The Hopi Indians

by Walter Hough

The Snake and Flute ceremonies of the Hopi are most widely known, since at this season of the year most travelers visit Tusayan, and besides, the Snake Dance, from its elements of horror, has overshadowed other ceremonies that are beautiful and interesting. Still, the Snake Dance is unique, and in its unfolding displays virile action and the compelling force of man over the lesser animate creation, giving to the drama a certain grandeur not observed in other ceremonies. No form of language is capable of describing it. Those who have seen it make it an unforgettable episode in their lives. Those who have made it a study declare that the mind of man has never conceived its equal.

When the Snake and Antelope fraternities descend into their respective kivas about the middle of August, the rites commence. The events that attract popular interest begin at once on the first day, when a party of Snake priests, painted and costumed and with snake whips and digging sticks in their hands, descend from the mesa to hunt snakes in the north quarter. These men, keenly watching for snake trails, eagerly search, beating the sage-brush and digging in holes that may harbor their quarry, thrusting their hands into such places with the utmost fearlessness. At sunset, after an exhausting day’s work, they return from the hunt with snakes, if they have been successful, which are transferred from their pouches into the snake jars. For four days the hunt goes on, each day to a different world quarter. If a snake is seen it is sprinkled with meal, and as it tries to escape, one of the hunters seizes it a few inches back of the head and places it in his pouch.

When the snakes, big and little, venomous and harmless, have been collected and stowed away in the jars like those used by the women to carry water, there comes the great event of snake washing. The priests assemble in the kiva and seat themselves on stone seats around the wall, holding in the hand a snake whip made of two eagle feathers secured to a short stick. On the floor dry sand has been spread out and on it a medicine bowl of water. The snakes have been placed in bags near by in the care of priests, and the snake washer, arrayed as a warrior, sets himself before the bowl, while back of him stand two men waving snake whips. A weird song begins, and the warrior thrusts his hand into the bag and draws out a handful of snakes, plunges them into the medicine water, and drops them on the sand. Then the snakes are rapidly passed to the warrior, who plunges them and casts them forth, while the priests wave their wands and sing, now low and now loudly and vehemently. Some of the snakes try to escape, but are herded on the sand field, which is for the purpose of drying them. The snakes are left on the floor for a few hours intervening before the public dance, a writhing mass, watched over by naked boys. These boys, barefoot and otherwise entirely naked, sit down on the stones and with their whips or naked hands, play with the snakes, permitting them to crawl over and under their feet, between their legs, handling them, using them as playthings, paying no more attention to the rattlesnakes than to the smallest harmless whip-snakes, creating a sight never to be forgotten. It must be admitted, however, that owing to the absolute abandon and recklessness used by the boys in handling these snakes, all of one’s preconceived notions of the dangerousness of the rattlesnake entirely disappear. Occasionally, one of the snakes, being tossed to a distance of four or five feet, apparently resents the insult, but before the snake has had sufficient time to coil, it will be straightened out by one of the other boys or tossed back to its original position, and so the sport (for it was nothing less to these boys) continue, as has been stated, for more than two hours.[5]

[5] The Mishongnovi Ceremonies of the Snake and Antelope Ceremonies. G. A. Dorsey and H. R. Voth. Field Columbian Museum, Chicago, 1902, p. 247-248.

Dr. Fewkes thus describes the Walpi snake washing:

