Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song [1 ed.] 9780803276017, 9780803246157

Citation preview

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest Ebook

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Sky Loom

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Native Literatures of the Americas

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Sky Loom

Native American Myth, Story, and Song Edited and with an introduction by Brian Swann

UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA PRESS | LINCOLN AND LONDON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

© 2014 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska. Acknowledgments for the use of copyrighted material appear on pages 531–32, which constitute an extension of the copyright page. All rights reserved. Manufactured in the United States of America  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Sky loom: Native American myth, story, and song / edited and with an introduction by Brian Swann. pages cm.—(Native literatures of the Americas) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978- 0-8032- 4615-7 (pbk.: alk. paper) ISBN 978- 0-8032-7601-7 (pdf ) 1. Folk literature, Indian—North America. 2. Indians of North America—Folklore. 3. Indian mythology—North America. 4. Tales—North America. 5. Legends— North America. I. Swann, Brian, editor. E98.F6S55 2014 398.2089'97—dc23 2014019777

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Set in Charis by Renni Johnson. Designed by A. Shahan.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Mother Earth

Father Sky we are your children

With tired backs we bring you gifts you love

Then weave for us a garment of brightness, its warp the white light of morning, weft the red light of evening, fringes the falling rain, its border the standing rainbow. Thus weave for us a garment of brightness so we may walk fittingly where birds sing, so we may walk fittingly where grass is green. Father Sky

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Mother Earth

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Contents IN T RODUC T ION

xi

F ROM Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature Stone Boy: Persistent Hero (Lakota)

3

ELAINE JAHNER

F ROM On the Translation of Native American Literatures Oolachan-Woman’s Robe: Fish, Blankets, Masks, and Meaning in Boas’s Kwakw’ala Texts (Kwakw’ala/Kwakiutl)

27

JUDITH BERMAN

Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts (Lakota)

73

JULIAN RICE

F ROM Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals (Yupik)

97

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ANN FIENUP- RIORDAN AND MARIE MEADE

The Girl Who Married the Bear (Tagish/Tlingit)

113

CATHARINE MCCLELLAN, MARIA JOHNS, AND DORA AUSTIN WEDGE

John Sky’s “One They Gave Away” (Haida)

126

ROBERT BRINGHURST

The Sun’s Myth (Cathlamet Chinook)

151

DELL HYMES

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life (Kalapuya) DELL HYMES

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

163

Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There (Clackamas Chinook)

184

DELL HYMES

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance (Wind River Shoshone)

188

JUDITH VANDER

Running the Deer (Yaqui)

204

LARRY EVERS AND FELIPE S. MOLINA

Pima Oriole Songs (Pima)

224

DONALD BAHR AND VINCENT JOSEPH

Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song (Navajo)

246

DAVID P. MCALLESTER

Two Stories from the Yana (Yana)

257

HERBERT W. LUTHIN

F ROM Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America Raven Stories (Tlingit)

279

NORA MARKS DAUENHAUER AND RICHARD DAUENHAUER

He Became an Eagle (Western Apache)

294

M. ELEANOR NEVINS AND THOMAS J. NEVINS

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni (Navajo)

316

PAUL G. ZOLBROD

Red Swan (Menominee)

330

MONICA MACAULAY AND MARIANNE MILLIGAN

The Birth of Nenabozho (Ojibwe)

349

RAND VALENTINE

Umâyichîs (Naskapi) JULIE BRITTAIN AND MARGUERITE MACKENZIE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

379

F ROM Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America The Delaware Creation Story (Munsee)

401

JOHN BIERHORST

A Pair of Hero Stories (Eastern Cree)

410

SUSAN M. PRESTON

Winter Stories (Meskwaki/Fox)

426

IVES GODDARD

Pine Root (Plains Cree)

476

STAN CUTHAND

Ghost Dance Songs (Arapaho)

492

JEFFREY D. ANDERSON

F ROM Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories Star Husband: Two Brothers’ Versions of a Traditional Skokomish-Twana Story (Skokomish-Twana)

519

WILLIAM W. ELMENDORF AND STEVEN M. EGESDAL

531

CONTRIBUTORS

533

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

S OU RC E ACK NOW L E D G M E N T S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Introduction This book represents the high point of my interest in and passion for the stories, myths, legends, songs, and cultures of the Native peoples of North America, an interest that blossomed a number of years ago when I came across old volumes published by such organizations as the Canadian Ethnology Service and the Bureau of American Ethnology. Here I found treasures I hadn’t known existed, stories that still resonate with me, such as the Kwakiutl “Mink’s Journey,” collected by Franz Boas, the Quileute “Star Husbands,” collected by Manuel J. Andrade, and the Menomini “The Hunter,” collected by Leonard Bloomfield.1 I was absorbed in these stories, even though the translations were, more often than not, in the prevalent mode of the time, syllable-by-syllable redactions or presented with other less-than-felicitous methods. The aim was not “art” but the recovery and saving from decay or obliteration in the mode of “salvage anthropology,” and yet their power and beauty still came through. At the same time, I decided to see what contemporary versions of this literature existed and found some in the work of poets such as W. S. Merwin, Gary Snyder, David Wagoner, and Jerome Rothenberg, but they could not be called “translations.”2 Rothenberg, for instance, was using the material for his own poetry in Technicians of the Sacred and Shaking the Pumpkin.3 He was, he said, attracted to the stories and songs “as a poet, not a scholar.”4 In addition, easily accessible and easily digested anthologies such as William Brandon’s The Magic World: American Indian Songs and Poems and American Indian Myths and Legends, selected and edited by Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz, were available.5 However, with the serious study of Native American literature in the 1970s and 1980s, including the growth of “ethnopoetics,” Brandon’s book soon came under fire, as did the Erdoes and Ortiz volume.6 Dell Hymes, for example, wrote that the latter “tacitly assumes that the enjoyment of Indian stories has nothing to do with scholarship and literature.”7 There is no contextualizing and little indication of where the texts come from, how they were obtained, or what principles of translation were used. Phrases such as “based on a story,” “retold from three nineteenth- century sources,” “based on a legend,” or “based on four fragments” abound.8 Things progress blithely, as if the very notion of Native

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

xi

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

American translation itself were not infused with all sorts of questions and problems.9 Stories are “retold . . . to restore them to a more authentic and less stilted form,” writes Erdoes.10 But since he knows none of the languages of the stories he “retells,” how can his “translation” be “authentic”? Little effort is required of the reader; everything is digested. Cultures exist in a vacuum, and a clichéd worldview is portrayed, full of “the rhythms of the natural world,” “Indian time,” “nurturing womb of mythology,” and so on.11 From the beginning, I intended my work to provide readers with a rewarding alternative to this anthology in particular, a desire culminating in the present volume. I wanted accurate, attractive, and authentic translations by people specializing in the language and culture under attention. I wanted readers to see these stories and songs as literature, as “art.” In 1983 the University of California Press published Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature, and in 1987 the same press brought out Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature, which I edited with Arnold Krupat. In 1992 On the Translation of Native American Literatures appeared from the Smithsonian Institution Press. These volumes consisted mostly of essays, with some translations, but in 1994 Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America consisted entirely of translations, using a format I carried over into future volumes: an introduction that contextualized and discussed the work being translated, followed by the translation itself, and then a “Suggested Reading” list, which I included because I always conceived of these volumes as useful for readers who wanted to continue their journey into this wonderful literature.12 In 2004 Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America appeared and a year later Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America was published.13 About the same time I became editor of the University of Nebraska Press’s Native Literatures of the Americas series, which has a number of volumes in print and will soon publish its first volume from south of the border, Suzanne Cook’s “Xult’an: The End of the World, Translations from the Lacandon Maya.” To represent the series, I have included work in these pages from Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories (2008), edited by M. Terry Thompson and Steven M. Egesdal. The present volume is intended as a state-of-the-art collection in one volume of contemporary translations of American Indian literature, intended both for those who may be familiar with the material and those who may not be. I have attempted to select for excellence from books I have edited, showcasing Native American translation at its most vibrant in the hands of xii SWA N N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

expert linguists and anthropologists who are also distinguished translators, demonstrating the intricacies and beauties of story and song, and placing them in cultural, historical, and linguistic contexts and frameworks. Unfortunately, while I have attempted to choose works I regard as the best of the best, there are many other excellent translations I would have included if only I’d had the room. As far as possible, I tried to balance the translations from each volume, at the same time providing as wide a cultural and linguistic spectrum as I could. But there are many omissions I regret. For example, from Coming to Light I would have liked to include the Inupiaq “Two Stories from Tikigak” (3–14) by Tom Lowenstein and Tukummia and the Yupik “Two Tellings of the Story of Uterneq: The Woman Who Returned from the Dead,” by Phyllis Morrow and Elsie Mather (37– 56), as well as the Tillamook epic “South Wind’s Journey,” by Douglas E. Deur and M. Terry Thompson, from Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories (30– 60), but at almost sixty pages it was simply too long. I can only suggest that, after reading the present volume of selections, the reader should read all the books I have drawn from! Translations will link to others and a larger sense of the stories will be obtained. For instance, while I have included here Ives Goddard’s translations of the Meskwaki “Winter Stories” from Algonquian Spirit (320– 67), I would also suggest that the reader enjoy another set of Meskwaki “Winter Stories” from the same volume, translated by Lucy G. Thomason (368– 410). Likewise, after reading in the present volume Rand Valentine’s “The Birth of Nenabozho,” it would be a good idea to turn to Algonquian Spirit for his “The Origin of War” (170–84), both stories having been told by the same man, Waasaagoneshkang, as part of the same mythological suite, as well as Ridie Wilson Ghezzi’s “Nanabush Stories from the Ojibwe” in Coming to Light (443– 63). Also, in this vein, mention of Nanabush leads me to the suggestion that many themes and motifs can be traced in and across the volumes I’ve drawn from. For example, a rich understanding of the ubiquitous, complex, manyand misleadingly named “Trickster,” that union of what the West regards as contraries, can be obtained by the reader taking off from the Trickster’s appearance in the present volume and following him in his various forms through the pages of Smoothing the Ground, where he is the Comanche Coyote as well as the Clackamas Chinook Coyote, through Recovering the Word, where he appears as the Upper Chehalis Blue Jay, Hopi Coyote, and Navajo Coyote, to Coming to Light, where he is Wolverine, the Innu Trickster, and the Kalapuya Coyote, as well as the Colville Blue Jay, the Delaware Trickster, the Ojibwe Nanabush, the Passamaquoddy “Devil,” and the Navajo Introduction xiii

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Coyote (who features twice). In Voices from Four Directions we have the Tlingit Raven, the Lushootseed Coyote, the Yucki trickster, and the Lake Miwok Coyote, as well as a personal encounter with Coyote by the Navajo poet Rex Lee Jim. Finally, in Algonquian Spirit we find the Naskapi Wolverine and the Shawnee Trickster. A whole anthology could be compiled from just these Trickster stories. Finally, a word or two on this book’s title, which is derived from “Song of the Sky Loom,” in Herbert J. Spinden’s Songs of the Tewa:14 Mother Earth

Father Sky we are your children

With tired backs we bring you gifts you love

Then weave for us a garment of brightness, its warp the white light of morning, weft the red light of evening, fringes the falling rain, its border the standing rainbow. Thus weave for us a garment of brightness so we may walk fittingly where birds sing, so we may walk fittingly where grass is green.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Mother Earth

Father Sky

Spinden doesn’t cite singer, ceremony, or provenance for this song, though it is placed between others from Nambe and San Juan, two of the six Tewa villages north of Santa Fe. In a note, Spinden says that the sky loom refers to small desert rains that resemble a loom hung from the sky, and “the symbolic decoration on the white cotton mantle, once the regular dress but now put to ceremonial use, is in accordance with this chant or prayer for wellbeing.”15 In a review of the third printing of Songs of the Tewa in 1993 by Sunstone Press, the Tewa reviewer Tito Naranjo says that “the song and its poetic words best illustrate the traditional Tewa person’s daily philosophy and quest, ‘gi woatsi tuenji,’ or ‘we are seeking life.’”16 The theme of reciprocity and balance embodied in this song is a basic organizing principle of traditional Native American societies, from the relaxiv SWA N N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

tionship of respect between hunter and hunted implying mutual obligation to the land ethos, a dynamic of renewed mutual obligation, “gift-giving” rather than a final, alienating “sale.” Of more direct relevance in the context of the sky loom, when a Pueblo person participates in a rain dance, it is not to ask help from the sky, writes Barre Toelken. He or she is “doing something which they characterize as a hemisphere which is brought together in conjunction with another hemisphere; it is participation in a kind of interaction,” which Toelken characterizes as “sacred reciprocation.”17 This sense of dynamic interrelated wholeness is the reason I chose Sky Loom for my book’s title. In conclusion, I would like to thank Matthew Bokovoy, senior acquisitions editor, Native American and indigenous studies, at the University of Nebraska Press for initiating this volume and for his expert help through its many phases. I would like to dedicate it, in memoriam, to my friends and distinguished colleagues Knut Bergsland, William Bright, Dell Hymes, Elaine Jahner, M. Dale Kinkaid, Karl Kroeber, David McAllester, Catherine McClellan, Alfonso Ortiz, Blair Rudes, and William Shipley.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. “Mink’s Journey” is in Franz Boas, ed., Kwakiutl Tales, Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 2 (New York, 1910). A version of this story, Dell Hymes’s Cathlamet Chinook “The Sun’s Myth,” can he read in the present volume. “The Star Husbands” is in Manuel J. Andrade, ed., Quileute Texts (New York: Columbia University Press, 1931). Again, a version of this widespread story, William Elmendorf and Steven Egesdal’s Skokomish-Twana “Star Husbands,” is presented here. “The Hunter” is in Leonard Bloomfield, Menomini Texts, Publications of the American Ethnological Society, vol. 12 (New York, 1928). Other stories that captivated me include the following, which I include here in the hope not only that others will seek them out to enjoy but that people with the necessary linguistic, anthropological, and translation skills will revisit and make them, and many others that deserve attention, more accessible and available for a wider audience (see also page xli of Coming to Light, where I list a number of publications in which many stories can be found): “The Giantess and the Two Fawns,” in John P. Harrington, Picuris Children’s Stories, Bureau of American Ethnology, 43rd Annual Report (Washington DC, 1925–26); “The Year Mouse,” in John W. Chapman, Ten’a Texts and Tales, Publications of the American Ethnological Society, vol. 6 (Leyden: Brill, 1914); “The Hunter Who Had an Elk for a Guardian Spirit,” in The Collected Works of Edward Sapir, vol. 8, ed. Victor Golla (Berlin: Mouton, 1990), originally in Edward Sapir, Wishram Texts (Leyden: Brill, 1909). For a discussion of the latter myth “not just as an ethnological vehicle, but as a structured and textured

Introduction xv

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

script of a story—as an imaginatively unified structure,” see Jarold Ramsey, “‘The Hunter Who Had an Elk for a Guardian Spirit’ and the Ecological Imagination,” in Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature, edited by Brian Swann (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 309–22. 2. About this time I began my own “versions,” which I took care not to term “translations.” They are poems, though I tried to stay as close as I could to my sources, supplying notes and sometimes the original songs I had worked with in Song of the Sky: Versions of Native American Songs and Poems (Ashuelot NH: Four Zoas Night House, 1985; revised and expanded edition, Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1993) and in Wearing the Morning Star: Native American SongPoems (New York: Random House, 1996; revised and expanded edition, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005). 3. Jerome Rothenberg, Technicians of the Sacred (New York: Doubleday, 1969); Rothenberg, Shaking the Pumpkin (New York: Doubleday, 1972). 4. Jerome Rothenberg, “We Explain Nothing, We Believe Nothing,” in Swann, ed., On the Translation of Native American Literatures (Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 65. This essay was in part a response to William Clements’s “Faking the Pumpkin: On Jerome Rothenburg’s Literary Offenses,” Western American Literature 16 (1981): 193–204. 5. William Brandon, The Magic World: American Indian Songs and Poems (New York: William Morrow, 1971); Richard Erdoes and Alfonso Ortiz, eds., American Indian Myths and Legends (New York: Pantheon, 1984). 6. One essay critical of Brandon’s book, often cited, is William Bevis, “American Indian Verse Translations,” in College English 35 (March 1974): 693–703. Ethnopoetics is a way of analyzing and presenting oral literature. Dell Hymes and Dennis Tedlock are its major proponents, the former working with Native American texts while the latter works with performances. Hymes looks for organization via patterning (e.g., structural particles and number patterns), treating them as integral to the meaning of the story or song. His translations look like dramas or poems. Tedlock, on the other hand, uses tape recordings to recover voices and patterns of the original performance. When he translates the material to print he vivifies the page, making it gestural with typographical devices. See Hymes, “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays on Native American Ethnopoetics (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981), and Tedlock, The Spoken Word and the Work of Interpretation (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1983). 7. Dell Hymes, “Anthologies and Narrators,” in Brian Swann and Arnold Krupat, eds., Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 43. A more stringent assessment is provided by William M. Clements in Native American Verbal Art: Texts and Contexts (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996), 180–98. In passing, it might be noted that the Erdoes and Ortiz book seems to be almost entirely Erdoes’s work, despite containing seven stories from his native Tewa provided by the distinguished scholar Alfonso Ortiz, who once told me he had little else to do with this book. (On my

xvi SWA N N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

uncorrected proofs review copy his name is literally stuck on with a white piece of paper under Erdoes’s name.) 8. These phrases, plucked at random, are on pages 18, 21, and 30. I am assuming from its style and content that Erdoes wrote the introduction (see note 7). 9. My Born in the Blood: On Native American Translation (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2011) attempts to address some of these topics. 10. Erdoes and Ortiz, American Indian Myths and Legends, xv. 11. Erdoes and Ortiz, American Indian Myths and Legends, xi. 12. Brian Swann, ed., Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America (New York: Random House, 1994; Vintage paperback, 1996). 13. Brian Swann, ed., Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2004); Swann, ed., Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005). 14. Herbert J. Spinden, Songs of the Tewa (New York: Exposition of Indian Tribal Arts, 1933). The song quoted here is my “concrete” arrangement of Spinden’s translation (see my Wearing the Morning Star, 82). 15. Spinden, Songs of the Tewa, 62. 16. Tito Naranjo, review of Songs of the Tewa, edited by Herbert J. Spinden, American Indian Quarterly (Summer 1974): 426. 17. Barre Toelken, “Seeing With a Native Eye: How Many Sheep Will It Hold?,” in Walter Capps, ed., Seeing With a Native Eye: Essays on Native American Religion (New York: Harper and Row, 1976).

Introduction xvii

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Sky Loom

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Stone Boy Persistent Hero

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EL AIN E JA H NE R

Heroes, by their very definition, require somewhat more than the usual human force of character and they display it in wonderfully extravagant gestures. But if they are to have any real staying power through generations of human thought, their exploits must strike some sparks from the flints of home, hearth, and dear mundane routine. Among the Lakota Sioux people, Stone Boy (along with the ever-vital Trickster figure Iktomi) maintains his space-age identity with all the rakish good humor and protective force that he had in ancient mythic times. In the story of Stone Boy, the links between its images and basic cultural resources have uniquely Lakota features, but the energies generated by these bonds are universal and have intense imaginative power. Showing how the particular opens out into the general is the scholar’s task. It involves marshaling every available bit of ethnographic, linguistic, and aesthetic information that might help explain the reality of a text. As we sense the range of possibilities in any given tale and realize that actual narrators shared our intuitions about the power of some of the images, we are developing a finely tuned appreciation for an art almost totally neglected among American people until recently.1 In the process, of course, we gain a different sense of the people who developed such works. Surely both our gains are argument enough for pursuing even a partial understanding of an elusive art form. As more and more people join the effort, we may be able to bring together the elements of a poetics of tribal folktales. This paper is one step in the direction of such a poetics and a plea for communal efforts to go beyond the point lone scholars can hope to reach. The Lakota story of Stone Boy has immense possibilities as a starting point for studying the poetics of the folktale. It is still told today so we have a good sense of what elements have survived through time and radical culture change. Furthermore, we have reliable Lakota texts collected between 1897 and 1975 so we can trace some of the ties the story once had to a cul-

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

3

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ture now past.2 We also have a unique version of the story that seems to be the mythic relative of the more commonly told and collected ohunkaka, or fictionalized accounts. The collection of available Stone Boy texts could easily be the basis for a monograph that would show that heroes with wit and good faith can survive even the most deplorable human machinations. One theme is particularly accessible to modern audiences. In fact, its major manifestation is so inescapably obvious that in choosing it, one can at least start with certainty on a journey of interpretation. The meaning of boundaries—the dynamic interplay between inside and outside, security and danger, risk and continuity—is the theme that shapes the one episode surviving in most contemporary narrations. According to many tellers, Stone Boy went sledding one day in winter with some young buffalo. He coasts behind the children and arranges to slide right over the top of their sleds. Naturally, since he is made of stone, he kills the buffalo children. Some time later, he hears an old buffalo sharpening his horns. Not admitting his identity, he asks the old buffalo what he is planning and learns that the entire buffalo nation is mobilizing to attack him. His response is to build an impenetrable boundary around his home. He tells his family to prepare at least one, sometimes four walls around the home. Then he sits on one of them and watches with glee while the buffalo try but fail to break them down. Older, Lakota-language versions are longer and more complex than any modern versions I know. Prereservation tales clearly relate to the peoples’ many feelings about the buffalo. Today, with the buffalo culture a beloved memory, the beast seems an anomalous enemy. Indeed, his role is remarkably diminished in Kate Blue Thunder’s 1975 version.3 Kate does not even include the well-known sledding incident. She stresses Stone Boy’s canny intelligence as the motive for the attack on his home. “Well, he was smart. So they wanted to kill him cause he was smart and he could do everything. This boy he turned into stone. They say he could talk, you know. So he knew what was coming. So he had them build him a high wall, stone, rock, where he sits, where he lives, a stone wall around him where he lives.” Kate goes on to point out that the buffalo leader is mean. The buffalo seem thinly disguised American troopers or bureaucrats. What is important in this version is that Stone Boy creates a haven of safety “where he lives.” One other stylistic feature of her version is important because it occurs in every extant version of the story no matter how old or new. The buffalo attack when a certain kind of cloud appears in the sky. References to the clouds vary. Sometimes they are dark yellow, sometimes brown; but always 4 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

they presage the beginning of a ferocious plains winter blizzard. In a culture where people counted their ages by the number of winters survived, this detail is important. Time and seasons are boundaries too, and movement through time is comparable to movement through space. The buffalo attack when Stone Boy’s people are most vulnerable, beset by danger from the elements as well as from outside forces. The time when a storm is about to begin is a kind of transitional zone, a time of preparation for the challenge of surviving the blizzard. Even with technology, few people in the northern plains feel secure in a raging storm. The story of Stone Boy is always and truly a winter’s tale bringing into play powerful and resonant images of security and its opposite. One reason for the power of these images is that stone, or inyan, has meanings that echo throughout all of Lakota life. It is not conceived as inert substance, but as moving yet unyieldingly persistent power. When explaining the meaning of stone to Frances Densmore, Chasedby-Bears chose an image that directly links stones and the sense of protection that comes from a well-guarded dwelling: “The outline of the stone is round, having no end and no beginning; like the power of the stone, it is endless. The stone is perfect of its kind and is the work of nature, no artificial means being used in shaping it. Outwardly it is not beautiful, but its structure is solid, like a solid house in which one may safely dwell. It is not composed of many substances, but is of one substance, which is genuine and not an imitation of anything else.”4 Stone Boy is living stone; and, as Densmore and almost all other reliable commentators on Lakota culture note, there is a close bond between stone and Takuskanskan, or the primal energy. Takuskanskan is often translated as “Something-In-Movement.” Brave Buffalo, also speaking to Densmore, said, “In all my life, I have been faithful to the sacred stones. I have lived according to their requirements and they have helped me in all my troubles.”5 This background of meaning for stone is part of what gives the story its force and endurance. In prereservation times, the story had many more elements than we usually find now and they were intertwined in elaborate ways that we perceive best by studying the Lakota-language versions. Fortunately we have a reliable text written by George Sword, somewhere around 1900. Sword was bilingual and claimed that the younger Lakotas no longer understood his form of the language. Some of the linguistic matters that he insisted on preserving in the tale give us important clues as to how the story’s segments of meaning functioned and related to each other. This version, and almost all other older versions, begins by mentioning that four brothers live alone. We have the nucleus of a band, the basic unit Stone Boy 5

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of Lakota society. Theirs is an organized life where rules and obligations of kinship are keenly observed and the brothers feel their lack of a sister. Then a woman comes; she arrives and she stands. For the non-Indian reading the story or just skimming the plot, this may not seem a particularly emphatic point or one generating any kind of suspense. But Sword clearly saw this as an important event. When he saw the written version of the story, he objected to combining the notions of arriving and standing into one word, hinazin.6 He complained that only young people, influenced by white teachers, thought it one word and he insisted that its separation into two was very important, since the two ideas of arriving and standing had to be separate. I do not believe that Sword was just quibbling about a linguistic issue. I believe that he was responding to an important artistic point in the story. The concept of arriving outside the brothers’ home and that of just standing until invited in each carried separate connotative meaning for him. The women arrived. Lakota verbs of movement exhibit many identifiable differences from the English patterns in that they mark the nature of point-to-point movement very precisely. The Lakota verb used for the woman’s arrival is hi, a verb difficult to explain to English speakers. Ella Deloria translates it as “to arrive coming.”7 It implies an end to a predetermined journey, hence the “coming.” Eugene Buechel is a bit clearer in his explanation. He says that it means arrival at a place not one’s own, with the fact mentioned at that place.8 Generally the idea of purpose and intention to arrive at a particular point is part of the verb’s meaning. The Lakota version, then, doesn’t have the sense of some straggler coming haphazardly upon the tipi. Rather, it conveys the idea of someone deliberately deciding to join the group. She comes to the boundary of their lives and that is as far as her own powers permit her to go without some response from the brothers. The next move is theirs. The old folktale world was in many ways comparable to a chessboard. There were only so many moves possible for any given character. The brothers really have only two choices: to risk inviting a woman of unknown character into their tipi or to risk the continuing vulnerability inherent in being a group without a woman. They know that the presence of a woman in their midst is crucial to continuing the game of life. So they invite her in. She crosses the threshold, the crucial boundary. The tipi is now hers, since, according to Lakota ways, the tipi belongs to the women of a family. Before bringing her in, the brothers have decided to give her the role of a sister. It so happens that the intruder is an evil woman and the first narrative clue that the Lakota audience has as to her nature is the fact that she does 6 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

not share the brothers’ meal. Because she cannot or will not eat, the brothers know that there is trouble of some kind. First they choose the kindest explanation, excessive shyness, and they leave her with the youngest brother in the tipi. She refuses to share the space with him, asks him to go, but he slyly watches her from the woods. He sees her come out, stand, and survey the territory to make sure that she is alone, then go within the tipi. Soon the youngest brother smells cooking meat. Suspicious, he changes form, flies to the top of the tipi, and sees her planning the completion of a macabre robe decorated with the hair of the men she has eaten. Naturally, he warns his brothers that their “sister” will not complete the household but will devour it and complete her own robe. The four brothers have risked bringing a woman into their space and it proved to be a wrong move. Letting her cross the boundary into their tipi forces them to flee it in order to regain their own territory. One risk requires still another; they can only regain what is lost by going into unknown territory knowing that in time the woman will follow. She does. Once again the Lakota-language version contains clues to what is happening that are not present in English. In George Sword’s version, the words describing the flight are ku napepi. Ku means “to be on one’s way home.” Napepi means “they flee.” In another Lakota version, we find a comparable construction, nakipapi.9 The ki inserted into the verb napepi means “to flee to one’s own home.” Now since the brothers are running away from home, the English version “to flee home” is jarring to the non-Indian’s sense of what is happening. Are they fleeing to another place that they consider as home? Subsequent passages in the story indicate that the tipi, temporarily controlled by the cannibalistic intruder, is indeed their only home. What then is happening in this section of the story? What are the particular poetic nuances that give a specially Lakota quality to the idea of home? I believe that it is safe to suggest that narrators and audiences in prereservation times were accustomed to the idea of fleeing various kinds of situations in order to find (or regain) a particular state of mind or well-being that, to them, meant home. We find the same kind of flight motif in other stories. We also find whole stories based on flight toward a better life. One observer, recorded in the North Dakota Historical Archives, gave us a characterization of the Lakota sense of home that links it with a state of mind. “Home . . . consisted of living conditions and environments, visible or invisible primarily and of location secondarily. And yet with this concept of man and people as primary with the location secondary, there was an idealistic attitude Stone Boy 7

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

toward all environs including this and that definite location which was vital, tenderly joyful, painfully delicate and indescribably precious, different in specie from what one meets among white people” (emphasis in the original).10 Clearly the brothers’ flight signals an effort to return to the fellowship of their previous state with some hope of eventually returning to the definite location of their original home. But first they find themselves crossing many boundaries into the unknown, including that which separates life from death. The evil woman follows them, cutting off the heads of the elder ones and missing the youngest only because a bird (a messenger from a realm above the human) tells him how to kill her. Then we find a reversal of action. This time, the brothers are outside all boundaries, including those of life itself. The youngest must bring them back from realm to realm. First they must cross into life itself, so he builds a sweat bath. In Lakota the word is inikaga, which means “to make life.” It is literally a house of life. He puts his brothers within and soon hears a very formal request to step out. They are alive and he invites them to cross out of one realm into another. All of them can then return to their home. Soon another woman arrives and stands outside. They face the same risks as before and the text notes that this time they are frightened but they invite her in. This woman acts as a true sister and enhances their home. Yet one change necessitates another. There is now a woman present but she must have a partner; so one by one, the brothers leave to find her one. None ever returns. Even the youngest brother, who until this point in the story has been the primary agent causing movement back and forth across crucial boundaries, disappears. After the brothers leave, his narrative function is assumed by the woman, whose anguish forces her to leave the tipi. She stands on a hill and pleads with the higher powers for help. Noticing a small, perfectly round white stone, she swallows it and gets pregnant. With miraculous quickness, she gives birth to Stone Boy and with equally amazing speed she brings him to maturity merely by wishing him through various stages of development. The conventional narrative technique for the immediate maturation of a hero is throwing the youngster out of the tipi four times until he returns as a man. Sword, however, adds his own poetic touch. He mentions the mother’s wishes and notes how she takes the child by the hand and walks with him. With maturity comes a personal destiny and quest. Stone Boy is ready to move out into the unknown and find his uncles. We know that stone, in the Lakota world, is all-powerful, and Stone Boy clearly represents the mythic inyan alive and acting among the people. So 8 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

we can be permitted a bit of surprise in discovering that Stone Boy needs and receives from four old women additional magical powers. Each is represented by a token that he later uses in a game against the Buffalo people. These powers, though, are not quite like the magical gifts we find in European fairy-tale worlds and sometimes even in Lakota tales. The word for Stone Boy’s gifts in Sword’s tale is ohan, which can also be translated as ways or customs. It was a commonly used word and suggests a theme found throughout Lakota hero tales. Once a hero has become part of a tiyošpaye, or extended family, he is bound by all the cultural ways that everyone else must learn. There is noteworthy realism about Lakota hero tales. It so happens that Stone Boy’s uncles have wandered into the territory of the Buffalo people. Each brother has temporarily ended his life journey once more, for the Buffalo have sent each into the land of the dead again. Stone Boy can bring them back to life but only by passing the game-like tests that the Buffalo people impose. The odds are all in favor of the Buffalo. Nevertheless, with the old women’s powers (the gifts of human culture), Stone Boy prevails. Finally he can build a sweat lodge, put his uncles’ bones back together, bring them back into life, and lead them home. But not alone. He wins buffalo wives for each of them. Now the home unit seems complete. The uncles have wives; the extended family exists and the embryonic society has a future. The story could end at this point but it does not. Next the enduring sledding episode occurs. The element that has lasted throughout time seems almost a footnote to Sword’s tale. In Sword’s version, the sledding incident has an almost gratuitous character. After passing all the tests that the Buffalo people have imposed on him in their territory, Stone Boy seems deliberately to provoke them to attack him on his home field. Every other incident in the tale involves risk for the brothers. This last event appears to be a celebration of the fact that the home unit, the tiyošpaye, is now secure. Buffalo come from all over the world to attack it but Stone Boy and his uncles have built four wooden walls around their home. Our undaunted hero finds a piece of metal and takes it within the enclosures, where he stands upon it and gleefully watches the buffalo kill themselves trying to get to him. Finally he and his uncles chase the buffalo in a splendid hunt. An old buffalo remarks that they have tried their best but they could not get the life of Stone Boy. He endures. But not alone. His family and his home are safe too. Lakota heroes seem to avoid solitary splendor. They insist on family members to share their accomplishments. In the story of Stone Boy, there is much crossing and recrossing of life’s crucial boundaries, and there is at work the relentless momentum generated Stone Boy 9

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

by a lifestyle that required risk for continuity. Every member of any audience should be able to sense some of the reality of this interplay of themes. Lakota people in the prairie environment surely have felt these themes with intensity as they fought first to build the magnificently dramatic buffalo culture that was followed so quickly by their resistance to the arbitrary boundaries of reservation life. When these boundaries were finally imposed, the dialectic between the inside and outside acquired new political overtones. But always homes have needed protection, and attacks can still occur when the people are most vulnerable. Stone Boy still has his role. And he still has his sense of humor. The reading of Sword’s “Stone Boy” that I have just sketched is, admittedly, a curious combination of objective and subjective elements. I have used ethnographic and linguistic data to give authenticity to some of my interpretations, but my sheer uninhibited delight in the way that certain episodes work after all my scrambling through old ethnographic remnants of insight is my own emotion. It may or may not have a relationship to the way George Sword or any other nineteenth- century Lakota listener knew the tale. But emotion it is and genuine at that. In a very real way the story lives for me. It is literature. It is poetry. I can read contemporary versions and celebrate the story’s survival, delighting in the way the tale adapts to fit the times. And that kind of emotional response is my goal in attempting a poetics of Lakota folktales. Much of the task of constructing a poetics consists of trying to reconstruct a historical context. At this stage of our effort we brush shoulders with ethnographers, historians, and linguists. Yet, by insisting that we are simple word-lovers working toward a poetic goal, we appropriate our own kind of freedom, with its overtones of terror like all freedoms. We garner every bit of objective data we can find only to transfer it into the realm of the subjective and personal response. The novelist William H. Gass has written lines about the art of storytelling that probably describe the efforts of every truly convinced teller of tales. “In the act of love, as in all the arts, the soul should be felt by the tongue and the fingers, felt in the skin. So should our sounds come to color up the surface of our stories like a blush.”11 These thoughts are so immediate that it would seem impossible to apply them to the stripped-bare bones of tales taken from their vital context and laid to rest in archives. But Stone Boy’s uncles kept coming back to life and all our effort is not to try to explain how life was long ago. It is to try to take what we find from way back then and restore some youthful vitality to its sounds and meanings. This distinguishes 10 JA H N ER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

the poet’s efforts from the ethnographers’ or the linguists’. The poet feels words. There is nothing exclusively objective about that. So it is that one who seeks the poetics of a folktale not only gathers every available bit of ethnographic and linguistic data but also tries to sense the meaning of that data with the total, simple, complete subjectivity of a lover.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1RWHVRQ7UDQVODWLRQ Chances are that the very first Native American narrator who shared a story with a curious invader prefaced the tale with cautionary comments about the process of translation. We know that George Sword, the narrator of the tale I am translating, not only voiced his concerns but wrote them. He insisted that the ideas of arriving and of standing outside the tipi were separate. Unfortunately, we know too little about how he considered other elements of the narration. The difficulties of translation, as Dennis Tedlock has so clearly explained, involve both linguistic features (phonology, lexicology, and syntax) and oral or performance features.12 Tedlock has pioneered methods of transcribing and translating in ways that indicate the peculiarities of both linguistic and performance features in tales he has himself heard from Zuni narrators. But what about texts collected long ago? Is any sort of restoration process possible? If we have the exact words of the narrator and if we know the performance conventions of the culture, I believe that we can achieve enough sense of original conditions to make the effort worthwhile. The most immediately obvious feature of my translation of Sword’s Stone Boy text has to do with performance. The text is structured by the phrases “so they tell” and “they say.” These phrases translate the Lakota words ske and keyapi, features with a twofold function. They remind an audience that the tale has come through generations of tellers and they mark pauses. The Sioux narrators often stopped at crucial points in a tale waiting for a nod and an “ohan” (yes) from listeners. The process also created suspense. Obviously, I cannot assert definitely that the presence of ske in the text marks the major pauses and that keyapi marks the minor ones, but treating them as such produces a rhythm that approximates very closely the ebb and flow of an actual performance. Semantic and syntactic issues present more formidable challenges. To be true to the artistry of a story requires the use of English sentences and phrases appropriate to the generic demands and the tone of the Lakota narrative. Sometimes exact transliteration with its absurd English is far more misleading than a freer translation. Yet there always is the matter of semanStone Boy 11

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

tic elements present in the Lakota that simply do not translate into idiomatic English but that are important to the story’s total structure. The primary example in the story of Stone Boy is the phrase that translates as “fleeing home.” Most translators simply say “they fled.” But the notion of both leaving and returning home as part of the same effort is important to the story. So I have chosen to say that they “were fleeing to get back their home.” Sometimes I have chosen to use somewhat stilted English to mark areas of important diversions between Lakota and English. Naturally, such choice requires decisions about which Lakota elements have connotative meanings crucial enough to require a wrenching of English style in order to preserve them. I hope that my essay explains how I made decisions about which Lakota linguistic peculiarities must be reflected in the English version if the meaning of the story is to have as full an echo in the English as I can possibly give it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. The current emphasis on the literary value of Native American folktales is resulting in some important and sensitive critical essays. See Dell H. Hymes, “The ‘Wife’ Who ‘Goes Out’ Like a Man: Reinterpretation of a Clackamas Chinook Myth,” Social Science Information 7 (1968): 173–79; Jarold Ramsey, “The Wife Who Goes Out Like a Man Comes Back as a Hero: The Art of Two Oregon Indian Narratives,” PMLA 92 (1977): 9–18; Ramsey, “From ‘Mythic’ to ‘Fictive’ in a Nez Perce Orpheus Myth,” Western American Literature 13 (1978); Dennis Tedlock, Finding the Center (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1972); Barre Toelken, “The ‘Pretty Languages’ of Yellowman: Genre, Mode and Texture in Navaho Coyote Narratives,” Genre 2 (1969): 211–35. 2. Two versions of the Stone Boy story are available in the J. R. Walker collection of the Colorado State Historical Society, Denver. Both versions are in James R. Walker, Lakota Myth, ed. Elaine A. Jahner (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983). Other Lakota versions are in Eugene Buechel, Lakota Tales and Texts (St. Louis: John S. Swift, 1978); Ella Deloria, Dakota Texts (New York: G. E. Stechert, 1932); and R. D. Theisz, Buckskin Tokens (Aberdeen SD: North Plains Press, 1975). 3. See Theisz, Buckskin Tokens, 58. 4. Frances Densmore, Teton Sioux Music, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 11 (1918), 205. 5. Densmore, Teton Sioux Music, 208. 6. In commenting on Sword’s use of the Lakota language, James R. Walker wrote, “Sword contended, and in this was sustained by other old Oglala, that there was no such word as hinazin in the Lakota language as it was spoken before contact with white people; that the white people mistook the phrase for the word and wrote it as such.” See J. R. Walker manuscript collection, Colorado State Historical Society Archives. 12 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

7. Ella Deloria, “Notes on the Dakota, Teton Dialect,” International Journal of American Linguistics 8 (1933): 97–21. 8. Eugene Buechel, Lakota Grammar (Rosebud SD: St. Francis Mission, 1939), 165. 9. See Deloria, Dakota Texts, 87. 10. Aaron McGaffey Beede, unpublished manuscript, North Dakota State Historical Society Archives, Bismarck. 11. William H. Gass, Fiction and the Figures of Life (Boston: Nonpareil Books, 1971), 29. 12. Dennis Tedlock, “On the Translation of Style in Oral Narrative,” in Toward New Perspectives in Folklore, ed. Américo Paredes and Richard Bauman (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1972), 114–33.

Four young men dwelt in the same tipi and one of them was called Hakela. So they tell. And then, from way out there, someone came and stood. They heard something; so they told Hakela to look. He peeked out and there was a young woman, more beautiful than any he had ever seen. The front part of her hair was bound and she had a great big work bag. Like that, she came and stood. Hakela saw her and he said, “Brothers, a young woman is there; she has arrived and she is standing; the front part of her hair is bound and she has a great big work bag. Really.” That’s what he said. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And the oldest brother, that one, said this, they say. So they tell. “Invite her into the tipi. We have no woman who can be a sister, so she can be our elder sister,” he said. So they tell. Then Hakela peeked out and said, “Sister, come in and live with us.” So they tell. Stone Boy 13

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Our oldest brother says we have no elder sister so you can be our sister.” The woman said, “fine,” and then she moved into their home. They gave her food but she didn’t eat. She just kept on sitting there. Those four young men thought that she really wanted to eat but she was too bashful; so they felt sorry for the woman. Then the oldest brother said this. So they tell. “My brothers, let’s go for a walk. Hakela and our sister will stay here and she’ll get back her appetite,” he said. They went for a walk while Hakela stayed behind. The woman told him, “My brother, go hunting in the woods.” Hakela then took his arrows and went hunting. So they tell. Near the woods, he sat down. Soon that woman came out of the tipi and stood, looking all around. Then she went back inside. Next the smell of roasting meat came from the tipi, but the smoke odor was unusual. Hakela made himself into a chickadee and flew to the top of the tipi, alighting on the tipi pole. Then he peeked down into the tipi. Down there was a big metal container and it was full of crushed up scalps. The woman was saying, “I don’t want the three young men around on the border so I’ll put them over there.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Hakela, at the top of the tipi, peeking in, heard it all. Then the woman went on, “Anyway, Hakela’s hair is awful so it will go here at the bottom.” Hakela fainted from fright. That great big bag really was filled with human heads. She roasted and then ate them. That’s what he saw. About that time, his brothers were all coming back home so he started to fly down to them. So they tell. He had made himself into a chickadee; then half-way down, he turned back into a man and ran to them. So they tell. 14 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The brothers were coming back to their own home so he told them, “Brothers, that very woman who is our sister told me to go hunting so I went hunting in the woods. From there I watched. She came out and stood looking around and then she went back in and smoke came from within with an unusual odor, so I made myself into a chickadee and perched on the tipi poles and all of a sudden she took her great big metal shield with scalps tied all over it and then she said, ‘The three young men are not for this particular border. I’ll put them there. That’s where I’ll put their hair.’ Then she said, ‘Even though Hakela’s hair is nasty, I’ll put it at the end.’ That’s what she said.” So those brothers decided, “We’ll go home, just like always; but it is true that that food brings us no joy,” they said. So they tell. The older sister went on acting right at home but she didn’t pay any attention to them in the tipi, they say. Together the brothers secretly helped each other, and this is what they did. So they tell. They boiled a pack-strap and softened it. They told her to bring a bundle of wood. “As soon as she leaves, we’ll go,” they said. Only Hakela stayed behind in the woods. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

That woman broke the pack strap as she was going along. So they tell. That’s why she took so long to come home. After some time, Hakela could go back into that tipi of theirs, and he took the container full of men’s heads and the metal shield and threw them into the fire. All the while, the brothers were fleeing to get back their home; then Hakela too got moving. He looked back and saw the woman re- enter the tipi and the very things that Hakela had thrust into the fire, she took back out for herself. Immediately she started the attack on them. Stone Boy 15

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So they tell. And she caught up with them. So they tell. They shot arrows at her but she had that metal shield and they hit only that. So they tell. Then she went to the oldest of the young men and cut off his head with a mysterious knife. So they tell. And then she caught up to the remaining three and chopped their heads off, one by one. So they tell. And she killed all of them. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Hakela was the only one left so she came after him in quick pursuit. Then a chickadee appeared, flying above them and they said it said this, “Hakela, on the forelock,” it said. Then he shot right in the middle of the forelock and only then did he kill the woman, they say. Next Hakela hurried to find wood and right away he made a sweat lodge. So they tell. And all those brothers of his, he dragged them there and then he put them in that sweat lodge and immediately poured water on the stones, they say.

16 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Then all of them groaned and said, “Keep on, you who are so gracious but be good enough to open the door,” they said. So they tell. Hakela heard them and opened the door. So they tell. And they all stood there, alive. They continued the flight to return to their home. So they tell. And they kept on coming home to carry on their life in their tipi. So they tell. Again a very beautiful young woman, wearing a lot of quill work and carrying a big bag came to their place. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

But her forelock was not bound. That is how she arrived there and stood. Of course the brothers were terribly frightened but once again the oldest of the brothers spoke, they say. “Hakela, ask her to come inside. We have no elder sister so we will have her as a sister,” he said. “I am very happy to have brothers,” she said, and came into the tipi and made herself at home. So they tell. Quickly they gave her food and, this one, she just as quickly ate. So they tell.

Stone Boy 17

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Then she opened the bag she was carrying and right there in plain view, she finished good moccasins for them, they say. Then the oldest one of them said, they say, “It is not proper for you to be here alone, so I’ll go,” he said. And he started to go somewhere, they say. Then all of them said the same thing. Now that sister of theirs was all alone and she was heartbroken; all she did was lament, they say. She stood atop a hill and wept as she walked along looking downward when she saw a transparent stone, so very beautiful. Because she was lamenting, she put it in her mouth. So they tell. Because she was completely exhausted, she slept and she swallowed the stone in her mouth. So they tell. However, she didn’t know this and at once that woman got pregnant, they say, and very quickly the child was born.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So they tell. His mother said this, they say. “My son, I want you to walk” and she took him by the hand and he walked, they say. She did that four times and now he became a young man, they say. He observed the customs of the tipi and he saw fine visions, they say. And this is what he said. So they tell. “Mother, whose beds are these?” This is what his mother told him, they say. “My son, your four relatives are all uncles so these are their beds.”

18 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So they tell. “They went on a journey and they did not come home,” she said. “Mother make me arrows, I’m going to go to look for my uncles,” he said. So his mother made him arrows, they say. Now, from there, he started to go seeking his uncles, they say. He came near the lodge of an old woman. “Stone Boy, my grandson, where are you going, my grandson?” “To a ball game.” “I will give you my powers,” she said. She made a yellow ball club and said, “Take this and you’ll thank yourself for it,” she said. He went on from there and again he came to a lodge. An old woman said, “Grandson, I will give you one of my powers to use in the contest.” And she gave him a kingfisher’s feather, they say. He went along and again he came to a lodge and an old woman said, “Stone Boy, grandson, take one of my powers for the contest.” He went to her and she gave him a turtle.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So now he went on to look for his uncles, they say. He was going along when he saw a lot of people so he stood on a hill and they said, “Greetings, Stone Boy, come play ball.” These people were the buffalo tribe. They told an old woman to play with Stone Boy, he said. So they tell. The ball game was going along and all of a sudden he took that yellow club of his and the yellow eagle plume and he struck. An eagle started to fly. So they tell.

