body is bathed on the bed upon which the party dies and here it remains until burial. The mourners are seated around the room, no one being near the bed but the woman who prepares the body for burial. If the corpse be a female, after the body is bathed a blanket is laid across the abdomen and limbs and tucked in on either side, the upper portion of the body being exposed.

The official members of the cult societies are painted after death, just as they were at their initiation into the society, the body having been previously bathed. The one exception to this rule—being the ho´naaite of warriors (Pl. XXXIV)—will show the change. The painting is done by the ho´naaite or vicar of the society to which the deceased belonged. Corn pollen is sprinkled on the head. Female officials have only their faces painted. When a man is not an official, neither his face nor body is painted, but as each man or woman of his clan looks upon the body a bit of corn pollen is sprinkled in a line under each eye and on the top of the head. While the body is being prepared for burial, the relatives who are present, amid lamentations, cut the apparel of the corpse, including his blankets, into strips and all is laid upon the body. After the body has been placed upon the blanket which is to wrap it for burial, if it be a man the wife places a quantity of food under the left arm, the arms hanging straight by the sides. If the wife does not perform this office then some member of his clan acts in her place. In the case of the death of a woman a member of her clan places the food. Again a small quantity of food is placed under the left arm by the man who principally officiates in the wrapping of the body. This is sometimes done by the son of the deceased. The blanket is first folded over one side of the body and then the other; then the end next to the head is caught together just above the head and tied some little distance from the end, tassel fashion, with a rope. The rope is fastened around the throat of the corpse and then continued around the body to the feet, and the blanket is tied below the feet to correspond with the head. Two men perform this service and alone carry the body to the grave and bury it without further ceremony, though the wailing and weeping is kept up in the house for a considerable time.

If a husband dies the wife is bathed after the burial by a female member of her clan. This is done that the one remaining may be cleansed of much of her sorrow and be only a little sad. When a wife dies the husband is bathed by a female member of his clan. The bathing of the remaining husband or wife in Zuñi is done for a very different reason. When a child dies both the paternal and maternal parents are bathed; but children are not bathed when a parent dies.

The fourth day after death, when the spirit starts on its journey to the lower world, after hovering around the pueblo in the meantime, a ceremonial is held by the society to which deceased belonged. If the person was not a member of one of the cult societies the family select the ho´naaite they wish to have perform the ceremony. A hä´chamoni which was made on the third day by the theurgist is deposited on the north road for the spirit to carry to its future home. A vase of food is deposited at this time to feed the spirit on its journey, and if any other pieces of clothing have been found they are cut and thrown over the north road. The clothing must never be deposited whole as the spirit of the clothing could not leave the body if it was in perfect condition.

The road to the lower world, which is to the north (the dead returning to the world whence they came), is so crowded that the spirits are often in each other’s way, for not only the spirits of the Sia pass over this road but the spirits of all Indians. The spirits of the dead are traveling to their first home and the unborn spirits are passing to the villages in which, after a time, they are to be born.

Upon reaching the entrance to the lower world a spirit is met by two guards to the entrance, who say to them, “So you have come here,” and the spirit replies, “Yes.” “Where is your credential?” inquires the chief guard, and the spirit shows his hä´chamoni, and the guard says, upon examining it, “Yes, here is your hä´chamoni to your mother, Sûs´sĭstinnako, that she may know you came promptly over the straight road; she will be pleased.” If the spirit be not provided with hä´chamoni it can not enter the lower world, but must roam about somewhere in the north. After examining the hä´chamoni, the guard says, “You may enter Shipapo and go to your mother in the lower world.” The first one met by the spirit in the lower world is Ût´sĕt, who says, “You have come from the other world?” and the spirit replies, “Yes.” Then Ût´sĕt says, “You bring a hä´chamoni?” and the spirit replies, “Yes.” “Let me see your hä´chamoni,” and, after carefully looking over it, she hands it to Sûs´sĭstinnako, who says, “Good! good!” and, pointing to the dead relatives of the newly arrived spirit, she adds, “There, my child, are your relatives; go join them and be happy.” When one has been very wicked in this world he is not permitted to enter the lower world even though he has a hä´chamoni. The guards at the entrance can read all hearts and minds, and they put such spirits into a great fire which burns in the earth below somewhere not far distant from Shipapo. The spirit is burned to death in this fire and can never know anything, as it is entirely destroyed. When ti´ämonis and ho´naaites have performed their duties in this world with unwilling hearts, it is known to the mother in the lower world, and when such men enter after death they are made to live apart, and alone, and without nourishment for a certain period of time, depending upon the amount of purification required. Some sit alone for two years; others for five, and some for ten before the mother considers them worthy to enter into peace.

The spirits of all animals go to the lower world; domestic animals serving the masters there as they did here. The masters would not always recognize them, but Sûs´sĭstinnako knows the property of all. The spirits of the prey animals return, and know their friends, in the lower world. A hä´chamoni is made for the prey animal when he is killed, and a dance and ceremonial are held. The animal carries the hä´chamoni as his credential just as the spirit of the man does.

The cloud people never die; that is, no one, not even the oldest men’s grandfathers ever knew of or saw a cloud person die.

MYTHS.

The writer gave but limited study while at Sia to myths not directly connected with their cosmogony and cult. The minds of several of the elder men are filled with the stories of the long-ago myth-makers, and they believe in the truth of these fables as they believe in their own existence, which is the cause, no doubt, for the absence of myth-making at the present time. It must be borne in mind, however, that these people have their winter tales and romances which they recognize as fiction. The animal myths here recorded were recited to the writer in a most dramatic manner by the vicar of the Snake Society, these portions of the stories where the coyote suffers disappointment, and is cheated of his prey, giving special delight to the narrator.

The coyote seems to be a despised though necessary object in the mythic world of the Indian of the Southwest. He is certainly not reverenced, nor is he a being for whom they feel terror. While he is the object of ridicule he is also often of great service. Through his cunning he supplied the Sia of the upper world with fire by stealing it from Sûs´sĭstinnako in the lower world. When the world was new, people were depilous except upon their heads. The coyote said (animals could communicate with men then): “It is not well for you to be depilous,” and from the pilous growth about his mouth and belly he clothed the pubes and axilla of the Sia.