It will be seen that this legend, collected by Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, is enacted in the ceremony just described. And the Flute priests also think they are more successful rain makers than the Snake-Antelope priests, and do not hesitate to so declare.[6]
[6] The Walpi Flute Observance, Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, Jour. Am. Folk-Lore, Vol. 7, Oct.-Dec., 1894.
In the September moon the Hopi women of five of the pueblos hold a celebration of their own, which is not the least interesting ceremony in the calendar. It is called the Lalakonti, and like the other ceremonies of this part of the year extends over nine days. Sometimes it is called the Basket Dance—from the great use made of the sacred plaques in the ceremony—a quite appropriate use, since these baskets are peculiarly the product of women’s taste and skill. The details of the kiva rites, such as paho making, the construction of a sand altar, initiation of novitiates, dispatching of messengers, songs, etc., need not be entered into, since they belong to all the ceremonies and have much in common.
On the morning of the fourth day, if one is up at the faintest dawn he may see a procession emerging from the kiva and marching single-file to deposit, with much ceremony, offerings at a shrine. At six in the evening of the eighth day a picturesque procession winds down the trail among the rocks to the sacred spring, where pahos are planted and rites performed. Then comes the stirring event, the race up the trail to the kiva. Under the supervision of an old priest an even start is made and the women run up the trail. As Hopi women in contrast with the men are stout, the chances are that a lithe, clean-limbed young girl will win the goal over her breathless sisters.
At daybreak on the ninth day the Lalakonti race is eagerly awaited by the spectators and by the Lakone maid, who stands gorgeously costumed, basket in her hand, on the trail by which the runners will come. As the dawn brightens, they may be seen, mere specks on the trail over the plain, and soon they run up the trail to the villages amid great excitement and applause for the winner. The priestesses have marched to the dance plaza, where they form a circle, and as the racers come they rush through the circle and this act of the drama is over. Later in the day comes the public dance, when the circle of priestesses, each carrying a basket plaque, again forms in the plaza and begins singing in chorus. The baskets are held in the two hands with concave side to the front, and as the song continues the women sway their bodies and raise the baskets slowly, first to one breast, then to the other, and finally bring them downward to a line with the hips. In a short time two gorgeously decorated maidens, wearing ceremonial blankets and having bundles on their backs, advance within the circle. All interest is centered in them as they untie their bundles and stand for a moment at opposite sides of the circle, holding up in their hands a basket, and then crossing back and forth and exchanging places. All at once they throw their baskets high in the air and into the crowd of young men. Then begins a titanic struggle that would put a football melee in the shade. Fiercely they wrestle, till out of the squirming, perspiring, now ragged mass emerges the lucky young man with a much damaged basket for his prize. Sometimes these struggles last a long time, but there is no slugging and no blood is spilt, and there is a great deal of jollity. This closes the Lalakonti ceremony and the celebrants return to their homes to take up their ordinary avocations. Supela is one of the two men who aid the women in the Lalakonti ceremony, and he also has an important place in the Mamzrauti ceremony, described below, of which his wife, Saalako, is the chief priestess.
The Mamzrauti ceremony, held at the October moon, is a harvest dance, and fortunate are the Hopi when they can celebrate it with joyful heart and abundant feasting. The Mamzrau resembles in many points the Lalakonti, but the differences are more important. A sand picture is made, a frame of painted slabs erected back of it, and fetiches placed around the medicine bowl and sand picture. Novices are initiated in a tedious ceremony lasting through several days, and messengers are sent to springs and shrines to deposit prayer-sticks. There are ceremonial head washings as in other ceremonies, and various secret rites are performed in the kiva. On the fourth day the final initiation of the novices takes place, and the priestesses dance around a pile of peaches on the kiva floor, and, what is more, enjoy a good feast of this prized fruit. On the sixth day a public dance is held by actors who imitate certain kachinas, and on the seventh day, just at sunset, the priestesses, some disguised as men, dance the spirited buffalo dance. On the eighth day, disguised as clowns, they parade around the pueblo and are attacked by the men who throw water none too clean and various unpleasant things upon them, and after much noise and fun, the women run home.
There is no dawn race on the morning of the ninth day, but early the priestesses have donned their costumes and assemble in the court where they dance and throw green cornstalks among the men who crowd around. Later in the day comes the concluding dance, when the celebrants, holding gaily painted slabs of wood in each hand, march into the plaza and form a horseshoe figure with the opening toward the east. From the kiva now come two women dressed as men, having bows and arrows in their hands. As they advance they throw before them a package of corn husks and shoot their arrows at it, the act representing lightning striking and fertilizing the fields. Thus they advance by stages to the circle of dancers and throw the bundle in their midst, shooting at it, then shooting two arrows in the air they return to the kiva. In a few minutes they appear again, carrying trays of dumplings of sweet corn meal which they toss one by one to the eager spectators. Then the circle of dancers disperse, but again and again throughout the day, the distributors return to dispense their offerings. At sunset, the sand pictures, fetiches, and altar slabs are removed by Saalako and the Mamzrau is over.
At night there is a serenade by two parties of men, each party singing loudly as though to drown the voices of the other. This serenade is said to be in honor of the women for their pious celebration of the Mamzrau.[7]
[7] The Mamzrauti: A Tusayan Ceremony, by J. Walter Fewkes and A. M. Stephen, American Anthropologist, Vol. 5, No. 3, July, 1892.
One of the most complicated ceremonies of the Hopi is the New Fire, which occurs in November at five of the pueblos. Every fourth year the ceremony is extended by the initiation of novices, but in ordinary years it is abbreviated. Four societies take part and these include almost every male adult in the villages, so there is no lack of performers.