Stone Boy 19

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Again they struck the ball but a large hawk flew by Stone Boy. That’s how Stone Boy won again. So they tell. Once again they struck the ball but Stone Boy hit the kingfisher’s feather and a kingfisher started to fly. Ho. That’s the way Stone Boy won again. So they tell. Now they hit the ball into the water but Stone Boy struck the turtle and won again. Then the old buffalo woman who had played against him said, “Well now, my son-in-law, shoot me.” He took his arrow and shot her in the neck. She died. There, he found his uncles’ bones, gathered them up and joined them together. He made a sweat lodge and he put them in there and poured water on them until they groaned and came to life. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He had won four very beautiful young buffalo women. His uncles seized them and brought them back home with them. So they tell. As they returned, he gave back their powers to the four old women. When they got back to their own tipi, the mother of Stone Boy hugged and kissed her adopted relatives. So they tell. All were of good heart. 20 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So they tell. One time, though, Stone Boy went traveling again. So they tell. He met four really beautiful young women and they had a sled. So he made himself into a little boy with sore eyes and he stood there in front of where the buffalo girls were sitting. One buffalo had black hair, another grey, another had brown hair and the last had yellow hair. That’s all there were. Stone Boy said he wanted to sit where the first one was. But she said, “Oh no!” So they tell. He said to the last one in line, “I’ll come and sit there,” they say. “All right,” she said. There he was, in the last place. Now they started to slide down together when Stone Boy became a huge boulder and that’ show he started to smash the four white buffalo girls, so they say. He took their tongues, they say. And he went home with them, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Another time, he went traveling and he saw a buffalo sharpening the tips of his horns so he asked, “Grandfather, why are you sharpening the tips of your horns?” That buffalo said, “Grandson, that Stone Boy killed four of my children so I’m going to go attack him,” he said. “Grandfather, when will you go to attack him?” Stone Boy asked. The buffalo answered, “When the yellow clouds are here above us, then I’ll attack.” So Stone Boy answered, “Grandfather, this is who I am,” and he shot him. So they tell. Stone Boy 21

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The buffalo died. So they tell. Just like that, Stone Boy killed four buffalo, one by one and took their tongues and went back home with them. Then he told his uncles to make arrows and he told them to make four wooden enclosures. So they tell. “Make them strong,” he said. They did just that. So they tell. Now it was time for the yellow clouds to come and from all over the world the buffalo arrived, just as expected. So they tell. Stone Boy brought a great big piece of metal into the wooden enclosure. And he stood on it. Then an old buffalo ornamented with pure white shells came to the top of the hill and said this. So they tell.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Stone Boy, get out of the way. A buffalo with long horns is coming there.” The long-horned buffalo came and gored the wooden structure. They killed him. So they tell. Again he said, “Stone Boy, get out of the way! The Yellow Buffalo is going to try.” He ran up to the wooden enclosure and hit it head- on. They killed him. 22 JA H N E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So they tell. Again, “Stone Boy, get out of the way! The Crazy Buffalo is going to try,” he said. Then he ran up to the wooden enclosure and hit it head- on. He was killed too. Well then, the buffalo came like a flood of water and Stone Boy and his uncles pursued them and sent them into a confused retreat. Then that old buffalo who wore a pure white shell said, “That’s why.” So they tell. “That was the last time to come to this place of ours. We will not get the life of Stone Boy.” Then the men finished off the buffalo, they say. Afterwards they went back home and they were very prosperous, they say. This is the end.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So they tell.

Stone Boy 23

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM On the Translation of Native American Literatures

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Oolachan-Woman’s Robe Fish, Blankets, Masks, and Meaning in Boas’s Kwakw’ala Texts JUDI T H BE R M A N

The mythical value of the myth is preserved through the worst translation. Whatever our ignorance of the language and the culture of the people where it originated, a myth is still felt as a myth by any reader anywhere in the world.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

—LÉVI- ST RAU S S, “The Structural Study of Myth”

On October 4, 1894, Franz Boas was told a lewd story and didn’t know it.1 The story was a nuyəm, or “myth,” that described how a being named Oolachan-Woman created a magical abundance of herring. Boas dutifully transcribed and translated the story, but he didn’t understand it. Though there are few actual mistakes, his misinterpretations are so extreme that in the English version the story seems incoherent. The story is in fact perfectly coherent, if somewhat ribald. While Boas’s translation may not be the worst conceivable, it is still a very bad one, and we are left wondering how much of the “mythical value” of a myth really does emerge in a bad translation. Boas was oblivious not only to the disingenuous sexual humor of this story but also to the more serious notions about cosmogony and etiology on which that humor is a commentary. The nature of the mythical conflicts and the plot through which these conflicts are expressed and developed are nearly invisible in Boas’s English. This is strange, since Boas should have been the ideal translator for this story—at least as far as technical accuracy is concerned. He knew the language, folklore, and traditional culture of the “Kwakiutl,” or Kwagul, perhaps better than any other white man before or since. The worst his Kwagul contemporaries could say about his command of their language was that he spoke too slowly (Codere 1966, xxv). Boas’s problem with this story was that he understood the words but not what was being said. The truth about the origin of herring is bound

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

27

up in wordplay and metaphor, as well as in cultural concepts that Boas never, to the end of his life, seemed to compass. In his many years of translating Kwakw’ala texts, Boas probably never strayed as far afield as with this story about herring. Nevertheless, the kind of mistake he made here is quite common throughout his work. In both translation and ethnography, Boas suffered from a kind of conceptual tone deafness, an insensitivity to the categories and interconnections of Kwagul culture. This handicap kept him from integrating his vast knowledge of language and custom and from arriving at deeper insights into the myths he collected. The story about herring underscores the point that merely translating words and sentences may communicate nothing at all. Without a sense of the delicate relationships between linguistic form and culture meaning, the translator may mistake the meanings of the myth on all levels, from the semantics of the individual morphemes to the nature of the cosmogonical transformations that those morphemes describe. In the worst case, the myth might scarcely be “felt as a myth” by anybody.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

)UDQ]%RDV0\WK7UDQVODWLRQDQG(WKQRJUDSK\ Franz Boas’s name is well known to every student of American anthropology and folklore but may be unfamiliar to readers outside of those fields. He is considered both the institutional and intellectual founder of modern American anthropology. His immensely productive career, spanning over fifty years, ended only with his death in 1942. His research interests covered a wide theoretical and geographical range, but his ethnographic fieldwork focused on the North Pacific Coast, specifically on the group of Indian tribes known as the Kwakiutl or Kwagul. Boas’s output on the Kwagul was enormous: the first articles came out in 1888, and thereafter publications appeared regularly and in quantity until the posthumous Kwakiutl Grammar (1947) and Kwakiutl Ethnography (1966). His lengthy bibliography, however, obscures the fact that relatively little print was devoted to description and analysis. The bulk of his Kwagul publications consisted of texts, eleven volumes in all, in the Kwakw’ala language (Boas and Hunt 1905, 1906; Boas 1909, 1910, 1921, 1925, 1930, 1935– 43). In his seemingly endless accumulation of texts, Boas had a serious aim in mind: “I have spared no trouble to collect . . . [texts] in the language of the Indians, because in these the points that seem important to him are emphasized, and the unavoidable distortion contained in the descriptions given by the casual visitor and student is eliminated” (Boas 1909, 309). What we today think of as ethnography—description by a “participant-observer”— 28 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

was for Boas already too far removed from the experiential world of the Indian. While Boas clearly felt there was a place for scholarly description, analysis, and comparison, in the end only the expressions of the Indian’s own mind—myths and masks, prayers and songs—could accurately convey the nature of his world.2 Given such an outlook and aim, it is ironic that Boas’s translations of the texts are far better read than the texts themselves. In fact, the many reanalyses of the Kwagul use Boas’s translations as raw data (e.g., Locher 1932; Müller 1955; Reid 1974, 1979; Goldman 1975; Dundes 1979; Walens 1981). Such work is an act of faith. However, Boas was neither omniscient nor infallible, and his translations are far from perfect.3 By and large the deficiencies in Boas’s translations do not stem from faulty knowledge of Kwakw’ala. As noted above, the Kwagul commented that he spoke slowly, not that he spoke badly. Boas was a great and innovative linguist for his day, and his Kwakw’ala grammars (1911, 1947) are still highly usable. Boas’s biggest difficulty is with the cultural categories, concepts, and analogies that are expressed in the texts. Since he did not always understand these well, there is sometimes a highly problematic relationship between the Kwakw’ala of the texts and his English gloss. Scholars search for clues to Kwagul culture in Boas’s English, but many vital clues did not survive translation. For example, Boas is not consistent in his glosses of terms for Kwagul cultural categories. He translates the Kwakw’ala word nuyəm variously as “myth,” “story,” “legend,” and “tradition.” Curiously, Boas’s emphasis on the need to record the Native’s thinking in his own words did not seem to apply to the Native’s English words. All of Boas’s glosses for nuyəm differ from the native speaker’s gloss—“Historie” (George Hunt, letter to Franz Boas, February 7, 1894). Or, conversely, Boas’s translations contain Kwakw’ala terms that appear to correspond to Kwagul cultural categories but do not. Consider the following passage: “The people speaking the Kwaguƚ dialect inhabit many villages, each of which is considered as a separate unit, a tribe. . . . Setting aside the tribes speaking the Bella Bella dialect, whose social organization differs from the Kwaguƚ, we may distinguish two closely related dialects among the Kwaguƚ tribes” (Boas 1966, 37). In this passage, aguƚ is at one and the same time a language (the old sense of “dialect”); a group of “tribes” defined according to language; and a group of “tribes” defined according to type of social organization. All three are ethnological definitions, imposed by the analyst, Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 29

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

and not Native cultural understandings of what aguƚ means. Originally, aguƚ applied only to a single high-ranking descent group dwelling at a village site called Half- Circle Beach. The name was transferred first to all the villagers at Half-Circle Beach, then to the four tribes at the new settlement at Fort Rupert, and finally came into vogue as an ethnic self-designation.4 The meaning of the term lies in a complex history of social schisms and amalgamations, and Boas never explains that history—though it can be traced out in his texts. Sometimes Boas will translate metaphors literally without explanation. Since his Kwagul narrators tended to use a highly metaphorical style, especially when speaking on such topics as rank, wealth, and religion, this practice can produce a bewildering effect. Giving away furs is “swallow the tribes” (1966, 193), the elder of twin brothers is the “head fish” (n.d., 102), the assistant to a dance society novice is a “mouth healer” (n.d., 103). Even when Boas explains such metaphors in footnotes, his explanations rarely include the concepts behind the metaphor, the underlying analogies that his speakers are drawing. Why is the older twin the “head fish”? More frequently, Boas will replace a rich Kwakw’ala metaphor with a nonmetaphorical term. For instance, one text describes a conflict over control of the weather, fought between the thunderbirds of heaven and the birds of earth. The chief of the latter is named ə́ldəm (Boas and Hunt 1905, 295– 317). The literal meaning of ə́ldəm is “Fiery,” but in Boas’s translation, he calls the character “Woodpecker.” Clearly it is significant that the chief fighting for summer and sunny weather is named “Fiery,” but Boas characteristically did not perceive this. Boas has particular difficulties with the topological specificity of Kwakw’ala. Boas’s grammars and glossaries (1911, 1921, 1947) and his dictionary (n.d.) show that he understood how such information was expressed from the standpoint of morphology, grammar, and lexicon. However, his translations do not reveal a similar understanding of its importance in narrative imagery. In one of Hunt’s texts, the hero reaches what Boas calls the “edge of the world” (Boas and Hunt 1905,72). This “edge of the world” is not, as Western readers would expect, the edge of a horizontal plane that overhangs nothingness. In Kwakw’ala, the word used is k‛u -, meaning “edge of a vertical plane.” The Kwagul “edge of the world” is a wall that encloses the world. Another example is Boas’s treatment of the spirit name Ba ba alanu siuiʔ. Boas’s gloss, “Cannibal at the rivermouth,” is based on a folk etymology interpreting ba ba ala- as “eating humans” and the suffix –xsiu as “river mouth.” The spirit name actually comes from the neighboring and related 30 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

language Oowekyala, in which ba ba ala means “becoming increasingly human” and -xsiu means “passing through an aperture” (Hilton and Rath 1982), probably in reference to the process of initiation.5 Now, the Kwagul folk etymology clearly expresses concepts important to the Kwagul. However, Boas’s gloss of this etymology does not communicate these concepts. A nonhuman spirit eating humans is not cannibalistic, merely predatory. Further, Boas’s gloss of “river mouth” for –xsiu, while not, strictly speaking, incorrect or inadequately specific, has led to a misapprehension by Englishspeaking anthropologists, fueling commentary on “orality” in Kwagul culture (Dundes 1979; Goldman 1975; Walens 1981; cf. Sanday 1986). A “river mouth” in Kwakw’ala is not a mouth. A mouth is the opening to a bag, bottle, house, or room, or the entrance to a bay—the opening into a hollow object. A river is a long object like a branch or a pole, and the headwaters of a river are ʔu ɛx̣toiʔ, “place on top of a long vertical object.” A better, if unwieldy, gloss of the Kwagul folk etymology of Ba ba alanu siuiʔ might be “[the spirit who] eats humans at the river’s end.” Another characteristic is Boas’s tendency to focus on detail rather than pattern. This exacerbates the problems already discussed. For example, the names of Kwagul supernaturals are often descriptive of their attributes, for ̔ example, Mi atəm, “Seal face” for a supernatural seal; Nəmc̔ aqiu, “One horn on forehead” for a supernatural mountain goat; Mɛisila, “Fish-maker” for a salmon-woman who can create fish; Hayəlbalisəla, “Going from one end of the earth to the other in a single day” for a loon who can do exactly that. If Boas had perceived the pattern in this practice, he might have realized that the Woodpecker chief ’s name, “Fiery,” is probably intended as a description of an actual attribute of this character; this chief really does burn like the sun. He might then have been less likely to drop the name from the translation and substitute “Woodpecker.” These characteristics do not affect all of Boas’s translations the same way. In some of Boas’s translations, the distortions of the Kwakw’ala originals are relatively minor, affecting only details of interpretation. In others, the general outlines of the story are present, but important elements are missing and invisible, and other, alien features are placed to seem as if they belonged. In the text we will examine in this essay, the story about herring, plot and imagery have been altered almost beyond recognition. 3URYHQLHQFHRIWKH7H[W On that day in October 1894, Boas was confined in bad weather on a steamship bound for Kincolith, British Columbia, to continue his survey of British Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 31

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Columbia Indians for the British Association for the Advancement of Science (Rohner 1969, 81–83). Boas was suffering badly from boredom, inactivity, and the expectation of seasickness. He was a workaholic deprived of his work, and the Barbara Boskowitz was so crowded with stacks of wood and oil barrels that he couldn’t even pace the deck (Boas, letters to Marie Boas, October 3, 1894, 1 and 2; letters to parents, October 3, 1894, 1 and 2; see also Rohner 1969, 148– 51).6 His only solace was some Indians on the boat. Initially, Boas doubted that these particular Indians could produce anything of interest to him. “I know their legends and songs better than they do,” he complained (letter to parents, October 3, 1894, 2). However, one man promised to tell him some “legends” (Sagen) that he hadn’t heard yet (letter to Marie Boas, October 3, 1894, 1). Boas quickly pressed this Indian, a Kwakw’ala-speaking N̔aqemgilisəla villager named umgiləs (Boas 1910, 186–87), into the service of science. He pumped umgiləs for three days, rain or shine, ceasing only when the Indian left the boat at Alert bay, with, we can imagine, some relief (letter to parents, October 3, 1894).7 In those three days of miserable autumn weather, Boas had obtained, among other things, a series of traditional stories in Kwakw’ala, most of which were eventually published sixteen years later in a volume called Kwakiutl Tales (1910, 187–244). These stories recount certain of the cosmogonical efforts of ániqi a ( ániqi a ), the Kwagul Transformer. They are rare among Boas’s texts in that they were collected in the field by Boas himself, rather than written down and mailed to Boas by native speaker George Hunt. They are also unusual in that they were dictated to Boas in the Tl’astl’asiqwala dialect of Kwakw’ala, which has not been well described. Boas’s surviving field notes from 1894 show that his acquaintance with Kwakw’ala was as yet brief and superficial, and his transcription skills undeveloped. The fact that he did not transmit these texts for publication in 1900 with others obtained by George Hunt (Boas and Hunt 1905, 1906) seems to indicate that he was waiting for the opportunity to revise his transcription. He subsequently undertook such revisions, perhaps with the assistance of Hunt, or perhaps with William Brotchie, a half- əmJપis resident of Alert Bay whom he had consulted extensively for the 1905 volume of texts (Boas and Hunt 1905, 3).

32 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Q!āʹnēqīᵋlax̣u and Ts!ā′ts!ō “G̣ēla,” ɛnē′x·ɛlaē Ts!ā′ts!ō, “qaE′nts a′młē,” ɛnē′x·ɛlaē Ts!ā′ts!ō lāx Dzā′dzax̣wītElāJપa. Lā′ɛlaē ts!â′ETs!ā′ts!ō Yîsēs k!u′taałdē lāx Dzā′dzax̣wītElāJપa. Lā′ɛlaē k!utā′ał-ɛīdEsēs ëg·âʹnEm. Lāʹɛlaē Q!āʹnēqīɛlax̣u ɛnē′x·ɛlaē: “G̣wa′- dzēs ɛyāʹlag·ilîs,” ɛnēʹx·ɛlaē Q!āʹnēqīɛlax̣u. Lā′ɛlaē q!eg·aɛłē Dzāʹdzax̣wītElāJપa: “G̣wa′la hëk·!āla g·ā′xEn, ā′g·anē,” ɛnē′x·ɛlaē Dzāʹdzax̣wītElāJપa. “ ‘Tsē′xɛōstēs q!E′mxExstix,’ ɛnē′x·ɛla g·ā′xEn, ā′g·anē.” Lā′ɛlaē “Tsē′xwistē′, Tsē′xwistē′; q!E′mxExstē′, q!E′mxExstē′;” ɛnē′x·ɛla g·ā′xEn, ā′g·anē′

Lā′ɛlaē L!ā′psta Lā′xē dE′msx·. Q!E′mxExstē; s++xaɛlaē q!ā′ma; tsē′x̣ɛōstēs lā′xē awī′nagwis. Axɛē′tsEɛwēs g·ō′kulōt. Lā′ɛlaē łā′x̣ɛwīlālaē JપEnE′mas Ō′ɛmāł, yîx E′lx̣sâayūJપwa qaɛs k·inā′la lā′xē q!ā′ma. Lā′ɛlaē axɛē′d lā′xēs habā′Jપaēɛ qaɛs yîxɛē′dēx qaɛs axɛē′dēs lā′xē q!ā′max·.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Q!āʹnēqīᵋlax̣u and Ts!ā′ts!ō “Come,” said Ts!ā′ts!ō, “that we may play!” Thus said Ts!ā′ts!ō to OlachenWoman. Then Ts!ā′ts!ō gave his blanket to Olachen-Woman. Then she put on the blanket she had gained in gambling. Q!ā′nēqīɛlax̣u said, “Don’t go on the beach.” Thus said Q!ā′nēqīɛlax̣u . Then Olachen-Woman spoke. “Don’t say that to me, lord!” Thus said Oolachan-Woman. “Say to me, ‘Dried herrings are jumping on the beach,’ lord.” (Then he said,) “‘Jump on the beach, jump on the beach! Dried herring, dried herring,’ say to me, lord.” Then she put the corner of the blanket into the sea. Behold! dried herrings made a noise, “Ssss!” Shoals of herring were jumping ashore on the land. They were taken by the tribe. Then the wife of Ō′ɛmāƚ, Fog-Woman, found it difficult to scoop up the herrings. Then she took her pubic hair and netted a net to take the herrings.

Fig. 1. “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” from Boas 1910, 190–91.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

If indeed Boas consulted Hunt or Brotchie or umgiləs′ texts, he does not seem to have been very thorough. He seems to have paid the most attention to transcription, but there are still several uncorrected errors. The translation shows very little change. He does not appear to have checked the original glosses from his field notes, and the eventual 1910 publication preserves a number of mistakes and misinterpretations. One error persisted in glossary and dictionary throughout his whole life (Boas 1921, 1436–37; Boas n.d., 441). Figure 1 shows the text of one of these ániqi a stories, “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” as it originally appeared in the 1910 volume (1910, 190–91). I have altered it only to the extent of placing the Kwakw’ala above the English; the two were situated on facing pages in the original. A casual glance leaves the reader with many questions. Why does ániqi a command Oolachan-Woman to stay off the beach? What is their relationship that ániqi a cares one way or another about her actions? What’s the significance, whether in ordinary narrative logic or in nonlogical mythical symbolism, of the dried herring? What do the herring have to do with gambling? There are two methods for getting at the truth about the herring, neither of which is sufficient by itself. One is retranslation, the other is “rhetorical” analysis (cf. Hymes 1981). Translation in the strictest sense looks at what words and sentences mean. Rhetorical analysis looks at the way the narrator uses words and sentences to tell a story: the way in which topic and setting are established and then change, the way in which imagery and the actions and responses of story actors are patterned. Though rhetorical analysis deals with a “higher” level of linguistic organization than translation, let us begin first with it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

৳ Xµ5KHWRULFDO6WUXFWXUH ´ iQLTL D DQG&iF৳ The body of Boas’s text is printed as a prose paragraph. As the first step in rhetorical analysis, let us rewrite text and translation (using an orthography more modern than Boas’s),8 so that each numbered English line corresponds with a single, numbered Kwakw’ala clause:

ániqi a and Cá̔ c̔u [Version 2] “G̣īla,” n̔íx ai C̔ác̔u. “qaə́nc ʔámƚi,” 34 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

1 2 3

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

n̔íx ai C̔ác̔u lax̣ Záza itəlJપa. Lá ai c̔óə C̔ác̔u yəsis ə́taʔaƚdi lax̣ Záza itəlaJપa Lá ai ə́taʔaƚʔidəsis ʔigónəm. Lá ai ániqi a n̔íx ai “ ázis y̔álagiləs,” n̔íx ai ániqi a . Lá ai yáq̔əgaʔƚi Záza itəlaJપa, “ ála hík̔ala gáx̣ən, ʔágani,” n̔íx ai Záza itəlaJપa. “‘cí ʔustis q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stix̣,’ n̔íx a gáx̣ən, ʔágani.” Lá ai “‘Cí stí, cí stí, q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stí, q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stí,’ n̔íx a gáx̣ən ʔáganí.” Lá ai ápsta láx̣i də́msx. ə́mx̣əx̣st; Ssss . . . xa ai q̔áma. Cí ʔustis láx̣i ʔawína is. ʔax̣ʔícoʔis gú əlut. Lá ai ƚá ʔilalai gənə́mas ʔúm̔aƚ, yəx ʔə́lx̣soayu a, qas̔ kinála láx̣i q̔áma. Lá ai ʔaxʔíd láx̣is habáJપaiʔ qas̔ yəx̣ʔídix̣ qas̔ ʔax̣ʔídis láx̣i q̔ámax. “Come,” Said C̔ác̔u, “that we may play,” Thus said C̔ác̔u to Oolachan-Woman. Then C̔ác̔u gave his blanket to Oolachan-Woman. Then she put on the blanket she had gained in gambling. ániqi a said, “Don’t go on the beach,” thus said ániqi a . Then Oolachan-Woman spoke: “Don’t say that to me, lord,” thus said Oolachan-Woman. “Say to me, ‘Dried herrings are jumping on the beach,’ lord,” (Then he said,) Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 35

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

“‘Jump on the beach, jump on the beach, dried herring, dried herring,’ say to me, lord.” Then she put the corner of the blanket into the sea. Behold! dried herrings; Herrings made a noise, “Ssss!” Shoals of herring were jumping ashore on the land. They were taken by the tribe. Then the wife of ʔúm̔aƚ, Fog-Woman, found it difficult to scoop up the herrings. Then she took her pubic hair and netted a net to take the herrings.

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Let us begin by looking at changes in topic, setting, and character. The first few clauses of the text (clauses 1– 6) appear to describe a scene in which two actors, C̔ác̔u and Oolachan-Woman, are gambling. We are not told where they are gambling. Then a new character is introduced— ániqi a (clause 7). Seemingly out of the blue, he commands, “Don’t go on the beach!” We guess that he is addressing Oolachan-Woman, because she responds, “Don’t say that to me, lord!” The next few clauses (7–17) are taken up with the interaction of Oolachan-Woman and ániqi a ; C̔ác̔u is no longer on stage. In the first part of the text, the narrator is not explicit about setting, but on the basis of changes in topic, and in the characters who appear onstage, we can divide the first part of the text into “scene A” and “scene B”: A: C̔ác̔u and Oolachan-Woman are gambling B: ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman are talking The topic of scene B is obscure. ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman are discussing something, but we can’t tell exactly what it is or why they are discussing it. Yet there are several hints. Given the overall circumstances of the story, and knowledge of ániqi a ’s nature from other stories (e.g., Boas and Hunt 1906, 192–95, 225–27), we suspect that ániqi a ’s speech has magical power. If he forbids Oolachan-Woman from going onto the beach, she will not be able to do it. But when ániqi a says the magic words—literally— she is able to go down to the water’s edge. Their argument and the events that follow it only make sense if we posit 36 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

a metaphoric/magical identity between herring and oolachan. This is not far-fetched (see figure 2). Both are small, silvery, oily ocean fish with forked tails. Oolachan (pronounced OO-la-kn, also eulachon, olachen, oulakan, hooligan, etc.) are more slender and somewhat smaller than herring, commonly measuring no more than six or seven inches, while herring usually reach about ten inches when mature. Both come inshore in vast numbers to spawn, oolachan to freshwater rivers in early spring, herring to shallow saltwater in spring or summer (Encyclopedia Americana 1986). For some reason, ániqi a appears to be ignorant of this magical relationship. This is how Oolachan-Woman is able to trick him: how she is able to go on the beach after he has sung his song, and how she is able to create herring once she is on the beach. Scene A could be understood as an Invitation (clauses 1– 4) plus a Consequence (clauses 5– 6). Scene B could also be understood as two SpeechResponse pairs, a Prohibition and a Protest, a Permission and a Consequence.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Fig. 2. Herring and oolachan.

C̔ác̔u invites Oolachan-Woman to gamble with him. Oolachan-Woman wins their game. ániqi a forbids Oolachan-Woman to go on the beach. Oolachan-Woman protests. ániqi a inadvertently permits Oolachan-Woman to go on the beach. 4. Oolachan-Woman does it.

A. 1. 2. B. 1. 2. 3.

Dell Hymes has used words like line, verse, and stanza to label various units of rhetorical structure. Here, let us refer to each numbered unit as a verse. The relationships could be represented in the following way (for brevity’s sake the Kwakw’ala is omitted here): Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 37

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

A. 1. (Invitation) “Come,” said C̔ác̔u, “that we may play,” thus said C̔ác̔u to Oolachan-Woman. 2. (Consequence) Then C̔ác̔u gave his blanket to Oolachan-Woman. Then she put on the blanket she had gained in gambling. B. 1. (Prohibition) ániqi a said, “Don’t go on the beach,” thus said ániqi a . 2. (Protest) Then Oolachan-Woman spoke: “Don’t say that to me, lord,” thus said Oolachan-Woman; “say to me, ‘Dried herrings are jumping on the beach,’ lord.” 3. (Permission) (Then he said,) “Jump on the beach, jump on the beach, dried herring, dried herring,’ say to me, lord.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

4. (Consequence) Then she put the corner of her blanket into the sea.

1 2 3 4

5 6

7 8 9

10 11 12 13

14 15 16 17

18

In many oral-narrative traditions, such rhetorical structures are linguistically marked. It will be noted that up to this point, each main clause in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” except the very first has begun with the auxiliary form la ai. Boas translates la ai consistently as “then,” except in clause 7, where he omits it. “Then” is as good a gloss as any; la ai has no concrete meaning. The main function in narrative of la ai and other auxiliary forms is to mark the movement of the narrator’s focus from one character, locale, or activity to another and to relate the events casually and temporally (Berman 1982). However, such auxiliaries do also function, in a limited way, as a marker of rhetorical units (Berman 1983). Elaboration of these points need not concern us here; let it suffice to say that auxiliaries usually mark what could be called 38 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

lines—the most basic rhetorical element that forms verses and stanzas of what are often intricate patterns of fourfold and four-stage action (Berman 1991). As a rule, auxiliaries are present in every main clause of a narrative. They are only absent from the very first line of a narrative and from the quoted speech of story actors, and, sometimes, during the climactic action of a story. The next few clauses of the text, 19–22, lack auxiliaries. This is because they describe the climactic moments of the story—the moments in which Oolachan-Woman is creating herring for her tribe. But what is the place of these clauses in the story’s overall rhetorical structure? Do they form a separate scene, C, or do they topically and organizationally belong to scene B? Certainly clause 22 is the end of a scene, whether a scene B or a scene C. The following clause, 23, introduces a new actor, Fog-Woman, and a new topic, Fog-Woman’s inability to catch herring. But there seems to be more than one possible analysis of the clauses describing the appearance and resuscitation of the dried herring. Consider a scene B that includes these clauses:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

B. 1.

ániqi a said, “Don’t go on the beach,” thus said ániqi a .

7 8 9

2. Then Oolachan-Woman spoke: “Don’t say that to me, lord,” thus said Oolachan-Woman; “say to me, ‘Dried herrings are jumping on the beach,’ lord.”

10

3. (Then he said,) “‘Jump on the beach, jump on the beach, dried herring, dried herring,’ say to me, lord.”

14

11 12 13

15 16 17

4. Then she put the corner of her blanket into the sea.

18

5. Behold! dried herrings; Herrings made a noise, “Ssss!” Shoals of herring were jumping ashore on the land. They were taken by the tribe.

19 20 21 22

The foregoing analysis is unsatisfactory for several reasons. First, the preference of Kwagul narrators for the number four in all levels of narrative organization is quite striking. This is not to say that fourfold patterning is rigidly Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 39

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

adhered to in absolutely every instance and that no narrator would ever add a fifth verse. But clauses 19–22 do not seem to belong with the rest of scene B for other reasons. They have a different topic and different actors. In the preceding clauses of scene B, ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman are arguing about whether she should go on the beach or not; in these clauses ániqi a is absent and irrelevant and the main action is with the herring. At the same time, there are arguments against these clauses standing by themselves as verse C. First, it would be unusual, I believe, for a Kwagul narrator to begin a major rhetorical unit, to make a scene shift, without some rhetorical marker. There is no such marker whatsoever in clause 19. Second, all other scenes in this text share an action-response pattern. In scene A it is Invitation-Consequence. In scene B, it is Prohibition-Response. In the final scene, clauses 23–27, it is Problem-Solution. Here, the action that causes the magical manifestation of herring occurs in clause 18, which the previous analysis has put with scene B. An analysis that would seem to better reflect the organizational realities of the text is: C. 1. Then she put the corner of her blanket into the sea.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

2. Behold! dried herrings; Herrings made a noise, “Ssss!” Shoals of herring were jumping ashore on the land. They were taken by the tribe.

18 19 20 21 22

In this scheme, scene C begins when Oolachan-Woman leaves ániqi a and goes down to the waterside to dip her blanket in the ocean: a change of setting, character, and topic. Such an analysis, however, destroys the (previously argued) four-part action-response symmetry of scene B. I believe the solution to these difficulties lies in reconsidering OolachanWoman’s role in the story. Though the title of the text leaves her out, Oolachan-Woman is surely the main character, the main mover of the action in this story.9 If we look at the action from her point of view, the story ̔ u’s becomes a series of her victories and accomplishments. First, she wins Các̔ blanket. Second, she tricks ániqi a so that it becomes possible for her to go on the beach. Third, she manifests herring for her tribe. In the final sentences of the text, another woman, Fog-Woman, achieves a minor victory of her own. From this point of view, the action is clearly and unambiguously organized into four scenes, and each scene has a two-part structure of Problem– 40 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Problem Solved. In the first verse of each scene (labeled 1 below), a problem or difficult task is presented. In the second verse (labeled 2), the problem is solved or the task accomplished: A. 1. “Come,” said C̔ác̔u, “that we may play,” thus said C̔ác̔u to Oolachan-Woman. 2. Then C̔ác̔u gave his blanket to Oolachan-Woman. Then she put on the blanket she had gained in gambling. B. 1. ániqi a said, “Don’t go on the beach,” thus said ániqi a .

3 4 5 6

7 8 9

2. Then Oolachan-Woman spoke: “Don’t say that to me, lord,” thus said Oolachan-Woman. “Say to me, ‘Dried herrings are jumping on the beach,’ lord.” (Then he said,) “‘Jump on the beach, jump on the beach, dried herring, dried herring,’ say to me, lord.” C. 1. Then she put the corner of the blanket into the sea.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1 2

2. Behold! dried herrings; Herrings made a noise, “Ssss!” Shoals of herring were jumping ashore on the land. They were taken by the tribe. D. 1. Then the wife of ʔúm̔aƚ, Fog-Woman, Found it difficult to scoop up the herrings. 2. Then she took her pubic hair and netted a net to take the herrings.

10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

18 19 20 21 22

23 24 25 26 27

̔ u. In scene B, In scene A, the task at hand is to win in the game with Các̔ the problem is how to get around ániqi a ’s prohibition. In scene C, the Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 41

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

task is to bring the herring into being. And in scene D, the problem is how to catch the herring.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

৳ Xµ5HWUDQVODWLRQ ´ iQLTL D DQG&iF৳ Close attention to organizational logic—to rhetorical structure—has brought the apparent incoherencies of the text into focus but has not converted them into sensible narrative. We still do not understand the significance of the first gambling scene. Does this supply the reason why ániqi a orders Oolachan-Woman to stay off the beach? Logically, it must. OolachanWoman’s trick with the herring must also be related to her gambling, but how? What is the substance of the conflict between ániqi a and OolachanWoman? We can only discover this if we understand that the narrator of this text was deliberately punning with sound and image, in most cases giving a sexual meaning or association to words for which the primary meaning is not sexual. Careful retranslation will make some of this punning obvious and allow us to guess at the rest. Scene A begins with an invitation from C̔ác̔u to “play.” Boas interpreted this “play” as gambling play. Actually, no explicit mention of gambling is found in the Kwakw’ala original, despite Boas’s English of clause 6. In Kwakw’ala, C̔ác̔u’s initial speech consists of three words: G̣ila qaənc ʔamƚi. The critical word is ʔamƚi, which derives from the stem ʔamƚ-, “to play.” Now, in English, “to play” has multiple connotations, as is evidenced by such words and phrases as “children playing,” “to play cards,” and “foreplay.” As it happens, a comparable or even wider semantic range exists in Kwakw’ala. There appear to be four main uses of ʔamƚ-, “to play,” in the Kwakw’ala textual corpus: “child’s play,” “gambling play,” “sexual play,” and “shamanic play.”10 The first verse of “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” does not reveal to us which of these four senses of “play” is intended. However, clause 6 in verse 2 contains the answer. This clause contains three Kwakw’ala words, Lá ai ətáʔaƚʔidəsis ʔigónəm. The first word, lá ai, is an auxiliary and contains no concrete meaning. The second word, ətáʔaƚʔidəsis, is the verb, and the third word, ʔigónəm, is a noun in the oblique case. The clause as a whole is difficult to translate. The only clue as to who is the subject of the sentence, C̔ác̔u or Oolachan-Woman, is the possessive marker -is at the end of the verb ətáʔaƚʔidəsis.11 This marker signifies that the possessor of the oblique noun and the subject of the sentence are the same person. 42 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The thing possessed, the oblique noun, is ʔigónəm. This word is derived from a stem ʔiko-, “to be victorious,” and a nominal suffix -anəm, “obtained by an action.”12 Together stem and suffix mean “the thing obtained through victory”—that is, “the prize, the thing won.” Boas interprets this “thing won” ̔ u gave to Oolachan-Woman in the preceding clause. Indeed, as the blanket Các̔ a blanket is apparently mentioned in clause 6, in the verb ətáʔaƚʔidəsis. Since this blanket is no longer ətáʔaƚdi “[C̔ác̔u’s] former blanket,” as in the previous clause, but simply ətáʔaƚ-, “blanket,” it would seem that OolachanWoman is the possessor of the blanket, and Boas is right to make her the subject of the sentence. However, the meaning of the verb ətáʔaƚʔidəsis is somewhat tricky. Boas interprets this verb as deriving from the stem ətáʔaƚ-, “robe, blanket,” and an inchoative aspect marker -[x] ʔid, “to start doing an action, to become something”; he translates the whole form as “she put on a blanket.” At first glance this is a likely interpretation. Since the stem ətáʔaƚ-occurs in two adjacent clauses, it would make sense that the stem means the same thing in both places. The boundary in Kwakw’ala between noun and verb is not a very distinct one, and there is no grammatical or syntactic reason why “blanket” cannot function as a verb. However, given this interpretation, ətáʔaƚʔidəsis cannot mean “she put on a blanket.” It would have to mean “she became a blanket,” a bizarre scenario! We begin to wonder if Boas’s interpretation is incorrect all around. Let us look more closely at the stem of this verb form. ətáʔaƚ, also ət̔áł, is a Tl’astl’asiqwala dialect form deriving from the Kwakwʔala root ət(a)-, meaning “to stick to, to stick on, robe, blanket worn as clothing,” and a nominal suffix -(!)aƚ. In other words, one’s robe is a “thing which sticks on.” While “robe” is the common and expected meaning of ətaʔaƚ, there are other possible interpretations. The root ət(a)- can mean “sticking together, joined by sexual intercourse.” It is used in this sense in the word atox̣sd, “sticking together behind,” a term for informal and irregular marriage unions. “Like dogs sticking together,” George Hunt explains (Boas 1921, 1075). Further, the nominal suffix -(!)aƚ in ətaʔaƚ, “robe,” is formally identical to an adverbial suffix -(!)aƚ, which means “quickly, easily.” In other words, if the expected interpretation of ətaʔaƚ is “robe,” a possible interpretation of ətaʔaƚ is “sticking together easily, joining together quickly or easily in sexual intercourse.”13 In ordinary circumstances, context would allow us to separate which meaning was intended; but here the narrator deliberately confuses the two. We think we are hearing about someone’s clothing, and all of a sudden we discover we are hearing about a sexual act. Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 43

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The whole word, ətaʔaƚʔidəsis, can be analyzed as follows: ət(a)-(!)aƚ -[x]ʔid” -əs -is

“to stick on, to join in sexual intercourse” “quickly, easily” “inchoative aspect marker” (“to start doing an action, to become something”) “oblique case marker” “possessive case marker; possessor same as subject”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

No, it does not make sense for Oolachan-Woman to “become a blanket,” but it does make sense for her to “begin sticking onto something in sexual intercourse.” The pair of clauses can now be translated as: A. 2. Lá ai c̔óə C̔ác̔u yəsis ətáʔaƚdi lax̣ Záza itəlaJપa Lá ai ətaʔáƚʔidəsis ʔigónəm.

6

A. 2. C̔ác̔u gave his robe to Oolachan-Woman. She quickly stuck [herself ] onto that thing she had won.

6

5

5

The reader will now begin to guess that the “thing she had won” is not a blanket. Nor are C̔ác̔u and Oolachan-Woman gambling in the normal sense of the word. Instead, in scene A, the narrator is slyly using the idiom of gambling to describe a sexual encounter. The stem ʔamƚ-, “to play,” in the form ʔamƚi, the appearance of the form ʔiko-, “to be victorious,” and an apparent transaction involving C̔ác̔u’s clothing actually refer to sexual play. In this light, ániqi a ’s anger in scene B begins to make sense, but there are still several confusing details. Clearly, some relationship exists between ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman that gives ániqi a the right and the need to control her sexual activities. In a closely related story from the aqəmgilisəla village, a character named Oolachan-Woman is ániqi a ’s mother (Boas 1895, 319). In yet another story from the nearby Yu inu village, Oolachan-Woman is ániqi a ’s paternal grandmother (1906, 188). The best we can say about the relationship of the two in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” is that Oolachan-Woman is probably some kind of older kinswoman. Of course, as the myths tell us, she would be an adoptive kinswoman only, since ániqi a is human and Oolachan-Woman belongs to the magical animalpeople. But ániqi a ’s command—“Don’t go on the beach!”—seems somewhat 44 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

nonsensical. What does going on the beach have to do with improper sexual activities? Let us examine what he says more closely. The phrase consists of two words, ázis y̔álagiləs. The first term, ázis, is relatively straightforward, an imperative meaning “don’t you do it!” The second term is problematic, containing what may be either a transcription error or a dialectal variant. The stem could be ya-, meaning “to do, to be, to move.” This is clearly what Boas had in mind. If the stem is ya- the word can be analyzed as following:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ya-la -gəƚ -is

“to do, to be, to move” “continuative suffix” “continued or repeated motion” “outside, the beach, the world”

Ya-la-gəƚ-is could be translated as “to move continuously/exist with continuous motion throughout the world” or as “to do something continuously outside/on the beach.” The first gloss has a somewhat cosmic ring to it, and in fact, Yálagəlis happens to be a name of a Kwagul warrior deity (Boas 1897, 713). The suffix combination -gəlis, “continual motion throughout the world” is very often used as an epithet descriptive of divine nature. Given that OolachanWoman has magical powers, given that (in the context of the myth-age world in which these stories take place) she is a fish-supernatural, ázis y̔álagiləs might mean “Don’t act according to your divine nature!” The more concrete and restricted meaning would be “Stop doing things on the beach!” (cf. Boas n.d., 44). Traditionally, the beach—not, obviously, the shore right in front of the village, but a more private location—was the usual site for hanky-panky (Jay Powell, personal communication). A woman’s legitimate trips to gather food might be used as a cover for her illicit affairs, as they were in another Kwagul story, in which a woman has intercourse with her husband’s brothers while collecting cockles (Boas and Hunt 1905, 282– 87). In this concrete sense, ániqi a is saying to Oolachan-Woman, “Don’t go off to ‘work’ on some secluded beach, I know what you’re really up to!” The tricks that the narrator plays elsewhere in the text suggest that yet another interpretation is possible here. The clue is a small mark (‛) over the /y/ (Boas’s ɛ). This mark is not found in Boas’s field notes but does appear in the published version. It represents glottalization, which is a distinctive feature in Kwakw’ala. There are dialectical differences between the two dozen Kwakw’ala-speaking “tribes,” and this was even more true in the nineOolachan-Woman’s Robe 45

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

teenth century. It may be that the form from the Kwagul dialect, yálagəlis, was legitimately y̔álagiləs in the Tl’astl’asiqwala dialect of the narrator of this text. However, it is also possible that the narrator was playing with the sound of a stem similar to ya-, “to do, to be, to move.” This stem is y̔əƚ- “to spread legs for intercourse.” The form y̔ə́ƚagəlis would be analyzed as follows: y̔əƚ -gəƚ -is

“to spread legs for intercourse” “continued or repeated motion” “beach, world”

Yə́̔ ƚ agəlis would mean “Don’t fornicate all the time on the beach!”14 In Tsaxis Kwakw’ala, at least, the form that occurs in the text, y̔álagəlis, is halfway between this Yə́̔ ƚagəlis and the standard y̔áłagəlis, “Don’t be doing that on the beach all the time!” Again, at first glance, Oolachan-Woman’s reply to this command is rather odd. “cí ʔustis q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stix̣,” Oolachan-Woman says, and ániqi a repeats “cí istí q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stí”—the difference is subtle. The first word in Oolachan-Woman’s speech is cí ʔustis, which Boas translates as “jump on the beach.” It can be analyzed as: Ci -w, -w̔ -sta -is

“to flap (like a fish when caught); to be stranded”15 “(moving) out of ” “in the water” “outside, beach, world”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

One would expect this form to read cí ʔusdis; the irregularity may be due to transcription error. The second word, q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stix̣, can be analyzed as: q̔əmx̣-əx̣sta -ix̣

“herring” “mouth, to do with mouth, to talk, entrance to an inlet or enclosure” “second-person demonstrative (this visible thing near you)”

The first word of this speech is relatively straightforward; it can be translated as “to flap on the beach (moving) out of the water.” On the face of 46 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

it, this refers to herring becoming stranded when they come inshore to spawn. The second word requires caution from the translator. The suffix -əx̣sta has several meanings, and we might be tempted, from previous reference to geographical features such as water and beach, to choose the meaning “entrance to an inlet.” However, there are two objections to such an interpretation. First, -əx̣sta only takes this “inlet” meaning in the form -əx̣stalis. Second, if -əx̣sta means “entrance to an inlet,” the coordinates expressed by the locative and demonstrative elements of each word, cíx̣ʔustis and q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stix̣, would conflict. The herring cannot simultaneously be offshore, at the entrance to an inlet, and at the beach (-is), stranded near the person Oolachan-Woman is talking to (-ix̣), that is, near ániqi a . The word q̔əmx̣əx̣stix̣ is a complex pun, and we need to look in the next scene for the key to its meanings. Exactly what the herring are, and why it makes sense for Oolachan-Woman to bring them up at this juncture, is revealed at the beginning of scene C (clauses 18–20). Boas’s translation of clause 18, “Then she put the corner of her blanket in the water,” is completely wrong. The clause consists of four words, la ai apsta lax̣i dəmsx. The critical word here is the verb, apsta. It can be analyzed as a root ap- and a suffix -sta, “into the water.” Boas glosses apsta in his 1921 Kwakw’ala-English glossary and again in his unpublished dictionary (Boas n.d., 441) as “to dip into water”; but the only reference he gives in each case, C190.24, is this very page and line. Boas probably arrived at “to dip into water” via the related story from the aqəmgilisəla, in which Oolachan-Woman is ániqi a ’s mother. Oolachan-Woman keeps all the fish in her blanket, and ániqi a , concerned that there should be abundance in the world, borrows it and dips it into the water. The fish are thus released into the ocean (Boas 1895, 319, see also 332–33; Maud n.d., 4). Boas evidently collected this version of the story in English. At any rate, Boas seems to have assumed that he already knew umgiləs’s story well enough to guess how Oolachan-Woman would create herring. The mention of a blanket at the beginning of the story probably reinforced his belief. A glance at other occurrences of ap-, in Kwakw’ala and its closest relatives, shows that the meaning of the root ap- has nothing to do with blankets, or dipping, or water (Lincoln and Rath 1980, 192). It means “to pull limbs close to the body.” Derivatives of ap-in Kwakw’ala mean variously “to clutch something to one’s body” and “to climb a smooth pole, tree, or steep bank.” A Heiltsuk word derived from the same root is x p̔s, “to squat Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 47

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

on the ground outside” (Lincoln and Rath 1980, 192; Boas 1921, 1437; Boas n.d., 436). Boas does give examples with a correct gloss in his glossary and unpublished dictionary, but with the stem spelled əp-. With his original misunderstanding in place, he never connected this əp- with OolachanWoman’s apsta. To repeat, apsta has nothing to do with blanket corners, or dipping. The most literal translation of clause 18 would be “she pulled her limbs close to her body in saltwater.” The most probable interpretation of this is that Oolachan-Woman is squatting down. The next line makes the matter completely clear: “‘Ssss . . .’ said the herrings.” The herring are OolachanWoman’s labia, and she is urinating into the water. “Don’t keep fooling around on the beach,” ániqi a orders his kinswoman. “Oh, no, lord,” says Oolachan-Woman, “Lord, tell me, ‘herring are flapping on the beach.’” And ániqi a dutifully repeats, “Lord, tell me, herring are flapping on the beach.” This bit of buffoonery is not typical of ániqi a , who is usually a fairly dignified character, but the motif is found elsewhere in North Pacific Coast oral literature (e.g., Davis and Saunders 1980, 165–66; cf. Maud n.d., 6). ániqi a does not repeat the phrase exactly as Oolachan-Woman tells it to him. He alters it, perhaps in part to make his song more euphonious (see Boas 1966, 352). What ániqi a says is cí istí q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stí. The difference lies in the suffixes. Cí istí is missing the locative suffixes -w̔ and -is found in the word as Oolachan-Woman says it, and q̔ə́mx̣əx̣stí has a different terminal demonstrative suffix. ániqi a ’s speech can be analyzed as: ci -sta -i q̔əmx̣-əx̣sta -i

“to flap (like a fish when caught), to be stranded” “in the water” “prenominal third-person subject marker” “herring” “mouth, to talk, entrance” “third-person demonstrative (that visible or invisible thing over there)”

What ániqi a sings is, “In the water over there, those herring—which are at the entrance to an enclosure—are stranded/flapping.” Again, Oolachan-Woman says, “These herring which you see, near you,” while ániqi a is saying, “Those herring over there.”16 ániqi a does not realize that the herring are on the body of Oolachan-Woman, that the entrance they are stranded at is her vagina. The consequence of his change 48 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

seems to be that Oolachan-Woman is compelled to go down to the water to flap her herring, instead of doing it on the spot. It may be that if ániqi a had not so erred, the multitude of herring would not have been created. Oolachan-Woman must immerse a body part in saltwater to manifest fish, as we will discuss later. In Kwakw’ala, the moment in which the herring come to life reads:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ə́mx̣əx̣stí; Ssss . . . xa ai q̔áma. Cí ʔustis láx̣i ʔawína is.

