The Religious Life of the Zuñi Child

by Matilda Coxe Stevenson

BRIEF ACCOUNT OF ZUÑI MYTHOLOGY.

The Pueblo of Zuñi is situated in Western New Mexico on the Rio Zuñi, a tributary of the Little Colorado River. The Zuñi have resided in this region for several centuries. The peculiar geologic and geographic character of the country surrounding them, as well as its aridity, furnishes ample sources from which a barbarous people would derive legendary and mythologic history. A brief reference to these features is necessary to understand more fully the religious phases of Zuñi child life.

Three miles east of the Pueblo of Zuñi is a conspicuously beautiful mesa, of red and white sandstone, tō-wā-yäl län-ne (corn mountain). Upon this mesa are the remains of the old village of Zuñi. The Zuñi lived during a long period on this mesa, and it was here that Coronado found them in the sixteenth century. Tradition tells that they were driven by a great flood from the site they now occupy, which is in the valley below the mesa, and that they resorted to the mesa for protection from the rising waters. The waters rose to the very summit of the mesa, and to appease the aggressive element a human sacrifice was necessary. A youth and a maiden, son and daughter of two priests, were thrown into this ocean. Two great pinnacles, which have been carved from the main mesa by weathering influences, are looked upon by the Zuñi as the actual youth and maiden converted into stone, and are appealed to as "father" and "mother." Many of the Zuñi legends and superstitions are associated with this mesa, while over its summit are spread the extensive ruins of the long ago deserted village. There are in many localities, around its precipitous sides and walls, shrines and groups of sacred objects which are constantly resorted to by different orders of the tribe. Some of the most interesting of these are the most inaccessible. When easy of approach they are in such secluded spots that a stranger might pass without dreaming of the treasures within his reach. On the western side of this mesa are several especially interesting shrines. About half way up the acclivity on the west side an overhanging rock forms the base of one of the pinnacles referred to. This rock is literally honeycombed with holes, from one-half to three-fourths of an inch in diameter. I visited the spot in the fall of 1884, with Professors E.B. Tylor and H.N. Moseley, of Oxford, England, and Mr. G.K. Gilbert, of the United States Geological Survey. These gentlemen could not determine whether the tiny excavations were originally made by human hands or by some other agency. The Indian's only answer when questioned was, "They belong to the old; they were made by the gods." Hundreds of these holes contain bits of cotton and wool from garments. In the side of this rock there are larger spaces, in which miniature vases, filled with sand, are placed. The sand is ground by rubbing stones from the same rock. The vases of sand, and also the fragments of wool and cotton, are offerings at the feet of the "mother" rock. Here, too, can be seen a quantity of firewood heaped as shown in the right-hand corner of the illustration. Each man and woman deposited a piece, that he or she might always have plenty of wood for heat and light. Some three hundred feet above is another shrine, directly attached to the "father" rock, and to the white man difficult of access. Here I found many offerings of plume sticks (Tē līk-tkī-nā-we).

Before entering upon the purely mythologic phases of Zuñi child life I will present a brief sketch of some of the Zuñi beliefs. There are thirteen secret orders in Zuñi, in many of which women and children are conspicuous, besides the purely mythologic order of the Kōk-kō. All boys are initiated into this order, while but few girls enter it. It is optional with a girl; she must never marry if she joins the Kōk-kō, and she is not requested to enter this order until she has arrived at such age as to fully understand its grave responsibilities and requirements.

