Unlike the rutuburi, the yumari soon becomes tiresome, in spite of its greater animation. Yet the spectacle has something weird in it, especially when seen by the fitful flicker of the fire, which throws a fantastic light upon the grotesque figures, like goblins moving about on the same space. Many mothers carry their sleeping infants on their backs. Sometimes, the blanket which supports the baby loosens, and the little thing hangs half out of it, following every movement of the parent.
Dancing Yumari.
At most feasts both these dances are performed, and the Indians themselves consider them to have the same general purpose. It is, therefore, not easy to see the relation of the two dances to each other. Rutuburi is the more serious dance, and is more efficacious than yumari, though the latter, of course, has its own special value; for instance, it expresses a prayer that the shaman may have strength to cure. In yumari, all sing and dance, and very frequently all the performers are drunk, while during the former dance absolute decorum is observed. Both dances are for the sun and the moon—rutuburi, in order to call them down; yumari, to despatch them. Therefore, the usual dancing-feasts commence with rutuburi. When the function is about to be concluded, an hour or two before sunrise, yumari is commenced, and leads over to the second part of the festival, the eating and drinking. After this, yumari may be continued throughout the day, while the Indians get drunk. Rutuburi is also danced at thanksgiving for the harvest, while on such occasions yumari asks for a good year to come. Then, again, rutuburi may be danced throughout the day, and yumari at night; but generally the former dance commences soon after sunset. On one occasion, while I was waiting for the performance to begin, the son of the house, in answer to my query, pointed to the sky, and told me that the dance would not commence until the Pleiades reached a certain spot in the heavens, which I calculated to mean about eleven o’clock. This indicated that the stars have some connection with the dancing.
At the break of dawn busy hands begin to get everything ready for the great ceremony of the sacrifice. For several days the women of the household and their friends have been making tortillas and boiling beans and tamales (small quantities of unsalted ground corn, wrapped and boiled in corn-husks). An animal was killed on the preceding day, and the meat has been boiling (without salt) in large jars all day and all night. Tata Dios does not like bones, therefore no bones are cooked with this meat. Several of the women have been dividing their time between dancing and watching the food-supply, to guard it against mishap from any source: A blanket is spread underneath, just to the west of the cross, or the three crosses, as the case may be, and on it in a line they place the jars of tesvino; behind these are set three small earthenware bowls filled with the stringy mass of the meat; then come three baskets of tortillas; and finally three little jars with wooden spoons in each are brought on and put in their proper places, behind the rest of the food. The latter vessels contain medicines to be taken, for the welfare of the people is looked after from every point of view.
Sacrificing Tesvino after a Yumari Dance. The Cross was, on this occasion, covered with a Coloured Handkerchief.
In the meantime the dancing goes on with undiminished force. Nearly every night during the dry season, for nobody knows how many centuries, the Morning Star has been looking down upon his sons, the Tarahumares, as they dance in the heart of the sierra, casting his last rays upon the weird scene around their dying fires before he flees from the approaching keeper of the day. Just before the first beam of the rosy light announces the coming of Father Sun, the dancing ceases, and the rattles are added to the sacrificial offerings on the blanket. Everybody now is ready to do homage to the deity about to appear above the horizon. The shaman greets him with the words, “Behold, Nonorugami is coming!” and then solemnly proceeds toward the cross, while the people form a line behind him and preserve a respectful silence throughout the ensuing ceremony. He fills a large drinking-gourd with tesvino, and, holding it in his left hand, throws a small dipperful of the liquor with his right hand into the air, three times to each cardinal point, making the ceremonial circuit. Then the meat and the tortillas are sacrificed in the following way: The shaman takes up from the ground the vessel in front of him, and lifts it three times toward heaven. Then with his fingers he takes up a little meat, offers it to the cross with the word “Koá!” (Eat), and throws it up into the air. Next he breaks off a small piece of tortilla, and repeats the same ceremony. Thus he sacrifices to all the cardinal points. The two assistants of the shaman follow their principal in every act he performs.
The solemnity of the scene is by no means impaired by the numerous dogs, which are gathering to see what they can snatch up. Of course, the people drive them away, but in the end they always get Nonorugami’s share of the food, while the god is supposed to eat only the nourishing substance.
What is left in the jars or bowls after the sacrifice is placed back on the blanket under the cross. The broth of the meat, too, is sacrificed, and so is the blood of the animal that has been killed for the feast.