19 20 21

Clause 19 in its entirety is the same word as we saw in ániqi a ’s magical song, q̔əmx̣əx̣sti, which we translated roughly as “herring at the entrance.” In clause 19 it is used as a verb.17 Here it is well to remember, from the narrator’s fun with the blanket, that such noun-verb shifts may not be as innocent as they initially appear. Let us examine this herring word a little more carefully. The stem, q̔əmx̣-, “herring,” is not polysemic and presents no problem. It is the primary suffix, -əx̣sta, “mouth, to do with mouth, to talk, entrance” that is difficult. Certainly one intended meaning of q̔əmx̣əx̣sti is “herring at the entrance,” that is, “herring at the entrance to the vagina.” However, q̔əmx̣əx̣sti can also mean “herring talking,” and in clause 20 the herring really do talk, ssss . . . xa ai, “saying ‘Ssss.’” In other words, clauses 19–20 can be read as, “The herring talked. ‘Ssss,’ said the herring.” In addition to all this, the narrator also is making at least one soundplay with q̔əmx̣əx̣sti. The sound-play rests on the similarity of q̔əmx̣əx̣sti to q̔əmx̣asdi, “dried herring”; we will return to this topic shortly. Another possible sound-play is with the Kwakw’ala form meaning “herring on someone’s behind,” which would probably be written q̔əmx̣ʔəx̣sdiʔ. In fact, the suffixes -əx̣sta, “mouth, entrance” and -!x̣sd, “tail, behind, hind end” are at least formally related; the latter suffix occurs with the meaning of the former in a number of instances (Boas 1947, 373, e.g. bə ‘əx̣sd, “man’s voice”). Otherwise, there is little direct evidence for this pun, but the interpretation of q̔əmx̣əx̣sti as “herrings on one’s behind” actually makes more sense, initially, than “herrings at the entrance to an inlet”; it draws the connection between the herring and Oolachan-Woman’s “tail” in a more obvious and literal way. The three clauses, 19–21, describe the moment of transformation. We have discussed clause 19; clause 20 is straightforward, a verb followed by a Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 49

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

subject. The verb stem is ssss . . . xa, “to say ‘ssss . . .’”; the subject is q̔áma, “herring” (or, correctly transcribed, q̔amax̣; see note 18 below). In clause 21 the third-person pronominal subject, referring to the herring, is unmarked; and the verb, cí ʔustis, is the same as we saw in OolachanWoman’s speech in clause 13: “to flap like a stranded fish, while moving out of the water onto the beach.” The last two words form what could without too much distortion be thought of as a prepositional phrase: láx̣i, “into, onto,” and ʔawína is, “country, beachside.” The three clauses can be translated as:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The herring at the entrance talked. “Ssss,” said those herring. [Now] they were flapping all along the shoreline.

19 20 21

The narrator does not describe the transformation directly. Rather, he obliquely indicates the magical event through a contrast in locative coordinates. As the herring move between əx̣sta, “at the entrance,” clause 19, and -ʔustis, “moving out of the water onto the beach,” clause 21, they are detaching themselves from Oolachan-Woman, multiplying magically. It is possible to add an additional layer of interpretation in this scene. The layer of interpretation rests on Boas’s original gloss of the word q̔ə́mx̣əx̣sti. In his field notes, and again in publication, Boas translates this word as “dried herring.” əmx̣əx̣sti means “herring at the entrance”; it does not and cannot mean “dried herring.” However, since the gloss appears in Boas’s field notes, we assume that his narrator is the source. What does all this mean? The most likely Kwakw’ala rendering of “dried herring” would be q̔ə́mx̣asdi, q̔əmx̣-, “herring” plus a suffix -asdi, “dried meat of something.” əmx̣əx̣sti, “herring at the entrance” and q̔ə́mx̣asdi, “dried herring” sound somewhat similar. I believe Boas transcribed the first and was then given the gloss for the second. Perhaps the narrator even slurred the sounds together, as punsters often do. Boas could not figure it out. Later in life he decided his transcription was in error, that he must really have heard q̔ə́mx̣asdi. When entering data for his particular text into his dictionary, he put down q̔ə́mx̣asdi for q̔əmx̣əx̣sti (Boas n.d., 349).18 We, however, now know that our narrator is fond of wordplay and that it is perfectly probable that both interpretations were intended. With the latter interpretation—the “dried herring” option—the passage would be translated as: 50 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The dried herring talked. “Ssss,” said those herring. [Now] they were flapping all along the shoreline.

19 20 21

It is in this version that Oolachan-Woman’s urination becomes meaningful. Urine in Kwagul stories has magical properties; it is the “water of life” (Furst 1989). Generally, the water of life is used to resuscitate the dead and to cure the mortally wounded; in many, but not all, cases, it is the property of a woman. In one Kwagul story, a chief uses his water of life to resuscitate a salmon-twin-woman, in order that his tribe should have abundance of food (Boas and Hunt 1905, 211–330). Sometimes seawater can be substituted for urine: in the same story, the dried salmon obtained by the chief are insulted and jump down into the ocean, where they become live fish again and swim away. In another story, a woman rescues her husband and his tribe, who have been caught and eaten in the form of salmon, by placing their remains in the ocean; they become live fish and swim away (Boas and Hunt 1905, 390– 92). In everyday life outside of myth, this was the customary means of disposing of fish remains, guaranteeing as it does that the fish-people will be able to reincarnate in fish form and return to the rivers and streams year after year. In “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” the “dried herring” are immersed in both urine and seawater to bring them to life. On one level of meaning, it is this immersion that transforms dead herring into live jumping herring. The implication that herring are Oolachan-Woman’s labia suggests yet another level of interpretation: it is not so much dried, dead herring as dry herring, and what transforms dry herring into wet, slippery, and flapping herring is the moisture of sexual arousal; another kind of water of life. Along these lines, it is possible, too, that the narrator intended an aural as well as a visual and tactile analogy between herring and female genitalia. I am told that the sound of herring flapping on the beach closely resembles the sound of intercourse (D. Berman, personal communication). Bearing all this in mind we can see why Fog-Woman needed a net of pubic hair to recontain the herring (clauses 22–26). This coda to the story, along with the other myths to which this story is related, points to a moral about woman’s sexuality and productivity; but more of this later. There is one last point about the translation of this text to be raised, and that is the translation of names. The three men named, C̔ác̔u, ániqi a , and ʔúm̔aƚ, have names that are difficult to translate. ániqi a are characters found in a number of other myths. Boas translates ániqi a ’s name as “Born to soar,” from q̔ani-, “to Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 51

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

soar” (Boas n.d., 358). Lincoln and Rath derive the name from an untranslatable stem, q̔ax- (1980, 371). C̔ác̔u is a character who appears in only one other myth, in which he is ̔ u may be the identified as a bird skilled at spearing (Boas 1895, 332–33). Các̔ onomatopoeic name of the bird species, or it may be the character’s own ̔ u, “gut harpoon name. In the latter case it is probably identical with Các̔ line” (Boas n.d., 206, 218). Boas translates ʔúm̔aƚ as “Chief-of-the-ancients” (1905, 322 passim), probably deriving it from a stem ʔúm̔-, “great, chiefly, high” and an undetermined suffix. Boas’s gloss of ʔə́lxsoʔayu a as “Fog-Woman” is incorrect. ʔə́lxsoʔayu a can be analyzed as: ʔəl-xso -yu a

“secure, fast, tight, firm; to bury” “[pass] through; through a hole or enclosed space” “woman”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

In a later volume Boas glosses ʔə́lxsoʔayu a as “Revenging-Woman” (Boas and Hunt 1906, 170), presumably deriving it from the sense in which ʔəlmeans “to bury.” I would suggest, however, a better reading might be “Something stuck inside a hole” and that the name refers to an unorthodox ploy ʔə́lxsoʔayu a uses to hide her lover when they are surprised by her husband in flagrante. Note that in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” it is herring that would be stuck in—or at least near—the hole in question. The most interesting of the names is Záza itəlaJપa, which Boas translates as “Oolachan-Woman.” The full meaning of this name is actually more subtle and complex: zaza -[g]it -əla -Jપa

“oolachan (distributive plural)” “all over surface of body of person” “multiplicity of parts” “woman”

Oolachan-Woman is the “Woman whose body has oolachan all over its surface.” Analysis of this name suggests that our earlier assumption of a metaphoric identity of herring and oolachan is correct. Not only are Oolachan-Woman’s genitalia made of herring/oolachan, her whole body surface is. Somehow ániqi a doesn’t realize this, doesn’t fully guess her powers. 52 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

৳ Xµ5HSULVH ´ iQLTL D DQG&iF৳ [Version 3] A. 1. “Hey,”

1

said Harpoon-Line, “let’s have some fun,” that’s what Harpoon-Line said to Oolachan-Woman. 2. Harpoon-Line gave his robe to Oolachan-Woman. She quickly stuck herself onto her prize. B. 1. ániqi a said, “Stop your fooling around on the beach,” that’s what ániqi a said. 2. Oolachan-Woman began to speak; “Don’t say such a thing to me, sir,” that’s what Oolachan-Woman said. “Say ‘These herring at the entrance are flapping on the beach,’ sir.” He sang, “‘Flapping in the water, flapping in the water, herring at the entrance, herring at the entrance,’ say to me, sir,”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

C. 1. She squatted down in the seawater.

2 3 4 5 6

7 8 9 10 11 12

13 14 15 16 17

18

2. The dry herring at the entrance talked; “Ssss . . .” said those herring. Now they were flapping all along the shoreline. They were taken by the villagers. D. 1. The wife of ʔúm̔aƚ, Stuck-inside-Woman, had a hard time scooping up those herring. 2. She took her pubic hair and knotted a net to take the herrings.

19 20 21 22

23 24

25 26 27

Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 53

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Despite Boas’s poor translation of it, “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” is a coherent, well-formed story. The story opens on Oolachan-Woman and her lover “playing.” The lover disrobes and offers a “prize” to Oolachan-Woman. Then ániqi a discovers what his adoptive kinswoman has been up to. “Stay at home!” he orders. “Stay off the beach, away from the waters’ edge! Don’t fornicate! Don’t act like what you are, a divine being who is constantly on the move!” He wants this fish-being to keep away from the water, perhaps to act like a human. But Oolachan-Woman is of no mind to obey. She wants sex and she wants the ocean—she is an oolachan woman, after all. She knows that ániqi a ’s commands have considerable force in the world and that even she is bound by what he says. She also knows, however, that being human, ániqi a might not really know the myth-people, might not know their nature or powers. Perhaps he can’t see that her skin is covered with numerous small, silvery fish. “Oh, no, lord,” she says, deceptively humble. “I think you could come up with a better Transformation than that. Try this one instead, lord: ‘Herring are flapping on the beach, these herring here are flapping at the entrance.’ Say that to me, lord.” This sounds good to ániqi a . Perhaps he sees an image of fish helplessly stranded on land—precisely the fate he is trying to impose on OolachanWoman. However, he gets the words somewhat muddled, repeating more of Oolachan-Woman’s speech than is necessary. “Flapping in the water, flapping in the water,” he sings. “‘Over there, over there. Herring at the entrance, herring at the entrance.’ Say that to me, lord.” Though it is not precisely what she had in mind, Oolachan-Woman accepts this song. She walks down to the water’s edge (surely to ániqi a ’s dismay?) and squats down until her vulva is in the water. She urinates—“ssss. . . .” Water of life renews the herring. The ocean restores her divine nature, perhaps arouses her sexually. The fish on her skin slip off into the water, multiplying fantastically. All around her in the shallows, little silvery fish are jumping, smacking, wriggling, flapping. Does the village come running to look? What an incredible abundance of food! But difficult to catch; these fish show little affinity for ordinary nets. Then Stuck-inside-Woman, thinking, perhaps, about where the herring came from, has an idea: in order to recapture them, one needs the substance that kept them confined in the first place. So she makes a special net and with it manages to catch the herring. And there the narrator ends his story.

54 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

৳ Xµ%DFNJURXQG ´ iQLTL D DQG&iF৳ Though Boas’s Kwakw’ala texts were offered as an insight into the Kwagul experience of the world, no single one, by itself, tells us a great deal. Nor is Boas much help: he rarely offered interpretation or commentary beyond the bare translation. It is often a frustrating task trying to relate the texts to anything else he said about the nineteenth- century Kwagul. Fortunately, he did publish enough material, and enough in Kwakw’ala, that it is possible to say more about the text than he did. ̔ u” belongs to the Kwagul ethnoliterary category called “ ániqi a and Các̔ nuyəm, “myth, tradition, history.” The main criterion for membership in this category is that the events of the story take place before the end of the so- called myth age (cf. Boas and Hunt 1905, 111). The category is extremely diverse and includes several subdivisions that had different functions in social life. One of these subdivisions was sometimes called nuyəmiƚ, literally “tradition in the house” (Boas 1947, 250). House stories describe how a descentgroup ancestor acquired certain names, crests, and other important privileges in the myth age. House stories are owned by the descent group (or by the chiefly lines within the descent group) in the same way that chiefly names and crests are. One type of house story features an adolescent hero who journeys across the sea or into the mountains to encounter a supernatural being. This being for one reason or another eventually yields the hero the treasure he seeks. Another common type has a supernatural hero who descends to earth, takes of his spirit mask and sends it back to the skyworld, and then settles down to live as a human being. A second major subdivision of nuyəm are the animal stories (I do not know if this subgenre is named). In these the actors are the nú nim̔is, or “story-people,” animal beings who possess odd powers and abilities, such as buffoonish Mink isəlagi a, son of the Sun, and the much-sought-after Merganser-Woman. The story-people linger on the threshold between human and animal form and live in beachside villages more or less like humans. The narratives about them do not name crests or descent groups or often even tribal names, though many refer to particular village sites. If they have an etiological theme it generally refers to something that affects a wide range of people: wind, weather, currents, tides, fish, and so on. These two subdivisions stand in opposition to each other. House stories explain the public symbols of rank, wealth, and privilege, while the audience for animal stories is usually informal and domestic. Both have an eti-

Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 55

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ological component, but these components refer to opposing processes in cosmogony. Speaking very generally, the etiologies in the animal stories describe change. The outcomes of these stories—the barrenness of mountain summits, the cyclicity of the tides—are states of existence that did not exist at the beginning of time but were brought about by the narrated events. In contrast, the etiologies in the house stories describe continuity. The importance of the chiefly crests and privileges acquired in the stories is that they did exist at the beginning of time and have been handed down to the present unchanged. At most they were merely transferred from spirit to human ancestor. That is probably the reason house stories are sometimes also called nuyəmbalis, “stories from the (beginning-)end of the world” (Boas 1921, 1351– 52). A third subdivision are the stories about ániqi a . ániqi a is the Transformer (not a Kwakw’ala term) whose actions in sum bring an end to the myth age. ániqi a journeys from village to village, encountering all kinds of characters on his way, including the animal-people and descent-group ancestors. “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” is a ániqi a story in which the central dramatic conflict lies between ániqi a and one of the animal-people, viz., OolachanWoman. In the text, the conflict between them is expressed in sexual terms, as a conflict between her desire for sexual freedom and his outraged morals. However, there is a larger context in which this action takes place. ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman have opposite natures, belong to opposite camps. The animal-people belong to an age when the most bizarre permutations of forms are possible, when the sun is kept in a box, when a mink’s musk-bag can talk, when a fart can cause a gale. ániqi a was adopted and raised by animal-people, but he is explicitly human and secular (ba əs). His purpose in life is to bring an end to these permutations, to “set everything right in the world” (hixhəlisəla), to create a world of order and plenty where humans can safely dwell. It is no coincidence that the words for “human,” “secular,” and “male,” derive from closely related roots (bə -, ba -). ániqi a exemplifies these qualities. ániqi a makes war on the animal-people, and tangles with the powerful nonsecular ancestors, but he never succeeds in completely ending the myth age. What he seems to accomplish is a zone of order at the center of the world. Outside this zone, the myth age still persists in the scattered, hidden villages of the animal-people in the forest or under the sea. Generally, though, ániqi a gets the best of the animal-people he encounters. Oolachan-Woman is a rare case, an animal-person who bests ániqi a . It 56 BE RM A N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

is important to note, however, that the outcome of their conflict is in accord with one of ániqi a ’s overall goals, which is to create an abundance of food for humans. The nuyəm genre as a whole is most variable where the names, form, and other attributes of characters are concerned. For example, there is no “sea god” whose attributes are consistent over a wide range of stories, but instead a whole range of different supernaturals in some way associated with the sea, whose attributes overlap from story to story. ániqi a is only a partial exception to this. He is acknowledged to be the same personage in various versions of his life. Certain attributes, for instance his humanness, are consistent from story to story. Others vary widely. For instance, OolachanWoman is ániqi a ’s (adoptive) mother in one aqəmgilisəla story but, in a story from the nearby Yu inu , his paternal grandmother (Boas 1895, 319; Boas and Hunt 1906, 188). Plots and thematic material, on the other hand, tend to repeat from nuyəm to nuyəm. There are two stories from the Boas corpus that are thematically ̔ u.” We have already mentioned the other very similar to “ ániqi a and Các̔ aqəmgilisəla story featuring ániqi a and Oolachan-Woman. To repeat, in this story, Oolachan-Woman is ániqi a ’s mother and keeps all the world’s fish in her robe. ániqi a wants to see the waters alive with fish, so he borrows his mother’s robe and dips the corner of it in the water. Fish appear in the water and soon populate the rivers and oceans. The second story is from the Na axdaʔ village. This story is longer and more complex. The hero is ʔúm̔iɛƚ, a chief who is troubled because there is neither river nor fish where his tribe lives (Boas and Hunt 1905, 322– 30). He creates the river and then plans to marry a twin, that is, a changeling ( a ayac̔ay̔a), a salmon-person who has incarnated in human form. He searches until he finds one among the dead. He sprinkles her with his water of life and she comes alive. Her name is Mɛ́isila (“fish-maker,” from mɛ-, “fish, especially salmon”). She is beautiful, and ʔúm̔iɛƚ’s brothers warn each other not to think about committing adultery with her. She nevertheless favors the brothers over her husband. She refuses to make salmon for ʔúm̔iɛƚ, but will produce them to feed his brothers when he is away. She creates salmon by putting her little finger in her mouth and then into a kettle of water. In the end, ʔúm̔iɛƚ discovers her deception and he compels Fish-maker to fill the river with salmon. She creates salmon in the river by walking into the water; if she were to immerse herself entirely, she warns ʔúm̔iɛƚ, the river would dry up with such a huge mass of salmon. So ʔúm̔iɛƚ gets what he wanted. But his marital difficulties are not over. He grows proud from Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 57

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

his new wealth, insults a salmon bone, and then speaks angrily to his wife. She calls “her tribe, the dried salmon”; they all return into the sea (though salmon eventually come back again to ʔúm̔iɛƚ’s river). There are several elements that “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” shares with these two stories. In all three stories we find a woman with supernatural powers who possesses fishy abundance. She is either wife or kinswoman of the male hero. In two of the stories, there is either a suggestion or a fact of extracurricular sexual activity by this woman, which leads to friction with the hero. In all of them, the fish are released by dipping part of her body or clothing into the water. Let us examine this last element more closely. In “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” Oolachan-Woman dips (dried) herring, that is, her labia, into saltwater. The herring are resuscitated by ocean water and the water of life, multiply magically, and populate the ocean. In the related version from aqəmgilisəla, ániqi a dips Oolachan-Woman’s robe into the water to achieve a similar result. Now, Oolachan-Woman’s full name, Záxa itəlag̣a, means “many oolachan all over the surface of her body.” The name allows some ambiguity as to whether the fish on her body are attached to her skin, as they appear to be in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” or merely covering her skin, as they would be if she wore her robe full of fish in the related story. That these two conditions are essentially the same is, I believe, an important insight into the notion of human and animal physiology that underlies all transformations in the nuyəm. This notion comes into focus when we turn our gaze from Boas’s English translations to the Kwakw’ala of the original. Kwakw’ala has a poorly described shape-gender system that classifies all objects and being into several shape categories. The most important of these categories are long, round/bulky, flat, and hollow/dishlike. In some circumstances, such as counting, a shape-suffix is grammatically obligatory, but generally the system is used more in derivation than in grammar. For example: 1. u ɛx̣toiʔ, “headwaters of river,” from u-, “empty root,” –[g] ɛq, “side of hollow object, riverbank,” –xto, “end of vertical long object.” 2. ənx̣stənd, “to poke branch or pole in water,” from əx-, “long object is somewhere,” -sta, “in the water,” -nd, “inchoative.” 3. hənizas, “where canoe is on beach,” from hən-, “hollow object/ vessel is somewhere,” -is, “on beach,” -as, “place of something.” 4. həm̔azu, “food mat” from ham̔, “to eat,” and -zu, “flat object.”

58 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Not only are there suffixes and stems that express the basic meaning of the shape category (long, flat, hollow, etc.), but there are also many suffixes and stems that express more specific ideas about shape. For instance, “to carry” is a different stem depending on whether one is carrying a long object (e.g., a pole) or a round, bulky object (e.g., a bundle). “End” can be either “end of horizontal object” or “end of standing object.” This topological specificity is quite idiomatic and is ubiquitous in Kwakw’ala. The suffix -[g]it used in Oolachan-Woman’s name, which means “covering surface of person’s body,” is yet another example. By paying close attention to how these suffixes are used in Boas’s texts it is possible to glean some hints as to how the narrators of the text conceived of human and animal physiology and of the nature of transformation between the two. Generally, humans are classified grammatically as long objects, animals as round, bulky objects. The basic classifying suffix for animals is -sJપəm, “round object,” as in, for instance, musJપəmi mi at, “four seals” (mu-, “four,” –sJપəm, “round object,” -i, demonstrative suffix, mi at, “seal”). Now, in the texts, animal-people generally appear in human form and are described as such, standing on two feet ( a -) as opposed to four feet (gal-), and so on. Their animal nature—their animal flesh—is a costume that they can put on or take off as they please. This animal flesh- costume is usually called -Jપəmƚ, glossed by Boas as “mask” (e.g., mi atəmƚ, “seal mask,” from mi at, “seal”). We might think of a mask as portraying only the head of the animal, and indeed, there is a strong relationship between these two concepts in Kwakw’ala; the suffix -Jપəmƚ, “mask,” is almost certainly derived from the suffix -Jપəm, “face, head.” However, in Kwakw’ala, an animal flesh- costume is apparently conceptualized as including both head and body. The body of the flesh- costume is a removable robe or covering, in one text pəsʔəni, “fur blanket” (Boas and Hunt 1905, 33).19 Interestingly, terms for many of the different sorts of robes or blankets are derived using the suffix -sJપəm, “round object”; as, for example, ʔəlagəmsJપəm, “robe of dressed deerskin” (from ʔəlagəm, “dressed deerskin”). In other words, the head (-Jપəm) plus the robe (-sJપəm) together make the mask (-Jપəmƚ) of the animal (-sJપəm). These suffixes are linguistically as well as conceptually related. There is a closely related fourth suffix, -Jપəmiʔ, “in front of, first of its kind.”20 This form would seem to derive from a close conceptual relationship between head (-Jપəm), being first or in front of, and the animals (-sJપəm), who are first in time as well as first in a synchronic moral hierarchy. Note the

Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 59

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

probably similar relationship between the stems gəl-, “first, to come first, to lead, the ancestors,” and gal-, “to crawl on all fours, animal.” The flesh- costume of an animal, its mask/robe, is like clothing. Animals dress—q̔ux̣c̔ud, literally “[go] inside clothing”—in their masks and then undress—q̔u əƚc̔ud, literally “[go] out from inside clothing” (e.g., Boas and Hunt 1905, 165– 66; these terms use the suffix - c̔o, “inside hollow object”). This is why Oolachan-Woman’s robe, which is full of fish, and her skin, which is covered with fish, are essentially the same. She is a supernatural being who can remove her animal shape, which then becomes a robe. The mask is a covering, but to human eyes, the mask appears as the flesh and bone of the animal. The mask is both the thing that transforms and the end result of the transformation. Only the core, the bones, intestines, blood, fins, and so on, of an animal are substances separate from the mask (cf. Boas and Hunt 1905, 304– 5.) Since the mask is the food that humans depend on for their sustenance, from the human perspective, the mask is the valued element of the transformation. It is the mask that, in traditional Kwagul culture, signifies wealth. But the important thing about the mask is that it is in a sense disposable. The animal is not destroyed by human consumption. After its mask has been eaten and it has been reduced to bones and offal, after it becomes a “ghost,” it can be reincarnated.21 Consider the fate of Mɛ́isila, the Fish-maker. She begins as a salmon, reincarnates among humans as a twin, and then dies. As a human, she is buried. ʔúm̔iɛƚ revives her by sprinkling his water of life on her bones. She calls her tribe, the salmon, and they are taken and dried by ʔúm̔iɛƚ’s people. Later, ʔúm̔iɛƚ mistreats a salmon bone. Insulted, the dried salmon tribe returns into the water, resuscitating, and swims away. This particular text depicts the problems of both the origin and the maintenance of abundance. Like ániqi a in the second aqəmgilisəla story, ʔúm̔iɛƚ wishes to introduce fish in the waters. He must first seek out one of the animal-people—specifically a fish-woman—who has the power to make the fish, since he himself does not. Fish-maker’s power in and of itself is of no benefit to him. It is his marriage with her, which establishes a relationship between his tribe and the salmon-people, that creates plenty. During the myth age the animal-people are generally inaccessible to humans, unavailable as game. Even ániqi a , raised among the animalpeople, is denied food by his adoptive parents (Boas and Hunt 1906, 185– 92; Boas 1910, 187–90). In the new dispensation brought by ániqi a —in the secular age—the animal-people have become something that humans, as long as they remain within the narrow zone of order, can hunt, kill, and eat. 60 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

But the animals still have the power to refuse to visit that zone of order. This is the problem of maintenance. Humans must treat the essential remains— bones and offal—correctly. Otherwise the animals will not be able to resuscitate and come back to feed humans again. The proper way to dispose of fish bones is in seawater. Once the bones are immersed, the fish-people come to life again. Compare the following passage with Oolachan-Woman’s actions in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u”:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then she gathered the backbones, fins and the blood of all the salmon and put them into an old mat. She carried the mat out of the house. She walked to the beach. Thunderer went out and called to her. He said, “Oh, mistress! Don’t take it to the beach; just throw it down the embankment,” thus he said. But Thrush-Woman just walked to the beach. She said [to Thunderer], “This is the way of our tribe.” . . . Then she waded into the sea. When her knees were covered with water, the pretty woman poured the contents of the old mat into the water. As soon as the bones, intestines, and blood went into the water, the little silver-salmon came to life again; and all the salmon came to life. All the salmon jumped in the [shallow] water on the beach. And then Thrush-Woman disappeared, because she was taken away by [the salmon]. (Boas and Hunt 1905, 307; cf. 390–92) Animal-flesh masks are not so much disposable as they are transitory representations of a durable transformative idea. Each animal shape that is consumed by humans is but one iteration, one exemplification of this idea, which remains in the possession of the animal. Such a mask-idea is not a Platonic ideal, because the idea has a physical, perceptible existence—it is the ur-mask, if you will. It exists as part of the “supernatural” power of the animal, though of course it is not outside of nature; it is the essence of nature. That is how fish-women such as Oolachan-Woman and Fish-Maker create great plenty by simply immersing their body parts. Oolachan-Woman’s robe, her skin, is fish: it is the notion of fish, the form of fish. When placed in water, this ur-form generates thousands of representations, fish masks that at the same time are part of the robe itself, but different, transitory, expendable. One curious point about Oolachan-Woman is that her robe does not take the form of a single fish, but rather a multiplicity of fish. Texts dealing with other kinds of animals suggest that their masks are in the form of a single creature. For instance, a grizzly-person takes off his mask and robe, the shape of a single grizzly bear (Boas and Hunt 1905, 33). Fish, on the other hand, Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 61

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

except for halibut, seem to come most typically in numbers. This may supply the reasoning behind why twins are thought to be salmon-people: when humans arrive in the world in multiples, they are like fish. Among the animal-people, predators and game animals are usually depicted as male, while many birds, especially ducks and geese, are depicted as female. Occasionally, fish-people appear as male characters (e.g., Boas and Hunt 1905, 302–3), but in general, fish are linked to female sexuality, and the ur-mask that creates fishy abundance is a feminine prerogative. There is apparently a feeling of sensory similarity between fish and female genitalia. The analogy is suggested in a variety of texts. One of Mink’s misadventures involves a village of women who keep their genitalia in a box (Boas and Hunt 1906, 124–27). Mink gets into the box, soils Merganser-Woman’s vulva, then hastily washes it to prevent discovery. Unfortunately, while it is laid out to dry, an eagle mistakes it for a fish and carries it off. Another thread in the symbolic linkage may derive from the role of women as food preparers and providers. If women are food providers, and food par excellence is fish, then perhaps women are like fish. Then, too, it may derive from the role of women as disposers of fish offal. In the story about Thrush-Woman, she places the fish offal in the ocean, making it possible for the salmon to come back to life. In everyday life this was commonly a female task. “The woman watches to make sure all the guests throw on the mat all the bones [and refuse] left after eating. . . . After they have finished eating . . . and gone home . . . the woman scrapes off . . . the rest of her guests’ food, and puts it on the mat . . . and she carries it down to the beach and shakes it out in the saltwater” (Boas 1921, 246). It is likely that the image of a woman wading into the water to provide for the resuscitation of the fish was a strong one. Yet another thread no doubt derives from the reproductive role of women— from the fact that it is women who give birth. The life cycle of anadromous fish such as salmon and oolachan suggests more clearly than that of any other animal the notion of reincarnation and cyclicity: they run, die, and then return. Similarly, each generation of humans is (re)born through the wombs of women.22 But, again, the theory of reproductive physiology expressed in these texts is very different from that of Western culture. A womb is a container, literally boc̔i, “box or bag for fetus.” It is not the woman’s womb that creates wealth and plenty; wealth may be stored in and brought forth from containers, but it is generated by and constituted in coverings. There are a number of texts in which male humans with supernatural power, such as ániqi a , create an abundance of fish. These men, though, 62 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

create fish by placing rotten wood or wooden carvings in the water (e.g., Boas and Hunt 1905, 94–99, 390–92). Humans, even those with supernatural power, must “imitate,” manifest some of the original ur-fishiness by making the closest possible exemplification of it. Kwakw’ala terms that express this effort are nanax̣c̔o and hayigiʔ, both usually glossed by Boas as “imitate.” Nanax̣c̔o derives from the stem nanaq-, “to coincide or be correct in all parts,” and the suffix -c̔o, “inside, inside hollow object”; it could be glossed “to do in the right way in all parts, to be entirely correct in all parts inside.” Hayigiʔ derives from the root hi-, ya-, “to be the case, to exist, to live, to go,” and a suffix -igiʔ, -iga, -ika, “back, in back of, afterwards, to follow behind”; it could be glossed “to follow, to use someone else’s existence as a model.” It is interesting that “to obey” and “to reply” are formed from the same elements as these two words for “imitate.” Nanax̣m̔i, “to reply,” is nanaq-, “to coincide or be correct in all parts” and the discourse suffix -m̔, which signifies that the action of the stem to which it is attached is not separate or discrete from a previous action. A reply coincides with or is correct after the question, it is an inseparable part of the question. NanaJપiga, “to obey,” is nanaq-, “to coincide or be correct in all parts,” and the suffix -igiʔ, -iga, -ika, “back, in back of, following,” which occurs in hayigiʔ, “to imitate.” It is instructive to compare forms that use this suffix:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

nanaqnanaJપiga hayhayigiʔ du du igiʔ i il ika ali igiʔ

“to be correct in all parts, to coincide or meet in all parts, to do straightaway” “to obey” “to be, to exist, to go” “to imitate” “to look” “to look back and imitate deeds of one’s ancestors: to watch what others are doing” “to err, to miss, do wrong, disagree” “to miss one’s way, to not take after parents” “to disobey, refuse”

The suffix -igiʔ, “in back of, following,” has more than purely locative meaning. The notion of “following” contains, or gives rise to, a political and moral meaning. “To obey” is “to follow correctly”; “to disobey” is “to fail to follow.” In all these forms with -igiʔ, the action taken is not original or authoritative, it depends upon a prior state of being or doing in another—in Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 63

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

one’s ancestors, parents, rulers. First (gəla) came the animal-people (gal-) and the ancestors (gəlzəs), who lead (gəlaba). The chief (giJપamiʔ) is the one in front (-Jપəmiʔ) with the mask (-Jપəmƚ), imitating them (nanax̣c̔o, hayigiʔ). Commoners watch (du igiʔ) and obey (nanaJપiga). In house stories, the more public, prestige- oriented myths, the primary thematic concern is with acquiring “imitations” of the transformative power of the spirits. The “imitations” acquired by the ancestors—masks, dances, crest designs, names, and so on—are known as k̔ík̔əsʔu (sing. k̔isʔu), which Boas glossed as “crests” or “privileges.” In the secular age, privileges are associated with a body of ranked positions, somewhat like an aristocracy, called the “seats” ( ‛a-) of a descent group. Each incumbent of a seat uses the set of privileges belonging to that seat. Privileges link the present with the myth age and are both the index and the producer of wealth among humans. The body of seats is the essential part of the descent group (cf. Boas 1966, 50). The welfare of the descent group depends upon these positions being perpetuated—or, perhaps better, reinvigorated—in each generation. In the words of a Kwagul noble:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

I . . . told you people that we are going to be scattered . . . [but] here now is the grandson of our chief. He is young, while our chief was going on to old age; he is new, and he will grow up to be the same as his grandfather. I have taken back what I said; we will not scatter, for we have our new chief here who will take his grandfather’s place” (Ford 1941, 165). It is not that the chief himself is reincarnated in his heir. Rather, when an aging chief installs his vigorous younger heir into his seat, the heir becomes “the same as” the chief. Each succeeding heir is incarnated into the same form, in a line of such chiefly incarnations stretching back to the myth age. This cycle of social transformation is analogous to the transformative cycle of the animals. Just as the individual chief is the latest transitory and cyclic version of the durable ancestral form, the salmon running in the rivers is a transitory and cyclic version of the immortal’s mask. Similarly, the socalled potlatches held during a chief ’s installation—which included largescale presentations of fur or textile blankets (coverings)—are analogous to the gift of masks salmon-people make when they die and are reborn.23 There is a term that encompasses both social and spirit transformation: ay̔u (also aya). aya means “to change to, to exchange”: 64 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

ʔawaw̔a . . . aƚm̔ai lai ayu ɛ GigəlJપəm . . . ‘the [descent group called] ʔawaw̔a . . . just recently exchanged this name ( ayu-x ɛ) for [the name] Gigələm’” (Boas 1935– 43, 189). ay̔u also means “to transform,” as in the word that Boas glosses as “Salmon twin,” a ay̔c̔i. Literally, a ay̔ac̔i is a ay̔a-, “to change, transform (distributive plural?),” and -ac̔i, “hollow object, receptacle for some object or activity.” The twin is a “receptacle for transformation,” the physical receptacle in which the transformation was accomplished—the salmon-person now in human flesh. From a Western point of view, social continuity is accomplished in part through sexual reproduction. However, in Boas’s texts, these two themes seem to be disjunct, even opposed. Sexual imagery is present in many of the animal stories but is rare in Kwagul house stories. In part this may be because animal stories deal with change, house stories with continuity. Copulation creates a new, different being, but the rituals of chiefly succession work to clothe this new being in the original ancestral shape. When present, though, copulatory imagery, like the imagery of social continuity, often “follows after” the model of animal transformation. Recall from “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u” that the term for “robe,” ətaʔaƚ, is a homomorph of ətaʔaƚ “to stick on quickly in sexual intercourse.” They share the root ət-, “to stick to, to stick on.” Another word for “to copulate,” n̔ə ala, is derived either from n̔ə -, “near to, next to,” or from n̔a -, n̔ə -, “to cover” (or both: the stems may be related).

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Wɛ, laəm awis n̔ix qas̔ n̔ə alaxʔidi . . . waxʔəm axaawusu q̔əmsi ʔə́lxsoyu a . . . ‘Well, then he said he would cover/get close to [copulate with] her. . . . ʔə́lxsoyu a tried to demur once more . . .’” (Boas and Hunt 1906, 172). These tropes suggest a pattern of thought in which copulation is conceived as a “covering” rather than, as Western observers might expect, a “penetrating” action: the “covering” of a woman by a man, or, as we saw in “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” of a man by a woman. &RQFOXVLRQ In this essay I have reexamined a short Kwakw’ala language myth text, “ ániqi a and C̔ác̔u,” collected by Franz Boas in 1894 from a Kwagul man named umgiləs. The language of the text is not straightforward, and Boas’s translation of it is seriously flawed. However, through careful analysis of Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 65

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

the language, from the meaning of individual morphemes to the way in which words and sentences are used to construct the narrative action, it is possible to recover much of the story’s meaning. Further, the language of other texts provides many clues to understanding the conceptual background of the story. Claude Lévi-Strauss once claimed that it was unnecessary to read mythology in the original language, or even to have good translation, because the underlying structure emerged no matter what. Not to beat a dead horse to ̔ u” death, as a professor once phrased it, but it just ain’t so. “ ániqi a and Các̔ is to some extent an extreme example, because the narrative hinges on wordplay, which in turn depends on culturally based concepts and analogies that will not exist for the translator’s audience. But all literature depends largely upon language; even oral literature, which can be theater as much as pure narrative. Language, especially in literature but in daily life as well, is full of association and imagery: a robe is also a quick and eager coupling; “dried herring,” to some minds, sounds like “herring at the entrance to an enclosure”; seals are round; the chief is the one in front; oolachan cover the surface of her body. Lévi-Strauss to the contrary, the meaning of a myth lies within the narrator’s use of language, not outside it. Boas knew this, which was why he left us eleven volumes of Kwakw’ala texts. If Boas’s translations of those texts are unreliable, I believe it is at least in part because he did not intend for them to be relied on. For Boas, the texts were in and of themselves the end products of ethnography and the translations a necessary evil, an aid to those without fluency in Kwakw’ala. The translations were never intended to be the primary source they have become. Though Boas did not write about it, he must have felt that translations were like the ethnographer’s descriptions of which he was so wary, full of bias and distortion. Translators run certain inevitable risks, because translation inevitably alters the narrator’s words, and so changes the story’s meaning. Today we may feel that translation can be something more than a necessary evil. But we should not forget that the real story was told in the narrator’s own words, in his or her own language. No matter how satisfying, the translation should never come to substitute in our minds for the original. This essay has been critical of Boas, but it is also, more fundamentally, in praise of him. Boas’s methods may have been faulty, and his results sometimes unreliable, but I believe his goals were sound. Too often ethnographers tell us what they think people are like, without telling us what people say themselves. Literature is one of the ways people talk about their experience. We may no longer agree that texts without significant commen66 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

tary or annotation, like Boas’s, are terribly useful. Still, long after Boas and George Hunt and the Kwagul they talked to are gone, we have some words that were said by someone, instead of a record only of what Boas thought those words might have meant. *XLGHWR3URQXQFLDWLRQ The characters used to write Kwakw’ala words denote sounds both familiar and unfamiliar to English-speakers. For the vowels, /i/ sounds as in American beet, /ɛ/ as in bet, /a/ as in pot, /ə/ as in but, /o/ as in bought, and /u/ as in boot. The consonants are somewhat more complex. The diacritic /‛/ and the character /ʔ/ represent glottalization (the catch in the throat at the beginning of vowels in I ate eight eggs); thus the difference between /m/ and /m̔/. The barred /ƚ/ is pronounced like Welsh ll; the lambda /λ/ is affricated and somewhat like pronouncing a d and an l simultaneously (the barred lambda /λ/ is tl). /X/ represents a fricative sound similar to Russian x or German ch in ich, /K/, /k‛/, /g/, and /x/ are always pronounced as if an /i/ or /y/ ʷ aguƚ/ = Kwagyuƚ. The corresponding series, /q /, /q̔/, / were following: /K Jપ/, and /x̣/, are not so palatalized but otherwise are pronounced similarly, from a position farther back in the throat. /C/ is like English ts and /z/ like English dz.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. My attention was first called to this text and to the existence of field notes and correspondence from the time of the collection of the text by Ralph Maud, who has written his own paper on it (n.d.). Irving Goldman’s The Mouth of Heaven (1975) first suggested to me the importance of the mask in traditional Kwagul thought. An earlier version of this paper, under the title “The Origin of Herring: Reexamination of an 1894 Kwakw’ala Text,” was given at the Twenty-Fourth International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages, Steilacoom, Washington, August 16–19, 1989, and I am grateful to Jay Powell and Nile Thompson, especially, for comments and suggestions. All interpretations, however, are unless otherwise indicated my own. 2. There are difficulties with Boas’s methodology, chief among them, perhaps, that the “Indian” who produced most of his texts, George Hunt, was not, strictly speaking, Kwagul (see Berman 1991 for further discussion of these issues). 3. Only two short articles have subjected Boas’s translations to serious scrutiny, in this case his etymologies (Hilton and Rath 1982; Compton and Rath 1988). 4. See Berman 1991 for a more detailed discussion of this point.

Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 67

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

5. The Oowekyala suffix -xsiu, “through,” relates to Kwakw’ala -xso, “through,” but not to Kwakw’ala -xsiu, “river’s end.” 6. The date could be October 5. 7. The port of departure may have been Fort Rupert. 8. I am following the orthography used in Lincoln and Rath 1980. This substitutes ‘ for !, ʔ for ɛ, c for ts, z for dz, for L, and so on. The only significant point of departure is in the usage of ə (Boas E), which is nonphonemic in Kwakw’ala. Whether because of transcription errors, expressive factors, or dialectal variation, the relationship of ə and a is often difficult to determine in Boas’s texts. Also, as Boas leaves out word-initial and intervocalic occurrences of glottal stop (ʔ), the placement of these may be somewhat irregular. 9. The title does not occur in Boas’s field notes. It is probably a later addition by Boas, or, perhaps, Hunt or Brotchie, with whom Boas would seem to have consulted in the revisions he made of this text before publication. 10. E.g., Wɛ, lákas ax̣ai dúx̣a əlakasx̣i bə əmála λu ási c̔ədáx̣i ʔiá əm̔alakasx̣is ʔiaʔáwəmi . . . lákas ax̣ai ʔámƚəliskas m̔ áqap̔ aiskaci yá aʔi. “Well, [ ániqi a ] discovered a man and woman wearing head-rings of red- cedar bark . . . they were playing (ʔámƚəliskas), throwing toredo worms at each other [i.e., throwing supernatural power at each other]” (Boas and Hunt 1906, 210–11, cf. 195). 11. Gender is not marked in Kwakw’ala pronouns, and in any case the third-person subject pronoun is always unmarked. 12. There are some difficulties in morphology and grammar in the text that may be connected to the fact that the narrator spoke the Tl’astl’asiqwala dialect of Kwakw’ala, which is less well described in the literature than the Tsaxis (Fort Rupert) dialect. The forms do not always correspond to what one would expect in Tsaxis Kwakw’ala. 13. Boas in fact gives the gloss “old blanket, it sticks on easily” to the related form əduƚ (Boas n.d., 304; Boas 1947, 334). 14. Another stem, y̔aƚ-, “to dig clams,” would render a similar form, y̔aƚagəlis, “Don’t go digging clams on the beach all the time!” (Lincoln and Rath 1980, 268). This, too, would apply to the situation. 15. In Tsaxis Kwakw’ala this would be cə -. 16. The two phrases may also differ syntactically. The case marker in OolachanWoman’s speech is missing; we don’t know whether the noun’s case is subjective, objective, or oblique. The simplest analysis seems to be to treat the noun as a subject, as it is in ániqi a ’s speech. 17. The final suffix on q̔əmx̣əx̣sti in this clause is the demonstrative -i, third-person visible/invisible, because the frame of reference is the world of the third-person narrative, rather than a story actor’s (first-person) frame of reference. 18. Boas realized later that he had not corrected all transcription errors in this text. For instance, the published version of the text follows his field notes in showing an apparent contrast between a stem q̔emx̣-, “dried herring,” and a stem q̔am-, “shoals of [live] herring.” The latter occurs in the forms q̔áma and q̔ámax (with

68 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

the front x) in clauses 20, 24, and 27. However, there is no occurrence of a stem q̔am-, “shoals of [live] herring,” anywhere outside this text, and q̔əmx̣- always means “[live] herring” elsewhere. All the q̔áma and q̔ámax forms should actually be q̔ámax̣ (with the back x̣ with subposed diacritic), that is, deriving from q̔əmx̣-. In his transcription, Boas lost or misheard the final x̣. Boas realized all this when entering the data from this text into his dictionary file, where all the references to this text are under q̔əmx̣-. 19. Note the relationship between pəsʔəni, “fur blanket,” literally, “softened skin blanket” (derived from pəs- “to soften by soaking” and -[k]!ən “skin, surface of body”), and n̔a ʔəni, “blanket worn on body” (derived from n̔a - “to cover” and -[k]!ən “skin, surface of body”). In the first, the “surface of body” is the animal’s the robe is taken from; in the second, it is the human’s the robe is worn against. 20. E.g., n̔úlast̔əJપəmiʔ, “eldest one,” x̣amaJપəmiʔ, “head chief.” There is also a fifth suffix, Jપəmanu, which is used only for “head of animal.” 21. This suggests a line of inquiry as to why the Kwakw’ala swearing recorded by George Hunt refers to death and bones, etc., instead of sex and body effluvia, as in English (Boas 1921, 793– 94). 22. Kwagul children were often suspected of being the reincarnations of particular deceased relatives (Ford 1941, 167). 23. They are alike, but not the same. The transactions of inanimate goods only “imitate” spirit transformations: feasting your neighbor on salmon is only an approximation of the salmon’s own sacrifice to you.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

REFERENC ES Berman, Judith. 1982. “Deictic Auxiliaries and Discourse Marking in Kwakw’ala Narrative.” In Working Papers for the XVIIth International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages, Portland State University, Portland, Oregon, August 9–11. —   . 1983. “Three Discourse Elements in Boas’ Kwakw’ala Texts.” In Working Papers for the XVIIIth International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages, University of Washington, Seattle, August 10–12. —   . 1991. The Seals’ Sleeping Cave: The Interpretation of Boas’ Kwakw’ala texts. Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Boas, Franz. 1895 [1975]. Indian Legends of the North Pacific Coast of America. Unpublished translation by Deitrich Bertz of Indianische Sagen von der Nord-Pazifischen Küste Amerikas. Victoria BC: British Columbia Language Project. —   . 1897. The Secret Societies and Social Organization of the Kwakiutl. Report of the U.S. National Museum (Smithsonian Institution). Washington DC: Government Printing Office. —   . 1909. The Kwakiutl of Vancouver Island. The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 5. New York: Stechert. —   . 1910. Kwakiutl Tales. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 2. New York: Columbia University Press. Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 69

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

—   . 1921. Ethnology of the Kwakiutl. Bureau of American Ethnology Annual Report 35, parts 1 and 2. Washington DC: Government Printing Office. —   . 1925. Contributions to the Ethnology of the Kwakiutl. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 3. New York: Columbia University Press. —   . 1930. Religion of the Kwakiutl Indians. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 10 (Part 1, Texts; part 2, Translations). New York: Columbia University Press. —   . 1935– 43. Kwakiutl Tales, New Series. Columbia University Contributions to Anthropology, vol. 26 (Part I, Texts [1935]; part 2, Translations [1943]). New York: Columbia University Press. —   . 1947. Kwakiutl Grammar, with a Glossary of the Suffixes. New York: AMS Press. —   . 1966. Kwakiutl Ethnography. Edited by Helene Codere. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. —   . n.d. Kwakiutl Dictionary. Edited by Helene Boas Yampolsky. Unpublished typescript in the Franz Boas Collection of American Indian Linguistics at the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia. Boas, Franz, and George Hunt. 1905. Kwakiutl Texts. The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, vol.3. New York: Stechert. —   . 1906. Kwakiutl Texts, Second Series. The Jesup North Pacific Expedition, Memoir of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 10. New York: Stechert. Codere, Helene. 1966. Introduction to Franz Boas, Kwakiutl Ethnography, edited by Helene Codere. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Compton, Brian, and John Rath. 1988. “The Translation of the Name ‘Kwakiutl.’” In Working Papers for the XXIIIth International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages, University of Oregon, Eugene, August 11–13. Davis, Philip W., and Ross Saunders. 1980. Bella Coola Texts. British Columbia Provincial Museum Heritage Record no. 10. Victoria: British Columbia Provincial Museum. Dundes, Alan. 1979. “Heads or Tails? A Psychoanalytic Look at Potlatch.” Journal of Psychological Anthropology 2: 395– 424. Encyclopedia Americana. 1986. “Candlefish” and “Herring.” International Edition. Danbury CT: Grolier. Ford, Clellan. 1941. Smoke from Their Fires: The Life of a Kwakiutl Chief. New Haven CT: Yale University Press. Furst, Peter. 1989. “The Water of Life: Symbolism and Natural History on the Northwest Coast.” Dialectical Anthropology 14: 95–116. Goldman, Irving. 1975. The Mouth of Heaven: An Introduction to Kwakiutl Religious Thought. New York: John Wiley. Hilton, Suzanne, and John Rath. 1982. “Objections to Franz Boas’s Referring to Eating People in the Translation of the Kwakw’ala Terms baxubakwelanuxusiwe and hamats!a.” in Working Papers for the XVIIth International Conference on Salish and Neighboring Languages, Portland State University, Portland, Oregon, August 9–11.