Let us follow the Zuñi tradition of the ancient time, when these people first came to this world. In journeying hither they passed through four worlds, all in the interior of this, the passageway from darkness into light being through a large reed. From the inner world they were led by the two little war gods Āh-ai-ū-ta and Mā-ā-sē-we, twin brothers, sons of the Sun, who were sent by the Sun to bring these people to his presence. They reached this world in early morning, and seeing the morning star they rejoiced and said to the war gods: "We see your father, of whom you have told us." "No," said the gods, "this is the warrior who comes before our father;" and when the sun arose the people fell upon the earth and bowed their heads in fear. All their traditions point to the distant land of their appearance in this world as being in the far northwest; from, there they were accompanied by Āh-ai-ū-ta and Mā-ā-sē-we. These little gods occupy important positions in Zuñi myth and legend. After long journeying, it was decided that the Priest Doctor (Kā wi-mō sa) should send his son and his daughter in advance to discover some favorable spot upon which to build a village. The youth and the maiden finally ascended a peak from, which to have an extended view of the country. "Rest here, my sister, for you are tired," said the youth, "and I will go alone." From fatigue, the girl soon sank into a slumber, and when the youth returned, he was impressed with the surpassing loveliness of his sister. They remained for a time on this mountain, and at their union they were transformed—the youth into a hideous looking creature, the Kō-yē-mē-shi ([Plate XX]); the maiden into a being with snow white hair, the Kō-mō-kĕt-si. The ^tKō-thlā-ma (hermaphrodite) is the offspring of this unnatural union. The youth said to his sister, "We are no longer like our people; we will therefore make this mountain our home. But it is not well for us to be alone; wait here and I will go and prepare a place for our others." Descending the mountain, he swept his foot through the sands in the plains below, and immediately a river flowed and a lake appeared, and in the depths of this lake a group of houses, and in the center of this group a religious assembly house, or kiva, provided with many windows, through which those not privileged to enter the kiva might view the dance within. After he performed this magic deed, he again joined his sister on the mountain, from which they could see their people approaching. The mountain has since that time borne the name of Kō-kōk-shi—kōk-shi meaning good.

The first of the Āh-shi-wi, or Zuñi, to cross this river were the Än-shi-i-que, or Bear gens; Tō-wā-que, Corn gens; and ^tKo-ōh-lōk-tā-que, Sand Hill Crane gens. When in the middle of the river the children of these gentes were transformed into tortoises, frogs, snakes, ducks, and dragonflies. The children thus transformed, while tightly clinging to their mother's necks, began to bite and pinch. The mothers, trembling with fear, let them fall into the river. Āh-ai-ū-ta and Mā-ā-sē-we, missing the children, inquired, "Where are the little ones?" The mothers replied, "We were afraid and dropped them into the water." The war gods then cried out to the remainder of the people, "Wait, wait until we speak with you," and they told the women to be brave and cling tightly to the children until they crossed the river. Obeying the gods' commands, they carried the little ones over, though they were transformed just as the others. Upon reaching the opposite shore, they were again restored to their natural forms, excepting their hands, which were duck-webbed. These webs were cut with Āh-ai-ū-ta's stone knife and thus restored to perfect hands.

The mothers whose children fell into the waters were grieved and refused to be comforted. The Priest Doctor was also grieved, and said, "Alas, where have the little ones gone?" Āh-ai-ū-ta and Mā-ā-sē-we replied, "We will go and learn something of them," and upon descending into the lake they found the beautiful kiva, in which the children were assembled; but again they had been changed; they were no longer reptiles, but were of a similar type to the Kō-yē-mē-shi and Kō-mō-kĕt-si, and since that time they have been worshiped as ancestral gods, bearing the name of Kōk-kō; but the little war gods knew them, and addressed them as "My children," and they replied, "Sit down and tell us of our mothers." When they told them that their mothers refused to be comforted at their loss, they said, "Tell our mothers we are not dead, but live and sing in this beautiful place, which is the home for them when they sleep. They will wake here and be always happy. And we are here to intercede with the Sun, our father, that he may give to our people rain, and the fruits of the earth, and all that is good for them." The Āh-shi-wi then journeyed on, led by Āh-ai-ū-ta and Mā-ā-sē-we, to the present site of Zuñi. Many, however, lingered at a spring some fifteen miles west of Zuñi, and there established the village Tkāp-quē-nā (Hot Spring).

