On the Border with Crook

by John Gregory Bourke

The Apaches have a very strict code of etiquette, as well as morals, viewed from their own standpoint. It is considered very impolite for a stranger to ask an Apache his name, and an Apache will never give it, but will allow the friend at his side to reply for him; the names of the dead are never referred to, and it is an insult to speak of them by name. Yet, after a good long while has elapsed, the name of a warrior killed in battle or distinguished in any way may be conferred upon his grandchild or some other relative.

No Apache, no matter what his standing may be in society, will speak to or of his mother-in-law—a courtesy which the old lady reciprocates. One of the funniest incidents I can remember was seeing a very desperate Chiricahua Apache, named “Ka-e-tennay,” who was regarded as one of the boldest and bravest men in the whole nation, trying to avoid running face to face against his mother-in-law; he hung on to stones, from which had he fallen he would have been dashed to pieces or certainly broken several of his limbs. There are times at the Agencies when Indians have to be counted for rations—even then the rule is not relaxed. The mother-in-law will take a seat with her son-in-law and the rest of the family; but a few paces removed, and with her back turned to them all; references to her are by signs only—she is never mentioned otherwise.

When an Apache young man begins to feel the first promptings of love for any particular young damsel, he makes known the depth and sincerity of his affection by presenting the young woman with a calico skirt, cut and sewed by his own fair fingers. The Apache men are good sewers, and the Navajo men do all the knitting for their tribe, and the same may be said of the men of the Zunis.

Only ill-bred Americans or Europeans, who have never had any “raising,” would think of speaking of the Bear, the Snake, the Lightning or the Mule, without employing the reverential prefix “Ostin,” meaning “Old Man,” and equivalent to the Roman title “Senator.” But you can’t teach politeness to Americans, and the Apache knows it and wastes no time or vain regrets on the defects of their training.

“You must stop talking about bear,” said a chief to me one night at the camp-fire, “or we’ll not have a good hunt.”

In the same manner no good will come from talking about owls, whose hooting, especially if on top of a “jacal,” or in the branches of a tree under which people are seated or sleeping, means certain death. I have known of one case where our bravest scouts ran away from a place where an owl had perched and begun its lugubrious ditty, and at another time the scouts, as we were about entering the main range of the Sierra Madre, made a great fuss and would not be pacified until one of the whites of our command had released a little owl which he had captured. This same superstition obtained with equal force among the Romans, and, indeed, there are few if any spots in the world, where the owl has not been regarded as the messenger of death or misfortune.

When an Apache starts out on the war-path for the first four times, he will refrain from letting water touch his lips; he will suck it through a small reed or cane which he carries for the purpose. Similarly, he will not scratch his head with the naked fingers, but resorts to a small wooden scratcher carried with the drinking-tube. Traces of these two superstitions can also be found in other parts of the globe. There are all kinds of superstitions upon every conceivable kind of subject, but there are too many of them to be told in extenso in a book treating of military campaigning.

As might be inferred, the “medicine men” wield an amount of influence which cannot be understood by civilized people who have not been brought into intimate relations with the aborigines in a wild state. The study of the religious life and thought of our savage tribes has always been to me of the greatest interest and of supreme importance; nothing has been so neglected by the Americans as an examination into the mental processes by which an Indian arrives at his conclusions, the omens, auguries, hopes and fears by which he is controlled and led to one extreme or the other in all he does, or a study of the leaders who keep him under control from the cradle to the grave. Certainly, if we are in earnest in our protestations of a desire to elevate and enlighten the aborigine—which I for one most sincerely doubt—then we cannot begin too soon to investigate all that pertains to him mentally as well as physically. Looking at the subject in the strictest and most completely practical light, we should save millions of dollars in expenditure, and many valuable lives, and not be making ourselves a holy show and a laughing-stock for the rest of the world by massing troops and munitions of war from the four corners of the country every time an Indian medicine man or spirit doctor announces that he can raise the dead. Until we provide something better, the savage will rely upon his own religious practices to help him through all difficulties, and his medicine man will be called upon to furnish the singing, drumming and dancing that may be requisite to cure the sick or avert disease of any kind.

The “cures” of the medicine men are effected generally by incantations, the sprinkling of hoddentin or sacred powder, sweat-baths, and at times by suction of the arm, back or shoulder in which pain may have taken up its abode. If they fail, as they very often do, then they cast about and pretty soon have indicated some poor old crone as the maleficent obstacle to the success of their ministrations, and the miserable bag is very soon burnt or stoned to death.

The influence quietly exerted upon tribal councils by the women of the Apache and Navajo tribes has been noted by many observers.