70 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Hymes, Dell. 1981. “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. 1963. “The Structural Study of Myth.” In Structural Anthropology, 206–31. New York: Basic Books. Lincoln, Neville, and John Rath. 1980. North Wakashan Comparative Root List. National Museum of Man, Mercury Series, Canadian Ethnology Service, Paper no. 68. Ottawa: National Museums of Man. Locher, G. W. 1932. The Serpent in Kwakiutl Religion. Leyden: Brill. Maud, Ralph (n.d.). Herrings Jump on the Beach: The Humorous Side of a Northwest Coast Creation Myth. Simon Fraser University, Vancouver, British Columbia. Müller, Werner. 1955. Weltbild und Kult der Kwakiutl Indianer. Wiesbaden: F. Steiner. Reid, Susan. 1974. “Myth as Metastructure of the Fairytale.” In Pierre Maranda, ed., Soviet Structural Folkloristics, 151–72. The Hague: Mouton. —   . 1979. “The Kwakiutl Maneater.” Anthropologica 21: 247–75. Rohner, Ronald, ed. 1969. The Ethnography of Franz Boas. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Sanday, Peggy Reeves. 1986. Divine Hunger: Cannibalism as a Cultural System. New York: Cambridge University Press. Walens, Stanley. 1981. Feasting with Cannibals: An Essay on Kwakiutl Cosmology. Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press.

$UFKLYDO6RXUFHV American Philosophical Society. Franz Boas Collection of American Indian Linguistics (field notes and dictionary). Philadelphia. American Philosophical Society. Franz Boas Papers in the Boas Collection (Boas’s family letters, translated by Helen Boas Yampolsky, and letters of George Hunt to Franz Boas). Philadelphia.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

SUGGEST ED READING

The literature on the Kwagul is vast. The following list is not intended to do justice to it, only to touch on some of the work most relevant to this essay (I have included short references for those books not cited above). A good short anthropological overview of the nineteenth-century Kwagul is Clellan Ford’s introduction to Smoke from Their Fires. The most important published sources from this period are Boas’s many volumes of Kwakw’ala text and translation, which include not only Kwagul myths and tales but genealogies, prayers, oral histories, dreams, swear words, and even dinner menus. Edward S. Curtis produced an ethnographic volume on the Kwakiutl in 1915, illustrated with his photographs (volume 10 of his series The North American Indian). While George Hunt served as the chief informant for both Boas and Curtis, the flavors of their work are quite distinct. Finally, Clellan Oolachan-Woman’s Robe 71

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Ford recorded and edited the autobiography of Charley Nowell, a Kwagul chief and near- contemporary of George Hunt, which gives quite a different perspective on the period. Of the many interpretive works on the Kwagul, Irving Goldman’s The Mouth of Heaven is the most insightful. However, there are many problems with his treatment of Kwakw’ala-language terms, and this aspect of the book cannot be relied upon. Boas recorded not only Kwagul oral literature but also that of many other Native groups of the North Pacific Coast, and he encouraged others, such as J. R. Swanton (e.g. Haida Texts and Myths, 1905), Edward Sapir (Nootka Texts, 1939), and James Teit (e.g., Mythology of the Thompson Indians, 1912), to do the same. Boas’s major comparative analyses of this literature are Indianische Sagen (1895), Tsimshian Mythology (1916), and Kwakiutl Culture as Reflected in Mythology (1935). Ralph Maud’s A Guide to B.C. Indian Myth and Legend (1982) describes the published collections of North Pacific Coast oral literature as well as the often fascinating history behind these collections. No one should read about Kwagul concepts of the mask without having looked at the masks the Kwagul carved (and continue to carve today). There are numerous publications on native North Pacific Coast art: Audrey Hawthorn’s Art of the Kwakiutl Indians (1967) and Bill Holm’s Smoky-top: The Art and Times of Willie Seaweed (1983) are two that deal specifically with the Kwagul. Edward S. Curtis filmed an early motion picture, In the Land of the Head-Hunters (1914), based on a Kwagul myth and using Kwagul actors and Kwagul-made costumes, sets, and props. This film has been restored, dubbed with Kwagul voices, and renamed In the Land of the War Canoes, and it is available from ethnographic film libraries. There is also a film about the filming of this movie; see also Bill Holm and George Irving Quimby’s book Edward S. Curtis in the Land of the War Canoes (1980). Curtis’s folio volume of Kwagul photographs is rare, but some photographs appear in a biography coauthored by his granddaughter (Florence Curtis Graybill and Victor Boesen, Edward Sherriff Curtis: Visions of a Vanishing Race, 1976).

72 BE RM AN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

JULIAN RIC E

Lakota is the living language of thousands of Lakota (Teton Sioux) people now living on the Pine Ridge, Rosebud, Cheyenne River, and Standing Rock Reservations in North and South Dakota. At community colleges on these reservations, and at several colleges and universities in the region, Lakota oral narratives are studied in the original language. The best collection continues to be Dakota Texts (1932), transcribed and translated by Ella Deloria, a native Lakota speaker and student of Franz Boas at Columbia. While her English translations are scrupulously accurate and clear, they are equally Boasian in their lack of affect and nuance. Her transcriptions, on the other hand, preserve distinct Lakota styles. Although the narrators wished to remain anonymous, their use of storytelling conventions makes it possible to appreciate variations of structure, tone, style, and theme. Some of the most compelling elements of the stories, experienced as literature, read as well as heard, exist only in Lakota. The criticism that follows is presented in the expectation that Lakota literature will one day be accorded the respect given European texts, bilingually quoted in such journals as PMLA and Comparative Literature. For teaching purposes, however, it is impractical to suspend the study of Dakota Texts until students can read them in the original. Deloria’s translations are situated in their cultural context by extensive annotations and can be supplemented by her other works on language and culture (see Suggested Reading). The present analysis of “White Plume,” the nineteenth story of Dakota Texts, is meant to suggest an interpretive method for teachers of literature. Deloria’s translation of “White Plume” is printed in the paperback edition (Vermillion SD: Dakota Press, 1978, 37– 42), as well as in the AMS reprint (New York, 1974, 106–13). The latter also contains the Lakota version, quoted here in the analysis that follows the English text: :KLWH3OXPH%R\ A certain man, when his son was born, took him in his arms and planted a white plume in the crown of his head, naming him “White-Plume.” Then

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

73

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

wishing to hasten his growth, he threw him outdoors several times, and each time he reentered the tipi, somewhat bigger than before, until finally, all on the same day, he attained the stature of a man. Then the father said, “Oh, would that my son had such and such things!” and it all happened, so that the youth possessed handsome apparel and fine things. Then the father talked thus to his son, “These people are in great distress, my son. Four men are abusing them severely. So if there is something you can do, do it.” Just as he had said, four men stood outside their tipi the next morning, and called, “White-Plume, we have come to challenge you to a race. Come on out;” to which he answered, “All right.” Four men waited for him, and one was painted red, and one was blue and one was white and one was black. And the one who had used red for his paint contended with him first; they ran towards a distant tree, and climbed it; and on getting down, the instant they were landing to run back, the red painted man tossed something out, and it was cattail fuzz. Suddenly the entire meadow became a mass of cattail fuzz which tangled itself into White-Plume’s feather. This delayed him long, while he tried to untangle his feather, so that the red-paint man had a good head start. Even so, when White-Plume boy was through, he ran so swiftly that he got home first. And four wooden clubs belonging to the four men, and painted in their respective colors, lay at the base; so White-Plume took up the red club and with it he struck and killed his opponent. So only three men went home. Next morning, the three came again and challenged him to a race. So he went out and raced with the man painted blue. The race included climbing a distant tree, and then coming down, and returning to the home base. But as they were coming down the tree, the man who was painted blue threw something out. It was cockleburs and at once the whole place was filled with bur-bearing weeds. They clung to the headornament and made it necessary for White-Plume to stop and rid himself of them. Even so, he was so fleet of foot that he got home first, and taking up the man’s blue club he struck and killed him with it. So only two men went home. The third morning the two remaining opponents came and this time it was the man painted white who raced with the boy. And he tossed something about which proved to be choke- cherry stalks. These caught in the white plume, and it took the boy a long time to remove them, while the other man started back, and was almost reaching the goal. But now WhitePlume had freed himself, and because his speed was equal to being carried by the wind, he soon caught up with and passed the man. The whitened club lay at the goal; so he took it and killed the owner with it. Now only one man remained. The man who blackened himself came, carrying his black 74 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

club with him. He placed it at the goal, and started to compete with WhitePlume Boy. As they were descending from the tree, he tossed something out; it was crab-apple stalks full of thorns which caught in the boy’s headdress, for they suddenly filled the place. He was obliged to take time out to rid his plume of the thorns, so that the blackened man was almost home. But now the boy was through, and starting home. Soon he was nearly touching the blackened man, as he ran. Now he passed him and arrived first at the goal, where he stood with the black club, ready to kill the owner when he got in. From that time, the tribe was free from the oppression of the four tyrants. Then one day the boy said, “I have decided to go on a journey.”—“Alas, my son,” his father protested, “though I am aware that you are a man and should travel, still, I am troubled; for on your way you are going to encounter a tricky woman.” But the boy didn’t hesitate to start, on account of this warning. He was travelling westward when he saw a woman, walking along, carrying something in her arms. “Ah! Undoubtedly this is what my father was speaking of,” he thought, and tried to go around, so as to avoid meeting the woman. But she got in his path, and offered to rid him of lice. The boy was insulted. “Say, what do you think I am that I should have lice?” he said to her, “I’m no orphan!” And he tried to go on, but she persisted. By some unexplained method she induced him to yield, so that he lay down to have her look in his hair. She pulled his hair apart here and there hurriedly and jerked out the white plume, leaving behind a poor whimpering puppy, affected with itch. The helpless animal sought out a sunny spot and lay there all day. Of course it was Ikto again, masquerading as a woman. He now set the white plume in his hair, and entered the tribal circle in the role of a boy-beloved. So he was promptly presented with a wife and established in a tipi, in the role of son-in-law. It happened that the woman was a favorite child, in her own right, so the two had their tent inside the campcircle. And his wife said, “Each morning a red fox runs by, and everyone tries to shoot him, but nobody succeeds in hitting him.” It was morning and the camp was in an uproar. “There he is again, the red fox,” the wife said. And Ikto replied with a command. “Prop up the door flaps so they will stay,” he said, and his wife, thinking how he would doubtless shoot from where he sat, hastened to do his bidding. Instead, just as the fox passed within his range, he pretended to fumble, and said, “Hard luck! The limbs of my robe struck my bow!” and he didn’t shoot. Again his wife said, “Now and then, a very scarlet bird goes flying past here, and they all try to shoot it but nobody ever hits it.” After a while, the camp was in an uproar again and the wife said, “There now, they are shooting because it is flying by.” And Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 75

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Ikto said, “Adjust the poles of the smoke vent so that the opening is clear.” Thinking how her husband was about to succeed where others had failed, she hastily adjusted the poles and then came in and sat down to wait. But instead of shooting the scarlet bird when it flew overhead, he evidently had cut nicks in his bow-string, because it snapped just as he placed an arrow. By way of apology he said, “Hard luck! I’ve broken my bow-string!” and he did not shoot. Then he said, “Have your father send a crier around. I am about to smoke.” So a crier made the announcement and soon the tipi was filled with a waiting crowd. He now said, “Each time I puff out smoke from this tobacco, be ready to kill something.” So they sat in tense readiness, but nothing magical happened. At last the men took their departure, heavyhearted from disappointment. During all this, a poor girl who lived alone with her mother, in a tipi outside the camp- circle, went into the woods to gather fuel for their fire. There she found the little helpless dog and was moved by pity. “You poor little dog, how you must suffer!” she said, pulling up quantities of sagebrush to make him a softer bed. But the dog spoke to her, “You are kind; but even better than to make me a bed here would be to take me home.” So she took him up in her blanket and carried him home. She laid him down and went outside; but when she reentered the tipi, she found instead a very handsome young man sitting in the place of honor. He said to her, “Go now to Ikto who resides in the tipi within the camp- circle and ask him to return to me the head- ornament which he took from me.” So the girl stood outside Ikto’s tipi and said, “Ikto, I have come for that headornament, on behalf of its owner.” Immediately he began, “Hand it out; hand it out; for it is his.” She took the plume and carried it home. At once the people derided Ikto with shouts and jeers, and chased him out toward the wild places and left him still going. “Oh, but what’s the use?” they said, “It is Ikto. He’ll be turning up again, by and by.” Once more the red fox ran by; and it was White-Plume’s arrow which pierced and killed him. And the next morning, when the scarlet bird soared overhead, it was White-Plume’s arrow which brought it down, piercing its heart. They took the scarlet bird and set it up at the very topmost point of White-Plume’s tipi. “Now I shall smoke. Ask them to come in,” he said, so the men crowded into the tipi. “I shall send out four puffs of smoke, so try to kill them all,” he instructed. They sat in readiness and the instant the tobacco smoke came out of his mouth, birds of every sort filled the room; so the men worked hard to kill them all. Finally even blankets, red ones and blue ones and brown ones and black ones, also fell, and then guns and fine possessions came down. And that was the beginning of such things in the tribe, they say. White-Plume 76 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

took for his wife the girl who was so humble but so kindhearted, and the tribe caused them to live in a tipi inside the camp- circle and held them in highest esteem and affection, they say. That is all. Like most of the stories in Dakota Texts, “White Plume” is divided into four distinct episodes: (1) White Plume’s naming, upbringing, and proving of valor in a warrior contest; (2) his deception and defeat by the trickster; (3) his rescue by the girl preceding his recovery of strength; and (4) the demonstration of his mature power to provide for the people and the fulfillment of his growth in taking a wife. Four is the “pattern number” of Lakota culture in all formal expression. The number has been discussed and explained at length (for a summary, see Hassrick 256), but the four-part concepts most applicable here are the stages of a man’s growth: hokśicala—baby, hokśila—boy, kośkalaka—young man, and wicaśa—mature man, as well as the four cardinal virtues: woohitika—courage, wawacintanka—fortitude, wacantognaka— generosity, and woksape—wisdom. By the end of the story White Plume has achieved wisdom, the power to “make grow,” as Black Elk says, qualifying him to generate spiritual confidence in the children he will shape. Thematic and stylistic balance is a distinguishing feature of Lakota stories. The first of the story’s four episodes is itself composed of four events, separately important though of variable length. White Plume is (1) named, (2) strengthened and equipped, (3) made aware of the need to protect the people, and (4) proven as a warrior. In the last and longest part of the first episode, White Plume is established as a warrior by ritually out-running each of four opponents, after which he appropriates their power for himself, thus completing the first stage of the development his father anticipates when he honors his infant son with an extraordinary name (see Hassrick 312–13). A white eagle plume is attached to the end of the eagle-bone whistle carried by a sun dancer (see Densmore 125; Mails, Sundancing 69), who is loved and honored for his sacrifice on behalf of the people. Valued as much or more than emblems of courage in battle, the sun-dance plume was placed in the center of a war bonnet, where it waved above the ring of upright eagle feathers (see illustrations in Mails, Mystic Warriors 344, 379, 574). The father begins the realization of his son’s identity with the name. But the boy must complete the process himself, just as Crazy Horse had to earn the name his father already bore (see Ambrose 81). Naming the hero is central to the story’s meaning. When the young man defeats the four enemies, the narrator uses the name repeatedly. But when the hero is tricked in the second episode, the name “White Plume” is not used at Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 77

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

all; he is reduced in the language to a verbalized pronoun, and correspondingly in the plot to a mangy puppy. The name returns with the emergence of his compassion through the influence of the girl and is used emphatically at the end to show how a man becomes himself. Unfortunately, Deloria’s translation does not match the name to the event but uses the name and the pronoun alternatively in line with standard English usage. Other aspects of her translation lose some of the techniques employed by the original narrator to convey thematic emphasis. In the story’s first sentence, the narrator makes the naming of the child the dominant element, setting it off with pauses, marked by dashes: Wicaśa wan cinca wan kicitunpi yunkan ikikcu na peslete kin el wacinhin wan paslatin na—Wacinhin Ska—eya-caśkitun śkeʔ, “A certain man, when his son was born, took him in his arms and planted a white plume in the crown of his head, naming him “White-Plume” (Deloria, Dakota Texts, AMS ed. 106; hereafter, page numbers refer to this edition). Deloria emphasizes the placing of the actual plume and makes the naming a grammatical afterthought, subordinating it at the end of the sentence, “naming him White-Plume.” A literal translation would read, “he put in a head ornament and—White Plume—he said, to name him, it is said” (my translation). This has the right emphasis but sounds awkward, like someone speaking a foreign language, losing the characteristic euphony of the narrative artist. In any case the careful naming of the hero is not conveyed in Deloria’s translation. From the first naming until the child grows enough to face an enemy, the Lakota narrator uses nurturing kinship terms, cinca, “child,” and both micinkśi, “my son,” and cinkś, “son,” in direct address. “White Plume” is next spoken by one of the four enemies, as if to suggest that identity comes into being through challenge. And while Deloria uses the words “white plume” to refer to the plume itself during the racing, the narrator saves those words exclusively for the hero’s name, using wapegnake or wacinhin (both words for head ornament) to refer to the actual plume. For the contest itself, the narrator speaks the name seven times, while White Plume races to validate it. Four of these uses occur in the ritual phrase Wacinhin Ska el etunwan, “White Plume noticed it,” which Deloria’s translation does not reproduce. Although her omission reflects the premium placed on variety in English prose, White Plume’s coming to disciplined manhood represents an ordeal of repetition that the Lakota words reflexively evoke (for a similar use of exact repetition in the development of a hero, see Rice, Lakota Storytelling 197–206). Varying uses of repetition further ritualize the racing. Just after White Plume descends from the tree at the race’s midpoint, each opponent throws 78 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

a different prickly substance in his way to distract him with panic, impatience, or rage. Each obstacle is progressively more painful and difficult to disentangle from his plume. But in each of the four races, he must stop and carefully remove them before he can continue. The implication is that White Plume has no power to run if his plume is contaminated. In each case he must take the time to carefully purify himself before he can compete or even survive, since each race is both physically and spiritually a matter of life and death. And the virtues gained help White Plume to endure the humiliation Ikto has in store. In the course of his development even a hero can be fooled, but the ideal to be remembered as long as possible is voiced by a red-breasted woodpecker in a vision described by Black Elk: “Be attentive as you walk!” (Sacred Pipe 64). For each of the four obstacles the narrator includes a formulaic reference to the hero’s virtue of attentiveness: taku kala iyeya canke Wacinhin Ska el etunwan (107– 8). The phrase means that the opponent threw something out, taku kala iyeya, and that White Plume noticed it, Wacinhin Ska el etunwan. It shows that the hero was alert to consider every possible event in a battle situation. He took nothing for granted and could not be surprised. But Deloria omits el etunwan, “he looked at it,” from the translation on each occurrence, as if it were already implied in the action. In addition, she varies the Lakota words for taku kala iyeya: (1) “he tossed something out,” (2) “he threw something out,” (3) “he tossed something about.” Even these slight variations detract from the ritualized prolongation of ordeal and the corresponding expectation of success. The withstanding of panic or rage is further praised through the words Yunkan henakeḣcin “and so great a number,” to qualify the cockleburs, chokecherry stalks, and crabapple branches thrown out by the men. The narrator does not use the phrase in the first instance, perhaps because the cattail fuzz is explicitly a first task and it is relatively easy to remove, but for everything else, he emphasizes the degree of irritation. Again Deloria drops the refrain, reflecting differences of culture as well as style. The elevation of patience in Lakota culture permeates the style of the first episode: canke toel hena nazin na kpahihin na gluśtan kin el (108). In English, Deloria writes that the burr-bearing weeds “made it necessary for White-Plume to stop and rid himself of them” (108). But the narrator says that he had to stand and (“na”) brush them off and (“na”) finish before he could start running again. This excruciating interruption is preceded by the word toel, “time taken for delay with impatience expressed by the speaker” (Buechel, Dictionary), though the hero must withstand it. With toel the narNarrative Styles in Dakota Texts 79

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

rator expresses the tension between a potential loss of nerve and the unbroken concentration maintained by the hero. For the fourth and final delay, the Lakota narrator employs a long single sentence integrating the sense of increasing urgency. Perhaps because it is the culminating test, the narrator calls upon the hero’s name to strengthen his effort: Wacinhin kʔun he ataya ikoyaka canke ena toel gluśpuhin na wanna wicaśa sapa kʔun he glihunnikta hanl nakeś Wacinhin Ska glicu keʔ, “He was obliged to take time out to rid his plume of the thorns, so that the blackened man was almost home. But now the boy was through, and starting home” (109). In the Lakota sentence the sequence of controlled cleansing followed by violent movement forms one flow of energy, first contained, then released. But Deloria’s translation makes the actions separate, dividing the delay and resumption. The original narrator situates the whole experience in the consciousness of White Plume, rather than in separate, objective events. Reversing this contrast, Deloria runs together the culminating acts of victory, while the narrator divides them into an abrupt rhythm. At the end of each race White Plume kills the loser with his own club, which has been ritually “set down,” kignakapi, the Lakota word being repeated four times, while Deloria (1) refers to the clubs unpurposefully lying “at the base” or (2) omits any reference to their placement and (3) has them lying “at the goal” and (4) again omits the last reference to the club as ekignakin, “set down” according to the ritual of the contest. The actual killing is also expressed four times in Lakota by the phrase na un katʔa keʔ, literally “and he used it to kill by striking, they say” (my translation). In each case the pause marker keʔ, to be discussed at greater length later, intensifies the energy and finality of each of the four cleansing acts. In addition to omitting the formal references to the clubs being ceremonially placed before the race, Deloria varies the description of the final victory to significantly lose the spiritual dimension: (1) “with it he struck and killed his opponent”; (2) “he struck and killed him with it”; (3) “so he took it and killed the owner with it”; and (4) “he stood with the black club, ready to kill the owner when he got in.” Deloria takes the greatest liberty in the last instance, which literally says, “Therefore he went over to that blackened club which had been set down and took up his own and used it to kill by striking, they say” (my translation). To have White Plume simply “stand ready” is to omit a ritual completion, which must be overtly enacted in words as well as in the fictional action. The word icu, “to take,” used in previous races, is varied slightly to ikikcu, “he takes his own,” in order to show that the club now belongs to White Plume, that he has appropriated the power of his enemy 80 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

in the same way that a warrior would keep an enemy wotawe, an object containing sacred power for war (see Walker, Lakota Belief and Ritual 264). The narrator accentuates White Plume’s readiness for these feats by using the name four times as the subject of perception, as in White Plume etunwan, “saw” (the cattails, cockleburs, chokecherry stalks, and crabapple stalks). In the whole of the first episode, the name is used only when his father names him, when the opponents challenge him, when he sets out for home after removing the chokecherry branches in the third race, and when he resumes running after the delay in the fourth race. The last two uses are parallel and make the character’s movement stronger after being tested. The principle of strengthening by repetition is initiated by White Plume’s father, who throws the infant “outdoors” many times to help him grow into a man “all on the same day” (see analogues in “Stone Boy,” Dakota Texts 87, 93 and “Falling Star,” Riggs 84, 91). The episode’s conclusion comments first on the hero’s effect on the people’s state of mind and then on their actions when they are free from fear: Canke hetanhan oyate kin tuweni nagi yewicayeśni ca okablaya unpi keʔ, “From that time, the tribe was free from the oppression of the four tyrants” (109). A literal reading is helpful here: “Therefore from then on none of the people’s souls could be touched with fear, and they spread out to live” (my translation). This connotes both population increase and a release from needing to crowd together for defense. In the immediate experience of storytelling and Lakota religion, these are also the subjective results of ritual repetition. But the story does not end here, as a ceremony does not control events. Both prepare the participants to survive losses in the next episode, wherever it may occur. From the ceremonial rigor of the racecourse, White Plume enters the territory of the trickster, where he is initially less impressive. He prevails in the end because he and the girl he will marry have been prepared through repetition. Readers of James Welch’s novel Winter in the Blood (1974), whether they know it or not, are familiar with the traditional quest of the hero in Plains Indian stories to earn a name and win a wife. Welch’s narrator is inundated by the buzzing of a protean trickster—contemporary American society. For a long time he lacks the ceremonial discipline to clear his “plume” and realize an identity, but although he is defeated in much of the novel, the little bits and pieces of ritual discipline he has learned from his grandmother, his father, and his brother help to guide him home. In Welch’s novel the trickster episode is magnified in comparison to the hero stories on which it is based. The modern protagonist lives in a world Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 81

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

in which the trickster reigns. In the story of White Plume, Iktomi’s power, though less encompassing, is far greater than that of one who is alert only to physical threat. The first section of the second episode begins with the young man eager to pursue his “journey,” despite his father’s anxiety about an inevitable encounter with a “tricky woman.” In the form of a woman, the trickster can maneuver a young man into self-indulgent anonymity. In the whole of the second episode of “White Plume,” neither the narrator nor Deloria uses the hero’s name at all. When Ikto steals White Plume’s clothing, he appropriates the appearance of the hero’s purposed self and for an interval takes the power contained in his name. This loss occurs almost immediately after the boy sets out in his kośkalaka, or adolescent phase (see Powers on the relation between the word kośkalaka and venereal disease, Oglala Religion 196). The delousing has probable sexual connotations. When she (Ikto) “by some unknown method induces him to lie down,” the narrator employs a convention of psychologically dangerous sexuality, used elsewhere in North American myth (for a Pueblo version, see Carr and Gingerich, “Vagina Dentata” in Swann, Smoothing 195). Losing his white plume and his name, the defining manifestations of his manhood, the hero is reduced to the whimpering, itching puppy, seeking only “a sunny spot” in which to lie “all day.” A Lakota warrior might well have demonstrated courage as early as age fourteen, but in the next stage of life he could lose his fighting edge (usually the result of a vision) by excessive preoccupation with sex (see “The Deer Woman,” Dakota Texts 163– 66). Ikto’s disguise is the hero’s alternative fate, that of a spoiled “child beloved” who carries a name and lives with a woman of high standing though he has earned neither name, wife, nor prestige. In the rest of the episode he wears the white plume without absorbing its power. While he tries to excuse his failures to bring the people supernatural protection through killing the red fox and the scarlet bird (see analogues in Beckwith 385 and Deloria, Teton Myths 6, 23), he does not even bother to explain his botched pipe ceremony. Meanwhile the people’s ability to secure supernatural help has been trapped in the helpless puppy. The first part of the third episode begins when the compassion imparted by the “poor girl,” who lives outside the circle, restores White Plume to his name and purpose. He in turn will restore the people, still “heavy-hearted” from Ikto’s repeated failures. After Ikto is “disentangled” from the camp, the name “White Plume” returns as the subject of his first unselfish effort since his victories in episode one. Near the end of the third episode White Plume kills the sacred animals, appropriating their powers for the people 82 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

just as he had taken those of the four enemies. This time, however, he can give much more, commensurate with his greater maturity and the integration of “feminine” care he has received from the girl. The description of the pipe ceremonies includes several important stylistic details missed in Deloria’s translation. The language of Ikto’s ceremony and that of White Plume’s involve meaningful parallels and variations. Ikto’s language is careless: Ho, canli blablukta ce takunl katʔewacin po (111), literally, “Now! tobacco I will puff so be ready to kill something” (my translation). White Plume’s language is respectfully formal, Le canli kin topa blablukta can iyuha wicakatʔewacin po (113), literally, “This tobacco (the) four times I will puff so be ready to kill all of them” (my translation). Deloria points out in a footnote to another story that Ikto is habitually lazy in speech, omitting phrases of respect, disregarding any attempt to make his hearers understand, using only “the barest skeleton of language” (Dakota Texts 13n). Ceremonial language, like that of narrative, is not just an efficient means to a personal end. In White Plume’s ceremony, comprising the second part of the third episode, the tobacco as the medium of power is elevated both by the demonstrative le and the definite article kin. In addition, the tobacco is puffed a ceremonial four times rather than indefinitely. The resultant gifts, possessed again through the metaphor of killing (as a hunter obtains food) must not be disrespectfully wasted. Killing iyuha, “all of them,” shows appreciation rather than just takunl, “something,” as Ikto puts it. After giving the people warmth and confidence, blankets and guns, the hero is ready for the reward anticipated by the narrator of Winter in the Blood: “Next time I’d do it right, buy her a couple of crèmes de menthe, maybe offer to marry her on the spot” (Welch 175). For getting it right at last White Plume gets the girl, in what may be considered the story’s last episode, too brief to be divided into parts. In episodes two and three the rhythmic repetition used in episode one is largely dropped, except for the parallels between Ikto’s failure and White Plume’s success. In the fourth episode, the story’s last sentences have both alliteration and verbal symmetry to convey the sense of purposeful completion: ecel śina oowa-śa nais to nais gi, sapa koko ka ḣpapi na hankeya mazawakan na woyuha koko ka ḣpapi śkeʔ. Hetan nakeś oyate kin woyuha waśteśte yuhapi śkeʔ, “even blankets . . . guns, and fine possessions came down. And that was the beginning of such things in the tribe, they say” (113). For the raining down of blankets and guns, Deloria uses “also fell” and “came down,” respectively. But the text twice uses the alliterative and slightly guttural koko kaḣpapi, “also fell,” to indicate the impressiveness of those events. AlliteraNarrative Styles in Dakota Texts 83

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

tion is also used in the next sentence to refer to the further results of the demonstration (on this type of wakan kaga, or noncurative sacred performance, see Powers, Sacred Language 183). Finally, the last, long sentence incorporates the marriage of the hero and heroine into the harmony of the tribe, building to tiwicakiyapi na lila tewica ḣilapi, meaning literally “they were caused to live in the center” and “were greatly loved,” words distinct in denotative meaning but united by a balanced, rhyming sound appropriate to the theme of restoring harmony within the tribe. A similar use of alliteration and balance is also used in the first sentence: yunkan ikikcu na peslete kin el wacinhin wan paslatin, “[he] planted a white plume in the crown of his head” (106). Peslete means “crown of the head” and paslatin means literally “inserted.” Only the Lakota words express the strength of the father committing his son to a certain kind of life (on the predictive intent of Plains Indian naming, see Buechel, Lakota Tales and Texts 342; Frey 55; and McClintock 395– 96). Deloria’s “planted a white plume” does not alliterate the same concepts and reduces the seriousness of the act. The use of narrative conventions to augment meaning occurs frequently in Dakota Texts. Among the most effective conventional terms are the quotatives śkeʔ, keyapiʔ, and keʔ, “it is said” or “they say,” phrases used to conclude sentences and to indicate continuity from teller to teller through the generations. The quotative has been recognized as serving these purposes in many Native American languages (see Wiget 329). But it has not often been seen as a structuring principle in the sense that Dell Hymes has explained initial particles in Clackamas Chinook stories (see Suggested Reading). Of the sixty-four stories in Dakota Texts, an intentionally esthetic use of the quotative may be observed in twenty- eight (see Appendix). In these the strong sound śkeʔ concludes approximately the first and last two to six sentences. Most of the intervening sentences end in the less emphatic keʔ, the shortened form of keyapiʔ, though at the end of an episode or after a decisive action śkeʔ may be selected. The meaningful use of śkeʔ is a storytelling style, rather than the practice of a single narrator, since the technique is found in stories Deloria collected from both Rosebud and Standing Rock (for the differentiation, see Dakota Texts x). The other major method of using śkeʔ, at the end of every sentence throughout a narrative, occurs in twenty-four of Deloria’s texts (see Appendix). At the end of a sentence, śkeʔ and keʔ both take the terminal glottal stop, accentuating the narrative pause with a physical cessation of breath. When keyapi refers to characters speaking within a story, it has no glottal 84 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

stop (see Deloria, Dakota Grammar 106–7). While the glottal stop strengthens sentence endings, the fricative ś makes śkeʔ a stronger sound than keʔ, and a sentence ending in the former will be more emphatic. A story told with śkeʔ at the end of each sentence may be both more intense and more ritualized. Although Deloria notes that śkeʔ is used particularly in myths and keyapiʔ or keʔ is used in “tribal tales, war, and other stories” (Dakota Texts 1), this distinction does not match the texts. In many ohunkakan (myths) śkeʔ is used variably with keʔ, though in others śkeʔ is used consistently. Intensely dramatic stories like “Doubleface Steals the Virgin” (Dakota Texts 51– 64) and “The Deer Woman” (163– 64) are well served by the use of śkeʔ at the end of every sentence, but other short, suspenseful stories like “Meadowlark and the Rattlesnake” use śkeʔ only after the first and last sentences. Narrators expected irregular choral responses from the audience, such as hau and ohan (see Jahner, “Stone Boy” 178), particularly after statements affirming fundamental values. Quotatives may be more frequent at the beginning to warm up the listeners, to keep their attention. If not used frequently until near the end, śkeʔ will be a signal of the end approaching, like the hard penultimate beat of the drum preceding the soft, trailing beats that end a song. And when the tension of a story has been resolved, the audience is again invited to vocally appreciate its transmission. The narrator of “White Plume” uses śkeʔ only once in the beginning, at the end of the first sentence, already strengthened by the cultural importance of naming and the alliteration of peslete kin el wacinhin wan paslatin, “[he] planted a white plume in the crown of his head” (106), mentioned earlier. Thereafter keʔ is used at the end of every sentence until the two separate sentences concerning Ikto’s failure in ritual and its effect on the people. The whole sequence reads, ituḣcin winyeya yankapi keyaś takuni hin ḣpayeśni śkeʔ. Canke wicaśa kin iyuha canl- ececapiśni śkeʔ, “So they sat in tense readiness, but nothing magical happened. At last the men took their departure, heavy-hearted from disappointment” (111). Here śkeʔ effectively ends Ikto’s masquerade as well as the episode he dominates. Keʔ is used for the sentence describing White Plume’s resumption of power but śkeʔ is used once more, as much to bid Ikto farewell as to warn of his inevitable return: Tokśa, ake ukte lo; He Ikto eśnika caś,—eyapi śkeʔ (112), literally “soon he will return. That’s Ikto, what can you do?—they said, it is said” (my translation). To express the demonstration of White Plume’s mature power, the fulfillment of a young man’s story, the narrator saves the repeated use of śkeʔ for the concluding events. To indicate the care with which he uses the term, it should be noted that when White Plume kills the red fox, keʔ is used: WacinNarrative Styles in Dakota Texts 85

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

hin Ska ipanḣna o keʔ, “[White Plume] pierced and killed him” (112), but when he completes the task with a remarkable shot, given the size of the target, the narrator verbally applauds with śkeʔ: zitkala wan luta ca wankal okinyan un tkaś cante kin glakinyan o śkeʔ, “when the scarlet bird soared overhead, it was White-Plume’s arrow which brought it down, piercing its heart” (112). In a more compressed sequence, śkeʔ is used again almost immediately after the next six words to verbally supplement the triumph: Canke tice kin el śayela otkeyapi śkeʔ, literally, “they hung the little red one from the tipi poles, it is said” (my translation). In the next sentence, where White Plume manifests the power Ikto lacked, the narrator confidently anticipates his success with śkeʔ: Hehanl,—Ho, canunmunpinkta ce til uwicaśi po,—eya canke ti otinś ahiyotaka śkeʔ, “‘Now I shall smoke. Ask them to come in,’ he said, so the men crowded into the tipi” (113). And with the last sentence, long enough to give the flow of power mentioned previously, śkeʔ accentuates the wonder expressed in the closely repeated phrase ko ka ḣpapi, “also fell” (113). In effect the value of the story’s telling is implied as the people’s power to live is manifested, both fictionally and immediately through the oral tradition. Appreciation for tribal longevity is voiced in the next seven words, followed by another śkeʔ: Hetan nakeś oyate kin woyuha waśteśte yuhapi śkeʔ, “And that was the beginning of such things in the tribe, they say” (113). The final one-sentence episode, containing the hero-gets-the-girl convention, also gets the śkeʔ because it celebrates the continuity of Lakota consciousness. In the final śkeʔ, the people’s strength to continue is assured: Wacinhin Ska wincincalala wan unśike ceyaś sanp-waunśila kʔun he yuzin na kici hocokap tiwicakiyapi na lila tewica ḣilapi śkeʔ, “White-Plume took for his wife the girl who was so humble but so kindhearted, and the tribe caused them to live in a tipi inside the campcircle and held them in highest esteem and affection, they say” (113). In “White Plume,” śkeʔ affirms the making of a hero. It is used after the first sentence as if to accentuate his naming. Much later in the story it is used twice, immediately after the failures of Iktomi, as if to lend clarity to his exposure, and then again after Ikto’s banishment to express preparedness for his inevitable return. From that point on śkeʔ is used to conclude each sentence remaining in the story, six times in succession. The narrator uses śkeʔ conventionally to mark the beginning and end, and selectively to intensify dramatic events. The next story in Dakota Texts may be by the same narrator. “Blood Clot Boy” (113–20) is the only other story in the collection where the hero’s name is carefully used. In the first episode, where he kills a family of bears who 86 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

have abused a rabbit (his adoptive grandfather), the name We Hokśila is used to accompany its winning four times. In the second episode, where Blood Clot Boy, like White Plume, is immobilized by Ikto, the name is used once as he embarks on his journey and again when he is mocked by Iktomi, who has caused him to stick to a tree. The name does not return until he is freed by his future wife, who, like White Plume’s, had been an outcast. Thereafter the name is used three times until it gives way to the kinship term takoza, “grandson,” upon his return to the rabbit. In “Blood Clot Boy” śkeʔ is used more frequently at the beginning than in “White Plume.” It occurs after the first three sentences of the first episode, as well as once more within the first section of the first episode to mark a significant supernatural event—the immediate answer to the rabbit’s wish for fine possessions for his son. Then, in the challenge that makes up the second section of part one, śkeʔ is used four times, (1) to underscore the audacity of the hero’s provoking the bear; (2) to punctuate the one-blow clubbing to death of another bear; (3) to lend force to the collective killing of the other bears; and (4) to conclude the hero’s labors at the end of the episode. In the second episode, śkeʔ is resumed after Ikto leaves Blood Clot Boy stuck to the tree, effectively interrupting the hero’s progress. From this point on the narrator uses śkeʔ after every sentence to the story’s close, a significantly different use than in “White Plume.” Perhaps the narrator wishes to emphasize the outrageousness of Ikto’s lies in the camp, where he marries into a prominent family. Śkeʔ follows five sentences concerning Ikto’s impersonation and is then used five more times to describe the hero’s return. But after being used to complete ten successive sentences, śkeʔ significantly gives way to four sentences ending in keʔ immediately before the ending. Following his victorious expulsion of Ikto and his marriage to the kind girl, Blood Clot Boy returns to his own people rather than remaining with his wife’s relatives as White Plume does (for the implications of this residential choice, see Hassrick 130). During the journey the tenor changes with the quieter keɁ concluding four sentences (seven in Deloria’s English version). The girl’s spoiled elder sister, abandoned by her husband (Ikto), follows the couple: Iś ehakela kiśicapi keyaś nunge wanil yahin na ecel wana We-Hokśila ti kin ikiyela glapi keʔ. Otaninyan wana glapi yunkan mato cincalala kʔun he iśnala pahata oksanksan etunwan yankahe ḣcehantu canke wanwicayanka husśe nazin hiyayin na akoketkiya aiyoḣpeya mahel kigla keʔ. Niyaśniśni kihunni na,—Wana mitakoza ku tka winyan wan aku welo,—eya keʔ. Hecena Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 87

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Maśtinskala lila wiyuskin na psipsil itkop wicayin na takozakpaku kin kici na glogla keʔ. They in turn ordered her back but she did not have any ears. And so they came on until they neared Blood Clot Boy’s home. The little bear who was sitting on a hilltop saw them. He had been sitting there alone, viewing the country round about. He started up, evidently having seen them, and disappeared downhill in the other direction. Breathlessly he arrived home and said, “Grandson is now returning; but he brings a woman home.” Immediately the rabbit, very happy, ran hopping out to meet them; and taking his grandson on his back he carried him the remainder of the way. (120) Finally śkeʔ is resumed in the last two sentences to lend the usual conclusive force, as well as to emphasize two diametrically opposed ways of regarding kinship. The smallest bear, whom Blood Clot Boy spared because he had no part in persecuting the rabbit, demonstrates ideal behavior by strenuously honoring his new sister, no small sacrifice considering his size: Canke matola kʔun iś-eya takosku kin kici na ihakap gle ceyaś yuhaśni canke wikośkalaka kin si kin makicagogoyela aglapi śkeʔ. Cuweka wan waḣʔanic ʔila tka kʔun he tunweni el etunweśni canke iyecinka wicihakap I ca ca ḣol-i ḣpeya yuhapi śkeʔ.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The little bear also came to meet them, and he took the daughter-in-law on his back, but she was so heavy (for him) that he could not lift her entirely off the ground; so her feet dragged on behind. As for the proud elder sister, nobody took any notice of her, so she came along behind them, and lived with them there. They kept her to take out the ashes for them. (120) As śkeʔ makes this an epitome of the story’s values, so it is used in the last sentence to indicate the inverse values of those who consider relatives to be worthless. The elder sister is left to throw out trash instead of the sister she had humiliated, and for this she deserves the narrator’s final irony. “Blood Clot Boy” has something of the symmetry Hymes has shown in Clackamas texts. Śkeʔ is used four times in the expository first episode, and again to end four more sentences about the scourging of the bears. Then in episode two it is used five times in succession to refer to the antics of Ikto. In episode three śkeʔ is again used five times to offset Ikto and to manifest the hero’s recovery. Of these uses śkeʔ refers once to Ikto’s banishment 88 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

and once to the discomfiture of his wife. The fourth episode, the return of Blood Clot Boy and his wife to his own community, occurs after the tension has been resolved. KeɁ carries the sense of quiet confidence through four sentences until śkeʔ returns in the last two as a narrative convention, and a pointed reminder to “never treat your relatives like trash.” In this story the selection of śkeʔ and keʔ is virtually schematic: Episode 1. Section 1. Section 2. Episode 2. Episode 3.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Episode 4.

The oppression of the rabbit and the childhood of the hero. Śkeʔ is used four times. Scourging the bears. Śkeʔ is used four times. Ikto’s ascendancy. Śkeʔ is used four times. Blood Clot Boy’s return. Śkeʔ is used five times to end sentences and once, atypically, to precede a quote, a possible printing error (p. 119, sentence 21), since all other quotes are preceded or followed by “eya keʔ.” The hero’s return. KeɁ is used four times. Śkeʔ is used twice, at the end of the last two sentences.

Hymes has suggested that such structures in a few stories, even a single story, may be predictive (“In Vain” 276). Few stories are as symmetrical as “Blood Clot Boy” or even “White Plume,” although another story, “Doubleface Tricks the Girl” (Dakota Texts 46– 50), has four successive śkeʔ endings at the beginning and four at the end with only two in succession in the middle, when the heroine suddenly discovers that her lover is a monster (47). Other stories also have this balance. The frequently told story of the woman who lived with the wolves, entitled “She Who Dwells in the Rocks” (Dakota Texts 238– 45), employs śkeʔ seven times at the beginning, while the woman prepares to desert her abusive husband, and five times at the end, after she has returned to her own camp to demonstrate the supernatural power of the wolves to whom she became related during her long walk home. Keʔ is used as in most of the other stories, through all of the intervening sentences. An additional aspect of the śkeʔ convention occurs in its omission from the last three transcribed sentences. The last śkeʔ concludes the final reference to her healing power and concludes the story proper. Of the remaining three sentences, the first has keʔ and the last two have no ending term at all: Nakun wapiya can oyasʔin okihi sʔa keyaś wapiye cʔun he hakeya ayuśtan śkeʔ. Iglusʔaka hanl he glicu canke wicincala wan yuha keʔ. He le wicaśa Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 89

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

wan śicaya kuwa kʔun he cinca ca. He wincincala kin wana winuḣcala hanl untipi el hi na tisanp ḣpaya yunkan unkiyunkapi kin ohakap le oyaka ca miye iyatayela nawaḣʔ un.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And whenever she doctored the sick, she was always successful, but, they say, in time she abandoned this practice [śkeʔ]. She was pregnant when she left, so now she gave birth to a baby, a girl [keɁ]. She was the child of the man who had maltreated her so [no ending]. When that girl was now a very old woman, she once came to our home, and spent the night there. She occupied the space on the left of the fireplace, and when we were all in bed for the night, she told this story, so I myself heard it from her lips [no ending]. (245). This modulation from śkeʔ to keʔ to no ending resembles the use of the sweat lodge after a vision quest. It verbally negotiates the transitions from the woman’s kinship with spirits, to her human relationships, to the reflexive completion of the immediate telling. Since śkeʔ is used after every single sentence in some of the longest, most highly developed stories in Dakota Texts (see appendix), it cannot be concluded that only the best narrators used the word as a modulatory device with keʔ. It may be that neither varied nor constant uses of the quotative are effectively verbalized in English. Elaine Jahner’s fine translation of George Sword’s “Stone Boy” (Jahner, “Stone Boy” 19–85; also Walker, Lakota Myth 89–100) shows a predominance of śkeʔ, which she translates “so they tell.” Keyapiʔ (they say) also occurs but with far less frequency. Jahner theorizes that śkeʔ marks major pauses and keyapiʔ minor ones. She distinguishes between the two quotatives in her translation by putting śkeʔ (so they tell) on a separate line each time it occurs, while keyapiʔ (they say) is set off by a comma at the end of a line. Although this is an improvement on Deloria’s complete omission, the one-syllable śkeʔ with its fricative ś signals a more distinct pause, enhanced by the glottal stop, while “so they tell,” even when set off on a line by itself, is comparatively neutral. The subtle relaxation from śkeʔ to keʔ is also lost in the unrelated sounds of “so they tell” and “they say.” Because it includes the glottal stop but lacks the fricative ś, the pause after keʔ is a half- beat shorter. These difficulties are not absolute impediments to understanding traditional stories in English. But if the academic community is to effectively implement its recent curricular inclusions, Native American languages must be more widely taught. Knowledge of any literature cannot advance without

90 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

knowledge of its tone and texture. A reading knowledge of Native American language is not impossible to attain. Reading in translation has initiated sincere interest and useful literary criticism. Reading in the original will add the differentiation inevitably obscured in English, and often overlooked by the systematics of folklore and anthropology. Arnold Krupat has called for a more open approach to Native American texts than social scientists have heretofore been willing to afford: “We must read the texts we have, from Henry Schoolcraft to the present moment, as in need of unfixing, a process by which we acknowledge that any meanings which appear to be present are never fully present” (Krupat 124). This continual supplementation of meaning reflects narrative practice itself. Although singers had to repeat sacred songs exactly as the spirits had given them (see Densmore 59– 60), storytellers freely improvised from content motifs and verbal formulas. Their resourceful bricolage can be more thoroughly conceived in a criticism that turns artifacts back into art.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

APPENDIX

The infrequent use of śkeʔ does not correspond to narrative skill. Śkeʔ is used to end every sentence in several highly developed stories in Dakota Texts: numbers 10, 16, 24, 26, 36, and 39. Śkeʔ also concludes every sentence in stories 1, 4, 22, 29, 30, 32, 38, 40, 41, 46, 48, 49, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57, and 63. The use of śkeʔ at the beginning and end and at dramatic points within a story occurs in stories 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 23, 25, 27, 28, 33, 34, 35, 42, 43, 44, 47, and 50. Several exceptions occur. In story 23 śkeʔ is used at emphatic points and concentrated at the end in the last three sentences but not used in the beginning. In story 61 śkeʔ is used only in the last three sentences. In story 12 śkeʔ is absent from the beginning but used four times in the story, including in the last sentence. In stories 37 and 56 śkeʔ is used only after the last sentence. In several stories the alternation of śkeʔ and keʔ or keyapiʔ appears to be random, neither concentrated at the beginning and end nor used to intensify specific situations: 45, 58, 59, 60, 64. “The Deer Woman,” stories 30 and 31, is presented in both the Teton and Yankton dialects. In both versions the quotative is used after every sentence, but where the Teton narrator uses śkeʔ, the Yankton customarily uses keyapiʔ, because, Deloria notes, they consider śkeʔ “too indefinite” (Dakota Texts 165n).

Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 91

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

SUGGEST ED READING Ambrose, Stephen E. Crazy Horse and Custer. New York: Doubleday, 1975. Beckwith, Martha Warren. “Mythology of the Oglala Dakota.” Journal of American Folklore 43 (1930): 339– 439. Black Bear, Ben, Sr., and R. D. Theisz. Songs and Dances of the Lakota. Aberdeen SD: North Plains Press, 1976. Black Elk. The Sacred Pipe. Ed. Joseph Epes Brown. New York: Penguin, 1971. —   . The Sixth Grandfather. Ed. Raymond J. DeMallie. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1984. Brennan, Terry, S. J. Lakota Woonśpe Wowapi. Rosebud SD: Sinte Gleśka College Center, 1973. Buechel, Eugene, S. J. A Grammar of Lakota. Rosebud SD: Rosebud Educational Society, 1939. —   . A Dictionary of the Teton Dakota Sioux Language. Pine Ridge SD: Red Cloud Lakota Language and Cultural Center, 1970. —   , ed. Lakota Tales and Texts. Pine Ridge SD: Red Cloud Lakota Language and Cultural Center, 1978. Deloria, Ella. Teton Myths [The George Bushotter collection]. Ca. 1937; Philadelphia: MS30 (x8c.3), Boas Collection, American Philosophical Society. —   . Dakota Texts. 1932; rpt. New York: AMS Press, 1974; rpt. (English only) Vermillion SD: Dakota Press, 1978. —   . Dakota Grammar. 1941; rpt. Vermillion SD: Dakota Press, 1982. —   . Speaking of Indians. Vermillion SD: State Publishing, 1983. —   . Waterlily. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1988. Densmore, Frances. Teton Sioux Music. 1918; rpt. New York: Da Capo, 1972. Dorsey, James O. A Study of Siouan Cults. 1894; rpt. Seattle: Shorey, 1972. Fools Crow, Frank. “Fools Crow.” LP Recording TLP 100. Denver: Tatanka Records, 1977. Frey, Rodney. The World of the Crow Indians: As Driftwood Lodges. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1987. Hassrick, Royal B. The Sioux: Life and Customs of a Warrior Society. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1964. Hymes, Dell. “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981. —   . “Bungling Host, Benevolent Host: Louis Simpson’s ‘Deer and Coyote.’” American Indian Quarterly 8 (1984): 171–98. Jahner, Elaine A. “Cognitive Style in Oral Literature.” Language and Style (Fall 1982): 32– 51. —   . “Finding the Way Home.” In Handbook of American Folklore. Ed. Richard M. Dorson. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983. —   , ed. Introductory essays. In Lakota Myth. By James R. Walker. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983.

92 R IC E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

—   . “Stone Boy: Persistent Hero.” In Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature. Ed. Brian Swann. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. 171–86. Krupat, Arnold. “Post-structuralism and Oral Literature.” In Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature. Ed. Brian Swann and Arnold Krupat. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. 113–28. Mails, Thomas. Mystic Warriors of the Plains. New York: Doubleday, 1972. —   . Sundancing at Rosebud and Pine Ridge. Sioux Falls SD: Augustana College, 1978. McClintock, Walter. The Old North Trail: Life, Legends and Religion of the Blackfeet Indians. 1910; rpt. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1968. Powers, William K. Oglala Religion. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1975. —   . Sacred Language: The Nature of Supernatural Discourse in Lakota. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1986. Rice, Julian. “How the Bird that Speaks Lakota Earned a Name.” In Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature. Ed. Brian Swann and Arnold Krupat. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. 422– 45. —   . Lakota Storytelling. New York: Peter Lang, 1989. Riggs, Stephen Return. Dakota Grammar, Texts, and Ethnography. Ed. James Owen Dorsey. 1893; rpt. Marvin SD: Blue Cloud Abbey, 1977. Swann, Brian, ed. Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983. Taylor, Alan. Beginning Lakhota. 2 vols. Boulder CO: University of Colorado Lakhota Project, 1976. Walker, James R. The Sun Dance and Other Ceremonies of the Oglala Division of the Teton Dakota. 1917; rpt. New York: AMS Press, 1979. —   . Lakota Belief and Ritual. Eds. Raymond J. DeMallie and Elaine A. Jahner. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1980. —   . Lakota Society. Ed. Raymond J. DeMallie. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1982. —   . Lakota Myth. Ed. Elaine A. Jahner. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983. Welch, James. Winter in the Blood. New York: Harper & Row, 1974. Wiget, Andrew. “Telling the Tale: A Performance Analysis of a Hopi Coyote Story.” In Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature. Ed. Brian Swann and Arnold Krupat. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. 297–338. Wissler, Clark. “Some Dakota Myths.” Journal of American Folklore 20 (1907): 121–31, 195–206.

Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts 93

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals AN N FI ENUP - R I OR DA N A N D M A R I E M E A DE

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQE\$QQ)LHQXS5LRUGDQ The Yupik Eskimos of western Alaska are one of the least known and most traditional Native American groups. They differ in both language and way of life from the whale-hunting Iñupiat of northern Alaska and the relatively impoverished Canadian and Greenlandic Inuit to the east. Living along the river drainages and coast of the Bering Sea, they continue to speak the Central Yupik language, practice elaborate ceremonial exchanges, and harvest an abundance of fish and wildlife from their rich coastal environment. Imagine a “typical” Eskimo family—peaceful hunter, wife, and child surviving on their own in an inhospitable homeland. This well-known stereotype, however, originated in the Canadian Arctic and does not apply to the Yupik Eskimos of Alaska, who are anything but typical. Far from merely surviving, they reap from their environment a wealth of resources, including seals, walrus, beluga, fish (both saltwater and freshwater), waterfowl, small mammals, moose, musk oxen, bears, berries (from which they make the festive mixture known as akutaq), and greens. Although the low-lying coastal plain is treeless, every spring the rivers wash down an abundance of driftwood that the people traditionally used to build semisubterranean sod houses and elaborate ceremonial paraphernalia. Nor did families live in isolated igloos. Rather, during the winter ceremonial season people gathered in communities as large as three or four hundred. There men and boys over the age of five worked, ate, and slept together in a qasgiq (a communal men’s house) while the women lived separately, along with their mothers, sisters, daughters, and small children, in sod dwellings. Finally, far from peaceful, these villages were plagued by violent bow-and-arrow warfare into the early nineteenth century, warfare that abated only after the arrival of Euro-Americans and the epidemic diseases that followed in their wake. Although Yupik Eskimos remain atypical in many respects, they share an essential feature with their Iñupiaq and Inuit neighbors to the north and

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

97

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

east. For all Inuit peoples the relationship between humans and animals is central to the construction of value. To this day they do not view animals as distinct from humans. Rather, humans and animals alike are considered both human and nonhuman “persons” possessing awareness and meriting respect. Moreover, both humans and animals distinguish themselves from one another by their acts. Boundaries between the human and animal worlds are dynamic and transitional, and passages between worlds are, for better or worse, always a potentiality. The following quliraq (traditional tale) eloquently presents the Yupik view of animals and describes as well the Yupik understanding of how animals view humans. The story is well-known all along the western coast of Alaska and is told to this day. I recorded this version in 1977 while Paul John of Nelson Island told it to a group of high school students in the village of Toksook Bay. Marie Meade, a Native speaker, and I collaborated on the translation, employing a modified version of the transcription style developed by Anthony C. Woodbury.1 Commas within sentences reflect brief pauses in Paul John’s delivery, whereas longer pauses are marked by a period. Paragraph breaks mark a complete stop in speech and the beginning of a new thought. The story describes the relationship between hunter and prey as a cycle of reciprocity in which seals—the focus of ceremonial activity for the Yupiit— visit the human world, where they are treated as guests and sent back to the sea, to return the following season. The Yupik Eskimos do not view this as a necessary response on the part of the seals but as an intentional act in which the seals willingly approach the good hunter in the ritual of the hunt. Clearing a path so that the animals may approach humans is a constant theme in Yupik moral discourse. Ideally, a young man focused all his efforts on “making their way clear” by keeping the thought of the animals foremost in his mind and physically working to clear water holes, entranceways, and windows, allowing the animals a clear view into the human world. In the story that follows, an angalkuq (shaman; plural, angalkut) sends an uninitiated youth to dwell in the seals’ underwater home, where the boy simultaneously views the seals as persons and is given glimpses of the human world from the seals’ point of view. In the spring the boy and his mentor approach the good hunter, who—using a kayak and wearing a bentwood hunting hat—appears as a seabird, specifically, a cigu’ur, or Kittlitz’s murrelet, in the seals’ eyes. Faced with the contradiction between an ideology that emphasizes the seal as honored guest and the reality of the animal’s

98 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

death in the hunt, Yupik hunters were both protected and empowered by a new identity. Another key feature of Yupik cosmology embodied in the story is the belief in the infinite, cyclical quality of both human and animal life. When the seal is “killed,” it does not die; rather, its unguva (life) retracts into its bladder, where it remains until it is returned to the sea the following season. During the annual Bladder Festival, Yupik hunters and their wives inflated and cared for the bladders of the seals and other animal guests. After properly hosting them, they returned them to the sea. It is at this point that the boy’s journey into the seal world begins. NOT E 1. Anthony C. Woodbury, ed., Cev’armiut Qanemciit Qulirait-llu / Eskimo Narratives and Tales from Chavak, Alaska (Fairbanks: Alaska Native Language Center and University of Alaska Press, 1984).

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals The angalkuq, observing the ways of our ancestors, compelled a young person to go with the seals out to sea. He was a young person just like you. He lived with the seals for a whole year. Then at the end of the winter, he finally came back. He was a young child like you, and he was the only child of his parents. Since he was the only child, the parents began pondering over the situation and said, “When this poor child of ours becomes an adult, he will have no one to help him, for he is alone.” Then one of them asked, “I wonder how his life can be easier and less strenuous when he becomes a grown person.” After they considered how their son’s life could be easier, the father said, “Let me probe and find the most productive and powerful angalkuq so he may look into how our son can have an easier time when he becomes a hunter.” He was one of our ancestors, a person just like you and me. He decided to search for the most capable and powerful angalkuq. It was when knives from the outside were very scarce. And since there were very few knives, everyone protected them, and they would worry

The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 99

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

about losing them. And the father of the child was well aware of how one felt about losing a knife. As he began searching for the most powerful angalkuq, he hid his knife under the sod by the window while everyone was sleeping. He hid it in the soil where no one could see it. Since the knife was hidden under the sod, as one looked at the space where it was hidden, there was no sign of anything being there. Now, among the many angalkut in that village, there was one who everyone thought didn’t have much power. Although everyone recognized him as an angalkuq, he was considered to be the least productive. But in the view of the people, the other angalkut had all the power that it took to be an angalkuq. The father placed his knife in this fashion, hoping that his child would become a good hunter. In the past, when an angalkuq was asked to perform using his spirit powers, the patron would reward him in some way. And since the father of the child was prosperous, not in the sense of material wealth but as a successful hunter, always having enough to survive on, he approached the most lauded angalkuq and said, “Here is my reward for you. Would you administer your powers and inquire about my knife that I have been missing?” The angalkuq began chanting, speaking in a nonsensical manner, but he did not find it. Then he proceeded to award each angalkuq a gift, and he asked each one to look for his missing knife. None of the angalkut he asked could reveal the knife’s location. Then finally the angalkuq who everyone thought was inferior was the only one left. The angalkut who were believed to have great powers had all been asked. He had honored each one with a gift to look for his knife, but all of them had failed to find it. He hoped that when he found the right angalkuq his son would be helped in becoming a successful hunter. It was during the time when people had great faith in the angalkuq and believed they could empower someone to become a great hunter. Finally the angalkuq who, in everyone’s opinion, had less power was the only one left. Since he was the only one left and had no other preference, he awarded him a small token and said, “Oh dear, I have asked all the angalkut to look for my knife, and they all have failed to find it. Oh my, whatever happened to it?” Then he asked him, “Do you suppose you could try to find it?” 100 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He responded and said that he could look for it. After he had awarded bigger gifts to the angalkut who appeared to be confident, he awarded him a measly token, and he asked him to look for it. Customarily, as the angalkuq performed, the others would attend him. They would do this when he invited his spirit to come. As he did that and removed his gut parka (they would put on a gut parka as they did this), he disclosed the spot where his knife was hidden. He said to the father, “Gosh, you should go get the knife that you placed up there by the window and spare yourself from losing it.” Finally there was someone who could find the hidden knife. And the angalkuq had not seen him when he hid it. Then the father suddenly felt hopeful and thought, “I have finally found the angalkuq who will help my son become a prosperous hunter. After a long, long search one is finally found.” Then the boy’s father invited the angalkuq to his house to discuss the issue privately. He wanted to be alone with his wife when he talked to the angalkuq. Then after he escorted him into his house, he said, “Oh my! Among all of your associates you are the only one who revealed the location of my knife. I hid it and requested the search when we decided our son needed the help of an angalkuq in becoming a good hunter. He is our only child and does not have siblings to help him. That was the reason I hid the knife.” Then that plain and simple angalkuq said to him, “Would you describe what you have in mind?” The father answered, “Using your abilities, would you do something to him so that he may have good fortune when he is big enough to hunt?” Then the angalkuq said, “You are now giving me permission to do this. This evening, when everyone has retired for the night, would you bring him over to the qasgiq? I will give you instructions you must follow when you bring him into the qasgiq. When you bring him into the qasgiq and come to the entrance hole and the appropriate moment comes . . .” (The doorway of the qasgiq we saw were like this. As you entered, you would see a hole up ahead. And farther on inside there would be another depression which was the fire pit. And the surface up above was covered with flooring of split wood. Right at the end of these pieces was the hole. As you went in, you would emerge from the hole, and as you came up, you would see another hole down below the flooring.) The angalkuq said, “When you bring him in through that entrance hole . . .” The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 101

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

(They used to make ropes out of sealskin which they called taprartat. They would allow the sealskin to dry and take the skin and cut a continuous strip around and around until they had a long cord.) He told them that he would take a cord and tie it around his neck and pull from the doorway. Then at the entrance hole (the boy was just a poor little one), when his neck came through the hole, the father was instructed to strike with his knife and sever his neck when he placed his neck through the hole. This was what he had to do if he wanted his son to become a great hunter. Then he said to him again, “Let me assure you that if you don’t hit him, it is you who will destroy his chance of becoming a good hunter.” He told him that if he was too distressed and failed to strike, he would damage his opportunity to acquire the ability to hunt successfully. So when he brought the boy over to the qasgiq, the angalkuq tied a sealskin rope around his neck and began pulling, just like I demonstrated to you. When he positioned his neck through the hole and was given the signal to strike, the father lifted his knife. There in front of him stood his only son. Then, ignoring the signal of the angalkuq, he lowered his arm. He found it absolutely impossible to slash the neck of his only son. When he lowered his arm, the angalkuq said, “I already told you that if you refused to follow my instructions, you would ruin his fate. It is over. There is nothing else I can do.” Then an immense feeling of remorse fell upon the father for refusing to sever the neck of his son. He felt tremendous regret. When it was understood that the inquiry had ended, the father invited the angalkuq to his house again. When he brought him into his house, he began pleading with him. He asked him if he could find another way to help his son. Finally he said to him, “If you two can avoid mourning and grieving over him, we can let the seal bladders take him away. That’s one thing I can do for him.” It was with those I mentioned earlier. I told you they would inflate all the bladders of the seals they had caught, and they would dry them and put them away. And in the winter, when a certain month arrived, just like the time we set aside to celebrate Christmas and New Year’s, though they were Yupiit, they had a special month when they would do that, and they called it the time to lift the bladders. That was what they called it. I’m not certain which calendar month it was. 102 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The angalkuq told him that he could let the bladders take him away if they agreed not to worry and agonize over the separation and to accept the fact that he would be gone the whole year. And so the father quickly agreed, and he authorized him to do that. Then when the time to take care of the bladders arrived, they inflated the bladders after soaking them in water and hung them up across the back of the qasgiq. Each hunter would hang all of his bladder in a bundle. The many hunters gathered their seal bladders and hung them. Those who were successful hunters would have many, and the less fortunate ones would have fewer. This was done to return the seals they had caught to their home in the ocean. When they caught a seal, they would save and keep its bladder, and they believed they were still alive. Then when they went hunting, they believed that the seals they had caught the year before had come back again. They would assume the seals they caught were the same ones they had caught the year before. According to their own perspective, they would not allow the seal to die eternally. Their bladders would be moistened and inflated. When they prepared to send the bladders, they would chop a hole in the ice and make a pathway for them. They would chip the ice and make a hole all the way down to the bottom of the river. After they inflated all the bladders, they would deflate them. After they let all the air out, they would let two people bring them down to the river and drop them into the hole. Then, after they sank them, they would declare that the bladders had returned to their home in the ocean through the river. So the angalkuq said that if he enabled the child to go with the bladders, that would be his only chance to become a good hunter. The boy’s father quickly urged him to carry out the plan. After the bladders were deflated, and when the men brought them down to the river to let them go, the angalkuq took the boy and followed them down to the hole. When the bladders had been sunk into the hole, he turned to the two men and said, “Would you two go back up? I will follow shortly.” The men went up and entered the qasgiq. Shortly after, the angalkuq came in alone. The boy who was with him was gone. Then from that moment on, the little boy disappeared. He totally vanished from the village . . . . So the boy stayed away all winter long. The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 103

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

At the time the boy came down to the hole in the river, he remembered he was suddenly captivated, and his whole being was mesmerized. Perhaps it was like a jolt. When he woke up and was alert again, he was traveling along with other people. His traveling companions would say they were going home. Then when they arrived, they went into the qasgiq. There was a raised platform for working and sleeping around the inside of the qasgiq just like they had back home. There were men sitting down below on the floor. They had sores all over their bodies. They were constantly moving and scratching. And there were other men sitting on the ground-level benches who were small with circular faces and large round eyes. Finally there were men sitting on the elevated platform all the way around. These men were strong and full of confidence. There was one person who had told him as they traveled that he would watch and care for him all winter. And also the angalkuq had told his parents that he had appointed a mentor for him out there. One of the men on the bench told him that he would sit next to him all winter. All winter long those who were sitting on the floor would leave. They constantly went out. They would enter carrying fresh fish in front of their garments, and some would carry frozen fish. Then they would begin eating. And also those little people on the ground-level bench would constantly go out from the qasgiq. He soon discovered that the people on the floor who were covered with sores and constantly moving were spotted seals. And those small men with big eyes were hair seals. He actually saw them as human beings. And the men who sat on the elevated platform around the walls were bearded seals. They were the ones who never went out, but their companions would endlessly bring them food to eat. So while they sat there in the qasgiq in the winter during bad weather, someone would come to the skylight in the roof of the qasgiq and clean it. And as he put his head down to look, the boy would recognize the person. It would be someone he knew from his village. Then the person would come down lower and act as if he were sucking and drinking water. And he would stand up when he was satisfied. The boy soon learned that during a stormy winter day one of the men back at his village had come down to the water hole and had cleared the hole to take a drink. And when he came down to drink, the men in the qasgiq would see him look down through the smoke hole. And the boy would recognize him. 104 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

His mentor would say, “You have witnessed that man up there form your home. Now when you go home and begin living on your own, you must carefully clean the water hole and drink when you are thirsty. When you do that, we will be able to see you, just like the man we saw up there.” Then another person would come and begin cleaning their window. And as the boy watched from down below, the man would clean it briefly and go away. His mentor would say, “When you return home, you man sometimes clean the ice hole carelessly. You have just witnessed one of the people in your village who just tried cleaning the ice hole. He was very careless and left without looking down at us. His actions clearly confirmed his lack of motivation and desire in hunting.” And sometimes while he sat there, he would begin hearing chunks of snow landing on the surface of the qasgiq making a clattering sound. You know, when you toss the snow off the shovel, it makes a very distinct and noticeable sound. He would hear the chunks as they landed up above, and bits of snow would fall on the window. His guide would say, “When you arrive at your place, you might be lazy about shoveling the doorways of others in your village when the weather is bad. Listen to someone up above, one of the men from your home who is taking care of doorways in such weather instead of lounging. And as he hurls the snow off his shovel, you can hear it land on the roof of our house. Listen to him cleaning the pathway so carefully as he clears the way he will use when he comes to catch one of us in the spring. “The things that would block him on his journey are landing on our roof. When you clean the doorways, you might get careless at times. When people continually take care of doorways in the storm back in your village, they are only clearing the path of the animals when they coming in the spring.” And sometimes the boy would hear something faintly from way in the distance. Someone was actually shoveling. And when he tossed the snow, the impact would be hardly audible. The mentor would say, “Now observe this very carefully. You may sometimes shovel aimlessly without thinking about the path of the animal. You can hear someone shoveling up there now who is totally unaware of removing the obstacles from the path of the animal. And the snow from his shovel is landing in the path of those who will come to him.” His mentor continually counseled him. Sometimes while he was sitting there, a bowl of akutaq would come in through the entranceway and slide in and land between the two of them. The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 105

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

At this time his host would say, “Your parents have provided us with food. Now let’s have some akutaq.” Then they would quickly devour it. He soon understood that when the angalkuq ate the akutaq that the parents had brought to him, he had indeed shared it with them. This was done through making a food offering. When he took a bit of his own akutaq and tossed it into the air, it would come to them there in the qasgiq. The mentor continually instructed him on how he could be a productive person when he returned and become a member of his own people. Then soon it gradually lit up outside, and some of the many members there stopped coming back in whenever they left. His host would say, “Since the daylight is getting longer, undoubtedly your relations back home are beginning to look down into the ocean, the place where they will demonstrate their hunting skills. When the appropriate time comes, you and I will also go see our elected host. I have returned to him year after year, for he honors my presence with great reverence and doesn’t make me feel intimidated. He has been my host again and again.” Eventually, those on the floor stopped coming back inside, and only a few were left. He soon found out they had started to swim north. When some of the young men were preparing to leave, one of the old men would say, “While you are out there on your journey, remember not to sleep too long. Please, try not to sleep very long. If you do, the hunter will capture you while you are not awake and alert.” One of the young men would say, “It is difficult to stay awake listening to the perpetual beat of the two drummers.” (You girls will not understand this.) Down in the ocean ice when a thin layer of ice forms on the edge, it creates a murmuring sound. The jagged surface makes a ceaseless, gurgling tune. Apparently, when seals are on an ice floe and begin hearing the sound, according to their own judgment they hear drums beating. And while they were up and observing, and the rippling sound continued around the ice floe, they would become drowsy. They didn’t want them to be caught while they were asleep because they would get stuck as they escaped into their bladders. They had always been advised to try to stay awake during the time hunters hunt them. And when the hunter hit him with the harpoon, he was to fly into the farthest end of the kayak with full force. Evidently, it was his life, his soul, that would dash into his bladder. Perhaps those who were hit before running in would die forever. 106 F I E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then he and his mentor began their journey when the time arrived. As they were traveling, they would sometimes see another kayak going along. The poor man’s kayak would be covered with old clothes. It would be covered with old boots and tattered garments. His mentor would ask, “Didn’t you see that person who just came by?” When he said that he did, his mentor would say, “Now remember this. When you go back to your village and acquire your own kayak, you might want to place the poles to support it too close to the houses. Some women will hang clothes anywhere outside. If you place the poles too close to the house, and women hang clothes on them, you will look like that man when you paddle out in the ocean. But when you look at yourself, you will not be covered with old clothes.” As they traveled along, they would see another kayak floating above the water. The man would be paddling while his kayak hung above the water. And the tips of his paddles would barely touch the water. His mentor would say, “Look at that man with a kayak hanging. You can see him paddling above the water. In your lifetime you may neglect the ocean at times. The man you just saw with a kayak floating above the water was someone who never thinks about the ocean.” He was one who suddenly remembered the ocean when the other men were starting to travel out. As they traveled along, they would see another kayak, and the man paddling inside would have a bucket over his head. He would not be able to see where he was going since the bucket covered his eyes. However, the movement of his paddle would be constant and regular. When I was a little boy, our elders used to teach us not to stoop down and drink water from the bucket. They would tell us always to use a ladle when we drink. Apparently, this was one of the fundamental principles from a long, long time ago. They say those who paddled with buckets over their heads were those who drank by stooping down. They were the ones who had ignored the advice and drank without a ladle. As they went by, the men appeared to them in that fashion. Nevertheless, the hunter would be paddling continuously. And when they stopped sometimes, another kayak would go by, and the man inside would have hair hanging down his mouth. His mentor would say, “See that man? When you acquire children, you may want to bite off their louse eggs.” The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 107

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

In those days people had many lice. And someone would bite another’s hair, then squeeze out the lice, and pop them in his mouth. He would tell him that he may want to do that when he acquired his own children. His guide would say, “Look at that man with hair in his mouth. He is the kind who likes to bite the lice off his children’s hair.” As they traveled along, they would go by a village, and his mentor would recognize the place. They traveled toward the north. Then one day when they were approaching a village, his mentor said, “We have reached my host’s village. Let us sit here and wait for him. I know he’s planning to come down early tomorrow morning.” They sat and waited. And as they waited, the boy became drowsy and began dozing off. His mentor quickly shook him and said, “My goodness, don’t fall asleep now! Stay alert and watch our host. He just walked out of the qasgiq and went over to his spouse’s house to get ready.” They were waiting right below the houses. And as he looked, a woman came out of a house holding a grass pack basket. She was absolutely pure, and there were rays of light radiating from the edge of her parka ruff. The woman was busy helping her spouse as he was getting ready to leave. She was very eager to help him. Then his mentor said, “Look at the woman up there. There are clear indications that she is not a lazy person. And the glowing shine from her confirms her cleanliness. When a woman does not sit idle and neglect what needs to be done, she will begin to appear to us in that fashion. Let’s watch as her husband gets ready to come down.” They sat and watched the village from a distance, just like watching a television set. Then her husband began pulling his kayak on a small flat sled and headed toward the ocean. They sat on an ice floe as he came down. When he came to the water’s edge, he pulled the sled from under the kayak and secured it on the back of the kayak. Then he reached into his kayak and stood up holding a wooden bowl. Then his mentor said, “Look at him as he gets ready to give us some of his akutaq.” And as he watched, he reached into his bowl and pulled up his hand. Then, as if he knew exactly where they were, he tossed the akutaq toward them, and the piece landed right in front of them. 108 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then he said, “Let’s enjoy it now.” They ate the whole thing. Back in those days, before the arrival of the Western religion, everyone who traveled down to the ocean always offered food to the animals. They would take a little bit of all the food they had brought with them and throw it in the water. They would throw a little piece of food in the water. The food was an offering to the animal that might come to them. Then as the hunter got into his kayak, he began paddling toward them. Then his guide said, “Now observe his eyes as he looks toward us and see the strength in his vision. And when he looks straight at you, feel the forceful impact it creates. Examine the acuteness of his eyesight. “Now, when you return to your village, you may want to look at women and other people straight in their faces and make them nervous. When men constantly view women right in the faces, their eyesight becomes weak. “However, when men avoid looking at women and others straight in their faces, and they begin going out hunting, their vision is keen. “Watch him very closely. When he glances over toward us, you will feel the force.” Then the hunter came straight toward them. And as he watched him, he suddenly felt a tremendous jolt, and his body trembled. Then his companion said, “He has seen us. He has spotted us.” And he added, “Now when he begins to come after us, try not to fall asleep. You will experience a very strong urge to sleep. Keep alert and try not to doze off.” (The hunters used to wear tall, pointed wooden hats. I used to see some of the hats like that.) Then the hunter slipped on his wooden hat and began coming after them. As he was approaching, he disappeared behind the ice. They waited but the hunter did not reappear. As they waited, a little bird slowly came out, a bird that people called cigu’ur, a light-colored seabird that constantly dived in and out of the water. (I’m sure one of you young boys will see these birds when you begin going out to sea. They are light-colored birds and have dark spots on their wings.) After the bird came around the bend, he started swimming toward them. After he swam for a while, he burped a little bit. When he burped, a fine haze came out of him and slowly spread toward them. And when the pleasant little mist reached them, the boy sensed a pleasurable feeling and became very drowsy. As he was beginning to doze off The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 109

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

and fought to stay awake, his partner gently nudged him and said, “Poor you! I thought I told you to try to stay awake.” Then he forced himself to wake up and was vigilant again. Then the mentor said, “Now watch him. Next time he does that, the effect will be stronger, and you will become very, very sleepy. I, too, will suffer greatly when I try to stay awake. I had just become very drowsy, too, a few minutes ago. “But if you accidently fall into sleep, as soon as you feel the impact of the force, you must dash into your bladder.” (Remember, I told you that they used to save the bladders of the seals. Apparently, when that happened, they were told to run into their bladders.) Then as the bird got closer, he burped again and let out a pleasant little mist. Then just like before, the little mist came toward them. And when it reached them, he suddenly became drowsy. He tried to stay alert but soon dozed off. Then, just when he was falling asleep, he suddenly felt a great jolt all over his body. As soon as he felt the blow, he quickly escaped into his bladder. The hunter caught both of them. He killed only their bodies. And since their souls had escaped into their bladders, their immortal beings stayed there. Then when the hunter skinned and carved him, his whole body was tingling. It was a thrilling sensation and didn’t hurt at all. After he finished cutting them up, he loaded them up and took them home. When he arrived at the lagoon, he held his paddle aloft to indicate that he had killed a seal. Then when he walked away, they stood there and watched him. When the hunter got home, his wife came out putting on her belt, and she got their sled ready to fetch his catch. When the hunter’s wife arrived, the angalkuq ran into the house of the parents of the boy who had gone with the bladders, and he told them that their son had arrived. The parents jumped up, for they thought he had arrived in human form. Then the angalkuq said, “Oh my, don’t jump up. You will not see him now. He will only appear this winter during the time they sent the bladders away. You should welcome him and make some akutaq, and bring me some when you are done. He has arrived with great yearning for akutaq.” After they made akutaq they brought some over to the angalkuq in the qasgiq. Then the parents waited all summer long, and even though they were told that their son had arrived, they began to doubt that he was there. 110 FI E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And when they begin to be lonely, the angalkuq would storm in and say, “I have told you again and again not to be lonely. I am telling you that he’s actually here now. But he will appear only when the appropriate time arrives. You must wait and be patient. You should make some akutaq and bring me some.” They would go ahead and make the akutaq and bring him some in the qasgiq. Eventually, the time to honor the bladders arrived in the winter. They took care of their bladders and hung them. And the day came for them to send them away. They deflated them and took them down to the ice hole in the river and let them go. But there was no sign of the boy. Then, after the last bladders had gone, one of the women in the village went down to fetch some water. They say when there was lots of snow in the winter, the snow would pile up high around the hole. They would make a roof on top and make a little shelter around the hole and make a doorway just like a house. They would call it aniguyaq. They would go inside it and fill up their buckets. One of the women went down to the river and walked up to the aniguyaq. As she looked in, she saw a naked little boy sitting all crouched up. He was trembling and was quietly sobbing. As she looked closer, she discovered that he was the boy who had disappeared the year before, the boy who went with the bladders. She said, “Why are you crying?” He replied, “My companions left without me. I begged for them to take me, but they refused and left me here.” He continued to cry, saying he wished to go with them. The woman said, “Oh my, don’t cry. You should stay and come with me to your parents’ house. Let’s go see your own parents here.” Then she took him and ran up to his parents’ house. He had just become a regular human person and had come back to his village. When he came in, his parents were very happy and delighted and prepared new clothing for him. After that he remained in the village and started a normal human life. The following year they again prepared to send the bladders away. And one day when the bladders were hanging in the qasgiq, the boy removed all of his garments. When he began removing his clothes, one of the men in the qasgiq said, “What are you going to do?” The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals 111

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He answered, “I’m going to go visit those people up there whom I stayed with.” He told them that he was going to visit the people he was with when he was away. Then he stood up and walked to the end of the row of bladders that were hanging. As he put his hands on the bundle at the end, he slowly vanished. Then starting from the bundle he had touched, the bladders began quivering, and the motion moved slowly across like a wave. The bladders would tremble even though they hadn’t been touched. And as everyone closely watched, some of the bladders would shake longer than the others. And some would quiver a little bit and stop. Then finally he came to the end. And shortly after the bladders stopped shaking, he fell out of the bladders at the end and came out exactly the way he looked [when he went in]. As he was putting on his clothes, he said, “I’m so glad I finally saw my old friends, the people I stayed with when I was away.” Year after year he would do that. Every time they were sending the bladders, he would visit them. He would enter the bladders hanging at one end and come out through the other side. When he became a grown man, he began going out to the ocean. And he would recognize every seal he saw out there. When he came to a seal who had not treated him well or had gotten angry with him when he was with them, he would throw his harpoon with all his might and try to hurt him. However, when he came to those who had treated him well and those who had cared for him, he would throw his harpoon at them very gently. He would throw his harpoon and try to let the spearhead make just a little hole in the skin. He would tell his companions in the qasgiq about all of these things. He became an adult and never disappeared again. And he became a father. That was usually the end of the story when people told it. They say that the person who had stayed with the seals down in the ocean used to speak in the qasgiq. When he became an elder, he spoke to others and talked about the doorways, ice holes, and the floors of the houses. He would urge the young boys to take care of these places. He would say that when they kept these places clean they were clearing the way between them and the animals. This is where the story usually ends.

112 F I E NU P - R I OR DA N A N D M E A DE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Girl Who Married the Bear C AT HARIN E M C CLELLAN, MARIA JOHNS, AN D DORA AU ST IN W ED GE

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQE\&DWKDULQH0F&OHOODQ I first heard the wonderful story of “The Girl Who Married the Bear” in 1948 when, as a graduate student in anthropology, I was doing my initial fieldwork with Tagish Indians of Carcross in southern Yukon, Canada. Maria Johns, aged and blind, volunteered the tale as a going-away present for me, telling it in Tlingit, which was the language spoken by most Tagish in the late nineteenth century. After every few sentences her daughter, Dora Austin Wedge, translated her words into excellent English. The only other person present was Dora’s nine-year-old daughter, Annie, and we listened, entranced, as the tale unfolded. The narration was superb. Maria offered the story to explain why people do not eat the meat of grizzly bears and to account for the origin of the ritual for the proper disposal of the body of a slain bear. As she described it, the ritual seemed to be part of what anthropologists identify as a circumpolar complex of bear ceremonialism, but so far it had not been reported for this part of the Subarctic. Here was something new I could add to scholarly literature. Could a novice ethnographer ask for more? In my subsequent Yukon fieldwork I did not specifically plan to collect oral narratives, but I soon discovered that the Indians considered telling stories to be one of their most vital ways of expressing their identities and teaching their most deeply held values to their children or to an outsider like me. Despite major changes in their culture, Native narrators and their audiences still find their oral traditions relevant in the literate world. Over the years many more stories filled my notebooks, and I heard about the girl who married the bear eleven more times. Nine of the narrators volunteered it as Maria had done, five of them choosing it as their first selection; I specifically requested it only twice. Since at first I naïvely judged the story’s chief value to be that of extending the known distribution of bear ceremonialism, I paid relatively little

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

113

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

attention to other aspects of it. Only later did I ask, Why its great popularity? Why did men and women of all ages so often choose to tell it? Actually Maria and Dora had already revealed the reason, which is simply that it is a marvelous piece of creative narrative. Indeed, because Maria was such a gifted raconteur and Dora such a fine translator, their skills had easily carried me across language differences, lifting the tale into a realm well beyond that encompassing all my earlier ideas of folklore. Even though at the time I knew little of the tale’s cultural context, I could not fail to sense the tremendous psychological and sociological conflicts in the plot, and I began to glimpse the true depths of the stories I was hearing. Ultimately I came to understand that this particular story grips Yukon Natives with all the power of a major literary work, evoking in them the same kind of intense responses as those experienced by Greeks hearing their great Attic dramas. That is why I called the story a masterpiece of oral tradition when I finally published it in 1970 and why I continue to think it is such. It speaks, of course, most forcibly to those most aware of its cultural context, but its messages are fundamental enough to have reached beyond the world of northern Natives to be recontextualized in various ways by others of non-Indian heritage. Until recently Western scholars of literature rarely have rated the stylistic qualities of oral narrative even by their own standards or paid much attention to linguistic and other criteria by which nonliterate people themselves evaluate their oral traditions. Yukon Natives do not often comment on such matters either. I believe that the gross structural arrangement of a story can remain in the same translation, but to appreciate finer stylistic points, one needs the text in the original language. Lost forever is whatever linguistic magic may have been in Maria’s original telling, the subtle imagery conveyed by her choice of words, and other ineffable qualities of language. Tape recorders were not then widely available, and to have asked Maria to wait while I laboriously wrote her Tlingit phrasing would have been to destroy her gift to me. I took down only Dora’s translation and added explanatory comments. She spoke slowly for my benefit, but even so I probably missed a few phrases. Nor could I catch Maria’s rendition of the two songs so integral to the tale. Dora did not translate them, so I have substituted two texts from a version of the story told to me in 1951 by Tommy Peters, an Inland Tlingit of Yukon.1 Of course, oral societies do not value well-wrought language alone; performance also counts. Sadly lacking in my printed English version of this story are Maria’s and Dora’s pacing of utterances, their pauses and emphases, the changing loudness and softness of their voices, Maria’s imitations 114 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of a growling bear and barking dogs. My written record of Maria’s accompanying gestures as she told the story scarcely conveys the unsettling impact produced each time she passed her hand slowly across her face to indicate whether the bear appeared at that moment in his human guise or in his bear guise. Nor does it capture the effect of impending disaster Maria somehow imparted by stirring about in bed under her gopher-skin blanket and knocking on the dresser beside her at the point when the girl and her bear husband first hear her oncoming brothers and their dogs. Yet style and performance alone do not guarantee an oral masterpiece. Every great narrative must have compelling substance as well, and I believe it is the content of “The Girl Who Married the Bear” that so powerfully and consistently attracts Yukon Natives and others. I would argue too that the more that is known of a story’s cultural context the greater the appreciation of the tale. Certainly as my own knowledge of Yukon Native culture has deepened, so too has my awareness of the multilayered symbolism embedded in this story. For example—though I do not develop it here—at a deep level the story may be an account of a failed shamanistic quest, illuminating just when in their life cycles females are able to absorb certain kinds of strong spiritual power. Dora’s daughter, Annie, has doubtless discovered new meanings, too. The overt plot holds considerable suspense, but adult Natives all know its outcome well. The reason the story continues to grip them so forcibly, I think, lies in the dreadful choice of loyalties to others that its characters have to make and in its pervasive underscoring of the delicate and awful balance in relationships between humans and animals that Indians believe has existed since the world began. The basic concerns of everybody in the society are rendered relentlessly vivid by the tale’s concentration on the actions of only a few individuals. What of the cultural context? Southern Yukon Indians of either sex trace their consanguineous ties only through females; it is through them that one’s kin group is formed. In every family also the wife and children belong to one matrilineal kin group, but the husband belongs to a different one. This is because the whole society is divided into two distinct sides, or moieties, designated as Crow or Wolf. One always belongs to the moiety of one’s mother but always must marry a person of the father’s moiety. Membership in the moiety also obligates one to dispose of the corpses of those in the opposite moiety, with suitable rituals. Another crucial aspect of the social system is cross-sex sibling avoidance. After puberty, brothers and sisters should neither talk to nor look at one The Girl Who Married the Bear 115

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

another directly, though in a crisis a younger brother or sister may speak circumspectly to an older sister or brother. One of Maria’s most traumatic experiences occurred right after her puberty seclusion, when she had to find her older brother on his winter trapline and ask for help because the family was starving. Following the encounter, she hid and wept for several days. Yet in spite of avoidance rules, strong sibling unity lies at the heart of the society. The oldest brother looks after the welfare of his younger siblings, who ideally never question his actions, and brothers and sisters aid one another with food and clothing throughout their lives. The brother-inlaw tie is equally important, for brothers-in-law link those of opposite moieties. Only the best fellowship should prevail between those who address each other as brother-in-law. A Native can always find a sibling or sibling-in-law in Yukon, for anyone of one’s own age within one’s own moiety may be counted as a brother or sister, depending on sex, whether or not truly related by blood, and anyone of one’s own age in the opposite moiety may be classed as a sibling-in-law. Furthermore, the system includes animals as well as humans. I have seen a Crow man address a pack of wolves as brothers-in-law, and the term is equally appropriate for a bear. Long ago animal people even looked like humans, until they pulled up their animal masks after Crow, the transformer, opened the box of daylight on them. Now, except in rare instances, they appear to humans only in animal guise. Yet most animals have greater spiritual power than humans, and they may use it for good or ill. A major philosophical and practical problem for humans is how to live harmoniously with animals that they continually confront and often have to kill in order to stay alive. Indians observe many rituals designed to entice the potentially beneficial powers of animals and to ensure the reincarnation of their spirits so that humans may have food. One must never say or think anything offensive about an animal or treat it or its attributes, including its excrement and its corpse, disrespectfully. An offended animal is bound to exact revenge, often drawing the culprit to its own domain and making it difficult or impossible for him or her to return permanently to the human world. Those who have come back, however, report staying in places where time is distorted, where fires are not what they seem, and where many other phenomena are illusory to humans. Sojourners in animal worlds have also learned, as does the girl in this story, how animals wish their bodies to be treated after death. Surely the reader who knows only these few facts can now grasp the drama of “The Girl Who Married the Bear” more fully than one ignorant of 116 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

its cultural context. As soon as she mocks the bear droppings, the girl is at risk. A handsome man appears, and in spite of her desire to go home, she enters a socially unarranged sexual alliance with him. Anguishing doubts and dilemmas ensue. She gradually learns that she is staying with a bear, and she betrays him by leaving signs of her presence near their den. But she also comes to love him, especially after her two children are born. Then she must decide whether to cleave to him or return to her human kin. She persuades the bear to give up his life to his brothers-in-law, but the supreme irony is that in the end she herself does the unthinkable deed of killing her mother and all her brothers but the youngest.2 The very kinsmen who earlier have so carefully prepared her and her cub children for a brief stay in the human world and who should have continued as her protectors become her tormentors. Their irresponsible insistence that she and her children don bear hides seals the fates of them all. Every rule of sibling and affinal relationships and of human and animal relationships is violated. A young girl’s careless defiance of a fundamental taboo has doomed her to join the animal world forever. How can the enormity of such events fail to shake the narrator and audience? They must realize that although he allowed himself to be killed, it was the bear-shaman husband who had the ultimate strength. So it is that grizzly bears today are held in reverence and are accorded funeral rites suitable for humans of the highest rank and power. I believe Dora’s translation of Maria’s story is among the best of the Yukon versions available to English speakers today, but the existence of other versions invites comparisons. If well documented, they enable us to explore the influences that have shaped them: both the cultural context and the life circumstances of the individual narrators. For example, although this story has so far been recorded most often in Yukon and adjacent matrilineal areas, Robert Brightman has published two versions from the Woods Crees of northern Manitoba.3 The Crees practice bear ceremonialism, but unlike Yukon Indians, they reckon kinship through both the mother’s and the father’s lines. Is this why some of the key interactions between the characters in their story contrast so markedly with those in versions from other matrilineal areas? The Crees say that the girl’s father (not her brothers) hunts and kills the bear husband and that she is killed by the only brother to escape the massacre she and her sons wreak on an entire village. If we focus on personal history as a source of variation, we discover that more than any male narrator, Maria stresses the items of clothing that the girl wants for herself and her partly furred children as they prepare to reenter a world where clothes and human odors define human identity. She also The Girl Who Married the Bear 117

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

develops themes of romantic and maternal love, both of which were significant in her own life. Men elaborate other themes—the strained relationship between the bear and his brothers-in-law, the bear’s ability to provide food for his wife, or the proper treatment of a grizzly’s corpse. Do not such variations cogently reaffirm a need to understand both content and context if we are ever to fathom the essential components of this genuine masterpiece of oral literature? NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. Nora Marks Dauenhauer and Richard Dauenhauer, in Haa Shuká / Our Ancestors: Tlingit Oral Narratives, vol. 1 of Classics of Tlingit Oral Literature (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1987), give Tommy Peters’s 1972 and 1973 version of the story in Tlingit text, with a translation by Nora Dauenhauer, discussing further his two 1951 songs that I have incorporated. They also include a version by Frank Dick Sr. of Dry Bay, Alaska. Maria’s version and ten others, including those by Tommy Peters and Jake Jackson (see note 2), appear in Catharine McClellan, The Girl Who Married the Bear: A Masterpiece of Indian Oral Tradition, National Museum of Man Publications in Ethnology no. 2 (Ottawa: National Museums of Canada, 1970). Much of my introduction here is condensed from that publication. Additional Yukon versions are in Catharine McClellan et al., Part of the Land, Part of the Water: A History of Yukon Indians (Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre, 1987). In some texts, including Maria and Dora’s version, I have made some minor corrections in basic English. 2. Tommy Peters explained that only the girl’s younger brother was ritually pure enough to be able to kill the bear. Maria did not say which brother did the killing, but another narrator, Jake Jackson, did. See McClellan, Girl Who Married the Bear. 3. Robert Brightman, Āca$ōhkīwina and Ācimōwina: Traditional Narratives of the Rock Cree Indians, Canadian Ethnology Service, Mercury Series, Paper no. 113 (Ottawa: Canadian Museum of Civilization, 1989).

