Then he told them about the nakwakwosis and bahos. “If we make prayer offerings for them, they will provide rain and crops and food for us. Thus we shall assist each other.” “Very well,” they all said. “Very well; so that is the way.” And so they returned to their homes wiser than before.
And from that time, the living and the dead began to work together for the benefit of both.
—Based on a tale collected by Henry Voth in 1905.
* The tiponi usually consists of an ear of corn to which are attached feathers of different birds and pieces of turquoise and shells.
THE SKELETON WHO FELL
DOWN PIECE BY PIECE
[ISLETA PUEBLO]
This story is influenced by Spanish tales. Gold and silver were hardly known to the Pueblos and not considered particularly desirable. In fact there was no money, as the white man knew it, so that tales of buried treasure are European in origin.
There was a boy living with his mother and brothers. They all went out to different places looking for work, and that night the boy found an empty house to sleep in. He was dropping off when he heard a voice from the top of the house cry, “I’m going to fall.”
“Well, fall.”
An arm came down. “I’m going to fall!” Another arm came down. Soon the whole skeleton stood there. “You’re a brave boy! won’t you wrestle with me?” it said.
“Wrestle with a bony man like you! Well, all right.”
They wrestled together, and the boy threw down the skeleton, who said to him: “You’re a brave boy, and I am going to let you have all the riches I have here.”
So the skeleton gave the boy a candle to light so that he could go into a little room where the ghost kept his gold and silver. Then the skeleton jumped on the boy’s back and said, “You’ve got to carry me.”
“All right, I’ll carry you.”
When they came to the room, Skeleton blew out the candle. The boy said, “I want to see what your riches are,” and he lit the candle again. Just as he turned to look at the money, the dead man blew out the light. The boy got mad and pushed the skeleton down. “If you’re going to blow out the light, I’ll break your bones.”
“No, my friend, leave me alone, for I think you’re a brave boy.” When the boy relit the candle, he saw a great pile of money. Skeleton said, “I’m going to ask one thing of you, my friend. After you have gathered everything up, assemble all the poor people and give a little money to everybody. The rest will be for you.”
And the skeleton left, and the boy did as he asked, and then became a rich man.
—Based on a tale recorded by Elsie Clews Parsons.
THE SPIRIT WIFE
[ZUNI]
Here a Zuni Orpheus makes a hair-raising journey to accompany his dead wife, only to learn of the inevitability of death itself.
A young man was grieving because the beautiful young wife whom he loved was dead. As he sat at the graveside weeping, he decided to follow her to the Land of the Dead. He made many prayer sticks and sprinkled sacred corn pollen. He took a downy eagle plume and colored it with red earth color. He waited until nightfall, when the spirit of his departed wife came out of the grave and sat beside him. She was not sad, but smiling. The spirit-maiden told her husband: “I am just leaving one life for another. Therefore do not weep for me.”
“I cannot let you go,” said the young man, “I love you so much that I will go with you to the land of the dead.”
The spirit-wife tried to dissuade him, but could not overcome his determination. So at last she gave in to his wishes, saying: “If you must follow me, know that I shall be invisible to you as long as the sun shines. You must tie this red eagle plume to my hair. It will be visible in daylight, and if you want to come with me, you must follow the plume.”
The young husband tied the red plume to his spirit-wife’s hair, and at daybreak, as the sun slowly began to light up the world, bathing the mountaintops in a pale pink light, the spirit-wife started to fade from his view. The lighter it became, the more the form of his wife dissolved and grew transparent, until at last it vanished altogether. But the red plume did not disappear. It waved before the young man, a mere arms-length away, and then, as if rising and falling on a dancer’s head, began leading the way out of the village, moving through the streets out into the cornfields, moving through a shallow stream, moving into the foothills of the mountains, leading the young husband ever westward toward the land of the evening.
The red plume moved swiftly, evenly, floating without effort over the roughest trails, and soon the young man had trouble following it. He grew tireder and tireder and finally was totally exhausted as the plume left him farther behind. Then he called out, panting: “Beloved wife, wait for me. I can’t run any longer.”
The red plume stopped, waiting for him to catch up, and when he did so, hastened on. For many days the young man traveled, following the plume by day, resting during the nights, when his spirit-bride would sometimes appear to him, speaking encouraging words. Most of the time, however, he was merely aware of her presence in some mysterious way. Day by day the trail became rougher and rougher. The days were long, the nights short, and the young man grew wearier and wearier, until at last he had hardly enough strength to set one foot before the other.
One day the trail led to a deep, almost bottomless chasm, and as the husband came to its edge, the red plume began to float away from him into nothingness. He reached out to seize it, but the plume was already beyond his reach, floating straight across the canyon, because spirits can fly through the air.
The young man called across the chasm: “Dear wife of mine, I love you. Wait!”