The Snake Priests, who stood by the snake jars which were in the east corner of the room, began to take out the reptiles, and stood holding several of them in their hands behind Su-pe-la, so that my attention was distracted by them. Su-pe-la then prayed, and after a short interval two rattlesnakes were handed him, after which venomous snakes were passed to the others, and each of the six priests who sat around the bowl held two rattlesnakes by the necks with their heads elevated above the bowl. A low noise from the rattles of the priests, which shortly after was accompanied by a melodious hum by all present, then began. The priests who held the snakes beat time up and down above the liquid with the reptiles, which, although not vicious, wound their bodies around the arms of the holders. The song went on and frequently changed, growing louder and wilder, until it burst forth into a fierce, blood-curdling yell, or war-cry. At this moment the heads of the snakes were thrust several times into the liquid, so that even parts of their bodies were submerged, and were then drawn out, not having left the hands of the priests, and forcibly thrown across the room upon the sand mosaic, knocking down the crooks and other objects placed about it. As they fell on the sand picture three Snake priests stood in readiness, and while the reptiles squirmed about or coiled for defense, these men with their snake whips brushed them back and forth in the sand of the altar. The excitement which accompanied this ceremony cannot be adequately described. The low song, breaking into piercing shrieks, the red-stained singers, the snakes thrown by the chiefs, and the fierce attitudes of the reptiles as they lashed on the sand mosaic, made it next to impossible to sit calmly down, and quietly note the events which followed one after another in quick succession. The sight haunted me for weeks afterwards, and I can never forget this wildest of all the aboriginal rites of this strange people, which showed no element of our present civilization. It was a performance which might have been expected in the heart of Africa rather than in the American Union, and certainly one could not realize that he was in the United States at the end of the nineteenth century. The low weird song continued while other rattlesnakes were taken in the hands of the priests, and as the song rose again to the wild war-cry, these snakes were also plunged into the liquid and thrown upon the writhing mass which now occupied the place of the altar. Again and again this was repeated until all the snakes had been treated in the same way, and reptiles, fetiches, crooks and sand were mixed together in one confused mass. As the excitement subsided and the snakes crawled to the corners of the kiva, seeking vainly for protection, they were pushed back in the mass, and brushed together in the sand in order that their bodies might be thoroughly dried. Every snake in the collection was thus washed, the harmless varieties being bathed after the venomous. In the destruction of the altar by the reptiles the snake ti-po-ni stood upright until all had been washed, and then one of the priests turned it on its side, as a sign that the observance had ended. The low, weird song of the Snake men continued, and gradually died away until there was no sound but the warning rattle of the snakes, mingled with that of the rattles in the hands of the chiefs, and finally the motion of the snake whips ceased, and all was silent.

On the previous day the Antelope society had celebrated its race and public dance, which duplicate those of the Snake society, except that the former take first place, and instead of snakes, the priests dance about, the leader holding a bundle of cornstalks in the mouth.

Now comes the stirring dawn race of the Snake society. The race is from a distant spring to the mesa and is full of excitement, filling one with surprise at the endurance of the runners. The winner will arrive at the kiva, breathing more freely, perhaps, than usual, but showing almost no traces of his strenuous efforts, and will wait quietly for the award of the prize. In the kiva meanwhile the priests have been enacting a drama of the Snake legend.

After a few hours, when the sun is getting low, the Antelope priests file out and after circling the plaza stand in line awaiting the Snake priests, who advance with tragic strides. They circle the plaza three times, each stamping on a plank in front of the cottonwood bower, kisi, to notify the denizens of the underworld that a ceremony in their honor is progressing. They face the Antelope chorus, the rattles tremble with a sound like the warning of the rattlesnake, and a deep, low-toned chant begins like a distant storm. The chant increases in volume, the lines sway, then undulate backward and forward, and at last, in a culminating burst of the chant, the Snake men form in groups of three and dance around the plaza with a strange step like a restrained leap. The snakes have been placed in the kisi in care of the passer hidden among the boughs. As the trios in succession arrive before the kisi the carrier drops to his knees, secures a snake which he grasps in his mouth, rises and dances around in a circular path four times, when the snake is dropped to the ground and is picked up with lightning rapidity by the third member of the trio who retains the squirming reptile in his hands. Thus these groups of demons circle until all the snakes have been carried. The chant ceases; a priest draws a cloud symbol in white meal on the rock floor of the mesa, and with wild action the gatherers throw the snakes on the meal; a fierce scramble ensues, and in a moment one sees the priests running down the trails to deposit their brothers among the rocks a mile or so away.

After all, no ceremony goes on in Hopiland without the aid of the gentler sex. While the dance has focussed the attention of every eye a group of maids and matrons, neat and clean as to hair and costume, and holding trays of sacred meal, have sprinkled the dancers and snakes as they passed by. The Antelopes take up their line, march around the plaza the required number of times, file away to their kiva, and the public dance is over. Those who wish, however, go to the mesa side to see the effects of the powerful emetic taken by the Snake priests as a purification. At Walpi, the old Snake Woman, Saalako, brews the medicine, and she knows how many black bettles must be stewed in this concoction of herbs. Last, but not least, comes the feast consumed with the appetite of youth amid general rejoicing if the August rain cumuli burst over the fields. For several days after the Snake Dance the young and not too old play jolly comes the feast consumed with the appetite of youth, childlike simplicity.