The Girl Who Married the Bear Once there was a little girl about as big as Annie. And she used to go pick berries in the summer. Every summer she would go with her family, and they would pick berries and dry them. When she used to go with her womenfolk on the trail, they would see bear droppings on the trail. In the old days girls had to be careful about bear droppings. They shouldn’t walk over them. Men could walk over them, but young girls had to walk around them. 118 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

But this girl always did jump over them and kick them. She would disobey her mother. All the time she would see them and kick them and step over them. She kept seeing them all around her. She did this from childhood. When she was quite big, they were going camping. They were going to dry fish. They went out picking berries. She was just a young girl. She went out and was picking with her mother and aunts and sisters. She saw some bear droppings. She said all kinds of words to them and kicked and jumped over them. When they were all coming home, they were all carrying their baskets of berries. The girl saw some nice berries and stopped to get them. The others went ahead. When she had picked the berries and started to get up, her berries all spilled out of her basket. She leaned down and was picking them off the ground. Soon she saw a young man. He was very good looking. She had never seen him before. He had red paint on his face. He stopped and talked to her. He said, “Those berries you are picking are no good. They are full of dirt. Let’s go up a little ways and fill your basket up. There are some good berries growing up there. I’ll walk home with you. You needn’t be afraid!”1 After they had got the basket half full of berries, the man said, “There is another bunch of berries up there a little ways. We’ll pick them too.” When they had picked them all, he said, “It’s time to eat. You must be hungry.” He made a fire. It looked just like a fire, but it was not a real one. They cooked gopher, quite a lot of it, and they ate some.2 Then the man said, “It’s too late to go home now. We’ll go home tomorrow. It’s summer, and there’s no need to fix a big camp.” So they stayed there. When they went to bed, he said, “Don’t lift your head in the morning and look at me even if you wake up before I do.” So they went to bed. Next morning they woke up. The man said to her, “Well, we might as well go. We’ll just eat that cold gopher. We needn’t make a fire. Then we’ll go pick some berries. Let’s get a basketful.” All the time the girl kept talking about her mother and father. All the time she wanted to go home, and she kept talking about it. He said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m going home with you.” Then he slapped her right on the top of the head, and he put a circle around the girl’s head the way the sun goes. He did this so she would forget. Then she forgot. She didn’t talk about her home any more. The Girl Who Married the Bear 119

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then they left again. He said, “You’re all right. I’ll go home with you.” Then after this she forgot all about going home. She just went around with him, picking berries. Every time they camped, it seemed like a month to her, but it was really only a day. They started in May. They kept traveling and going. Finally she recognized a place. It looked like a place where she and her family used to dry meat. Then he stopped there at the timberline and slapped her. He made a circle sunwise on her head and then another on the ground where she was sitting. He said, “Wait here. I’m going hunting gophers. We have no meat. Wait until I come back!” Then he came back with gophers. They kept traveling. Late in the evening they made a camp and cooked. Next morning they got up again. At last she knew. They were traveling again, and it was getting near fall. It was getting late. And she came to her senses and knew it. It was cold. He said, “It’s time to make camp. We must make a home.” He started making a home. He was digging a den. She knew he was a bear then. He got quite a ways digging a den. Then he said, “Go get some balsam boughs and brush.” Then she went and got some. She broke branches from as high as she could. She brought the bundle. He said, “That brush is not good! You left a mark, and people will see it and know we are here. We can’t use that! We can’t stay here!” So they left. They went up to the head of a valley. She knew her brothers used to go there to hunt and eat bear. In the springtime they took the dogs there, and they hunted bears in April. They would send the dogs into the bear den long ago, and the bear would come out. That’s where her brothers used to go. She knew it. He said, “We’ll make camp.” He dug a den and sent her out again. “Get some brush that is just lying on the ground—not from up high. No one will see where you get it, and it will be covered with snow.” She got it from the ground and brought it to him, but she bent the branches up high too. She let them hang down so her brothers would know. And she rubbed sand all over herself, all over her body and limbs. And then she rubbed the trees all around so the dogs would find where she had left her scent. Then she went to the den with her bundle of brush. She brought it. 120 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Just when the man was digging, he looked like a bear. That was the only time. The rest of the time he seemed like a human being. The girl didn’t know how else to stay alive, so she stayed with him as long as he was good to her. “This is better,” he said when she brought back the brush. Then he brushed up and fixed the place. After he fixed the den, they left. They went hunting gophers for winter. She never saw him do it. She always sat around while he was hunting gophers. He dug them up like a grizzly bear, and he didn’t want her to see it. He never showed her where he kept the gophers. Nearly every day they hunted gophers and picked berries. It was quite late in the year. He was just like a human to her. It was October. It was really late in the fall. He said, “Well, I guess we’ll go home now. We have enough food and berries. We’ll go down.” So they went home. Really they went into the den. They stayed there and slept. They woke up once a month and got up to eat. They kept doing it and going back to bed. Each month it seemed like another morning, just like another day. They never really went outside; it just seemed like it. Soon the girl found that she was carrying a baby. She had two little babies. One was a girl and one was a boy. She had them in February in the den. That is when bears have their cubs. She had hers then. The bear used to sing in the night. When she woke up, she would hear him: I dreamed about it; that they were going after me.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The bear became like a doctor when he started living with a woman. It just came upon him like a doctor.3 I dreamed about it; that they were going after me. He sang the song twice. She heard it the first time. The second time, the bear made a sound, “Woof! Woof!” And she woke up. “You’re my wife, and I am going to leave soon. It looks like your brothers are going to come up here soon, before the snow is gone. I want you to know that I am going to do something bad. I am going to fight back!” “Don’t do that!” she said. “They are my brothers! If you really love me, don’t fight! You have treated me good. Why did you live with me if you are going to kill them?” The Girl Who Married the Bear 121

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Well, all right,” he said; “I won’t fight, but I want you to know what will happen!” His canines looked like swards to her. “These are what I fight with,” he said. They looked like knives to her. She kept pleading, “Don’t do anything! I’ll still have my children if they kill you!” She knew he was a bear then. She really knew. They went to sleep. She woke again. He was singing again. I went through every one of those young people, and the last brother—I know he did the right thing. “It’s true,” he said. “They are coming close. If they kill me, I want them to give you my skull—my head—and my tail. Tell them to give them to you. Wherever they kill me, build a big fire and burn my head and tail. And sing this song while the head is burning. Sing it until they are all burned up:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

I went through every one of those young people, and the last brother—I know he did the right thing.” So they ate and went to bed, and another month went by. They didn’t sleep the whole month. They kept waking up. “It’s coming close,” he said. “I can’t sleep good. It’s getting to be bare ground. Look out and see if the snow has melted in front of the den.” She looked, and there was mud and sand. She grabbed some and made it all into a ball and rubbed it all over herself. It was full of her scent. She rolled it down the hill. The dogs could smell it. She came in and said, “There’s bare ground all over in some places.” He asked her why she had made the marks: “Why? Why? Why? Why? They’ll find us easy!” After they had slept for half a month, they woke, and he was singing again. “This is the last one,” he said. “You’ll not hear me again. Any time, the dogs are coming to the door. They are close. Well, I’ll fight back. I’m going to do something bad!” His wife said, “You know they are my brothers! Don’t do it! Who will look after my children if you kill them? You must think of the kids. My brothers will help me. If my brothers hurt you, let them be!” They went to bed for just a little while. “I can’t sleep good, but we’ll try,” he said. 122 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Next morning he said, “Well, it’s close! It’s close! Wake up!” Just when they were waking up, they heard a noise. The dogs were barking. “Well,” he said, “I’ll leave. Where are my knives? I want them!” He took them down. She saw him putting in his teeth. He was a big bear. She pleaded with him: “Please don’t fight! If you wanted me, why did you go this far? Just think of the kids. Don’t hurt my brothers!” When he went, he shook her hand and said, “You are not going to see me again!” He went out and growled. He slapped something back into the den. It was a pet dog, a little bear dog,4 and also a pair of gloves. When he threw the dog in, she grabbed it and shoved it back in the brush under the nest. She put the dog there to hide it. She sat on it and kept it there so it couldn’t get out. She wanted to keep it for a reason. For a long time there was no noise. She went out of the den. She heard her brothers below. They had already killed the bear. She felt bad, and she sat down. She found an arrow and one side of a glove. She picked it up and all of the arrows. Finally she fitted the little dog with the strings around his back. She tied the arrows and the glove into a bundle. She put them on the little dog, and he ran to his masters. The boys were down there dressing the bear. They knew the dog. They noticed the bundle and took it off. “It’s funny,” they said. “Nobody in a bear den would tie this on.” They talked about it. They decided to send the youngest brother up to the den. In those days a younger brother could talk to his sister, but an older brother couldn’t. The older brothers said to the youngest brother, “We lost our sister a year ago in May. Something could have happened. A bear might have taken her away. You are the youngest brother. Don’t be afraid. There is nothing up there but her. You go and see if she is there. Find out.” He went. She was sitting there crying. The boy came up. She was sitting and crying. She cried when she saw him. She said, “You boys killed your brother-in-law! I went with him last May. You killed him! But tell the others to save me the skull and the tail. Leave it there for me. When you go home, tell Mother to sew a dress for me so I can go home. Sew a dress for the girl and pants and a shirt for the boy. And moccasins. And tell her to come see me.” The Girl Who Married the Bear 123

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He left and got down there and told his brothers, “This is my sister up there. She wants the head and the tail.” They did this, and they went home. They told their mother. She got busy and sewed. She had a dress and moccasins and clothes for the children. The next day she went up there. She came to the place. They dressed the little kids. Then they went down to where the bear was killed. The boys had left a big fire. The girl burned the head and tail. Then she sang till all was ashes. They went home, but she didn’t go right home. She said, “Get the boys to build a house. I can’t come right into the main camp. It will be quite a while. The boys can build a camp right away.” She stayed there a long while. Toward fall she came and stayed wither mother all winter. The kids grew. Next spring her brothers wanted her to act like a bear. They wanted to play with her. They had killed a female bear that had cubs, one male and one female. They wanted the sister to put on the hide and act like a bear. They fixed little arrows. They pestered her to play with them, and they wanted her two little children to play too. She didn’t want it. She told her mother, “I can’t do it! Once I do it, I will turn into a bear! I’m half there already. Hair is already showing on my arms and legs. It is quite long!” If she had stayed there with her bear husband, she would have turned into a bear. “If I put on a bear hide, I’ll turn into one,” she said. They kept telling her to play. Then the boys sneaked up. They threw hides over her and the little ones. Then she walked off on four legs, and she shook herself just like a bear. It just happened. She was a grizzly bear. She couldn’t do a thing. She had to fight the arrows. She killed them all off, even her mother. But she didn’t kill her youngest brother, not him. She couldn’t help it. Tears were running down her face. Then she went on her own. She had her two little cubs with her. That’s why they claim long ago that a bear is partly human. That’s why you never eat grizzly bear meat. Now people eat black bear meat, but they still don’t eat grizzly meat, because grizzlies are half human. NOT ES 1. +HUH'RUDVWRSSHGWRH[SODLQ “He was really a bear, only she didn’t know it yet. This is a really old story from way back when there were only a few people. It’s true.” I do not think that Maria put this into her account; it would have seemed unnecessary. 124 M C CLELLAN, JOHNS, AND WEDGE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

2. *RSKHU the local English term for the ground squirrel that grizzlies dig up in quantity in late summer. 3. 'RFWRU an Indian doctor, or shaman; someone who can see what is going to happen and use his or her spiritual powers to prevent it. 4. %HDUGRJ Southern Yukon Indians kept a special breed of small dogs, Tahltan dogs, to hunt bears.

The Girl Who Married the Bear 125

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

John Sky’s “One They Gave Away” ROBERT B R ING H U RST

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ A hundred miles off the northern coast of British Columbia lies a forested archipelago less than two hundred miles long, though its shoreline extends for something closer to four thousand miles. Maps and gazetteers persist in labeling these islands the Queen Charlottes, after the wife of George III of Great Britain. Most residents (and the local tribal government) now call them Haida Gwaii, “the Islands of the People.” Older speakers of the Haida language call them by an older Haida name, Xhaaidlagha Gwaayaai, “the Islands at the Boundary of the World.” People who depend on hunting and foraging are almost always mobile, while gardeners and farmers stay put and build towns. In Haida Gwaii, as elsewhere on the Northwest Coast of North American after the last glaciation, this rule ceased to hold. Shellfish are there for the taking twice each day, when the tide recedes, and salmon, halibut, cod, herring, eulachon, sea lion, seal, and other species pass like an edible calendar through the maze of inshore waters. The Haidas of precolonial times planted no crops, and yet they lived, like wealthy farmers, in substantial towns. The rich tradition of Haida visual art and oral literature is simultaneously rooted in the powerful social forces of the village and in the hunter’s acutely personal relations with the wild. It is also rooted in the constant presence of the sea. Manna does not descend from heaven; it emerges from the waves. And the primary realm of the gods, in Haida cosmology, is not celestial; it is submarine. The Haidas divide both the gods and themselves into two sides, or moieties, known by their primary emblems: Raven and Eagle. The laws of marriage and inheritance, the means of commemorating the dead, and other essentials of the social order are framed on this basis. The result is a complex web of reciprocal relations between the two sides. Each side is divided in turn into a number of matrilineal families, or clans. Rank within the family is hereditary, and family ownership of fishing grounds and other resources is recognized. Status nevertheless depends in the long term on the charac126

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ter, skill, and luck of individual hunters and traders. The superstructure is very nearly feudal, but the base is not. As in any hunting culture, the system rests not on control of the land as such but on control of human demands that are placed on it. Europeans intruded on this world at the end of the eighteenth century, first as fur traders, then as direct exploiters, taking the whale oil, timber, gold, and fish. After a hundred years of European contact, the indigenous economy and culture were in ruins. Island sea otter and caribou had been hunted to extinction, whales were badly overhunted, salmon and cod were overfished, old-growth forest was disappearing rapidly, and disease—chiefly smallpox—had killed about 90 percent of the human population. Of the fifty or sixty major villages, four—two in Haida Gwaii and two newer settlements in Alaska—were still inhabited. One was the site of a cannery; the other three were the sites of Christian missions. Fewer than a thousand Haidas survived, and many of those had scattered to the mainland, seeking wages. Under these conditions a young and gifted anthropologist, John Reed Swanton, arrived to spend a year taking dictation. Classical Haida literature consists of the roughly 250 narratives and songs Swanton recorded, in two distinct dialects of Haida, during the winter of 1900–1901. Swanton prepared all his Haida texts for publication, and a large number were published as planned.1 Many others were issued only in English translation, while the originals languished in manuscript.2 The most important unpublished collection is held by the American Philosophical Society Library in Philadelphia, and it includes the Haida text translated here.3 No other extensive recording of Haida oral literature was undertaken until the 1970s. Some of the songs and stories Swanton heard in 1900 are still in circulation, and new ones are still made, but a century of churchgoing, Bible study, and English-language schooling, abetted in recent years by television and films, has also left its mark on the narrative tradition.4 One of the finest Haida poets Swanton met was an old man known to his friends as Skaai (this is the Haida name for the small mollusk known in English as a periwinkle). Skaai belonged to a family called the Qquuna Qiighawaai (“descended from [the village of ] Qquuna”) of the Eagle moiety. For most of Skaai’s life, the head of this family lived in the village of Ttanuu, just south of Qquuna, in southeastern Haida Gwaii. Skaai was a member of his household. Names are an important form of wealth among the Haidas, and Christian baptism had its attraction, even for nonbelievers. In January 1894 Skaai too allowed himself to be baptized by a visiting Methodist missionary. He must John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  127

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

have been in his sixties then and was probably recognized as the best surviving male myth teller from the southern part of the islands. Knowingly or otherwise, the visiting preacher christened him John. By this means Skaai acquired the name of another fisherman turned symbolist poet and myth teller, and one whose totem matched his own. Saint John’s evangelical emblem, the eagle, is also Skaai’s primary family crest. By the late 1890s, when he moved with the other survivors from Ttanuu into the mission village of Skidegate, Skaai was known to both whites and the younger Haidas as John Sky. “One They Gave Away” is one of thirteen narrative poems, or stories, dictated by old John Sky to young John Swanton. To the best of my knowledge, no other versions of this story have been recorded in any language or at any time; yet the story does not exist in isolation. Its central characters are known throughout the Northwest Coast; it is part of the large and living body of Haida mythology; and in John Sky’s mind it was only a third of an evening’s work. Skaai liked to tell stories in sets, or suites, the way many solo musicians like to play, and he told this story as the opening movement in a suit of three. The two stories he joined to it are set in Tsimshian country, and both are well known in Tsimshian versions. Swanton, in fact, protested that these tales had nothing to do with one another, but Skaai insisted the link was real. Swanton was looking for continuity of character or setting, which is scant. But structural and thematic echoes abound. A close analysis of the relations among the three stories would fill many pages, but the rudimentary outlines are as follows: • In the present story the daughter of a chief who lives in the islands comes of age and is ready to marry. When all suitors are refused, the son of a chief who lives on the floor of the sea abducts her. A servant locates her lying mindlessly in a cave in the other world. This exploratory voyage or dream, which occupies much of the story, involves the death and resurrection of the girl’s mother. The girl’s two brothers (one of whom is very young) then take superhuman wives. One marries Mouse Woman; the other marries a powerful shaman who is unnamed. These women take charge of the expedition to reclaim the girl. Back at home the girl bears a child who is her father-in-law—her abductor’s father—reincarnate. In accordance with his instructions, she returns this child to the sea, midway between the islands and the mainland. • In the second movement of the suite, the wife of a chief who lives on the mainland refuses food. A creature from the forest kills her, enters 128 BRI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

her skin, and returns in her stead to the village, eating like a fiend. The woman’s two sons (one of whom is very young) then marry superhuman wives (Mouse Woman and another, unnamed, who is a powerful shaman’s daughter). These women take charge of a voyage to find and revive the boys’ mother and to kill the impostor. • In the third movement the shaman’s daughter from the second story has borne her husband seven boys and a girl. The boys are married; the girl is not; and the children have settled, with their mother, on a coastal island just across a narrow strait from a larger town. When the eldest brother dies in an accident, the cause is divined as his wife’s infidelity. The suspicion is confirmed, and the youngest brother kills the adulterer, whose father is the chief of the opposite town. This murder is discovered, war ensues, and the six remaining brothers are killed. Their mother and sister escape alone into the trees. There the mother offers her daughter in marriage. Animal suitors emerge from the forest and are rejected one by one. The son of a chief who lives in the sky then presents himself, is accepted, and marries the girl. In the world above the clouds, she bears eight sons and two daughters. (The numbers five and ten, like the number two, are of special importance in Haida mythology.) These children return to earth, resettling their deceased uncles’ town. War breaks out again with the town across the channel. The eight brothers are fine warriors, and both sisters have miraculous powers as healers; even so, they are beaten back. The youngest brother seeks their celestial grandfather’s aid, and the grandfather drops a deadly cloud on his grandchildren’s opponents. Here the story ends. Human beings, in Haida, are called xhaaidla xhaaidaghaai, “surface people,” or, in the language of the poets, xhaaidla xitiit ghidaai, “ordinary surface birds.” This idea is widespread in Native American philosophy. The corresponding Navajo term, for example, is nihokáá dine’é, “earth-surface people.” But the Haida term evokes in particular the surface of the sea. The story of “One They Gave Away” is a map locating the world of surface people in relation to the world beneath the waves, which is of special concern to the Haidas. The full narrative suite, or triptych, extends that map to include the forest and the sky. We can pass from one world to another, according to these stories, by paddling a canoe across the horizon or by making a moral choice. This is the first story Skaai chose to tell John Swanton and only the third Haida text Swanton transcribed; not surprisingly there are glitches in the transcription. But I think Skaai chose this story for a reason. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  129

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Skaai himself was multilingual, fluent in Haida and Tsimshian at least. He knew that riding a story across the boundary of translation can be nearly as informative as crossing under the sky’s rim—and that it can even pose similar risks. Skaai had spent his lifetime watching a long and, in more than one sense, inhuman cultural war. The old matrilineal order was centered on reciprocal relations between Raven people and Eagle people and between human beings and the sea. Skaai had seen this system crushed under the force of insatiable greed and then displaced by a new order, patrilineal and fixated on the powers of a father in the sky. Even the pun that the new language makes of Skaai’s name records this transition. The war he had witnessed was a catastrophe on a scale the older myth tellers, who taught him his art, had never known. Yet I think they had left him a means with which to address it. Skaai was an oral poet in a Mesolithic culture. He spoke his stories in a supple, stylized language, but the style is of an oral, not a literary, kind. I call these stories poetry because they are dense, crisp, and full of lucid images whose power is not confined by cultural fences—and because they are richly patterned. But the patterns are syntactic and thematic more than rhythmic or phonemic. For all the acoustic beauty of these poems, that is not where their obvious formal order resides. They are distinguished by a thinkable prosody of meaning more than by an audible prosody of sound. The language is not verse (in the familiar Indo-European sense) any more than it is prose, and it has no established typographic form because it has not yet been absorbed, like the language of Greek and Hebrew oral poets, into a literate tradition. We know that Skaai was an animated performer, because Swanton wrote down some of his cries, chuckles, hoots, stretched syllables, and other vocal gestures; and we know it from his handling of dialogue. He uses forms like “he said” and “she said” very rarely, much less often than do most other Haida myth tellers. Clearly he dramatized dialogue more than he narrated it. But there is a phrase that appears more frequently in Skaai’s work than anywhere else in the Haida canon: wansuuga, “they say,” or “it is said.” He uses it shrewdly, to distinguish between his own fallibility and the durable truth of the myth and to emphasize certain passages by slowing the place of events. He also uses it—the twinkle in his eye is clearly audible—to dance back and forth across the boundary between the credible and the outlandish. Speech itself is neither verse nor prose, and myth itself is neither fact 130 B RI NG HURST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

nor fiction. Myth is a species of truth that precedes distinction. But even in Skaai’s world it must wear the appearance of one or the other, and Skaai can skip at will between them. I have therefore made it a point, in my translation, not to downplay, omit, or relocate these marks of oral style. But how should one read a poem that was never meant to be written—a story carved in the air like spoken music, a voice in the dark that could only be stored as a light in the mind? The answer is clear. This oral voice, masquerading as written text, should be respected for what it is, and that means reading the text aloud.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Skaai’s language is simple and direct, but there are several basic terms that have substantially different meanings in his world than they are likely to have for his readers. I have listed a few of them here. &DSH, EODQNHW, or UREH. Four or five different types of garments are mentioned in the story, and three are of special importance. (1) The cedar-bark cape (qqaaix) has remarkable powers in this narrative, but it was an everyday garment in precolonial times. Woven red- cedar bark is breathable, waterproof, comfortable, and warm. (2) The figured blanket (naaxiin) is what is now commonly known as a Chilkat blanket: an ornate, fringed cape bearing a stylized portrayal of an animal, woven of mountain goat wool and yellow- cedar bark.5 (3) The sky blanket, or cloud blanket (qwiighaalgyaat), is a cape of white mountain goat wool, plain-woven or with stylized rain clouds added in black. Sky blankets are more widely known as Raven’s-tail blankets, a translation of their Tlingit name.6 In real life capes or robes of all the kinds discussed are normally worn one at a time. In this story, where the number two is of great importance ( just as it is in the Haida social order), blankets are worn in pairs. I can think of no other Haida narrative in which this happens—but I am intrigued to know that one of the few surviving qwiighaalgyaat (the Swift robe, now in the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnography, Harvard University) is woven in such a way that, when worn, it appears to be two blankets in one.7 &DQRH. A Haida canoe (tluu) is an oceangoing red- cedar dugout, typically thirty to sixty feet long and four to eight feet in the beam. The crew and passengers might number anywhere from five to thirty. Smaller dugouts were used for solo travel. Some Haidas had surely seen the skin boats of the Eyak, Aleuts, and Yupiit, but the self-propelled harbor seal canoe (xhuut tluu) mentioned in the story has no obvious counterpart in real life. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  131

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

*UHDVH. Tau is edible grease or thick oil, usually from eulachon. It is eaten like mayonnaise on dried berries or fish. Here it appears only in the metaphor guadaagha tau la gutga’istlghaayang, “he thought grease into [her] mind.” This is of course to say he transformed her mind into an opaque and turgid mass, like congealed fish oil. +RXVH. In Skaai’s experience a proper house (na) was a solid, square structure with a gable roof sloping gently to the central smoke hole. The frame was made of enormous red-cedar posts and beams, and the walls were of red-cedar planks, vertically set. Light and air could leak through the chinks, but there were no windows, and there was only one door. The house of Skaai’s family head at Ttanuu, for example, was forty-eight feet square and about twenty feet high at the central beam. An area about thirty feet square—the entire center of the house—was excavated to a depth of several feet, with the walls descending in one or two tiers. At the center of this sunken gallery was the fire. Before the smallpox epidemics the typical population of such a house would have been twenty to thirty people. The head of the house had his private headquarters at the rear, often separated from the rest by a painted wooden screen. But the submarine house in the story, in which the floor descends in ten tiers to the fire and a fleet of canoes can pass through the smoke hole, is bigger than any house Skaai or his friends could have seen outside their dreams. GUIDE TO PRONUNCIAT ION

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Doubled vowels are lengthened, and doubled consonants are glottalized. The x is a velar fricative, like ch in the German name Fichte. Gh, q, and xh are uvular g,k, and x; in other words, they are like g, k, and x pronounced farther back toward the throat. Xh, therefore, is like the ch in Bach.8 NOT ES 1. John Reed Swanton, Haida Texts: Masset Dialect, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. 10:2 (Leiden, Holland: E. J. Brill, 1908); and Swanton, Haida Songs, published with Tsimshian Texts: New Series, by Franz Boas, in Publications of the American Ethnological Society no. 3 (Leiden, Holland: E. J. Brill, 1912). 2. John Reed Swanton, Haida Texts and Myths: Skidegate Dialect, Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 29 (Washington DC, 1905); and Swanton, Contributions to the Ethnology of the Haida, Publications of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, vol. 5:1 (Leiden, Holland: E. J. Brill, 1905). 3. Franz Boas Collection of Manuscripts, N1:5 (Freeman no. 1543), American Philosophical Society Library, Philadelphia.

132 B RI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

4. For examples of recent Haida narrative, see Carol Eastman and Elizabeth Edwards, Gyaehlingaay: Traditions, Tales and Images of the Kaigani Haida (Seattle: Burke Museum, 1991). 5. For photographs and further information, see Cheryl Samuel, The Chilkat Dancing Blanket (Seattle: Pacific Search Press, 1982); and Robert Bringhurst and Ulli Steltzer, The Black Canoe: Bill Reid and the Spirit of Haida Gwaii, 2nd ed. (Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre, 1992). 6. See Cheryl Samuel, The Raven’s Tail (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 1987). 7. See Samuel, Raven’s Tail, 94–103. 8. For more details see Bringhurst and Steltzer, Black Canoe, 163.

One They Gave Away

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

There was a favored child, they say. She was a girl, they say. They wove the down of peregrine falcons into her dancing blanket, they say. Her father loved her, they say. She had two brothers: one who was older and another still quite young. And then they came to dance at her father’s town, they say, in ten canoes. And then they danced, they say. And then they waited, they say. And someone—one of her father’s servants, they say—questioned them, “Why are these canoes here?” “These canoes are for the favored child.” Then, they say, someone said, “The woman refuses.” They went away weeping, they say. And again on the following day in ten canoes they came to dance, they say.

John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  133

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And again they were questioned, they say. “Why are these canoes here?” “These canoes are here for the favored child.” And then they refused them again. And they went away weeping. Now, on the following day someone was there, in a harbor-seal canoe, in a broad hat, at early morning, they say. Surfbirds lived in his hat, they say. After they had looked at him in his harbor-seal canoe, they asked him, they say, “Why is this canoe here?” He said nothing, they say. They refused him.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They said to him, so they say, “The woman refuses.” Something encircled his hat. It was white, they say. It was breaking like surf, they say. It was foaming and churning, they say. And when they refused him, the earth became different, they say. Seawater surged over the ground. When they found themselves half underwater, the villagers feared that they might have to give him the woman. And she had ten servants, they say. And they dressed one to resemble her, they say. And they painted her also, they say. They painted red cirrus clouds on her face, they say, and gave her two sky blankets to wear and sent her out to their visitor. He turned her down, they say. He wanted only the favored child, they say. And again and again they painted one, they say. They painted one with seaward dark clouds 134 BRI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

and gave her two marten-skin capes to wear and sent her out, they say, He refused her too, thy say. He refused all ten the same way. And they wept, and they let her go down without painting her, they say. And her ten servants went with her, they say. When she stood by the sea, the canoe came of itself, they say. And the visitor placed his hat on the shore as a gift for her father, they say.1 She and her servants boarded, they say. No one could see what moved the canoe. When the favored child had boarded, they saw the canoe standing offshore again. Then they poked holes in the housefront, they say. Through these they watched the canoe departing, they say. After watching awhile, they saw nothing in any direction, they say. They did not see that it had gone back down. And then they did not know which way the favored child had been taken.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Day after day her father turned to the wall, and he cried and cried and cried. And her mother turned to the wall and cried and cried and cried. Her father’s head servant stood with them day after day. Her father, still weeping, said to him, “Find where my child was taken.” “Cousin,2 I will be absent for a while. I will find where your child was taken.” Later, one day at first light, he stirred up the fire and bathed, they say, while those in the house were still sleeping. The day began well for him, so he took care that no one should see him. Now, as his skin dried, he turned to the wall, and he spread out his fishing tackle, they say. He opened a bundle and took out a cornlily stalk3 and set it afire. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  135

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

When it had burned for a while, he extinguished it, smearing the ash on a flat stone. He marked himself with it. Now he set out, they say. He went after the favored child, they say. And the favored child’s mother was with him, they say. From then on he moved like a hunter. He had a sea-otter spear, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He pushed off, and he threw the sea- otter spear, and it wiggled its tail and made ripples. It towed them, they say. In time the canoe ceased moving, they say. So, they say, did the sea-otter spear. And then, they say, he beached the canoe. The lady stepped out of the boat, and he turned it keel-upward. Green seaweed grew from the hull. This is what slowed the canoe. They had traveled for one year, they say. And he took off his redcedar cape, and he rubbed the canoe with it. He rubbed the lady as well, and he rubbed his own body until he was clean. Again he launched the canoe, and again he threw the sea-otter spear, and again it swam forward. Again the sea otter towed him along. He went on and on and on and on, and then, once again, the canoe ceased moving, they say. He beached the canoe again, and he turned it keel-upward. Green seaweed had covered it, and seaweed had covered the lady. It covered him also. And again he took off his cape. 136 B RI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And he rubbed the canoe and the lady. He rubbed himself also. When he was clean, he launched the canoe. And again he threw the sea-otter spear, And it towed him along. Farther on he encountered floating charcoal, they say. The canoe made no headway, they say. He brought out his tackle box and looked in. He had old scraps from repairing his halibut hooks.4 When he threw these ahead, a passage opened, and then he passed through it, they say. Not far away the channel closed over. Again when he put what he had in the water, the passage was opened, they say. Then he went through it, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And he came to the edge of the sky. When it had opened and shut four times, he thrust in his spear, propping it open. In that way he went under, they say. Then he pulled out the spear. From then on he kept it inside the canoe. At that time he took out his paddle and used it, they say. Now, they say, he could see the smoke from a large town. He beached the canoe to one side of the village, they say. He turned it keel-upward and seated the lady beneath it, they say. Then he walked to the village, they say. It was low tide when he came to the edge of the village. There at one end of the beach he sat down.5 A woman with a child on her back had come down on the foreshore. She carried a basket and digging stick, probing for something. As she placed something into her basket, she looked at him sitting there. She returned to her work; then she looked up again. She was prying up stones and gathering sea slugs6 into her basket. Wealth Woman it was. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  137

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The next time she looked at him sitting there, she spoke to him, they say. She said, “I know you.” Then he stood up, they say. Then he went down on the beach and stood near her. And she said to him, they say, “You are here in search of the favored child.” “Yes” was his answer. “You see here a town. The one who took the favored child gave his father’s hat. Therefore, his father thought grease into his son’s wife’s mind. In this condition she lies in that cave. In the headman’s house go around to the right, and walk back of the screen. There you will hear what people are saying.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then he set out, leaving Wealth Woman there, and he entered the cave of the favored child. She lay still, but her eyelids were fluttering. He took off his redcedar cape and used it to rub her, trying to rouse her. Nothing. He tried once again and failed again and grew angry. Then, having failed, he went on his way. He dressed in two figured blankets and wandered among them. They did not see him. Then he went into the headman’s house, they say, going round to the right. They say that the floor descended in ten tiers to the fire. On the upper tier, on one side, a figured blanket hung on the weaver’s frame, and a voice came from the blanket: “Tomorrow one of my faces will still be unfinished, unfinished.” Then, they say, he went back of the screen, And there, they say, something surprised him. A large bay lay there, with sandspits and beaches, and cranberries ripening on the outcrops. 138 BRI NGHU RST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Women sang songs there. Near the stream flowing into the bay a fire was built for heating salt water,7 they say. Women emerged from the berry patch then and walked past him. The last one was sniffing, they say. “I smell a human being.” “Hello,” he said. “Are you speaking of me?” “My dancing blanket came from one of the favored child’s ten servants, the ones who were eaten,” she said. “It is me that I smell.” Mink Woman, that was. Now he went to the fire they had made for salt water. When he came near, one of those who were sitting there said, “What will he do when they come here to look for the favored child?”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“What are you saying? The favored child’s family must return his father’s hat. When it is returned, he will make her sit up.” After hearing what was said, he turned around. Thinking of the lady, he ran back to the canoe and lifted the hull, finding only her bones. Then he took off his redcedar cape and moved it across her. She stirred and sat up. She was sweating. He righted the canoe and pulled it to the water. When the lady had boarded, he paddled in front of the town. There, they say, he roped her to her seat. He roped himself to his seat as well. Wealth Woman had told him to tie himself down—and also the lady. Roped to their seats, they floated offshore from the headman’s house. Someone came out of the house, saying, “Cousins, they ask the lady to wait where she is while they make preparations.” John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  139

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

When they had floated there awhile, lightning struck the house, they say. After that the point of a feather rose from the smoke hole. It came up; then it broke off. It veered toward them, striking the two of them, knocking them cold. Now he awoke on the upper tier of the house floor. There he untied himself, they say. There he untied the lady as well. When he could walk, he came to her aid. Her son-in-law sat toward the rear, And they say that they spread out a mat for her, lower down. Then she came forward and sat in the center of one of the tiers. Food was brought in a basket, they say,8 and they offered it to the lady. They offered her food. When this had been eaten, another basket was brought to the hearth. Fresh water was poured into the basket. Stones were put into the fire. When the stones had been roasted, they lifted them into the basket of tongs.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now it was boiling. Her host spoke to a youngster who stood near the basket. The boy went into a storeroom in the corner. He returned with humpback whale on the end of a stick. This he put into the basket. Soon he tested it with the stick. When it was soft, he lifted the whale flesh onto a tray like a red chiton9 and set it in front of the lady. Her host spoke again, and the boy brought her the rotten shell of a horse clam to spoon up the soup. She was unwilling to eat in this way. Reaching into her purse, She took out two horse-clam shells and two mussel shells. 140 B RI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Silence fell in the house. Even her host looked at nothing except the shells. She paused when she noticed his eyes fastened upon them. Then she handed the shells to the servant, who passed them in turn to her son-in-law. He cradled them in his cape. When he had admired them for a while, he spoke again, and they put them away behind the screen. Then it was evening. The house went to sleep. The servant slept also, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

At daybreak a seal pup cried in the corner, they say. And as day broke, the servant prepared for departure, they say. The canoe sat on the upper tier of the house floor. There he tied the lady to her seat. He tied himself to his seat as well. Behind the screens set end to end in the rear of the house, lightning struck, they say, and the point of a feather came forward and struck them, they say, knocking them cold. They awoke floating on open water, they say. And the servant untied himself and went to the lady. He untied her as well. They had left in midsummer, they say, when the seal pups cry.10 Now he took up his paddle and used it, they say. After taking two strokes, they say, he arrived at his master’s town. The lady entered the house and sat down. They say she revealed to her husband what she had learned of her child’s position. Then the head servant went to his master. He revealed what he had heard from those near the fire for heating salt water. He spoke precisely as they had spoken. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  141

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

His master spoke to the fire keepers, they say. Two of them went through the village calling, they say, and the people came. The house overflowed with them, they say. Then he brought food from the storeroom, they say. He fed them and fed them. When they had eaten, they say, he told the people his thinking. He told the villagers he was going to take back his daughter. He proposed that the headmen travel in ten canoes. They agreed to do it, they say. Then on the following day his elder son had vanished, they say. And the day after that, when they started their work, the younger also had vanished, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

For the father and mother, cumulus clouds were painted on ten sets of clamshells, they say. Ten mussel shells were within them. For the elder son ten were painted. Ten were painted for the younger son as well. Each of the villagers who was preparing to go gathered ten, and the women five. And when they had gathered them, they sat waiting. The two who were missing had gone to get married, they say. The others were ready to search for their sister And tired of waiting, they say. The villagers were fully prepared And were waiting. The elder returned at midday with cedar twigs tied in his hair. “Mother, I bring you my wife, who is standing outside. Will you welcome her?” So he spoke to his mother, they say. “Aiin! My child has come!” She went out.

142 B RI NG HURST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

A woman with whiskers and round eyes was standing there. It was Mouse Woman, they say. The younger was gone somewhat longer. He too, they say, returned at midday. He entered with fern fronds tied in his hair. Haiiii, hai hai hai haiiii! “Mother, I bring you my wife, who is standing outside. Will you welcome her?” Something astonishing stood there, they say. One could not look at her. Something with short hair, wearing armor.11 “Lady, come in.” She declined to come in. “She declines to come in. She refuses. My child, your wife refuses.” “She is given to doing things backwards.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He got up and went out to his wife and escorted her in. On the following day they set off at first light. The villagers launched their canoes and went seaward. The elder son’s wife sat on a thwart toward the bow, and the younger son’s wife concealed herself in the crowd. The one sat up high to see well, they say. A small purse was with her wherever she was. When they went seaward, she opened it. Reaching inside, she brought out her sewing needle, they say. She tossed it into the sea, they say, and it sliced through the water, they say.

John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  143

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

They lined up behind it, they say, and the needle towed them, they say. When it had towed them awhile, they say, they saw the smoke of a town drifting seaward. Some distance away, the elder son’s wife told them to land. She gave them directions. They say she had married the elder son so she could advise them. Mouse woman had. Going ashore, they cut long poles, they say. They cut them in pairs. The younger son’s wife concealed herself, while the elder son’s wife gave them directions. The ten canoes stood offshore. At the bow and amidships they linked them with poles. They lashed the poles to the thwarts. They were able to do it, they say. Then they paddled in front of the town.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They took the most favored position, they say, and someone came out of the headman’s house, they say. “Cousins, they ask you to wait where you are while they make preparations.” After waiting awhile, they lost track of themselves, they say. They awoke in the house, they say, on the uppermost tier of the floor. There they unfastened the lashings. There they untied the poles that linked the canoes. Mats were spread on the upper tiers, and on either side of the house pit, the people assembled. The favored child was not to be seen— the one they had come to reclaim. Only her husband was seated there. They spread out two mats directly in front of him, and he continued to sit there, they say. 144 BRI NGHU RST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The voyagers piled their clamshells in front of him. They heaped them up as high as the house. Ho ho ho hoooo! Up to the top! And they placed the hat at the top of the pile. “Call in my father. Ask him not to delay.” A youngster set off on the run, they say. “Is he not here?” “He is close by.” Hwuuuuuuuuuu! The house quivered, they say, and the earth shook. Together they all shied away. No one looked upward. But the youngest son’s wife raised her head as they cowered, they say. She looked to the rear of the house, and she looked to the door.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Raise yourselves up! Have you no power?” She spoke in this way. The house quivered again, and the earth shook. Hwuuuuuuuu! And again those in the house lowered their heads. “Raise yourselves up! Have you now power?” At that moment he entered, they say. And what entered amazed them, they say. His eyes bulged so that no one could look at him. When he planted his foot, they say, he stood there awhile. He took one more step, and the earth and house shuddered, they say. And he took one more step, and the house and the earth quivered, John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  145

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

and all together they cowered She said once again, “Raise yourselves up!” As she lifted her face, something powerful came to her, and their heads rose like the tide. “A powerful woman you are.” After that he sat down, And the tremors subsided. He sat near his son. But he laid his hand on hat before he sat down. With his father’s staff, the son divided the shells. He took fewer for himself. He gave more to his father. “Have you not yet sent for your wife, my son?” “No. I have waited for you.” “My spokesman, my son, send someone now for your wife.” A youngster went to call her then, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Is she not here?” “Yes. She is close by.” Soon the one they were looking for entered, they say. She came from the cave where she had been lying. She went at once to her mother, they say. She did not go down to sit next to her husband. And his father began to summon his power, they say. He began to dance. After a time he fell over, they say, breaking in two. 146 BRI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Feathers came out of his body and out of his neck. One of the servants emerged from his body. Another came out of his neck. And another came from his body, and one from his neck. He restored the ten that he had eaten. He danced for that reason, they say. Because of the hat, he had eaten the ten servants, they say. He had also thought grease, they say, into the favored child’s mind. Because of the hat, they say, they had put her into the cave. After a time his body grew whole. He ended his dance. He sat down. They built up the fire then, calling them forward. They started to offer them food, they say. They continued till midnight. And then it was finished; then it was finished. They gathered the dishes, they say. At daybreak a seal pup cried from the corner, they say, just as before, and then they prepared for departure, they say. The canoes were still there, on the highest tier of the house floor.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Her father-in-law summoned her then, they say. “Lady, come here. I have something to tell you.” He took her aside, they say, and she sat down beside him. Then, they say, he advised her. “Lady, you will give birth to me from your body. Do not be afraid of me.” He gave her a skull made of copper, they say. Something stuck out from it at each side. Its name, they say, is Between-the-Neck-and-the-Body. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  147

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Let Master Carver make my cradle, lady.12 Let cumulus clouds be placed on top of it, lady, and also below. Let the clouds be flat on the bottom. When the sky is like this, even human beings may come to me to feed. When they see me like this, Common surface birds may come to me to feed.” Her family was waiting on the upper tier, they say, while her father-in-law was advising her below, and she was listening, they say. When he ended his speech, she went up to her father. They had already lashed the canoes together and already roped themselves into their seats. When the favored child boarded, they say, they lost track of themselves. They woke on the open water, they say. At once they set off. And at once they came to the village, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Time passed, and the favored child was also with child, they say. When she started her labor, They built her a separate shelter, they say. They drove in a stake,13 placed her hands upon it, and left her, they say. Now he emerged, and when she saw him, she was astonished by him, they say. Something stuck out of his eyes. She raised herself up and drew back from him, frightened, they say. “Awaaayaaaaa!” Her cry shook the houses, they say. Then she turned back to him, they say, picking him up. “Aiii! I am here, Grandfather.” This is the term by which she addressed him, they say, and the town was like something lifted and dropped. 148 B RI NG HURST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

She brought him into the house, they say, And her father brought out his own urinal for him.14 In that they bathed him, they say. Now Master Carver was sent for.15 They summoned him, and he came directly, they say. He had started his work in the forest and brought it half finished, they say. The moment he entered, they say, he made the design as the favored child described it. He drew cumulus clouds together in pairs. He drilled holes for the laces to straighten his legs. Then they placed him in it, they say. Two sky blankets were brought, and they wrapped them around him and laced him into the cradle.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then, they say, they launched the canoe. Five of them, and the favored child as well, went aboard with her child, and they started seaward, they say. They traveled and traveled and traveled. To the landward towns and the seaward towns it was equally far; they could see that it was, when they put him over the side, they say. When they put him over the side, he turned round and round and round and round to the right four times and lay quiet, they say, like something lifted and dropped. And they left him and went to the place they had come from, they say.16 NOT ES 1. $QGWKHYLVLWRU¬¬¬WKH\VD\ Swanton’s interpolation, evidently in consultation with Skaai. 2. &RXVLQ The form of address here, kkwaai, suggests close and respectful relations. It could even be rendered as “elder brother.” This is the first of many signs that this is no ordinary servant. John Sky’s “One They Gave Away”  149

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

3. FRUQOLO\VWDON in Haida, gwaikkya. The cornlily is Veratrum viride, a highly toxic plant widely used by shamans of the Northwest Coast. 4. ROGVFUDSV¬¬¬KDOLEXWKRRNV Halibut hooks were of wood (usually alder) with a bone or metal barb, the parts fastened together with spruce-root twine. The scraps, then, might be spruce root, metal, or bone. 5. 7KHUH¬¬¬KHVDWGRZQ My interpolation. 6. VHDVOXJV Holothurians, especially the yellow and white Eupentacta quinquesemita and the red or yellow Parastichopus californicus. These are the food of the poor. Wealth Woman is commonly met collecting them. 7. KHDWLQJVDOWZDWHU Warm salt water is drunk as a purgative before important undertakings. 8. Here I have deleted one sentence because it conflicts with later developments in the story. The sentence says, “There were horse clams and butter clams and two mussels also, they say.” I think this is a formulaic sentence, appropriate to many other meals in the storyteller’s repertoire, but not to this one. 9. UHGFKLWRQ In Haida, sghiidaa, a large, leathery mollusk, Cryptochiton stelleri, that is common in Haida waters. When Skaai says the tray is like a chiton, I think he means that it is carved with the stylized representation of a chiton, not that it literally resembles one. 10. 7KH\KDGOHIW¬¬¬ZKHQWKHVHDOSXSVFU\ The implication is that a year has passed, and it is midsummer again. 11. ZHDULQJDUPRU Haida armor was generally made of wooden slats and hide, but Swanton understood this armor to be made of copper. It has thus become customary to identify the younger son’s wife as Xaalajaat, “Copper Woman.” If that is who she is, this is her only appearance in extant Haida literature. But copper, xaal, is not mentioned in the text. 12. 0DVWHU&DUYHU Watghadagang, the nonhuman embodiment of artistic skill in painting and woodworking. Master Carver lives in the forest, not in the sea. The literal meaning of his Haida name is “Maker of Flat Surfaces.” 13. DVWDNH The birthing stake—a handhold for a woman in labor—was widely used on the Northwest Coast. 14. KHUIDWKHUEURXJKWRXW¬¬¬IRUKLP The urine of healthy humans is a sterile fluid, chiefly water, ammonia, and carbonic acid. It makes an excellent biological cleansing agent, useful in treating insect bites and wounds as well as baptizing the newborn. A bath in a grandparent’s urine—so long as the donor is free of disease—is not just a ritual honor for the child but a perfectly defensible obstetric procedure. 15. 1RZ0DVWHU&DUYHUZDVVHQWIRU My interpolation. 16. As a postscript to the story, Swanton recorded the following comment, perhaps from his Haida tutor Henry Moody: “He was one who resides in mid- ocean, they say. Sometimes when sickness was coming they saw him, they say. He was a reef, they say—the One They Gave Away was.”