He tried to descend one side of the canyon, hoping to climb up the opposite side, but the rock walls were sheer, with nothing to hold onto. Soon he found himself on a ledge barely wider than a thumb, from which he could go neither forward nor back. It seemed that he must fall into the abyss and be dashed into pieces. His foot had already begun to slip, when a tiny striped squirrel scooted up the cliff, chattering: “You young fool, do you think you have the wings of a bird or the feet of a spirit? Hold on for just a little while and I’ll help you.” The little creature reached into its cheek pouch and brought out a little seed, which it moistened with saliva and stuck into a crack in the wall. With his tiny feet the squirrel danced above the crack, singing: “Tsithl, tsithl, tsithl, tall stalk, tall stalk, tall stalk, sprout, sprout quickly.” Out of the crack sprouted a long, slender stalk, growing quickly in length and breadth, sprouting leaves and tendrils, spanning the chasm so that the young man could cross over without any trouble.
On the other side of the canyon, the young man found the red plume waiting, dancing before him as ever. Again he followed it at a pace so fast that it often seemed that his heart would burst. At last the plume led him to a large, dark, deep lake, and the plume plunged into the water to disappear below the surface. Then the husband knew that the spirit land lay at the bottom of the lake. He was in despair because he could not follow the plume into the deep. In vain did he call for his spirit-wife to come back. The surface of the lake remained undisturbed and unruffled like a sheet of mica. Not even at night did his spirit-wife reappear. The lake, the land of the dead, had swallowed her up. As the sun rose above the mountains, the young man buried his face in his hands and wept.
Then he heard someone gently calling: “Hu-hu-hu,” and felt the soft beating of wings on his back and shoulders. He looked up and saw an owl hovering above him. The owl said: “Young man, why are you weeping?”
He pointed to the lake, saying: “My beloved wife is down there in the land of the dead, where I cannot follow her.”
“I know, poor man,” said the owl. “Follow me to my house in the mountains, where I will tell you what to do. If you follow my advice, all will be well and you will be reunited with the one you love.”
The owl led the husband to a cave in the mountains and, as they entered, the young man found himself in a large room full of owl-men
and owl-women. The owls greeted him warmly, inviting him to sit down and rest, to eat and drink. Gratefully he took his seat.
The old owl who had brought him took his owl clothing off, hanging it on an antler jutting out from the wall, and revealed himself as a manlike spirit. From a bundle in the wall this mysterious being took a small bag, showing it to the young man, telling him: “I will give this to you, but first I must instruct you in what you must do and must not do.”
The young man eagerly stretched out his hand to grasp the medicine bag, but the owl drew back. “Foolish fellow, suffering from the impatience of youth! If you cannot curb your eagerness and your youthful desires, then even this medicine will be of no help to you.”
“I promise to be patient,” said the husband.
“Well then,” said the owl-man,” this is sleep medicine. It will make you fall into a deep sleep and transport you to some other place. When you awake, you will walk toward the Morning Star. Following the trail to the middle anthill, you will find your spirit-wife there. As the sun rises, so she will rise and smile at you, rise in the flesh, a spirit no more, and so you will live happily.
“But remember to be patient; remember to curb your eagerness. Let not your desire to touch and embrace her get the better of you, for if you touch her before bringing her safely home to the village of your birth, she will be lost to you forever.”
Having finished this speech, the old owl-man blew some of the medicine on the young husband’s face, who instantly fell into a deep sleep. Then all the strange owl-men put on their owl coats and, lifting the sleeper, flew with him to a place at the beginning of the trail to the middle anthill. There they laid him down underneath some trees.
Then the strange owl-beings flew on to the big lake at the bottom of which the land of the dead was located. The old owl-man’s magic sleep-medicine, and the feathered prayer sticks which the young man had carved, enabled them to dive down to the bottom of the lake and enter the land of the dead. Once inside, they used the sleep medicine to put to sleep the spirits who are in charge of that strange land beneath the waters. The owl-beings reverently laid their feathered prayer sticks before the altar of that netherworld, took up the beautiful young spirit-wife, and lifted her gently to the surface of the lake. Then, taking her upon their wings, they flew with her to the place where the young husband was sleeping.
When the husband awoke, he saw first the Morning Star, then the middle anthill, and then his wife at his side, still in deep slumber. Then she too awoke and opened her eyes wide, at first not knowing where she was or what had happened to her. When she discovered her lover right by her side, she smiled at him, saying: “Truly, your love for me is strong, stronger than love has ever been, otherwise we would not be here.”
They got up and began to walk toward the pueblo of their birth. The young man did not forget the advice the old owl-man had given him, especially the warning to be patient and shun all desire until they had safely arrived at their home. In that way they traveled for four days, and all was well.
On the fourth day they arrived at Thunder Mountain and came to the river that flows by Salt Town. Then the young wife said: “My husband, I am very tired. The journey has been long and the days hot. Let me rest here awhile, let me sleep a while, and then, refreshed, we can walk the last short distance home together.” And her husband said: “We will do as you say.”
The wife lay down and fell asleep. As her lover was watching over her, gazing at her loveliness, desire so strong that he could not resist it overcame him, and he stretched out his hand and touched her.
She awoke instantly with a start, and, looking at him and at his hand upon her body, began to weep, the tears streaming down her face. At last she said: “You loved me, but you did not love me enough; otherwise you would have waited. Now I shall die again.” And before his eyes her form faded and became transparent, and at the place where she had rested a few moments before, there was nothing. On a branch of a tree above him the old owl-man hooted mournfully: “Shame, shame, shame.” Then the young man sank down in despair, burying his face in his hands, and ever after his mind wandered as his eyes stared vacantly.
