From Gallup (which is on one of the main automobile routes followed by transcontinental motorists) good trips radiate in many directions—85 miles to Cañon de Chelly, for instance, and its cliff dwellings amidst surpassing scenery; 75 miles to the Pueblo Bonito ruins in Chaco Cañon; 125 miles to the Hopi country; 42 miles to Zuñi pueblo; 75 miles to Inscription Rock of the Conquistadores. The great Navajo reservation with its picturesque aboriginal life reaches almost to Gallup’s back door, and even the Mesa Verde National Park,[39] can be done from Gallup in 4 or 5 days for the round trip, if the weather conditions are right.
This chapter has to do with the famous Indian pueblo of Zuñi, which lies to the south, about 2½ hours by motor car. The road is all sorts from a motorist’s standpoint; so be your own best friend and take it good-naturedly, for fussing will not mend it. In a few minutes you are beyond sight of houses and railroads, and in a twinkling Time’s clock has whirled back a couple of centuries. You pass, perhaps, a Navajo woman astride her pony, a sheepskin or two tied to the saddle, on her way to the trader’s for coffee and tobacco; and then a Mexican teamster crouching over a bit of camp-fire where his chili and beans are stewing, his wagon piled high with wool sacks drawn up by the roadside. Now a solitary adobe ranch house, or a lone trader’s log hut is seen in a wilderness of sagey plain; and now a flock of sheep drift into the road out of the piñon- and cedar-scrub, a couple of bright-eyed Navajo children shepherding in their wake. By and by you pass another sort of Indian on horseback, a slightly built man with long jet-black hair lifted by the breeze, a red banda encircling it—he is a Zuñi. And then topping a low hill, you are greeted by the distant sight of a long flat-topped mesa, creamy pink against a blue sky. It is Towa-yálleni, Zuñi’s Mountain of the Sacred Corn. A turn in the road, and the great yellow plain of Zuñi spreads out before you, the Zuñi River threading its midst, and on its bank the old pueblo humps itself like a huge anthill, hardly distinguishable in color from the plain itself.
Zuñi (with a population of some 1600) is historically perhaps the most interesting of all the Pueblo towns, for it is the present-day representative of those Seven Cities of Cíbola, the fable of whose wealth led to the discovery of New Mexico in the sixteenth century. There really were seven Zuñi villages in Coronado’s time, all of which have long since disappeared, though sites of at least five are known. The present Zuñi pueblo seems to have been built about the year 1700, replacing that one of the ancient seven known as Hálona. This occupied the opposite or south bank of the river in Coronado’s time—a spot now partially covered by the buildings of a white trader.
If you are going to hold your car and return to Gallup the same day, there will probably be 3 or 4 hours available for a stroll about the pueblo. The houses, of a characteristic reddish tone, rise from one-storied structures on the outskirts to 5 stories at the center of the town, and you will enjoy mounting by ladders and stepping stones to that uppermost height for the lovely view over the plain to the mountains that hem in the Zuñi valley. The narrow streets without sidewalks open out now and then into small plazas, and some communicate with one another by tunnels. Beehive ovens squat upon the roofs in dome-like fashion and contribute a suggestion of the Orient—of Cairo or Syria. Dogs, turkeys, pigs and burros have equal right with humanity in the cramped thoroughfares, and if one is of a cleanly habit, one needs to watch one’s steps. But dirt and picturesqueness were ever comrades, and Zuñi is truly picturesque. From the open door issues the hum of the busy mealing stones, and the fragrance of the crushed corn; perhaps, too, to your ravished ears, the high-keyed melody of grinding songs shrilled by the women as they work.
Look in, and if your manner is respectful and the girls not over shy, you will be allowed the enjoyment of a charming picture of kneeling, swaying bodies and of down-turned faces veiled in falling hair. Ollas of native ware stand about with water; parti-colored blankets of Navajo or Zuñi weave hanging from wall or ceiling give a touch of brightness in the dim light of the room; in the triangular corner fireplace dinner simmers within a bowl of native pottery set upon the coals. If fortune favors you there may be a potter at her moulding, or, in the street, jars being fired or bread being put to bake in the adobe ovens; or in some plaza a ceremonial dance in costume may be in progress. Zuñi is still comfortably pagan—the ancient Catholic church is a ruin and the modern Protestant mission is by no means overworked—and throughout the year the red gods of Zuñi have homage paid them in many a ceremony rich in symbolism and pure beauty.[40]
On the outskirts of the pueblo in August, one may have a sight of wheat thrashing on the open-air thrashing floors, the grain being trodden out in oriental fashion by horses, sheep or goats. Or there may be a straight-away horse race over the plain with a picturesque crowd looking on; or a gallo race, the part of the rooster (gallo) humanely taken in these latter days by a sack buried to the neck in the sand. A quieter feature of interest is the quaint little vegetable gardens on a slope by the river—each tiny garden enclosed with a thin adobe wall. These are tended by the women who daily bring water in ollas and pails to irrigate the plants.
OLD CHURCH, ACOMA PUEBLO
Dating from about 1700. Tradition has it that it was 40 years in building. All material was carried up on Indians’ backs from the plain 350 feet below, by an almost precipitous trail.