150 BRI NGH URST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Sun’s Myth DE L L H YM E S

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Charles Cultee told “The Sun’s Myth” to Franz Boas in 1891.1 Cultee, indeed, is the source of all the texts we have from the two Chinookan languages that at the beginning of the twentieth century dominated the lower Columbia River. One of these, Shoalwater, was the variety spoken around the mouth of the river on the Washington side by the Chinook proper. Shoalwater and the somewhat distinct Clatsop, spoken on the Oregon side of the river, are known collectively as Lower Chinook. The language of “The Sun’s Myth,” Kathlamet, was spoken on both sides of the river from a little east of Astoria for some distance inland. Kathlamet and the more easterly Clakamas and Wasco-Wishram have usually been considered a single language, known as Upper Chinook. Nonetheless, Kathlamet differs enough to count as a separate, third language.2 “The Sun’s Myth” is remarkable for its theme of human hubris and for its transformation of a framework widely known in western North America. A favorite Kwakiutl myth is an analogue of the Greek Phaëthon story. The trickster Mink is born to a woman who has been impregnated miraculously by the sun. Teased by other children for having no father, he goes to seek him, is welcomed, and is allowed to take the sun’s light about the world. He goes too low, causing fires, and the light has to be taken back. In the Southwest the Navajos and other groups have a story in which twins are born to a woman in a similar fashion, seek their father, are tested by him (at risk of death), show themselves to be true sons, and take back to earth the powers of lightning with which to destroy dangerous beings. Such testing occurs in many myths in which a man seeks to destroy his prospective or actual sonin-law. In all these instances the story is set before the present people have come, and the world they will inhabit still is being formed. Cultee’s narrative tells not of the establishment of that world but of its end. The one who comes to the sun is a prosperous chief (he has five towns of relatives); he is not tested but accepted as a son-in-law; he is given gifts

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

151

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

willingly and unendingly. I believe the story is a reflection of sudden destruction by disease. The wish for power beyond that proper to the people may reflect the desire to obtain and monopolize the control of goods brought by whites to the mouth of the river. The stem for “myth, nature, character” was applied to whites, presumably because of the Natives’ amazement at their ways and possessions. The experience of sudden destruction went as far back as the later eighteenth century, when some villages were depopulated by smallpox; it became general in the epidemics of the early 1830s and 1840s, when almost all the Indian people west of the Cascades died. Whether Cultee created this myth or absorbed it from another, it almost certainly arose in response to that recent history. Notice that the explanation is in terms of the Indian world itself. Destruction comes because the terms of a providential relationship with the greater powers of the world are violated. I first encountered “The Sun’s Myth” as a graduate student in Los Angeles, turning the pages of Boas’s Kathlamet Texts one by one at night to copy out the words and enter them into a file (so as to prepare a grammar and dictionary). The myth has been with me ever since. A retranslation and an analysis of the story were part of my presidential address to the American Folklore Society, given, fortuitously, in Portland, Oregon, in 1974, a few miles from where I was born and not many more from the Trojan Nuclear Plant, at the edge of what was once Kathlamet territory.3 This translation was prepared in the summer of 1979 in the Mount Hood National Forest. A copy has been made available to a descendant of Cultee’s people, but it has not been published. The relations among lines and verses have been reconsidered, as have the words. For example, “that which we held” is now more literally—and more effectively, I think—“that which he had taken”; “in vain” (kinwa) is now at the beginning of sentences in English, as it is in Kathlamet; “give up” is now “abandon hope” (drawing on the use of taminua in Wasco as “forever”); in the catalogs of what is on the walls, “goods” and “things” have become “property,” and “head ornaments” has been replaced by the term in current use in Indian country, “regalia”; “wrench” has become the more accurate “shaken”; and so on. The changes began in a further effort to be exact. They require adjustment of English expectations, but the effort is worthwhile, I hope, for the sake of the effectiveness of the original. Boas published the myth as a series of sentences grouped in paragraphs. We know now that narratives in Kathlamet, and other languages, are told as a series of lines. Intonation contours and other features of the voice sig-

152 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

nal the lines. Although we have only a written record, the patterns of the original still can be approximated. A verbal phrase is usually a line, and the larger organization of the narrative consists of relations among lines. These relations can be inferred. They are marked by parallelism and repetition, by indications of change of time, place, actor, or incident, and by patterned relations. Each culture favors one or more numbers (pattern numbers). Among the Kathlamet and many others in the region (including the Kalapuyas and the Clackamas), the principal pattern number is five. In a ritual or a narrative, a series of actions will be five (or its correlate, three) in number. A dialogue will consist of three or five exchanges. (Sometimes a set of three consists of three pairs). These sequences are not mechanically counted out. They express a rhetorical logic, an arousal and satisfying of expectation. There is an onset, a continuation, an outcome. Often a five-part sequence will consist in effect of two series of three. The third element will be the outcome of one series of three and at the same time serve as the onset of another. Narratives such as “The Sun’s Myth” display a consistent architecture. They are made up of lines that constitute verses, sets of verses that make up stanzas, stanzas that go together in scenes, scenes that go together in acts. In a long myth such as this, there may be more than one part, or set of acts. Here there are two such parts, one for the journey to the sun, one for the return. Each has three acts. Each part reaches a time of stable quiet in its third act. A narrator such as Cultee, then, coordinates two sequences, one of incident, one of form. He or she may skillfully adapt each to the other in a variety of ways, sometimes amplifying and pressing the limits of the frame, sometimes contracting, while maintaining the coherence of the whole. With patience, we can learn to recognize that shaping skill. NOT ES 1. Franz Boas, Kathlamet Texts, Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 26 (Washington DC, 1901). 2. Of the three languages, Shoalwater and Clatsop may continue to be called Lower Chinook, or Chinook proper; Kathlamet may continue to be called Kathlamet; and Clackamas and Wasco-Wishram may be called by their own name for their language, Kiksht. 3. Dell Hymes, “Folklore’s Nature and the Sun’s Myth,” Journal of American Folklore 88 (1975): 35– 69.

The Sun’s Myth 153

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Sun’s Myth

They live there, those people of a town. Five the towns of his relatives, that chief.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

In the early light now he used to go out, and outside, now he used to stay; now he used to see that sun: she would nearly come out, that sun. Now he told his wife, “What would you think, if I went to look for that sun?” She told him, his wife, “You think it is near? And you will wish to go to that sun?” Another day, again in the early light, he went out; now again he saw that sun: she did nearly come out there, that sun. He told his wife, “You shall make ten pairs of moccasins, you shall make me leggings, leggings for ten people.” Now she made them for him, his wife, moccasins for ten people, the leggings of as many. Again it became dawn, now he went, far he went. He used up his moccasins; he used up his leggings; he put on others of his moccasins and leggings. 154 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

One Preface

I(A) 5

10

(B)15

20

25

(C)

30

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Five months he went; five of his moccasins he used up; five of his leggings he used up. Ten months he went— now she would rise nearby, that sun— he used up his moccasins. Now he reached a house, a large house; he opened the door, now some young girl is there; he entered the house, he stayed.

35

40

Now he saw there on the side of that house: arrows are hanging on it, quivers full of arrows are hanging on it, armors of elk skin are hanging on it, armors of wood are hanging on it, shields are hanging on it, axes are hanging on it, war clubs are hanging on it, feathered regalia are hanging on it— all men’s property there on the side of that house. There on the other side of that house: mountain goat blankets are hanging on it, painted elk-skin blankets are hanging on it, buffalo skins are hanging on it, dressed buckskins are hanging on it, long dentalia are hanging on it, shell beads are hanging on it, short dentalia are hanging on it— Now, near the door, some large thing hangs over there; he did not recognize it. Then he asked the young girl, “Whose property are those quivers?” “Her property, my father’s mother, she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those elk-skin armors?”

II[i](A)45

50

(B)55

60

(C)

[ii](A)65

The Sun’s Myth 155

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Our property, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those arrows?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I], She saves them for my maturity.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Whose property are those wooden armors?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those shields, and those bone war clubs?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I].” “Whose property are those stone axes?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I].”

70

(B)75

80

Then again on the other side of that house: “Whose property are those buffalo skins?” “Our buffalo skins, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those mountain goat blankets?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those dressed buckskins?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.”

(C)

“Whose property are those deerskin blankets?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I], she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those shell beads?” “Our property, my father’s mother [and I]. she saves them for my maturity.” “Whose property are those long dentalia? Whose property are those short dentalia?” “Her property, my father’s mother, she saves them for my maturity.”

(D)

He asked her about all those things. He thought, “I will take her.” 156 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

85

90

95

100

(E) 105

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

At dark, now that old woman came home. Now again she hung up one [thing], that which he wanted, that thing shining all over. He stayed there.

[iii]

110

A long time he stayed there; Now he took that young girl. They stayed there.

III

In the early light, already that old woman was gone. In the evening, she would come home; she would bring things, she would bring arrows; sometimes mountain goat blankets she would bring, sometimes elk-skin armors she would bring. Every day like this.

115

120

Two IV[i](A)

A long time he stayed. Now he felt homesick. Twice he slept, he did not get up. That old woman said to her grandchild, “Did you scold him, and he is angry?” [—]1 “No, I did not scold him, he feels homesick.”

125

130

Now she told her son-in-law, “What will you carry when you go home? Will you carry those buffalo skins?” He told her, “No.” “Will you carry those mountain goat blankets?” He told her “No.”

(B) 135

140

The Sun’s Myth 157

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Will you carry all those elk-skin armors?” He told her, “No.” She tried in vain to show him all that on one side of the house. Next all those [other] things. She tried in vain to show him all, everything. He wants only that, that thing that is large, that [thing] put up away. When it would sway, that thing put up away, it would become turned around, at once his eyes would be extinguished: that thing [is] shining all over, now he wants only that thing there.

(C)

He told his wife, “She shall give me one [thing], that blanket of hers, that old woman.” His wife told him, “She will never give it to you. In vain people continue to try to trade it from her; she will never do it.” Now again he became angry.

[ii]

Several times he slept. Now again she would ask him, “Will you carry that?” she would tell him. She would try in vain to show him all those things of hers; she would try in vain to show him those men’s things; she would try in vain to show him all. She would reach that [thing] put up away, now she would become silent. When she would reach that [thing] put away, now her heart became silent. Now she told him: “You must carry it then! Take care! if you carry it. 158 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

145

150

155

160

[iii](A) 165

170

(B)

175

It is you who choose. I try to love you, indeed I do love you.”

180

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

She hung it on him, she hung it all on him. Now she gave him a stone ax. She told him: “Go home now!”

(C)

185

He went out, now he went, he went home; he did not see a land; he arrived near his father’s brother’s town. Now that which he had taken throbbed, now that which he had taken said, “We two shall strike your town, we two shall strike your town,” said that which he had taken. }2 His reason became nothing, he did it to his father’s brother’s town, he crushed, crushed, crushed it, he killed all the people. He recovered— all those houses are crushed, his hands are full of blood. } He thought, “O I am a fool! See, that is what it is like, this thing! Why was I made to love this?” In vain he tried to begin shaking it off, and his flesh would be pulled. }

V[i](A)

190

195

(B)

200

(C) 205

Now again he went, and he went a little while— Now again his reason became nothing— he arrived near another father’s brother’s town. Now again it said,

[ii](A) 210

The Sun’s Myth 159

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“We two shall strike your town, we two shall strike your town.” In vain he would try to still it, it was never still. In vain he would try to throw it away, always those fingers of his would cramp. Now again his reason became nothing, now again he did it to his father’s brother’s town, he crushed it all. He recovered: his father’s brother’s town [is] nothing, the people all are dead. Now he cried. In vain he tried in the fork of a tree, there in vain he would try squeezing through it; In vain he would try to shake it off, it would not come off, and his flesh would be pulled; in vain he would keep beating what he had taken on rocks, it would never be crushed.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Again he would go, he would arrive near another father’s brother’s town. Now again that which he had taken would shake: “We two shall strike your town, we two shall strike your town.” His reason would become nothing, he would do it to his father’s brother’s town, crush, crush, crush, crush; all his father’s brother’s town he would destroy, and he would destroy the people. He would recover; he would cry out; he would grieve for his relatives. In vain he would try diving into water; in vain he would try to shake it off, 160 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

215

(B)220

225

(C)

230

[iii](A) 235

(B) 240

245

(C)

and his flesh would be pulled. In vain he would try rolling in a thicket; in vain he would keep beating what he had taken on rocks; he would abandon hope. Now he would cry out.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Again he would go. Now again he would arrive at another town, a father’s brother’s town. Now again what he had taken would shake: “We two shall strike your town, We two shall strike your town.”

250

[iv](A) 255

His reason would become nothing, he would do it to the town, Crush, crush, crush, crush, and the people. He would recover: All the people and the town [are] no more; his hands and arms [are] only blood. He would become “Qa!qa!qa!qa!” he would cry out.

(B)260

In vain he would try to beat it on the rocks, what he had taken would not be crushed. In vain he would try to throw away what he had taken, always his fingers stick to it.

(C)270

Again he would go. Now his too, his town, he would be near his town. In vain he would try to stand, that one; see, something would pull his feet.

[v](A)

265

275

His reason would become nothing, he would do it to this town, crush,crush,crush,crush; all his town he would destroy, and he would destroy his relatives.

(B) 280

The Sun’s Myth 161

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

He would recover: his town is nothing; the dead fill the ground. He would become “Qa!qa!qa!qa!” he would cry out.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

In vain he would try to bathe; in vain he would try to shake off what he wears, and his flesh would be pulled. Sometimes he would roll about on rocks; he would think, “Perhaps it will break apart”; he would abandon hope. Now again he would cry out, And he wept. He looked back. Now she is standing near him, that old woman. “You,” She told him, “You. In vain I try to love you, in vain I try to love your relatives. Why do you weep? It is you who choose; now you carried that blanket of mine.” Now she took it, she lifted off what he had taken; now she left him, she went home. He stayed there; He went a little distance; there he built a house, a small house.

285

(C)290

295

VI(A) 300

305

(B) 310

(C)

NOT ES 1. A dash in brackets indicates a change in speaker. 2. A closed brace indicates the endpoint of a pair of units. There are three pairs of stanzas in this scene. 162 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

315

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life DE L L H YM E S

,QWURGXFWLRQ This myth, told by William Hartless in Mary’s River Kalapuya, begins with death and ends with life. It shows Coyote as the shape-changing chameleon familiar from many stories, but after showing foresight, devotion to a child, and mastery of the land of the dead. To experience tricks and transformations as a sequel to that makes them appear not the foibles of a scamp but a lesson learned, a way to say, as if Coyote might quote T. S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” and add a line,

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“I am Lazarus, come from the dead, Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all,— Live exuberantly.” The first act, the origin of permanent death, is a well-known frame.1 When a friend’s child dies, his partner ordains that the dead should not come back; when his own child dies, he wants to change the rule and cannot. But what follows is not an Orpheus myth, as in some nearby traditions (WascoWishram, Nez Perce).2 There two partners set out to bring back their dead and would succeed but that Coyote is unable to control his curiosity, looks before they are all the way back, and so the dead are gone forever. He may try to go a second time but cannot find the way. Here, however, Coyote goes without a partner, not to bring his child back but to be with her. When he returns, it is after having mastered the other world. He stumbles as he goes, and makes mistakes when first there, but learns the ways of hunting and is praised. There follow contests, an allusion to myths in which a party travels to another land, perhaps under the ocean, and engages in contests in which life is at stake. The protagonists need advice and trickery to win. Here Coyote has the help of those he is among in gambling (they sing his gambling song with him), then in other contests simply wins.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

163

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

In the land of the dead, this Coyote does well what a man should want to do well, almost as if he were a chiefly character, like Eagle or Salmon. But the desire that has led him to follow his daughter becomes a reason to leave. He cannot be with her enough. The dead are active at night, not during the day. She agrees it is right for him to return. He goes back from a world of darkness to a world of summer (though it will be a year before he says so). And what is he now? A prankster, leading Frog women who have importuned him for salmon to open a pack of hornets. Autocoprophagous, eating his feces as if they were camas. Scaring off the woodpecker that could help him escape confinement in a tree, unable to resist attempting to copulate with her. Self- dismantler, taking his body apart, piece by piece, throwing it out, putting it together again. One eyed, without an anus, forgetting the latter until a wind blowing into him reminds him to go back and get it. As for his eye, stolen by Blue Jay, he steals it back, and that is the rest of the story. He makes himself appear wealthy, then a headman, then an old woman, each time fooling the people he needs to fool. Again and again he makes others think something, mostly himself, what it is not. This quicksilver Coyote, protean, polymorphous, a carnival of identities, is that, I think, because of his having come from the dead. In each land, that of the dead and that of the living, he first pays a price for what he tries to do and then succeeds. Foreseeing that the interests of the world require death to be forever, he loses his own child. Following her, he stumbles. Taking a part in the hunting of the people in the land of the dead, he fails. But these three failures are followed by success. He learns the way of hunting, and wins at gambling, at the games of women’s shinny and men’s shinny, at wrestling— five successes. In the land of the living, he pays the price for tricking the Frog women: he must enclose himself in a tree to escape the weather they bring. He fails when he seeks help from the birds. And he loses his eye when he attempts to throw himself out piece by piece. But these three failures are followed by success. He gets the information he needs from one old woman and then from another; he goes unrecognized among the people as he gambles (despite the warning from another coyote), outruns those who pursue him (including his initial partner, Panther, who is the one who almost catches him), and goes unrecognized by those who catch up with him (despite some who doubt he is really a blind old woman)—five successes. Within the architecture of scenes and acts, then, is a doubling that invites reflection. Mastery in the land of the dead is learning practices that are the opposite of what one has known. Mastery in the land of the living also may involve the opposite of what is expected. The land of the dead has ways that stay 164 H Y M ES

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

the same. The land of the living can be play, a stage for improvisation with whatever is at hand—hornets, an ash tree, rose hips; it can be a stage for the invention of an identity—rich man, headman, blind old woman. Or so the sequence of these adventures seems to say. There is a direction within the doubling. Coyote begins as a partner and a father. He leaves his partner to follow his daughter to the land of the dead. He leaves his daughter to return: two social ties, then one, then none. The last words are his, “You beat me indeed,” translated as “You never can beat me!” That finally is his nature, it would seem, to be beyond social ties and against them, to be forever the possibility of what is not. This myth ends with Coyote sarcastically exultant and alone. It is as if the narrative had created an icon. Its doubling and its zest invite a thought of post hoc, propter hoc and the reflection that Coyote’s exultation is earned. In each half of the myth, he pays a price before he succeeds. This is true both when he seeks the good of others and when he seeks only to satisfy himself. He earns, then, success in the land of the dead and earns, one can think, success in the land of the living. This doubling points to an implicit constant. The first success consists of adaptation, the second one deception, but in one respect both are alike. If deception is a counterpoint to the living, so is adaptation in the land of the dead. For the ways to which Coyote adapts are opposite those of the living. Day is night, and so forth. Perhaps that is why Coyote succeeds there at what others do. Perhaps he ultimately is a principle of inversion, a form of what Kenneth Burke might call the negative, somehow kin to the helpful Satan of Burke’s great essay “Prologue in Heaven.”3 In stories Coyote can be an object lesson, doing what should not be done, being fooled or scorned in consequence, or teaching others not to be fooled. He can also be a source of fun. In this myth, as shaped by William Hartless or those from whom he learned it, I sense a reflection on Coyote’s nature that can be linked with something Burke describes. There is a feeling of transcendence, of reaching out to a farther shore.4 The beginning bespeaks recognition that a human condition should remain fixed, and a choice is made that it be so (death is to be permanent). The middle involves discovery that a condition that is fixed for others can be mastered by someone unlike them. The last part exhibits a lesson learned, the exploration of being something other for its own sake, as if self-mastery is self-transformation, making oneself a pure principle of transformation among others who (so far as the story tells us) are always what they are. The genre of the story, myth, implies a further step. In the myth, whether adapting or deceiving, Coyote is unlike others: alive among the dead, ever Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 165

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

changing among the living. But these are the living of the world of myth people. They will not, after all, stay what they are. They themselves will be transformed when the myth period ends and the Indian people, who tell these stories, come. The entire genre and its world are based on inversion, on consideration of the counterfactual. The people of the myths, and Coyote, become again what they were when the stories are told. But Coyote, at least in this myth, becomes almost a pure example of the principle of myth itself. He becomes almost inversion itself, imaginative experiment with experience, play with appearance, transformation and transcendence of identity—and he does so, I conjecture, because the mind of William Hartless, thinking and telling these events and details in this sequence in these proportions with these details, was party to the kinds of exploration of verbal resource, of logical and temporal order, of carrying through and perfecting of motive that Kenneth Burke has done so much to show is inherent in the human use of language. The integration of the full myth may not have been the accomplishment of Mr. Hartless alone, but what is known suggests as much. The incidents and sequence of the second part (the Frog sisters, the hollow tree, the loss and recovery of the eye) are shared Kalapuya tradition. John B. Hudson told a fine version of the myth in Santiam Kalapuya, but he told the story of the origin of death separately and without a role for a daughter.5 Mr. Hudson’s sequence differs in details. It has Coyote hungry but not lecherous—the birds he calls to help him are “brothers,” and what he wants from the last bird are feathers for regalia. It has no sudden rush of sexuality. It lacks the steps by which Coyote builds up his impersonation and participation in the gambling. Rather, Coyote simply comes, uses his power to keep the people from noticing him, grabs the eye, and runs off. It elaborates the pursuit with three deceptions; only the last is as another person (the first are as a digging stick and a hole in the ground). Eustace Howard (the husband of Victoria Howard, who tells the myth of “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There”) dictated to Jacobs a somewhat different version of the full myth. It does not begin with a decision as to the permanence of death. The focus is on the daughter and a series of suitors, and she dies as a result of her encounters with them. Coyote then follows her to the land of the dead and returns. Mr. Howard’s narrative may have some of the implications of the telling by Mr. Hartless, but it is expressed in a more leisurely manner. Permanent death comes about after the return form the land of the dead, somewhat in the Orpheus manner found in the 166 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Wasco-Wishram and Nez Perce traditions. Coyote valiantly attempts to carry the souls of the dead the full way but cannot. The effect of this placement is quite different from that in Mr. Hartless’s narrative, where permanent death occurs at first. Mr. Hartless stands out in his expression of character and human nature through narrative, though he is not unique in this. The genre itself serves that purpose, analyzing motive or character through consequences exhibited in a story. Charles Cultee in “The Sun’s Myth” and Victoria Howard in “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There” and others (for example, Mrs. Howard again in “Gitskux and His Older Brother Lived There”) also used the genre profoundly.6 No doubt there were many who did, pondering the stories they had heard and finding further meaning in them. In Charles Cultee’s and Victoria Howard’s narratives are instances remarkable for the transformation in point of view. Mr. Hartless stands out for the depth he gives to familiar incidents through extended sequencing and organization. The form of the story can be sketched as follows. There are twelve scenes in three acts. Each act can be summarized in terms of what it is about and what Coyote does at the end of it. The acts are about, successively, the origin of permanent death, the ways of the dead, and the ways of the living, as disclosed by a Coyote who has returned from the land of the dead. The acts end with Coyote going to the land of the dead, returning from the land of the dead, and going on alone. Kalapuya tradition makes use of three kinds of relations among elements, a sequence of three, a sequence of five, and a sequence of three or five pairs. These relations obtain first of all among verses. Verses themselves are frequently marked by an initial lau’mde (“now then”) or wí·naswi· (“sure enough”). A major time reference, such as “five days” or “five times” or “a whole year,” may mark a verse. A turn at talk is always a verse. There are exceptions, however. At a few points in this narrative, there are simply pairs. The narrative begins with two verses that introduce Panther and Coyote and the fact of each having a daughter. It ends with two verses in which Coyote and then the narrator say, in effect, “That’s all.” Perhaps the two pairs are a sort of envelope to the narrative proper, and their pairing is felt appropriate to the role. Again, the second and third contests in the land of the dead, women’s and men’s shinny, each are pairs of verses. Here pairing does not seem to have a formal significance. It may be just an expeditious way to get from gambling to the wrestling with which the scene culminates. Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 167

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

At the end of the second act, there is a scene whose first stanza consists of three verses in a familiar pattern: Coyote stayed there, he got lonesome, he said such and such. There follow two exchanges between Coyote and his daughter and a verse of departure, five verses in all. If they make up a stanza, the scene has only two. The text is presented this way, although there is no apparent reason for the lack of a third stanza. It remains possible that Coyote’s three announcements (“I’ll go back,” “Now I’ll leave you,” “Well now I go back”) show the scene to have three stanzas. They would have three, two, and three verses, respectively, with no apparent reason for just two in the second. This myth was dictated by William Hartless to Leo J. Frachtenberg in 1914. In 1936 it was checked by Melville Jacobs with the help of John B. Hudson, a speaker of the mutually intelligible Santiam dialect, who had known Mr. Hartless well. The edited text was published in Kalapuya Texts.7 I have checked the published text against a photocopy of Frachtenberg’s manuscript and have followed the Jacobs-Hudson text, which differs in orthography, word and syllable divisions, and sometimes morphemes from that transcribed by Frachtenberg. I have reconsidered the translation of each sentence. The present translation is more literal, in that it retains patterns of repetition and structural cues more consistently. Sometimes it is more colloquial. Jacobs published the myth with a title that enumerates its actions. The title given here attempts to state its theme.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. Stith Thompson, Tales of the North American Indians (1929; reprint, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1966), 285n. 2. Jarold Ramsey, Reading the Fire: Essays in the Traditional Indian Literature of the Far West (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983), chap. 3. 3. Kenneth Burke, “Epilogue: Prologue in Heaven,” in The Rhetoric of Religion: Studies in Logology (Boston: Beacon Press, 1961; reprint, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1970). 4. Kenneth Burke, Language as Symbolic Action: Essays on Life, Literature, and Method (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966); cf. Angus Fletcher, “Volume and Body in Burke’s Criticism, or Stalled in the Right Place,” in Representing Kenneth Burke, ed. Hayden White and Margaret Brose, Selected Papers from the English Institute, new series vol. 6 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press), 150–71. 5. Melville Jacobs, Kalapuya Texts, University of Washington Publications in Anthropology no. 11 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1945), 96–103, 137–38; cf. note 16 in that volume. 168 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

6. See Dell Hymes, “Victoria Howard’s ‘Gitskux and His Older Brother’: A Clackamas Chinook Myth,” in Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature, ed. Brian Swann (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), 129–70. 7. Jacobs, Kalapuya Texts, 226–36.

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Panther and his brother lived there, he together with Coyote. Coyote had a daughter, Panther indeed also had a daughter. Now then Panther’s daughter fell ill, she died. Now then Panther said, “I will go see my brother.” Now then he said to his brother, Coyote, “How is your heart about it? When a person dies, The fifth day he will come back?” Coyote said nothing. Again indeed he said to his brother, “How is the thing I told you?” Coyote said, “No. It must not be that way. If it were to be that way where people live, the number of people would be endless. Better that a person die for all time. For all time he will be gone.” Panther said, “Ohh no! Brother! Better really that they come back.” Coyote said, “Not now! Everything that is, the black water bugs themselves would say, ‘Where are we to stay?’”

I[i](A)

(B)5

}1 10

} 15

20

}

25

}

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 169

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Coyote said, “Let it be that way when a person dies. That way he will indeed die for all time.” Panther said, “Your own heart.”

30

}

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now then Panther went back. He wept. He buried his daughter.

(C)35

Now then one year later Coyote’s daughter fell ill, she died. Now then Coyote said, “Well now brother! Let it be the very way you told me.” Panther said, “It cannot be that way now.” Coyote said, “Ohh it would be better that people come back, on the fifth day they awaken.” Panther said, “Not now! You already said, ‘When a person dies, he is to be dead indeed for all time.’ You spoke that way,” Panther said.

[ii](A)

Now then Coyote went back, he wept and wept he got back home, he said, “I will go myself.” He said to his daughter, “I will go myself. We will go together.” His daughter said, “You can’t follow me now. It is another kind of country where I am going.”

(B)55

170 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

40

45

50

60

65

Coyote said, “It’s no matter that I go myself.” Now then he made a rope. Five days he made a rope. “All right then, let’s go!” Sure enough Coyote tied it to himself. Now then the girl went up [in the air]. Now then she told him, “When you get tired, don’t actually call out. I won’t hear. When you call out, just say ‘hahh.’ Now then I will come down, I will wait for you.” “Ohh,” Coyote said, “I will certainly know that.”

(C) } } 75

80

}

Now then they went along. Coyote ran along the ground, the dead one went along up above [in the air]. Coyote was running along. Now then he got tired. Now then he called out, “Ohhhh I am getting tired! Ohhhh I am getting tired! The dead one never heard him. Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

70

[iii](A) 85

90

At last Coyote got tired, he nearly fell down, his heart nearly gave out [in faint]. He just opened his mouth [a gasp]. Now then the dead one heard, she arrived below, she scolded her father.

(B)

Five times they went on that way; they arrived.

(C)

95

100

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 171

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Well now they arrived at the ocean. The dead one called out. Sure enough, a canoe came. Now then the dead one told her father, “It won’t come close. Jump. We will both jump. And when we are across, we will jump that very same way again. Now then I will go to a house, you yourself will also go to a house. You must stay there five days. You will not see me. For five days and for five nights, and then you will see me. I will be standing at my dance that long a time, and then I will be right again.” Sure enough, Coyote stayed all alone. Now then his daughter got there. Now then she said, “Who is this old man? He is raw.2 Let us go hunting.” Sure enough, the raw one was taken along. And now the raw one was put along the Deer’s trail. Now then some of the people encircled the mountain, they were driving [deer]. Now they were crying out.3 Sure enough the people came closer. Coyote noticed nothing, he saw only snails. He could see no deer, he saw only that. Now then the people arrived. “Ah dear! The old man spoiled the deer!”4

} } 105

110

115

} II[i](A) 120

} }

125

130

} }

Sure enough they fed him only bones, they were heaped in a pile. 172 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

135

(B)

The meat they threw away. And now they went back. He went along there to the rear, he threw away those bones he had been given, he picked up the meat thrown away, that is what he took along, he got back to the house. Now then the bones he had brought turned into meat. Now then his daughter scolded him, she told him, “What you call a snail, that is our deer. Those here call it deer.” Now then Coyote said, “Now I know.”

} 140

}

150

}

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Sure enough, again indeed he was told, “Let’s go hunt.” Now then indeed they went away again. Again he was placed on the deer’s trail. Now then the people encircled the mountain, they drove. Sure enough, now then they drove it. In a little while, sure enough, a snail went by. Now then he poked it with a stick, he threw it aside. In a little while again a snail again indeed went by, again indeed he poked it with a stick, he threw it out of the way. Now then a number of snails went by, he killed them all. Now then the people arrived, they said, “Ohh the old raw one is fine!” Now then Coyote looked to the rear, he noticed great numbers piled up, great numbers of deer and elk. Ohh he felt glad at heart.

145

(C) 155

(D)160 }

165

}

170

}

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 173

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now then they skinned and butchered. Now then they piled them up. They threw away all the meat, only the bones were taken along. Coyote also actually packed bones. He reached the house, now then those bones turned into meat. Now then it was said, “The old man is fine now!” They liked the old man now.

(E)175

} 180

}

}

Now then some of the people said, “Let’s gamble.” Now then Coyote said, “Not here!” Now then some of their dead ones said, “We will help you [sing your gambling songs].” [—]5 “Ohh that’s fine.” Sure enough now then they gambled. Some of the dead helped him, Coyote won.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now then again Coyote was actually told, “Let’s play woman’s shinny.” Sure enough Coyote actually played woman’s shinny, indeed he also won.

[ii](A)185

190

(B)195

Now then again he was actually told, “Let’s play men’s shinny now.” Sure enough, they played men’s shinny; indeed Coyote also won.

(C)

Now then Coyote was told, “Tomorrow we will wrestle.” Now then Coyote wrestled; he was pretty nearly thrown. Now then he threw him.

(D)

174 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

200

205

Five times he wrestled. Now then on the fifth time again he was actually nearly thrown, again Coyote actually threw him. Now they quit their gambling.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now then Coyote remained there. Now then he got lonesome. Now then he said, “I’ll go back. I’m lonesome. There’s no one here to talk with. In daylight I don’t see anyone, only in the dark do people then go about. I don’t like it like that, and so I say, ‘I’ll go back.’”

(E) 210

[iii](A)

215

220

Now then he told his daughter, “Now I’m going to leave you. I’m lonesome. Even you I do not see in the day.” His daughter said, “That I cannot help. That is our way.” In the dark we get up, we go about, in the day we sleep. That is how we do.”

(B)

He said to his daughter, “Well now I go back.” “Ohh it’s quite all right you go back,” his daughter said. Sure enough Coyote was taken across. Now then he came back, he was halfway [to his] place, he saw five girls digging camas.

(C)

225

230

235

III[i](A) 240

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 175

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He said, “They’ll come over to meet me. —Ohh I’ll go back, I’ll fetch what I saw.” Sure enough he went to get those hornets. Now then he put it [the nest] in his sack. He went on again. He got to where the five girls were digging camas. Sure enough the girls said, “Ohhhh Coyote! Give us food! Aren’t you carrying along a little dried salmon?” Coyote kept going, rather as if he really didn’t hear them. Again the girls halloed in the very same way: “Uhhh Coyote! Give us food! Aren’t you carrying something along? Give us a little food!” Now then Coyote said, “Hu! What is it?” [—] “Ohh give us food!”

}

245

}

250

} 255

}

260

}

[—] “What shall I give you? I’m not carrying anything. I am carrying a little. Well, come over here!” Sure enough those girls came. [—] “Sit down here! Look at it carefully! Sit close! All of you smell it And then unpack it.” Sure enough they unpacked it. Now then out came hornets. They stung all those girls, they all fell there [unconscious].

176 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

(B) 265

270

275

Now then Coyote snorted [a forced laugh especially his own]. Now then Coyote went on. Now then Coyote said, “You can indeed make fun of me.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

After a long time one of the Frogs woke up. Now then she dragged her sisters to one side. Now then they all got up. Now then they said, “Let’s go after Coyote.” Now then the youngest said, “What do you know [of spirit power]?” Now then the oldest said, “I know nothing. I know a little smoke fog.” Now then she said it to another also, “What do you know?” [—] “I know nothing. A little of the sky [up above] pours down [that is, rain]. Now then she spoke the same way to another also. Now then the fifth time she herself said, “I will cause snow and a north wind.”

(C) 280

[ii](A) } 285

}

290

}

}

295

}

Sure enough, the youngest said [that]. Now then snow came down. Now then a north wind blew.

(B)

Now then Coyote hurried along. At last snow got to his knees. Now then he kept going along. Now then it got to his upper thigh. Now then Coyote said, “Now they’ve gotten me. Maybe they won’t have gotten me. Open up! Tree!” To be sure, an ash tree opened up.

(C)

300

} }

305

310

}

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 177

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now then Coyote went inside there. “Shut! Tree!” Sure enough the tree shut. Coyote remained inside the tree. Now then the Frogs were going after Coyote. They got there, they lost his trail. Now then those Frogs went back.

}

315

}}6

320

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

One whole year Coyote remained inside. He woke up: “It’s really as if I hear birds singing.” Now then Coyote said, “Ohh it must really be summertime now!” Now then he felt around, he found “cooked camas” —he called it “cooked camas,” what he called “cooked camas” were his feces. Now then he ate really his feces.

[iii](A)

325

330

Now then he halloed, “Open it for me!” Sure enough, the Sapsucker came. [—] “Not you!” Now then the Yellow Hammer came. Now then he said, “Not you!”

(B)

Now he began halloing indeed again. Now then the Mountain Woodpecker came. Now then that one pecked.

(C)

Sure enough he could see a little. Now then he could see somewhat farther. Now Coyote said in his heart, “I’ll catch her as she pecks close here. I’ll fuck her— It’s a woman.”

(D)

178 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

335

340

345

Sure enough, he leaped on her, he missed. Now then the Woodpecker went back to the mountains, she said, “Gagagagagagag.” Now then Coyote said, “Come back! I was only joking with you.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now then Coyote was left there. Now then he told his anus, “Could you take care of yourself right away?” Sure enough he pulled off his leg, he pulled off his other leg also. Now then he pulled off his anus, he threw it outside. Now then he pulled off one of his arms, now then he pulled off his head, he threw it outside.

(E)

350

[iv](A)355 }

360

}

}

Now then the Blue Jay went by on the run he stole Coyote’s eye. The Blue Jay said, “Qwácha qwácha qwácha, Coyote’s anus broke wind!” Coyote got angry. Now then he threw everything, he threw his body. Now then he put himself together. One of his eyes was missing, Blue Jay had stolen it. Now then he left his anus there. He felt cold, wind was coming in. Now then he went back, he went to get his anus. Now then he went along. He made his eye from a rose hip.

(B)365

370

375

(C)

380

}}7

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 179

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now then he went along again, he got to where one house was standing, one old woman stayed there; he went into it: “Where are all the people?” [—] “Ohh they went away to the hand-game gambling, All the people went away to the hand-game gambling.” Coyote said, “Ohh! In what direction?” Now then the woman said, “This direction!” She named the place. Coyote said, “Ohh good indeed.”

[v](A) 385

390

395

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

(B) Now then Coyote went along. Now then he made money [dentalia] from stalks of camas sprouts, that was what he made into money. Now then he made beads of several kinds from rose hips, 400 that was what he made into beads. Now then he went along, he got to still another place, one house had smoke coming out. Now then he went in there, an old woman is staying there. [—] “Who are you,” said the old woman. [—] “Ohh just me. Where have they gone to?” [—] “They went to the hand-game gambling.” [—] “In what direction?” She named the place. [—] “Ohh,” Coyote said. “What is going on?” [—] “Coyote’s eye is being rolled.” “Ohh,” said Coyote.

(C)

405

}

} 410

415

}

Now then he went along, he got to this place. 180 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

[vi](A)

Sure enough he had already fixed himself up, he had made himself a headman. Sure enough.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

It was said, “Let’s gamble.” Now then another coyote said, “Be careful! That’s a coyote there!” Now then they wanted to whip him. Now then Coyote sat [remained sitting]. Now then they said, “Let’s gamble!” Still he sat.

420

(B)

425

} } 430

}}8

After a long time he said, “Ohh all right then, really!”9 Sure enough, he poured out his bet [money dentalia]. Now then Coyote’s eye was rolled, Coyote missed it, he was beaten.

(C)

Again indeed he bet. Again he [another player] rolled it, he missed indeed again, Coyote was beaten. At the fifth time Coyote said, “Now I’ll get it.”

(D)

435

440

}}

That other coyote on the opposite side kept saying, “That’s a coyote there.” Now then he was scolded by them. } Now then they rolled it, the people forgot their hearts [grew careless a moment], they rolled the eye again. Now then he got it, he jumped up, he ran, he was chased,

(E) 445

450

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 181

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

he left them behind. That other coyote was told, “Run! You are fast!” He said, “You won’t catch him now. I did tell you.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now then all the kinds of people ran, Panther also indeed, he pretty nearly overtook him. He twisted around to the other side of a hill, he set up a house, he went into it. He made himself an old woman; she had no eyes, she was washing.

} 455

}

460

(F)

465

}}

Now then the people arrived there, they entered, they said, “No one has gotten here?” The old woman said, “No one has gotten here.” [—] “Search around for him!” Sure enough they searched around for him, everywhere close and outside; they did not find him. Now then they said, “Ohh let’s go back. We can’t find him.”

(G)470

Some of them said, “It must be he himself!” [the old woman] Some others said, “No! That’s not really him!” Now then they went back, they gave it up indeed.

(H)

475

480

485

}}

182 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now then Coyote said, “You indeed [can never] beat me!” That’s all of that now.

(I)490

}}

(J)

NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. A closed brace indicates the end of a pair that counts as a unit. In this scene there are five such pairs of verses. 2. +HLVUDZ Or, “he is green”; that is, he is not in the right bodily condition to be there. 3. WKH\ZHUHFU\LQJRXW They were crying, “Hí hí hí,” as in guardian spirit songs and sweathouse songs. 4. VSRLOHGWKHGHHU Let it escape. 5. A dash in brackets indicates a change in speaker. 6. The double brace indicates that this is the end of the second of a pair of scenes. The third act consists of three pairs of scenes, having to do with the Frogs [i,ii], confinement in the tree and escape [iii,iv], and recovery of his eye [v,vi]. 7. Again, the double brace indicates that this is the end of the second of a pair of scenes. 8. In this scene the double brace indicates the end of the second of a pair of stanzas. There are five pairs of stanzas in the scene. 9. ´2KK¬¬¬UHDOO\µ Of course the reluctance is feigned. He has come just for that purpose.

Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life 183

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There DE L L H Y M E S

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Victoria Howard dictated “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There” to Melville Jacobs in 1930, shortly before her death.1 It is recorded in the last notebook (number 17) of their collaboration, along with a number of other texts considered incomplete. Incomplete, in one sense, it is. In origin it is a scene of suspense from a story of revenge. A man has killed his wife; her brother disguises himself as her to gain access to the house and take revenge. (In other forms of the theme, two men recapture the older man’s wife, or two sons recover and restore their father.) The avenger survives a series of near detections. Finally, going up to bed at night, a knife (or a penis) is seen beneath his clothes by a small child (as in the Coos versions). The child calls out but is shushed by an older person. The revenge succeeds. Mrs. Howard heard the story from her mother-in-law. In it (and in what Ida White and George Forman, Wasco speakers of the Yakima Reservation in Washington, once recalled to Michael Silverstein and me) the event is seen from the standpoint of women of the family revenged upon. It is one of several myths Mrs. Howard told in which male adventure is transformed into female experience. The title is her own. It calls attention to the mother as the one whose conduct determines the outcome of the story (death and separation). But there runs through the story a second consequence, that of the daughter’s emergence into maturity and of her independence. I have discussed this story several times over some twenty years and each time have found something more.2 It has been reprinted in the Longman Anthology of World Literature by Women and in a Japanese translation.3 The present form supplants that of earlier articles, recognizing that in the second scene the mother’s second “shush” must, like that in the first scene, be heard as a close; change of location initiates the third scene as well as the first and second.4

184

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

NOT ES 1. Melville Jacobs, Clackamas Chinook Texts, Research Center in Anthropology, Folklore, and Linguistics Publication no. 11, International Journal of American Linguistics, vol. 25, pt. 2 (Bloomington IN, 1959); and Jacobs, The People Are Coming: Analyses of Clackamas Chinook Myths and Tales (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1960). 2. Dell Hymes, “The ‘Wife’ Who ‘Goes Out’ Like a Man: Reinterpretation of a Clackamas Chinook Myth,” Social Science Information, Studies in Semiotics 7 (1968): 173– 99; and Hymes, “Discovering Oral Performance and Measured Verse in American Indian Narrative,” New Literary History 8 (1977): 431– 57, which also appears in Hymes, “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1981) as chaps. 8 and 9; see also Hymes, “Notes Toward (an Understanding of ) Supreme Fictions,” in Studies in Historical Change, ed. Ralph Cohen (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1992). 3. Victoria Howard, “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There,” trans. Hymes, in Longman Anthology of World Literature by Women, 1875–1975, ed. Marian Arkin and Barbara Shollar (White Plains NY: Longman, 1989), 106–9; and Hymes, trans., “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There,” Hermes (Tokyo; July 1991): 132–33. 4. For the earlier articles, see Hymes, “‘Wife’ Who ‘Goes Out’ Like a Man” and “Discovering Oral Performance and Measured Verse.”

Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They lived there, Seal, her daughter, her younger brother. After some time now a woman got to Seal’s younger brother. They lived there. They would “go out” outside in the evening. The girl would say, she would tell her mother, “Mother! Something is different about my uncle’s wife. It sounds just like a man when she ‘goes out.’” [—]1 “Shush! Your uncle’s wife!” A long long time they lived there like that. In the evening they would each “go out.”

[i](A)

(B) 5

(C)10

Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There 185

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now she would tell her, “Mother! Something is different about my uncle’s wife. When she goes out, it sounds just like a man.” [—] “Shush!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Her uncle, his wife, would lie down up above on the bed. Pretty soon the other two would lie down close to the fire, they would lie down beside each other.

15

[ii](A)

Some time during the night, something comes onto her face. She shook her mother, she told her, “Mother! Something comes onto my face.” [—] “Mmmmm. Shush. Your uncle, they are ‘going.’”

(B)

Pretty soon now again she heard something escaping. She told her, “Mother! Something is going t’uq t’uq. I hear something!” [—] “Shush. Your uncle, they are ‘going.’”

(C)

The girl got up, she fixed the fire, she lit pitch, she looked where the two were: Ah! Ah! Blood! She raised her light to it, thus: her uncle is on his bed, his neck cut, he is dead. She screamed. She told her mother, “I told you, ‘Something is dripping.’ You told me, ‘Shush, they are “going.”’ I had told you, ‘Something is different about my uncle’s wife.

186 H Y M E S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

20

25

[iii](A) 30

(B) 35

(C) 40

45

She would “go out,” with a sound just like a man she would urinate.’ You would tell me, ‘Shush!’” She wept.

50

Seal said, “Younger brother! My younger brother! They are valuable standing there. My younger brother!” She kept saying that.

(D)

As for that girl, she wept. She said, “In vain I tried to tell you, ‘Not like a woman, With a sound just like a man she would urinate, my uncle’s wife.’ You told me, ‘Shush!’ Oh oh my uncle! Oh my uncle!” She wept, that girl.

(E)

55

Now I remember only that far.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT E 1. A dash in brackets indicates a change in speaker.

Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There 187

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

60

65

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance JUDI T H VA NDE R

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ The poems presented here are religious song texts that the Wind River Shoshones of Wyoming sang during Ghost Dance performances of the past. They are part of the Ghost Dance repertoire of 147 songs that I recorded in the late 1970s as they were performed by two Shoshone elders, Emily Hill and Dorothy Tappay.1 The women learned these songs at Ghost Dance performances of their youth, beginning around 1921 and continuing on until the religion’s demise, in the late 1930s. Emily and Dorothy, however, maintained belief in the religion until their deaths, in the 1980s. They disapproved of the English name, as it bears no relation to the Shoshone name for the religion, Naraya, literally, the side-shuffling step of the dance. For this reason, I shall use Naraya when referring specifically to the Wind River Shoshone Ghost Dance. The Ghost Dance religion began in 1889 and spread rapidly to many tribes. It was received in a dream by Wovoka, a Northern Paiute prophet from Nevada. In his dream he also received songs that were to accompany the dance of his revealed religion, which prophesied the end of the present world, the return of the dead, and a new world of aboriginal abundance free from disease and death itself. While calling for peaceful relations with nonIndians in the present world, Wovoka did not mention non-Indians in his prophecy, and many inferred from this that they were not to be included in the world to come. The date for fulfillment of the prophecy changed several times, after each successive date came and went uneventfully. The 1890 massacre, by troops of the U.S. Army, of Sioux who had gathered at Wounded Knee, South Dakota, for a Ghost Dance performance, delivered a powerful message to other adherents of the religion. In the end Wovoka called for the abandonment of Ghost Dance performances. Emily Hill and Dorothy Tappay disclaimed any connection between Wovoka’s Ghost Dance religion and the Naraya. They maintained its pure Shoshone identity and lineage and never talked of Ghost Dance prophecies for 188

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

the return of the dead and a new world to come. Nonetheless, a few Naraya songs they sang do mention these themes, and the two women translated these texts and talked of these beliefs in connection with those songs. There is also documentation of Shoshones going to Nevada to learn firsthand about the Ghost Dance and of Wovoka’s visit to the Wind River Reservation in 1910. I believe, therefore, that Ghost Dance belief and doctrine did, in fact, have some impact on the Naraya during the late nineteenth century. From studying all of Emily and Dorothy’s Naraya repertoire, however, it is clear that the subject matter of the Naraya is, with few exceptions, very different from usual Ghost Dance texts. A detailed poetic vision of the natural world, this world, is the great subject of Naraya songs—miniature ecological scenes, compressed and complete. Emily explained the meaning of the Naraya to me this way:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They say when you sing those songs it makes berries grow and make grass grow, make water run. Plenty of berries for in the fall, fish, everything. Sing for them, our elk and deer and all them. That’s what it’s for. . . . Well, some men, they dream that something’s going to be wrong or some kind of sickness or some kind of storm. They know it. Well, we going to dance. It ain’t going to happen when we dance. Flu or measles or scarlet fever or a sickness that’s some kind of hard cough—one person knows when he’s asleep, he knows it’s coming. . . . We better be dancing, sending it back, sending it back. We just make it go back. That’s the way they dance it. It isn’t just a dance. . . . Well, it’s a song for health. . . . When you don’t feel good, when you feel sick or something, you dance with them. You feel good then. That’s what it’s for. It ain’t just songs.2 Thus, the purpose of the Naraya was to protect adherents’ health and ensure the abundance of water, plants, and animals. Men and women held hands in a circle, step-sliding clockwise. Male song leaders started off the song, and then those dancers who wished to sign joined in. There was no instrumental accompaniment to the dance, which was performed on four consecutive nights and concluded after a fifth, daytime performance. The dreams of recognized Naraya leaders determined when a Naraya dance series should be held. A dream was the time and place in which to receive sacred knowledge and power. In a dream the Naraya leader saw the dangerous approach of flu or measles. Sacred songs, songs that have power, were also received in a dream. The receiver did not compose the song and its text but heard them and learned them immediately. Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 189

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The Wind River Shoshones have two distinctly different cultural heritages— that of the Plains and that of the Great Basin. If you visit them today in Wyoming, there is much evidence of their history from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. At that time they traveled widely on the Plains as hunters of the bison and warriors competing for hunting grounds. But that phase of their cultural history does not appear in Naraya songs. In order to understand the Naraya, one must dig down into Wind River Shoshone history prior to 1500, when they still lived in their ancestral homeland, the Great Basin. This region lies in Nevada, Utah, and western Colorado and in parts of Oregon, Idaho, and Wyoming. Bounded on the west by the Sierra Nevada and on the east by the Rocky Mountains, it is a dry environment with scarce food resources. Prior to their movement out onto the Plains, the Wind River Shoshones were one of many Shoshone groups in the Great Basin. They gathered a great variety of plant foods, supplementing them when they could by hunting. Sufficient water for plants and people was ever a prime concern. Because food was scarce, there were relatively few occasions for large gatherings. When they did occur—for example, at the time of the pine nut harvest—an event called the Round Dance was performed. The likenesses between the Round Dance and the Naraya are striking: a Round Dance performance lasted five nights, men and women sang and danced in a circle, and a dance leader offered prayers for health, an abundance of wild foods, and rain. As in the Naraya, song and dance were central to the occasion and its religious functions. I believe that in its form and content the Naraya is basically a Wind River Shoshone religion that is rooted in ancient religious practices of the Great Basin Round Dance. At a certain point the Ghost Dance doctrine influenced the Naraya, but the Ghost Dance movement came and went, and the Naraya endured. Traces of Ghost Dance doctrine and images remained in Naraya songs but were absent from Emily and Dorothy’s religious beliefs. In short, Naraya songs have two aspects, and in this they occupy a special place within published Native American song texts. They contain Ghost Dance references and allusions, and in one sense they are the largest collection since James Mooney’s Ghost Dance Religion of 1896.3 In another, larger sense they are a twentieth-century connection to the ancient religious Round Dance traditions of the Great Basin, for which there are very few published examples at all. Naraya songs and their poetic texts occupy a unique place in Shoshone music. They are the only genre with full Shoshone texts. Sun Dance songs, War Dance songs, Round Dance songs, Hand- Game songs, and Peyote songs 190 VA N DER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of the Native American Church may include bits and pieces of Shoshone, but they have primarily vocable texts; that is, their texts consist of nonlexical syllables, for example, we ya ha he yo. Consonants and vowels are combined according to certain conventions. Each song has its own set pattern, a kind of abstract poetry that signers learn in conjunction with the pitch and rhythm of the melody. Beyond their historic and religious significance, Naraya songs deserve attention for their high poetic achievement. On the surface they are simple forms. Each song has two or three lines of text, and each line has three or four words. With very few exceptions, every line is repeated: aa, bb, and so on. I will, however, point out some of the multitudinous complexities and subtleties that complement these seemingly simple structures. The term poetry song was coined by Beverly Crum, a linguist and native Shoshone speaker from Nevada. She wrote, “Poetry songs are composed in an elevated and figurative form of language. They are often detailed descriptions of what authors observed in their environment, with several levels of meanings.”4 I am happy to extend the use of this term to Naraya song texts, which I believe share these qualities and relate to the Round Dance traditions of the Western Shoshones and other Great Basin peoples. Because form is such an essential part of poetry, I have included a literal translation, in small type, for every text. (Songs 10 and 11 are exceptions: they are essentially literal translations, the only changes being the addition of punctuation.) I also provide commentary by Emily and—in one case— Dorothy.5 My English translation is guided by the letter and spirit of the foregoing discussions. In the original, six of these poems have no rhyme, five rhyme, and four have the same final word. In general, I have tried to be faithful to the original, although in Poetry Songs 3, 10, and 12, I found no appropriate rhyme in English to match that of the Shoshone. Finally, unlike haiku, limericks, Shakespearean sonnets, and other literary genres, Naraya songs and their texts have no one rule dictating their rhythm and meter. The translation from Shoshone to English is only one aspect of a more radical transformation—from something heard to something seen. As these texts come from an oral-aural, not a visual, tradition, I strongly encourage readers to read the translations out loud, to match the oral aspect of Emily and Dorothy’s performance. Recite each text several times. These songs were never sung through just once. In their performance for me, Emily and Dorothy sang each song four or five times. When recording by and for themPoetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 191

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

selves, they repeated a song many more times than that. In actual Naraya performances a song was sung as many times as was necessary for the circle of dancers to complete at least one revolution. I gratefully acknowledge that this work was made possible through the support of a research grant and fellowship from the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. Judith Vander, Ghost Dance Songs and Religion of a Wind River Shoshone Woman, Monograph Series in Ethnomusicology no. 4 (Los Angeles: University of California, 1986). Beyond the transcription of music and texts, the focus of this study is the musical and textual analysis of seventeen Naraya songs. It includes historical background of the Naraya and compares it with other Wind River Shoshone ceremonies. Poetry Songs 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 12, and 14 appear, respectively, on pages 38, 43– 44, 42, 39– 40, 45, 45– 46, 48, 49, 52, 53, and 54– 55, under different numbers. 2. Quoted in Judith Vander, Songprints: The Musical Experience of Five Shoshone Women (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), 11–12. In this volume and on the accompanying audiocassette, Naraya songs and other song genres are placed within the context of five singers’ lives, including that of Emily Hill. The book records the women’s discussion of the songs they sing and their meaning. Poetry Songs 1, 4, 5, 10, 11, 13, and 14 appear, respectively, on pages 17–18, 19–20, 19, 24, 25, 14, and 26, under different numbers. Emily and Dorothy’s performance of Poetry Songs 1, 4, 11, and 14 are recorded on the audiotape, again under different numbers (2, 5, 10, and 11, respectively). 3. James Mooney, The Ghost Dance Religion and Sioux Outbreak of 1890, pt. 2, Fourteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology for the Years 1892–93 (Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1896; reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1991). 4. Beverly Crum, “Newe Hupia—Shoshoni Poetry Songs,” Journal of California and Great Basin Anthropology Papers in Linguistics 2 (1980): 5. This publication presents musical and detailed linguistic analysis of four Shoshone poetry songs and provides as well descriptions of their rich cultural context. 5. The commentary following Poetry Songs 3, 6, 7, 8, 12, and 14 is from Vander, Ghost Dance Songs, 38, 45, 46, 48, 53, and 55, respectively. That following Poetry Song 5 is from previously unpublished quotes that are very similar to those published in the same publication, 40. The commentary following Poetry Songs 1, 4, 10, 11, and 13 is from Vander, Songprints, 18, 20, 24, 25, and 15, respectively. Both the text and commentary for Poetry Song 2 are from Vander, “Nature in Numic Myth and the Shoshone Ghost Dance,” a paper presented at the 1990 Great Basin Anthropological Conference. The text and commentary for Poetry Song 9 have no prior source, published or unpublished.