The Kō-yē-mē-shi and Kō-mō-kĕt-si passed down through the interior of the mountain into the depths of the lake, the waters of everlasting happiness. In the passageway are four chambers, where the couple tarried on their way and where at the present time the two priests of the Kōk-kō rest in their journey to the sacred waters. So credulous are the people that the priests delude them into the belief that they actually pass through the mountain to the lake.

Having heard of the wonderful cave in this mountain, our little party visited the place, prepared to explore it. Mr. Stevenson and Mr. H.L. Turner entered the fissure in the rock and squeezed through the crevice for sixteen or eighteen feet to where the rock was so solid that they both determined no human creature could penetrate farther. They examined the place most carefully by means of an artificial light. Through a small aperture stones could be thrown to a depth from which no sound returned, but excepting this solitary opening all was solid, immovable rock. In this cave many plume sticks were gathered. Near the opening of the cave, or fissure, is a shrine to the Kōk-kō, which must be very old, and over and around it are hundreds of the plume sticks and turquoise and shell beads.

I would mention here a little incident illustrative of the superstitious dread these Indians entertain of violating the priestly commands. We found it very difficult to persuade an old Zuñi guide, who had visited the sacred salt lake, the mountain of the war gods, and other places of interest with us (to these he had gone by special permission of the High Priest), to accompany us to the spirit lake and the mountain of the Kōk-kō. Our persuasive powers were almost exhausted ere we could induce him to guide us to them, but having consented he was willing to go even if he should be punished by death. He was a man renowned for bravery, but he was so overcome by his superstitious fears that his voice sank to a whisper and finally became scarcely audible. The morning of the day on which we reached this place, the old man, who had been riding by my side, ahead of the rest of the party, suddenly halted and said in a half-angry voice, "Why do I go ahead? I am not the chief of this party. Those who belong at the head must go to the head." And he would not move until Mr. Stevenson and I went in advance. By this change he sought to transfer the responsibility to us. Finally he rode up to us and said in a whisper, "We will camp here." The whole expression of the old man's face was that of ghastly terror. I was much annoyed, for I thought that, at the eleventh hour, his fear had overcome his desire to gratify us. Just then a Mexican lad on horseback approached; we were all mounted. I asked the lad, "Is there a lake near by?" He replied, "Yes, a half a mile off." The old Indian said, speaking in a whisper, "And you have seen it?" "Yes." "And you were not afraid?" "No; why afraid?" "And you looked into the waters and you did not die!" With a look of bewilderment the youth rode off. I signaled to the old man to accompany us to the lake. "No, no; I would only die, and you must not go or you will die." "No," said I, "we will not die if our hearts are good, and if you will not go it is because your heart is not good and you are afraid."

We found the lake so surrounded by marshes that we could not get within an eighth of a mile of the waters. One of our party attempted to reach it on foot, but could get very little nearer. We made a circuit of the lake along the slightly elevated ground and could distinctly see it.

On completing the circle a striking picture met our eyes. Boldly outlined by the setting sun stood the old man, his hair blown by the evening breeze, for he had bared his head of the usual kerchief worn around it, and, with his hand holding the sacred meal extended toward the glorious sunset, he stood repeating a prayer. We halted, and he continued his prayer, wholly unconscious of our presence; as he turned we surprised him. I extended my hand and said, "Now I am happy, for you are again brave and strong." "Yes," said he, "my heart is glad. I have looked into the waters of my departed people. I am alive, but I may die; if I die it is well; my heart is glad." From that moment the gloom was gone and he was bright and happy. We could not induce the old man to ascend the mountain of the Kōk-kō with us, as none go there except certain priests; but the lake is visited by those who are designated by these priests.

Several days were consumed by us in exploring this immediate vicinity. On breaking camp, our old Indian guide seemed determined to tarry behind. I remained with him. As the party rode off he took a large quantity of food which he had carefully stored away behind a tree—he having observed an almost absolute fast in order to make a large offering to the spirits of the departed—and heaped this food upon the embers of the camp fire, by the side of which he stood for a long time, supplicating in a most solemn manner the spirits of the departed to receive his offering.

