[16] Dr. J. Walter Fewkes, Expedition to Arizona in 1895, 17th Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, Part 2, Washington, 1898. C has the sound of sh.
IX
TRADITIONS AND HISTORY
When men grow old, they become, as if realizing their passing years, willing or even anxious to transfer to younger minds what they have learned. To the old men the historian of Hopi turns for information; the young men by the laws of growth live in the present. So when an old man dies there is a feeling of regret; especially when one as versed in the lore of his people as Masimptua departs, for who knows whether the pictures of his brain are impressed upon the minds of the new generation or whether they are lost forever?
Masimptua was one of the chief men of the East Mesa. His house was as large and neatly-kept as any in Sichomovi, where there is more room to build large dwellings than in circumscribed Walpi with its narrow cells. His children were grown up and married, and a number of little ones called him grandfather. Still his resting place is among the rocks on the mesa slope below the town, unmarked, as are those of his ancestors who sleep outside of the walls of the ruined cities of the Southwest. It is pleasant to remember “Masi” in his cheerful days, before warning shadow fell across his sunny spirit. In those days he was a genuine Hopi, a little boisterous, perhaps, but truly openhearted. No man in all the tribe could relate more vividly the legendary history of the old times, hence Masi stands to all who knew him as the exponent of Hopi traditions. Often summer evenings, returning from his fields he would tarry at the camp of the white people at the Sun Spring for a friendly smoke and chat. Here under the genial influences, led on by skillful questioning, he would unfold many a tale as interesting as those of an Eastern storyteller, till the sunset faded and the bright stars twinkled in the clear night sky.
One of his stories gives an idea of the happenings in Hopiland some centuries ago. At that time the people suffered from the attacks of the bands of Apache, who came out of their hunting grounds to the south in search of trouble. The trails to the mesa were closed and the Hopi went up and down the precipitous rock sides by means of a ladder which could be drawn up in time of danger. Masi could not avoid painting the prowess of the Hopi in strong colors while he described the last attack the Apache made when his grandfather was a boy. He gesticulated excitedly as though he were giving the death-blow to each of the fallen enemy that had fled before the valiant Hopi, and his hearer caught the contagion of his enthusiasm and slew with him the hated foe.
Another tradition he related was about the ancient people. Looking toward the Southwest he said, “Do you see two small peaks close together on the horizon? There is one of the houses of the sun, where he rests when he is in the west. Our people once lived in a rock town on the peak to the left. The town was called ‘Chub i o chala ki,’ ‘The house of the place of the Antelopes,’ where also there are pine trees, shrubs and flowers, grass and much water. Perhaps it was here, who knows?” said he, “that the people were almost overwhelmed by a great flood which kept rising over the plains and over the hills till it reached nearly the tops of the mountains where the ancestors were waiting in fear. When the boy and girl were thrown into the flood, then came safety, for the wrath of the earth-god was appeased and the waters went down. But the youth and maiden heroes were turned into two great stone pillars, which bear their names to this day.” (See Myths.)
This striking legend of some almost forgotten deluge related by Masi is not found alone among the Hopi, but is widespread among the Pueblos of the Southwest. Surely, there is no danger now of a flood in this dry region, but in former times as the vast levels and the beds of ancient lakes show, there must have been plenty of water. Masi’s traditions do not go into geological periods, however.
Another time, while in reminiscent mood, Masi divulged that “very, very when” ago the Peaceful People lived on the Little Colorado River near Winslow. The name of the region where several towns were scattered over an extent of fifteen miles or so was Homolobi, “the place of two views.” Here the people lived centuries before they came to the precipitous mesas of Hopiland. Later, when explorers tested the accuracy of Masi’s tradition, they found in the low mounds that mark the ruined towns of Homolobi, many wonderful relics of the people who lived there before America was even a name. So Masi was proved a reliable traditionist, and an “honisht man,” as Toby, the Tewa, says.
It is truly remarkable how the traditions and legendary lore have been carried down from ancient times among the Hopi. The moderns, who are accustomed to place reliance in recorded history, might be inclined to doubt the accuracy of oral tradition, if there were not much reason to believe otherwise. For instance, the Hopi have a number of traditions of the Spanish friars who lived in their country after the discovery by Coronado about three hundred and seventy-five years ago. An Oraibi Indian relates one of these minor traditions which might be expected to have been lost in the lapse of time but has been passed down with complete preservation of all the details.