If the young lover had controlled his desire, if he had not longed to embrace his beautiful wife, if he had not touched her, if he had practiced patience and self-denial for only a short time, then death would have been overcome. There would be no journeying to the land below the lake, and no mourning for others lost.
But then, if there were no death, men would crowd each other with more people on this earth than the earth can hold. Then there would be hunger and war, with people fighting over a tiny patch of earth, over an ear of corn, over a scrap of meat. So maybe what happened was for the best.
—Retold from a nineteenth-century version.
THE TRANSFORMED
GRANDMOTHER
[PIMA-PAPAGO]
An old woman lived with her two grandchildren in a lonely place near a high, steep mountain.
One day she told the children that a plant which the Indians use for food grows on the mountains, and that she had made up her mind to gather some of it.
She started toward the mountain nearby, and when she got to the foot of it, she could not see the top. Yet she was determined to climb it. She took her cane in one hand, and, singing her song, began to clamber up. She grew weary, sat down, and looked up, but the top did not seem any nearer. She began climbing again.
She had to rest many times before she could even see the summit, and it was evening before she arrived there. She had suffered all the way, and her feet were bleeding from rocks and thorns.
At last, however, she stood before the plant itself and began pulling it out of the ground. But she pulled it too hard, and away she rolled down the mountainside, the plant with her.
Great stones and rocks rolled over her before her body reached the bottom. She was killed on the way, but it was said that the bones picked themselves up and started toward home, singing a song.
In the meantime the children had begun to feel anxious for her. As they sat around the little fire they had built, they heard someone singing or talking far away. Nearer and nearer the sound came, and the younger one asked what was making the noise. The older one recognized the voice of her grandmother, but knew from its strangeness that her grandmother was no longer living. She told the younger one that they must go into the house and close the doorway with a “mine,” a kind of blanket that is made from a weed woven like a basket.
They went inside and held the mine over the door, so that the woman might not enter. At last she came and ran around the house many times, singing as she ran. The children wondered what they would do if she should break through the door. The girl said she would turn into a blue stone, and her little brother said he would turn into a stick burning at one end. So they dropped the mine they held in their hands, and when the woman entered, there was nobody to be seen—only the blue stone and the burning stick. She stood calling, but no answer came.
—Based on a tale collected by Lucy Howard.
BIG EATER’S WIFE
[PEQUOD]
Big Eater ate and ate. He never stopped eating. He had his wigwam and two canoes on an island close to the mainland shore. Big Eater was powerful, but sometimes an evil ghost woman can defeat the most powerful man.
One day Big Eater was looking across the water, and there on the opposite shore he saw a beautiful young woman digging clams. How could he know that she was a ghost-witch? He hailed her across the water: “Beautiful girl, come live with me. Sleep with me!”
“No,” she said. “Yes—No. Yes. No. Yes, yes, yes! Well, all right.”
Big Eater got in one of his two canoes and paddled over. The woman was even more beautiful close up. “All right, pretty one, step into the canoe.”
“Yes, but first I must get my things.” Soon the girl came back with a mortar and pestle and some eggs. She put them in the canoe, and Big Eater paddled her over.
They ate. The beautiful woman s
aid: “Oh my, what great heaps of food you can eat!” “Yes, I’m powerful that way.” They went to bed. “Oh my, how often you can do it!” “Yes, I’m powerful that way.” “You sure are.” So they lived happily for a long time.
But after a while this girl got tired of Big Eater. She thought, “He’s fat, he’s not young. I want a change; I want to have a young, slim man loving me. I’ll leave.”
So when Big Eater went out fishing in one of his canoes, the girl made a doll, a large doll, large as a grown woman. She placed the doll in her bed, took her mortar, pestle, and eggs, put them in Big Eater’s second canoe, and paddled off.
Big Eater came home early from fishing. Thinking it was his wife he was climbing in with, he got into bed. He touched the doll, and the doll began to scream and shriek. “Wife,” he said, “stop this big noise or I’m going to beat you.” Then he saw that it was a doll lying in bed with him.
Big Eater jumped up and looked around. The mortar and pestle and eggs were gone. He ran down to the shore, got into the remaining canoe, and paddled furiously after his wife.
Soon he saw her, also paddling hard. But he was stronger than she and pulled closer and closer. He drew up behind her canoe until both almost touched. “Now I’ll catch her,” he thought.
Then the woman threw her mortar out of the canoe over the stern. At once all the water around him turned into mortars, and Big Eater was stuck. He couldn’t paddle until at last he lifted his canoe and carried it over the mortars. By the time he gained clear water again, his wife was a long way off.
Again he paddled furiously. Again he gained on her. Again he almost caught her. Then she threw her pestle out over the stern, and at once the water turned into pestles. Again Big Eater was stuck, trying to paddle through this sea of pestles but unable to. He had to carry his canoe over them, and when he hit open water again, his wife was far distant.
AMERICAN INDIAN MYTHS AND LEGENDS Page 52