Certain men are selected, who, with bodies nude save the loin skirt and with bare feet, walk from Zuñi to the lake, a distance of 45 miles, exposed to the scorching rays of the summer sun, to deposit plume sticks and pray for rain. If the hearts of those sent be pure and good, the clouds will gather and rain will fall, but if evil be in their hearts no rain will fall during the journey and they return with parched lips and blistered skin. The Kōk-kō repeat the prayers for rain with their intercessions to the Yä-tō-tka, the Sun, and by them the plume sticks are sent to the same great god. So constantly are the lesser gods employed in offering plumes to the great god that at night the sacred road (the Galaxy) can be seen filled with feathers, though by day they are invisible. They believe that the soul or essence of the plumes travels over this road, just as the soul from the body travels from Zuñi to the spirit lake, and in their offerings of food the food itself is not received by the gods, but the spiritual essence of the food.

One of the most important characters in Zuñi mythology, the Käk-lō, finding himself alone in the far Northwest, saw many roads, but could not tell which one led to his people, and he wept bitterly. The tear marks are still to be seen on the Käk-lō's face. A duck, hearing some one's cries, appeared and inquired the cause of the trouble. "I wish to go to my people, but the roads are many, and I do not know the right one." The sagacious duck replied, "I know all roads, and I will lead you to your people." Having led the Käk-lō to the spirit lake, he said, "Here is the home of the Kōk-kō; I will guide you to the kiva and open for you the door." After entering the kiva the Käk-lō viewed all those assembled and said, "Let me see; are all my people here? No; the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si (plumed serpent) is not here; he must come," and two of the Kōk-kō (the Soot-īke) were dispatched for him. This curious creature is the mythical plumed serpent whose home is in a hot spring not distant from the village of Tkāp-quē-nā, and at all times his voice is to be heard in the depths of this boiling water.

In the days of the old, a young maiden, strolling along, saw a beautiful little baby boy bathing in the waters of this spring; she was so pleased with his beauty that she took him home and told her mother that she had found a lovely little boy. The mother's heart told her it was not a child really, and so she said to the daughter; but the daughter insisted that she would keep the baby for her own. She wrapped it carefully in cotton cloth and went to sleep with it in her arms. In the morning, the mother, wondering at her daughter's absence, sent a second daughter to call her. Upon entering the room where the girl had gone to sleep she was found with a great serpent coiled round and round her body. The parents were summoned, and they said, "This is some god, my daughter; you must take him back to his waters," and the maiden followed the serpent to the hot spring, sprinkling him all the while with sacred meal. Upon reaching the spring the serpent entered it, the maiden following, and she became the wife of the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si.

The Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si soon appeared with the two Soot-īke who had been dispatched for him. They did not travel upon the earth, but by the underground waters that pass from the spring to the spirit lake. Upon the arrival of the Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si, the Käk-lō issued to this assemblage his commands, for he is the great father of the Kōk-kō. Those who were to go to the North, West, South, East, to the Heavens, and to the Earth to procure cereals for the Āh-shi-wi he designated as the Sä-lä-mō-bī-ya. Previous to this time the Āh-shi-wi had subsisted on seeds of a grass. "When the seeds are gathered," he said, addressing the serpent, "you will carry them with water to the Āh-shi-wi and tell them what to do with the seeds. I will go in advance and prepare them for your coming." "But," said his people, "you are our father; you must not walk," and the ten Kō-yē-mē-shi accompanied him, carrying him on their backs, relieving each other when fatigued. The Käk-lō visited the Āh-shi-wi nine days in advance of the Sä-lä-mō-bī-ya and Kō-lō-oo-wĭt-si, instructing the people regarding the Kōk-kō, how they must represent them in the future and hold their ceremonials, and telling them that the boys must be made members of the Kōk-kō, and that this particular ceremony must occur but once in four years. He also gave to the people the history of himself, how the duck had befriended him and led him to the home of his people.