What the White Race May Learn from the Indian

by George Wharton James

A MOHAVE WOMAN WHOSE HAIR HAS BEEN
“DRESSED” IN MUD.

I do not suppose it is necessary that I should say that in our civilization we cannot literally do as the Indian does in this matter. That is not my thought. What I would urge is that we live more simply, and that, like the Indian, we get out of doors more, instead of housing ourselves the more as we become more “civilized.” And that, in the arrangements and accumulations of our home we make personal health, comfort and happiness the most important considerations, rather than display, and to win the approval or envy of our neighbors.

But to return to the hot springs. The Indian has always used them. He also learned and bequeathed to us the knowledge that mud is a useful therapeutic agent. The Yumas, Mohaves, and others who live near the banks of the Colorado River are in the habit of regularly plastering down their hair and scalp with thick, black mud. They go where it is clean and fresh,—washed down by the rushing waters of the mighty Colorado through the great canyons—and, rubbing it well into their hair, they cover it over with a cloth tied over the scalp and go on about their daily work. They keep the hair thus covered with mud for a day or two, and then wash it off and give the scalp a thorough cleansing. What is the result? Whether the fact be a result from the use of the mud or not, it is a fact that these river Indians have long, glossy black hair free from all disease, and their scalps are as healthy as the hair. They have no dandruff, no falling out of the hair, and do not need any hair tonic or dye. The mud contains enough of the finely ground sand commingled with the softer silt to make a healthful mixture for gently exciting the scalp when the rubbing off and cleansing process takes place. And covering the hair as well as the scalp with the mud and allowing it to dry on demands that the hair shall be well rubbed as well as the skin. The effect is to clean the hair thoroughly, and who knows but that the excitement generated by thus rubbing the hair as well as the scalp has something to do in promoting the healthful flow of the elements required for hair nutrition? Be that as it may, I know the fact, which is that these Indians, men as well as women, have hair, long, black, glossy, reaching down to their waists, and they attribute its healthfulness to the regular use of the mud-pack and rub.

Now, while we may not care to pack the hair in mud, we can certainly utilize the idea. I have done so for years. I often give my scalp and hair a mud bath, and it is both agreeable and exhilarating, and I had the assurance a few months ago from one of the leading scalp specialists of the East that my scalp was in an absolutely healthful condition—one of the very few found in such condition in the large eastern metropolis.

A MOHAVE INDIAN WHOSE HAIR AND SCALP HAVE BEEN CLEANED WITH MUD.

The Indian also uses mud—and by this I mean the clear, pure, uncontaminated earth and sandy mixtures found in the rivers of the desert west—for wounds. There is little doubt but that he learned this from the animals. Who has not seen a dog, after a fight in which he got worsted, run and throw himself into a mud puddle? Many years ago—about twenty—I read an account of a battle between a wildcat and a dog, and the writer, who saw the conflict, told how the dog went and bathed himself in mud thereafter. The brief sketch made such an impression on me that I knew just where to find it, and I have hunted it up, and am now going to copy it for the benefit of my readers. It will help explain why the Indian does the same thing. He has observed the animals bathing in the mud, when wounded, as this dog did.

“The dog has won the battle; but he has got some ugly scars along his sides and flank. Observe, that overheated as he is, he does not rush into that clear stream. He takes his bath in that shallow spring with a soft mud bottom. Note how he plasters himself, laying the wounded side underneath, and then sitting down on his haunches, buries all the wounded parts in the ooze. That mud has medicinal properties. The dog knows it. No physician could make so good a poultice for the wounds of a cat’s claws as this dog has found for himself. Pray, if you had been clawed in that way by either feline or feminine, would you have found anything at the bottom of your book philosophy so remedial as this dog has found?”

The Indian’s use of mud, therefore, is seen to be an inheritance as the result of his observation of the animals. Since the time I heard of the dog and wildcat fight I have had occasion to watch the Indians many times. I have used the mud with them, and always with good results. And if, when some four and a half years ago I was bitten on the thumb by a rattlesnake, and for a week was supposed to be hovering between life and death, I had thought enough to have done as the Indians do,—gone and put my hand and arm in a mud bath at the side of a stream or at the bottom of a shallow spring, I should have fared as well as I did (and perhaps better), though I had two skilled physicians, an accomplished professor, and a devoted nurse to care for me.

And when I was supposed to be well again,—months afterward,—I found that the deadly poison had in some way lodged in the lining of the stomach, so that, at times, it would cause a nervous and muscular disturbance that made me suffer intense agony. I then recalled the use of mud by my Indian friends, and I hied me away as speedily as I could to the hot mud baths of Paso Robles, in California. There the sulphur water at a temperature of over 110° Fahrenheit comes bubbling into a great wooden tank filled with the soft, velvety mud, black as ink, of the tule marsh. Into this tank I stepped, and gradually worked my way into the mud, lying down in it, and wriggling and working my body until I was as near covered as I could be. I brought great armfuls of the hot, soft, and soothing nature poultice over my stomach and body, and then lay there as long as it was wise to do so. What mattered it that I was blacker than a negro when I came out. Two minutes with a bucket and a hose and I was cleaner than ever. One week of these baths and I lost the poison, never again to return. I never think of Paso Robles and the mud baths there without a deep sense of gratitude that some of us at least have learned how to utilize some good things that the Indian has taught us.