192 VA N DE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Poetry Songs of the Naraya Poetry Song 1 Fog over our mountains—lying, moving. Fog over our mountains—lying, moving. Fog, fog, fog—lying, moving. Fog, fog, fog—lying, moving. Our mountain above fog lying while moving. Our mountain above fog lying while moving. Fog fog fog lying while moving. Fog fog fog lying while moving.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EMILY: It’s a fog over the mountains. DOROTHY: It’s fog on the mountains, a long ways. EMILY: Fog, you see it on the side of the mountains. . . . You see it moving towards this way or that way. It just keeps saying that fog, fog. Water in all its many forms, including fog, is one of the most frequent images in Naraya songs. This is not surprising, as abundant water, itself a goal of Naraya performance, is essential for two of its other concerns: plant life and animal life. Fog on the mountains waters the environment for all life. But hovering over this text is a second possible meaning of its key images. Fog is also the Shoshone concept for the soul when it leaves the body at death. Fog over the mountains might also refer to a crowd of souls returning to life according to Ghost Dance prophesy. Poetic construction of the second pair of lines focuses on fog by reiterating it three times; the lengthening of the text through time serves as a metaphor for the lengthening of the fog through space.

Poetry Song 2 Sunlit showers on the mountains, sunlit showers on the mountains ena.1 Sunlit showers on the mountains, sunlit showers on the mountains ena. Pine needles in pools of mountainside gullies after sunlit showers on the mountains ena. Sun rain mountains sun rain mountains ena. Sun rain mountains sun rain mountains ena. Pine leaves or needles pools side low place sun rain mountains ena.

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 193

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

EMILY: Our mountains, you know, it kind of sprinkles up the mountains like, towards the light. That’s afternoon showers. It’s raining [but] not too much. And there’s on the mountains, there’s them water pools. Just like lakes, but only smaller. You know how it is, puddles under them mountains. It’s kind of, you know, in a low place. And those pine tree leaves all over on the water. Pine needles in the water. That’s what it means. Clouds go over, clouds behind that—shadow, shadow on them puddle things. It gives that shade where the water puddles are. With exquisite poetic economy this text collects in its reflected image mountains, trees, greenery, sky-rain-water—the natural world of the Naraya. Emily and Dorothy did not repeat the second line of text in this song, contrary to this strong stylistic norm in Naraya and Ghost Dance songs.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Poetry Song 3

194 VA N DER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Snowy mountains melting. Snowy mountains melt— No wa ro wia ni no pa ro wia ni no e— No wa ro wia ni no pa ro wia ni no ena. Snow mountain melting, Snow mountain melt— No wa ro mountain pass ni no water ro mountain pass ni no e— No wa ro mountain pass ni no water ro mountain pass ni no ena.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EMILY: Snowy mountains, melting. You know, when the sun’s on the mountains, you see that snow shining . . . when it’s kind of going to melt. . . . The mountains go like this, wiaph, like this—sloped down like this and some melting.2 The power of the song, its performance, its images of melting snow and water on the saddle of the mountains—all were to help bring into being that which is envisioned. Song, text, and dance influenced the natural world. Concern for water and the speedy return of spring, symbolized by melting snow, took other forms in Shoshone culture. Myths characteristically end with references to melting snow, and the proper telling of a myth was to help bring about this natural phenomenon. One source of the complexity in Naraya song texts comes from the transformation of words in everyday language into Naraya song language. For example, wia, Shoshone for “mountain pass,” is abbreviated from wiaph. Vocables, used as prefixes or suffixes and even inserted into the middle of a word, are another source of endless variation. All the italicized words in the literal translation of Poetry Song 3 are vocables, which are used to an exceptional extent in this song text. To read them, the reader need know only that the Shoshone vowel sounds correspond approximately to the English vowel sounds a as in father; e as in pay; i as in elite; o as in no. Because I have left in Shoshone the two words that are tucked into this vocable line (wia for “mountain pass” and pa for “water,” given in the literal translation), the second pair of repeated lines needs no translation. The line in which the vocables appear has a strong lilting quality enhanced by the melody and three-beat patterns of its musical setting. To help the reader appreciate this, I have indicated when to hold a vowel sound through a second rhythmic beat of the song. For example, the o in no ͡ o is twice as long as the o in no. A dot (.) indicates a silent “beat.” Finally, the vertical lines above the vocables indicate individual beats in the rhythm.

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 195

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Poetry Song 4 Wild ducklings, wild ducklings so small, Wild ducklings, wild ducklings so small. In good water swimming, In good water swimming. Wild ducklings, wild ducklings so small, Wild ducklings, wild ducklings so small. In good water swimming, In good water swim. Duck’s ducklings duck’s ducklings very small. Duck’s ducklings duck’s ducklings very small. Good water swimming. Good water swimmi—

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EMILY: They’re wild ducks, little baby ducks, going along following each other. They’re swimming in the good water. Poetry Song 4 is one of many texts that places animals in a pristine setting and mentions a burgeoning new generation. Good in Shoshone has many more uses than in English. In this context, it means “clean,” “clear,” “fresh,” “sparkling,” and probably more. Repetition is an important part of Naraya songs, but it is often inexact. Tiny variants in melody and rhythm give the songs the texture of a handwoven fabric and affect the text. One such effect is the omission of a final vowel sound at the end of a line, especially in the last repetition of the song. Swim—the last word in the last line—is only a roughly translated equivalent of this.

Poetry Song 5 Eagle’s wing is skying. Eagle’s wing is skying. Grass and shining water lying . . . flowing . . . Grass and shining water lying . . . flowing . . . 196 VA N DER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Eagle’s wing is skying. Eagle’s wing is skying. Green or grass water shiny under lying while moving. Green or grass water shiny under lying while moving.

EMILY: You’ve [been] flying on an airplane? You see it from way up there—water, rivers, and grass on the ground. That’s the way that eagle’s looking down from the sky way up there. For the water’s shining. Shining where the ground is green. The eagle is the sacred bird of the Wind River Shoshones and many other Native American tribes. Eagle-feather fans play an important role in religious ceremony and in the healing of the sick. This complete scene from the natural world includes, in addition to the eagle, two of the most important Naraya images, water and greenery.

Poetry Song 6 Pine-tree butterflies, pine-tree butterflies. Pine-tree butterflies, pine-tree butterflies. Through gaps in pine-shade darkness—flickering. Through gaps in pine-shade darkness—flickering. Pine tree butterfly pine tree butterfly. Pine tree butterfly pine tree butterfly. Dark pine tree holes underneath dark flickering or fluttering.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Dark pine tree holes underneath dark flickering or fluttering.

EMILY: You see the mountains where the pine trees are dark. It’s kind of shady-like. That’s where those butterflies fly. Emily “held up one hand, motionless, with fingers spread apart and moved her other hand behind it. This was her demonstration of how one saw the butterflies (moving hand) flying under or through the shady pine boughs (motionless hand).”

Poetry Song 7 Our Father’s mountain lion walks down the mountainside roaring, wainda.3 Our Father’s mountain lion walks down the mountainside roaring, wainda. Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 197

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Our beloved Father’s dear game animals with their young, so small, on the mountainside sit, wainda. Our beloved Father’s dear game animals with their young, so small, on the mountainside sit, wainda. Our Father’s mountain lion. Mountain side below walking down yowling wainda. Our Father’s mountain lion. Mountain side below walking down yowling wainda. Our father’s4 game animals4 offspring4 sitting wainda. Our father’s4 game animals4 offspring4 sitting wainda.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EMILY: Our Father’s, our Creator’s mountain lion walking around on the sides of the mountains. All the animals, different kinds of animals that belong to Him—deer, elk, moose, mountain sheep, and antelope—little ones with the older ones—sitting down on the side of the mountain. “Our Father,” or God, does not appear frequently in Naraya songs. On one occasion Emily suggested this relationship: “It’s [Naraya song] a religious song that you sing to God.” Game animals and, especially, their offspring, on the other hand, are important and frequent Naraya personae. This brings us back to another statement by Emily regarding the purpose of the Naraya and its songs: “Sing for them, our elk and deer and all them. That’s what it’s for.” My translation of the second pair of lines neglects the form of the original: it omits the special rhymed endings that give affectionate and/or diminutive meaning to the worlds they tag. All of them are set to the same little musical motif, which brings out the rhyme and itself sets up a rollicking repeated pattern. Although somewhat awkward, the following translation is a closer equivalent to the form of the original: 2XU)DWKHU·VGHDU+H JDPHDQLPDOVGHDUWKH\ WKHLU\RXQJVR VZHHW RQWKHPRXQWDLQVLGHVLWZDLQGD 5HDGWKLVDVDQDOWHUQDWLYHWRWKHVHFRQGSDLURIOLQHV

Poetry Song 8 Our sun’s face, radiant white, is setting. Our sun’s face, radiant white, is setting.

198 VA N DE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Our sun’s going . . . sun is setting. Our sun’s going . . . sun is setting. Our sun’s face white set while moving. Our sun’s face white set while moving. Our sun’s going or moving sun set while moving. Our sun’s going or moving sun set while moving.

EMILY: It’s a prayer song to sun. It’s about the sun; the sun’s face is white. You can’t see it . . . . You can’t look at the sun, it’s too strong. . . . The sun’s face is white, warming up the world. It’s a-going—sundown. . . . When it’s going down it cuts the light. Light shining like a can is shining.

Poetry Song 9 On new earth all the birds singing together at the same time. On new earth all the birds singing together at the same time. Yellow- edged rim. Yellow- edged rim. New earth on different kinds all birds sounding all together at the same time. New earth on different kinds all birds sounding all together at the same time. Yel[low] edging or rim.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Yel[low] edging or rim.

EMILY: Next morning, daybreak and all the different kind of birds singing. You know the light early in the morning, you see that light just coming up, that yellow along there. That’s the time those birds all wake up and sing, different kind of birds. That’s what it means.” As in English, Shoshone has a word for sunrise, the topic of Poetry Song 9. Without using the word itself, the text defines sunrise by what one hears (birds) and sees (sunlight just barely outlining the horizon). Is the “new earth” a compressed poetic statement, shorthand for the sunrise that heralds the new day and its new earth? Or is it literally the new earth, the new world of Ghost Dance prophecy? Or both? Naraya songs are rich in ambiguities. Only the person who received the song knows definitively. As to its form, note the unequal length of the two pairs of lines. This is typical of Naraya songs and their texts, one of the many asymmetrical characteristics.

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 199

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Poetry Song 10 Our Morning Star coming up. Our Morning Star coming up. Clear sun rays streaming out. Clear sun rays streaming out. Star sitting lightly. Star sitting lightly.

EMILY: Morning Star, song about Morning Star. When you see the daylight coming up, when it’s coming up, the Morning Star coming up with that light. It’s sitting up there just before daybreak. Like Poetry Song 9, this song may be a connection between the Naraya and Ghost Dance doctrine and practice. The Morning Star adorned Ghost Dance clothing, and many tribes concluded their all-night Ghost Dance performance with a song to that star. Emily recalls dancing only until midnight; it may be, however, that Poetry Song 10 is a relic from an earlier time, when Naraya performance adhered to this Ghost Dance custom. The ten song texts presented thus far represent the majority of Naraya songs in that they evoke images of the natural world. A few songs, including Poetry Songs 11 and 12, sing of the soul after death—this, too, is embodied in images from the natural world.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Poetry Song 11 Soul-fog, soul-fog. Soul-fog, soul-fog. Soul flying up, soul flying up. Soul flying up, soul flying up. EMILY: The soul is like a fog when it gets out of the body. Well, when a person dies, the soul goes out of the body and flies in the air. It flies away from you. Then they go to God’s home when the body’s already in the ground. Water, in every conceivable form and state, appears throughout Naraya songs. The soul, the essence of life itself, assumes the form of water as an amorphous airy fog. In the original Shoshone, Poetry Song 11 is exceptional in that the number of beats in all four lines—and therefore the length of the lines—is identical. The English translation does not match this rhythmic regularity.

200 VA N DER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Poetry Song 12 Whirlwind-shrouded soul, whirlwind flying up. Whirlwind-shrouded soul, whirlwind flying up mountain road through green pass—lying while moving, mountain road through green pass—lying while moving. Small dust small flying up. Small dust small flying up road mountain’s green lying while moving, road mountain’s green lying while moving.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

EMILY: When a person dies they go in a dust whirlwind. They go up in the mountains. There’s a road for that, there’s a green pass through there, where they go . . . . There’s a road up the mountains where the whirlwind blows where the person when he dies he [his soul] goes, in the middle of the whirlwind. There is a sequence of possible translations of the fi rst line, beginning with the literal: “Small dust small flying up.” In all subsequent translations I have felt it necessary to bring soul from the implicit to the explicit: “Small dust-soul, small, flying up,” or “Small dust-shrouded soul, small, flying up.” The latter translation is inspired by the image of the soul wrapped in the swirl of dust. Finally, I take Emily’s translation for small dust, which in this text is a sung poetic reference to whirlwind, and arrive at “Whirlwind-shrouded soul, whirlwind flying up.” The last choice, which I used in the song, attempts to retain some formal aspects of the literal translation. The repetition of small in the first line of the literal translation is an abbreviated reference to “small dust,” which begins the line. For this reason I repeat whirlwind in my translation, a shortened version of “whirlwindshrouded soul.” I invite the reader to experiment and read the translation using the alternative first lines given in the previous paragraph. It is the road that lies on the mountain and moves through the pass, or it is the soul that lies in the whirlwind as it moves through the pass, or is it the soul that lies in the whirlwind as it climbs the road? This is another ambiguity of the literal that remains in translation.

Poetry Song 13 White-Clay Man, White- Clay Man. White-Clay Man, White- Clay Man with Wood-Stick Man, flying on, with Wood-Stick Man, flying on.

Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 201

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

White clay man, white clay man. White clay man, white clay man. Wood or stick man keep flying on. Wood or stick man keep flying on.

EMILY: It’s mud, the dough [white clay], they take it. They bring it out to dry. That’s for dressing, putting on your buckskin. It’s something like chalk. It’s for the Sun Dance—white, smells good . . . . That man’s made of that kind, and man made of wood . . . . Get up, up, flying on. White-Clay Man and Wood- Stick Man are personifications that capture the essence of the religious focus of the Naraya and the ancient Round Dance of its roots. White clay is used in the Sun Dance religion for purification. Shamans used it to dry out disease. So important was the use of clay that it was a standard part of the shaman’s paraphernalia. White-Clay Man epitomizes concern for health. Wood-Stick Man was addressed in prayer at Round Dance performances of the Northern Shoshones as the Maker of Green Things. Health and vegetation were foci of the Great Basin Round Dance, and they carried over to the Wind River Shoshone Naraya. Where are White-Clay Man and Wood-Stick Man going? Flight in Naraya songs is either to the land of the dead or to the new world of Ghost Dance prophecy. White-Clay Man and Wood-Stick Man are flying to the new world, bringing to it ancient Great Basin and Wind River Shoshone concerns and responses to them—the Round Dance and Naraya.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Poetry Song 14 Our dead mothers stir as resurrection day is dawning. Our dead mothers stir as resurrection day is dawning. From above, looking down for us children—they will keep coming, keep coming. From above, looking down for us children—they will keep coming, keep coming. Our mothers day or sun come out5 lying while moving. Our mothers day or sun come out5 lying while moving. Looking down to or for us above will keep coming, will keep coming. Looking down to or for us above will keep coming, will keep coming.

EMILY: When our mother comes, when the end of the world—coming, looking for her children. Coming down see, she’s above us and looking 202 VA N DE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

down and looking for her children. The day, the day, the Judgment Day comes. It’s that time. The mothers come, looking down, coming, coming, looking for her children . . . . Everybody’s coming back. End of the dead, people that dead coming alive, you know. Poetry Song 14 is one of the few Naraya texts that I believe clearly expresses the earlier Shoshone belief in the Ghost Dance prophecy for the return of the dead. Emily denied any connection between the Naraya and the Ghost Dance and any belief in the return of the dead. Her explanation of Poetry Song 14 draws on Christian terminology and contexts for an event in the far future. It was the one and only mention of Judgment Day by Emily to me and was perhaps an attempt to provide a context that I could understand. Unique to this song is a second possible translation, one that removes the dissonance of promised resurrection. It hinges on the Shoshone word for “day,” which is the same as the word for “sun,” and on the interpretation of “mother” as Mother Nature. EMILY: When the sun comes up Mother Nature, our Mother comes looking.

Poetry Song 14: Variant

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Our Mother Nature stirs as the sun is just rising. Our Mother Nature stirs as the sun is just rising. Looking down toward us from above, she keeps coming, coming. Looking down toward us from above, she keeps coming, coming. This is the sole appearance of Mother Nature in Emily and Dorothy’s Naraya repertoire. Mother Earth, on the other hand, appears in a few Naraya songs. Like White-Clay Man and Wood-Stick Man, personification of the earth and elements of the natural world is part of the religious orientation of Great Basin cultures. In this way people speak and communicate with a landscape made of human kin and kind. NOT ES 1. Ena is a vocable used by the Wind River Shoshones exclusively in Naraya songs as a cadence marker. 2. Sloped down like this: like the saddle of a mountain; that is, a mountain pass. 3. Wainda is a vocable. 4. To each of these words is added a diminutive, affectionate suffix. 5. A diminutive, affectionate suffix is added. Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance 203

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Running the Deer L A R RY E V E RS A N D F E L I PE S. M OL I NA

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Yaqui Indian people call themselves Yoemem, “the People.” Their aboriginal homeland is just south of Guaymas, along the Rio Yaqui in southern Sonora, Mexico. About thirty thousand Yaquis continue to live there, on a rich alluvial plain where the Sonoran Desert meets the sea. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries Mexican attempts to exterminate the Yaquis and appropriate their lands resulted in intense warfare and a Yaqui diaspora. During this time many Yaquis fled north across the border to the United States and established villages. Some seven thousand continue to live in southern Arizona today. As Edward H. Spicer put it, the Yoemem continue in the United States and in Mexico at the end of the twentieth century as “one of the enduring peoples of the world.”1 Perhaps the most visible sign of their endurance as a people is the deer dance, a ritual that celebrates a cycle of life, death, and spiritual continuance. The Yoemem know the deer dancer as saila maso, “little brother deer.” When their little brother deer comes to dance for them, he has a voice. The voice speaks to all through the songs to which the deer dancer moves. The deer songs are the voice of saila maso. “All that he should talk about, that is what we sing,” one deer singer told us. “He does not talk, but he talks in an enchanted way.” Deer songs are a traditional kind of Yaqui song usually sung by three men to accompany the performance of the deer dance. Yaquis regard deer songs as the most ancient of their verbal art forms. Highly conventionalized in their structure, their diction, their themes, and their mode of performance, deer songs describe a double world, both “here” and “over there,” a world in which all the actions of the deer dancer have a parallel in that mythical, primeval place called by the Yaquis sea ania, “flower world.” The flower world is associated with such other spiritual places as the yo ania, “enchanted world,” and the huya ania, “wilderness world,” and is home to both saila maso and Yevuku Yoleme, the prototypical deer hunter. Deer songs 204

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

describe equivalencies between these two real parts of the Yaqui universe. They are verbal equations, developed richly with phonological, syntactic, and rhetorical parallelisms and repetitions. The songs link the dusty world of the dance with the ethereal flower world, a world seen with one unseen, a world that is very much here and one that is always over there. Sewam, “flowers,” are a key part of this equation. Flower in this sense is anything from the flower world that is good and beautiful. Anything that is informed, influenced, or touched by the sea ania, the “flower world,” may be termed “flower.” The rama (from Spanish ramada), the location of the deer dance, is constructed of mesquite, cane, cottonwood, and other plants from the Sonoran Desert and suggests an opening in a desert thicket. The rama is said to become the flower world during the ceremony. Usually the deer dance is performed during a pahko, a ceremonial occasion when Yaquis gather to perform religious rituals and celebrate. Ritual clowns, called pahkolam (“old men of the pahko”), serve as hosts and speech makers at these events. They also perform their own dances alongside the deer dancer but to different musicians. On certain occasions—for example, the first anniversary of the death of a loved one—special forms of the pahko are held. At such times the deer dancer and the pahkolam enact extended dramatic performances, burlesques. Yaquis call these yeuwame, “games.” They are accompanied by whole sets of deer songs. The translations that follow form the song set of one of these games, called maso nehhawa, “running the deer.” The song words describe the drama of a deer hunt, using the point of view of both the hunters and the hunted. The deer dancer, saila maso, is the hunted. The four ritual clowns, the pahkolam, take on the role of Yevuku Yoleme, the “hunter person.” One is called father, two are sons, and the fourth plays the part of their dog. Armed with little wooden bows and corncob-tipped arrows, the clowns jabber and bungle their way through a hunt for the deer in a series of slapstick episodes. All the while this extended burlesque unfolds, the deer singers, according to Don Jesus Yoilo’i, “just sit and sing for the deer.” Their words take the audience beyond the burlesque, beyond the earthly death the saila maso experiences, to describe how he “becomes flower” and is received back into the sentient wilderness world from which he was taken. We relate this combination of the farcical and the serious to other dramatic traditions of Native America, most especially those of the Hopis, the Yaquis’ Uto-Aztecan relatives, who create a similar combination each time they bring their clowns and katsinam (transcendent begins who are embodied by masked dancers) into the same place. When the Yaqui pahkolam clown Running the Deer 205

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

their exuberant slapsticks, they open the audience to laughter and remove any hint of sentimentality from the words of the deer singers. In this way the absurd burlesques of the clowns provide a context in which the words of deer songs can achieve an emotional intensity that is rare in any poetic tradition. Don Jesus Yoilo’i (1904–82) was a very accomplished deer singer who lived in Potam, Sonora. As a teenager he fought to protect his homeland from colonists and was wounded. The songs that follow he sang for us in May 1981 at Yoem Pueblo, a Yaqui community near Tucson, Arizona. Don Jesus’s use of the first-person singular pronoun ne in his songs is an important aspect of his style. It is most prominent in the tonua, the concluding stanza, which in almost all of Don Jesus’s songs we recorded began “ayaman ne.” Iyiminsu and ayamansu are two locatives that many other singers use in the same position. All three words mean “over there.” When we asked Don Jesus about his use of ayaman ne, he told us that it was used in the running-the- deer songs and that he used it in other songs because he liked it. Other singers use the form, but none in our experience uses it quite so pervasively. Don Jesus’s use of ne at the beginning of his concluding stanzas provides a constant personal presence in his songs. We wonder whether he felt a special affinity near the end of his own life with the “I” of the deer he perpetuated. By the time we thought to ask that question, he was gone. In any case, what Don Jesus accomplishes through the use of this I is not the celebration of his individual ego but rather an identification with an I that has endured as long as any other in Yaqui culture. He accomplishes what Kenneth Burke calls a rhetoric identification: “Only those voices from without are effective which can speak in a language of the voice within.”2 Repetition is an important part of the songs. Our translations present the words as Don Jesus sang them, with all repetitions represented. Following each of our translations are comments that Don Jesus made as we played the songs back for him. For transcriptions of these songs in the Yaqui language, as well as more extensive discussion of them, see Yaqui Deer Songs/ Maso Bwikam: A Native American Poetry.3 NOT ES 1. Edward H. Spicer, The Yaquis: A Cultural History (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1980).

206 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

2. Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), 39. 3. Larry Evers and Felipe S. Molina, Yaqui Deer Songs/Maso Bwikam: A Native American Poetry (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1987). For a visual presentation, see Evers and Molina, Seyewailo: The Flower World (New York: Norman Ross Publishing), videotape, 50 min.

Running the Deer Songs 1 First you just look; later you will find, find. First you just look; later you will find, find.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

First you just look; later you will find, find. First you just look; later you will find, find. Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, I went out; then you will find, find. First you just look; later you will find, find. “First just take a look for him,” it says. “When he goes out in an opening of the grove, then you will find him,” it says. “First you just look, while later you will find him,” the deer hunters, the pahkolam, they are the ones who are speaking in it. Then, then the pahkolam will go out. Somewhere in the wilderness they will look for the tracks. Yes, in the wilderness. Well, not really in the wilderness, but just around there in front of the rama, they will walk, walk. Later they will really look for him out there. But like that they look, and like that they will come back inside the rama again. Like that the song goes.

Running the Deer 207

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

2 Here, we, where the mescal agave like mescal agave stands, together we will meet. Here, we, where the mescal agave like mescal agave stands, together we will meet. Here, we, where the mescal agave like mescal agave stands, together we will meet. Here, we, where the mescal agave like mescal agave stands, together we will meet.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And you are an enchanted, enchanted black vulture. And you are an enchanted, enchanted turkey vulture. Here, we, where the white wood stands, together we meet; together we will talk about this animal. Here, we, where the mescal agave like mescal agave stands, together we will not meet. The black vulture and the turkey vulture will meet where the white wood is standing. “When we meet, we will talk about the animal,” it says. They will talk together, the turkey vulture and the black vulture, about the deer. The black vulture wants to say that. The deer will dance with that. The turkey vulture and the black vulture want to talk together themselves where there is white wood standing. They come out here when they see something lying dead, like cows or horses. They live somewhere here on top of us. They live on top of us. They want to come down here to eat. That turkey vulture, that black vulture. The song says that. The black vulture and the turkey vulture want to hunt, want to eat there. That’s why they say this. Over there they say they will meet where the white wood is standing. Maybe it is a dead tree. Sitting together there, the sun hits them, warms them. They will talk about the animal, where they are going to overpower him. So these are the ones who are going to eat him. They are sitting somewhere out there. 208 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

3 Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. Around there look for tracks; go get him for me.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, I go out; then you will get him for me. Around there look for tracks; go get him for me. “Around there look for tracks. After a while we will get him,” it says. “Toward the flower opening, when he goes out there, we will get him,” the pahkolam say that. Then when he has gone out, they will get him. He will run out with this song, run out. The deer will stand at the patio cross there. And these who wait for him will sit here. All four of them will sit behind some brush. When they are out there, the deer singers will start this song. When the song is starting, the deer will run toward them in the brush. They will fall backward and knock on another down. They will tell one another not to make noise. The pahkolam will joke around. Running the Deer 209

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Then during the concluding stanzas the deer will push aside the one sitting there and run out. Then the pahkola will fall over backward. When he shoots, when he shoots, he will shoot upward, up into the air, and he will throw his bow. Then the pahkolam who are the sons, they will say, “As an elder why did you do that, Father, Papa?” They will start spanking him. They will spank their father! “Where is my wiko’i, ‘bow’?” “He is at Vicam Switch.”1 “There at Potam is another.” In that way the pahkolam will joke among themselves. But then one will say, “No, not the men named Wiko’i but the wooden bow.” Then they will look for it. “Here it lies, the one that belongs to you.” That is after the deer has already run out of the rama. There at the patio cross, the pahkolam will make a round looking for him. The dog will already be there with them. The dog will look for tracks. After he finds them, the dog will bark loudly. “The dog found it over there,” they will say. And again the dog will chase the deer out. The dog will take off after him. The song goes like that.

4

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, I am here where these enchanted bow people are walking about. Toward a place where

210 E V E RS A ND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

I could not find safety, I went. Toward a place where I could not find safety, I went. Like that the deer ran out, went out in the world, saw the grove and went out. “Nowhere could I find safety,” it says. “Well, here where the bow people are, toward them I went,” it says. Well, he isn’t sure of himself. That is why he went toward where they were. “Toward a place where there is no safety, I went,” it says, toward the wilderness grove and the wilderness world. The deer talks about that. The deer himself says that. He ran out to the wilderness world. The song says that.

5 Although unseen in the wilderness, I am just running. My antler crown with these three branches is showing, moving. Although unseen in the wilderness, I am just running. My antler crown with these three branches is showing, moving.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Although unseen in the wilderness, I am just running. My antler crown with these three branches is showing, moving. Although unseen in the wilderness, I am just running. My antler crown with these three branches is showing, moving. Over there, I, in the center of the flower- covered grove, I am walking. My antler crown with these three branches is showing, moving.

Running the Deer 211

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The deer is hiding, running. In a desert like this, he is running out. But his antlers are seen moving. That is what tells on him. That is why it says this. “Although unseen in the wilderness, I am just running,” it says. “But my antlers are out. They are seen moving,” it says. The deer himself says that. He has big antlers. The song goes like that.

6 Flower- covered grove, as I am walking to you, I am talking to you, flower- covered grove. Flower- covered grove, as I am walking to you, I am talking to you, flower- covered grove. Flower- covered grove, as I am walking to you, I am talking to you, flower- covered grove. Flower- covered grove, as I am walking to you, I am talking to you, flower- covered grove.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, as I am walking, these enchanted bow people, behind me I see. These I see, I am talking to you, flower- covered grove. The deer will be running during this song. As he is running, he is talking to the wilderness world. As he is going, he is talking to the wilderness world. “Flowercovered grove,” it says. “As I am walking to you, I am talking to you,” it says. He wants someone to talk for him. He wants the wilderness world to talk for him. How will it talk for him? The song, the song just says that. The poor thing wants someone to talk for him. Not wanting to die, the deer himself says that in the song. The song goes like that.

7 You who are each other’s brothers are shouting well, beautifully together, shouting well, beautifully together, shouting beautifully together. 212 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

You who are each other’s brothers are shouting well, beautifully together, shouting well, beautifully together, shouting beautifully together. You who are each other’s brothers are shouting well, beautifully together, shouting well, beautifully together, shouting beautifully together. Over there, I, in the center of the flower- covered opening, we are running. Just I, in flower fawn’s flower dust, we are running, shouting well, beautifully together, shouting beautifully together.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The deer hunters, the pahkolam. Well, this song is the four pahkolam chasing the deer, running, shouting, chasing the deer. It is like when the children chase and shout at something. They are running that way. “Running there in an opening in the grove,” it says. “Running in flower person’s, flower fawn’s dust,” it says. “Shouting well, beautifully together,” it says. “You who are each other’s brothers,” it says. The four pahkolam, the “deer hunters,” pahkolam. The song says that.

8 Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Running the Deer 213

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Over there, I, in the opening in the flower- covered grove, in the flower fawn’s flower dust, we are running. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. Where is the shouting? Outside in the opening is the shouting. The pahkolam will be running and shouting after the deer. “Where is the shouting?” it says. “Well, outside in the opening is the shouting,” it says. The pahkolam are running after the deer while we are inside singing. “Over there in an opening in the grove, in flower fawn’s flower dust, they are running,” it says. “The shouting is outside in an opening,” it says. The song says only that.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

9 Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness.

214 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Over there, I, alongside the flower- covered grove, as I am walking, each enchanted thicket, dodging, moving. Not wanting to die, dodging through the wilderness. Toward the wilderness he is walking. The deer himself, to save himself there, he wants to enter the wilderness. “I want to enter the wilderness,” it says. “Not wanting to die, I want to enter the wilderness,” the deer himself says that. The deer himself, while he is walking, he is saying that in that way.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

10 Exhausted from running, you are walking; exhausted from running, you are moving; exhausted from running, you are walking. Exhausted from running, you are walking; exhausted from running, you are moving; exhausted from running, you are walking. Exhausted from running, you are walking; exhausted from running, you are moving; exhausted from running, you are walking.

Running the Deer 215

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Exhausted from running, you are walking; exhausted from running, you are moving; exhausted from running, you are walking. Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, as I am walking, alongside the flower- covered grove, as I am walking, with my head hanging down toward the ground, as I am walking, with foam around my mouth, as I am walking; exhausted from running, you are walking; exhausted from running, you are moving. “Exhausted from running, you are walking,” it says. “Exhausted from running, you are walking,” it says. Tired, walking, moving, there at the edge of the grove, the deer is walking. With his head hanging down to the ground, with foam around the mouth, he is walking. Tired, walking, the deer himself says that in that way.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

11 Never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking. Just I, never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking. Just I, never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking. Just I, never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking. 216 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, as I am walking. Just I, Yevuku Yoleme’s bow overpowered me in an enchanted way. Yevuku Yoleme’s bamboo arrow overpowered me in an enchanted way. Never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking. This is where he falls. “Never again I, will I here, around will I be walking,” it says. The deer himself is going to be killed, going to die. “Yevuku Yoleme’s wooden bow,” it says. It means with a wooden bow I am overpowered in an enchanted way. “With Yevuku Yoleme’s cane arrow I am overpowered in an enchanted way. Never again I, will I on this world, I, around will I be walking,” it says. The deer himself says that like that. He talks like that. As he is going to die, while dying as he is going to die, he says that like that. Just as all will say yes while being taken somewhere to a war, they will be walking there to die. As if to say “Never again are we going to walk about on this earth.” Like that this deer speaks in the song. “Never again I, will I on this earth, I, around will I be walking.” The deer says that like that. He is talking about himself.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

12 What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? Running the Deer 217

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Over there, I, in an opening in the flower- covered grove, as I am walking. Just I, flower person’s wooden bow has taken me. Flower person’s flower- cane arrow has overpowered me in an enchanted way. What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown? The deer, the deer, he is saying this as he is being carried. The hunters killed him, the pahkolam, the ones who are the hunter persons. I also kill deer. I always place the hands on top of the antlers when I carry one after killing it. The song says that: “What happened to me that my hands are over my antler crown?” Well, it is because his hands are placed there by the hunters, and he is being carried. He himself is saying that in that way and singing about himself. He is killed, killed by a wooden bow.

13 Killed and taken, killed and taken, there in the wilderness, I am killed and taken.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Killed and taken, killed and taken, there in the wilderness, I am killed and taken. Killed and taken, killed and taken, there in the wilderness, I am killed and taken. Over there, I, in the center of the flower- covered wilderness. Just I, Yevuku Yoleme overpowered me in an enchanted way. Enchanted Yevuku Yolemem overpowered me in an enchanted way. Killed and taken, 218 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

there in the wilderness, I am killed and taken. Here he will enter the rama again; he will be carried into the rama. Here he is talking about himself. “I am killed and taken. There in the wilderness, I am killed,” it says. “The enchanted hunter people have gotten me,” it says. He is talking about himself. “Dead, I am being taken,” it says.

14 On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. On branches you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. Over there, I, in Yevuku Yoleme’s flower- covered, enchanted, enchanted flower patio, gather each plant from the enchanted wilderness world. On them you lay flower- covered person’s flower body. Here the singers are saying that to him. “On branches you lay flower-covered person’s flower body,” it says. “In Yevuku Yoleme’s flower patio gather each plant from the wilderness world, and lay him on them,” it says. Lay the deer on them. Any plant can be used. At the pahko there is always cottonwood. On the rama there will be some cottonwood stuck there and out in the roadway. That can be used to place on him, on the deer. This is where he will be butchered, where the pahkolam will butcher him. Once he is placed there on the branches, he will be covered with an old sack or Running the Deer 219

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

blanket. I will say this song when they lay him on the branches. But then the tampaleo, the “flute player,” will sing differently; he will start to play a different one. While he is being placed on the branches, the tampaleo will start playing the spotted-fly song. The deer singers do not have the spotted-fly song, only the tampaleo. Then the pahkolam will play with that song, they will play with it. They will play round the deer; then they will pretend to defecate on him, on the dead deer. They will walk around him and pretend to defecate on him. Then they will say, “Let’s butcher him right away.” So they butcher him.

15 Put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Oh, put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Oh, put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Over there, I, in the flower- covered flower opening, as I am standing, covered with dust, as I am standing, covered with mist, as I am standing put a flower on me from flower- covered person’s flower body. Well, you see it is windy now, a dusty wind, a dusty wind. Tolosailo is when it is dusty and not too clear. That is the way it is also somewhere in Yevuku Yoleme’s flower patio out there.

220 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

That tree, like those standing over there in the patio, yes, well, that tree is talking to him. This is what the tree is saying. In the patio a tree will be standing. When the deer is laid there on the branches, the tree will ask for the tail, for the deer’s tail. All the deer hunters cut off the tail and hang it on the tree. That is what the tree is asking for. The tree is asking for the tail. “Put a flower on me from the flower-covered person’s flower body,” it says. The tree is saying that to the hunters, to the pahkolam. It wants to tell the deer hunters to hang the tail on it. The tree will stand with the flower. The tree that is standing in the patio is the one that wants it as a flower, the deer’s tail.

16 My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. Over there, I, in Yevuku Yoleme’s flower- covered flower patio, here I am scattered; I become enchanted; here I am scattered; I become flower.

Running the Deer 221

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

My enchanted flower body, fire, above the fire, side by side is hung. The meat, as it is being roasted in that way, it speaks. There it will be skewered. “My enchanted flower body above the fire side by side is hung, skewered,” it says. “Yevuku Yoleme’s flower patio,” it says. “Here I am scattered and become flower,” it says. The deer’s spirit stays in the wilderness. The deer says that about himself. He sings like that.

17 My enchanted flower body is glistening, sitting out there. My enchanted flower body is glistening, sitting out there.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

My enchanted flower body is glistening, sitting out there. My enchanted flower body is glistening, sitting out there. Over there, I, in Yevuku Yoleme’s flower- covered flower patio, I am just glistening, sitting out there; here I am scattered; I become enchanted. My enchanted flower body is glistening, sitting out there. Guts, deer guts, it is the guts the song talks about here.

18 But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. 222 E V E RS AND M OLINA

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Over there, I, in the center of the flower- covered wilderness, there in the wilderness, one, good and beautiful, is standing. But one stick, not good and beautiful, is standing. With this song it is finished. The pahkolam, they themselves, will cut one another down. The one who is made into a post will be cut and will fall there. He will fall down, lie down backward, and straighten out. Forcefully he will point his head toward the post in the rama. Then, after pointing his head in a certain way, they will get an old sack or a blanket. They will wet it in some water and cover him up. In that way they tan the deer hide. After that is done they will be out there hitting the Yaquis in the audience with it, saying that they are still tanning it. That will be the last; nothing else will there be in the game. There it is ended. The run lasts to that point. NOT E 1. +H Wiko’i is a family name as well as the word for “bow.” Thus, there is a play on words here.

Running the Deer 223

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Pima Oriole Songs DONALD BAHR AND VINC ENT JOSE PH

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQE\'RQDOG%DKU In northern Mexico and a great part of the western United States, including the Great Basin, southern California, and Arizona, there was a Native singing tradition that the musicologist George Herzog called the “dreamt mythic song series.”1 Now there is relatively little left of it, but as these Pima Oriole songs will show, the tradition can still surprise and reward us. In fact, the main theme in these songs is precisely a combination of pleasure and anguish over finding songs, as if the tradition were pleading for itself through this one Oriole singer. The Pimas live in southern Arizona immediately south and southeast of Phoenix. Songs belonging to the same tradition have recently been published by Larry Evers and Felipe Molina—from the Yaquis of Arizona and Sonora; by A. M. Halpern—from the Yumas of the Arizona-California border; by Judith Vander—from the Wind River Shoshones of west central Wyoming; and by me—from the Pimas and the adjacent Papagos, or Tohono O’odham.2 I cannot discuss the knowledge of the full extent and varieties of the tradition, but I refer the reader to Herzog’s original paper, to remarks by Alfred Kroeber, and to my own writings.3 And now I venture that the present set of forty-seven songs is the fullest, most carefully constructed, and poetically richest “dreamt mythic song series” to be published to date. The singer of this material was Vincent Joseph, a Pima who, I regret to say, died in 1987. According to tradition, the actual author of the songs was an oriole whom some Pimas or Papagos met in a dream. Joseph and I encountered the songs in the early 1980s through the Pima singer Blaine Pablo. During about ten visits at that time, Vincent Joseph; Joseph Giff, also a Pima; and I, a white, asked Pablo to sing ever more Oriole songs. Though Joseph and Giff were singers, they didn’t know this type of song. I taped the sung portions of the sessions and gave copies of most of the tapes to them. Because he apparently didn’t learn the songs from the sessions whose tapes I inadvertently failed to give him, I’m sure the tapes he did receive aided 224

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Joseph’s learning of the songs. Altogether, Pablo sang sixty- eight Oriole songs. Of the forty-seven songs presented here, forty-five were on the tapes in Joseph’s possession. He added two songs on his own. Pablo and Giff died around 1983. I believe that more people than Pablo knew Oriole songs in the early 1980s, and I know that Emmett White, a Pima, learned them from Vincent Joseph. White sings them today, perhaps with additions from other singers or his own dreams. Perhaps because of his character (but also perhaps because his health was better than Pablo’s), Joseph was determined to put the Oriole songs in a fixed order and keep them constantly ready for use. Thus, three times when I dropped in on him unannounced, he sang essentially the same set through perfectly, in very nearly the same order. Moreover, and rare among singers in my experience, he was able to say what each song said, literally and fully, in ordinary language, immediately before singing each one. (Song language is a step removed from ordinary language.)4 His ordinary language, or “prose,” statements are given along with the song texts below. A chatterbox in ordinary life, Joseph did not use his gift of talk to weave a narrative from the songs. As will be seen, the first twenty-two songs constitute a kind of travelogue tour of Pima-Papago country (thereafter the songs become topical), but Joseph did not say who made the tour or why. His comments on these and all the songs are limited to the songs’ texts. (I have translated his comments as if the traveler were a male oriole.) Connections between texts are rarely discussed. I’m sure this was not an oversight on his part. It was his, and is his people’s, custom to let song series suggest stories but to avoid speculating or telling about events that would link one song to another. Each song is a short word-pictorial story; the sets are elaborate, exquisite montages or collages. Joseph apparently wanted to find a place in his repertoire for each Oriole song on the tapes (plus the two he added), so I cannot say he was selective in the songs he included. Nor did he revise any texts; like all participants in the regional tradition, he did not consciously create or change texts but, on the contrary, took pains to reproduce them exactly as he heard them. Thus, his one outlet for creation was in sequencing the songs—in other words, in executing the montage. It should be noted that Joseph had excellent materials to work with. There is not a bad or humdrum song in the lot, and more to the point, the full set is quite varied. Most but not all of them contain an “I” (a first-person singular pronoun), which is a hallmark of Pima-Papago song and seems to set the songs of these people apart from those of other traditions of dream-song singing. And relative to other Pima-Papago sets, this one, whose original “I” was presumPima Oriole Songs 225

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ably an oriole, includes a wide variety of experiences, ranging from the pure observation of nature to encounters with ancient and recent characters (borrowings, one may say, from prose narratives) to episodes of shamanistic power getting. Joseph needed to make these short sketches resonate sequentially. The key to what he did, I believe, lies in the placement of songs 2 and 31. (The numbering follows Joseph’s sequence; another singer could order them differently.) Pablo once sang the two contiguously, and this pairing undoubtedly impressed Joseph. Song 31 answers song 2 in a way that establishes the set as a plea or defense of dreamed-song singing; and song 2 is itself an unusual turn on the normal way to commence a Pima-Papago song set. Let us consider the unusualness of song 2. By convention, nearly every Pima-Papago song set begins with references to the commencement of singing and the sunset. The idea is that the actual singing should start at sunset and last until dawn. Regardless of what happens to internal time references, the opening and closing songs should adhere to that rule. Song 1 adheres in a normal manner, being about the onset of singing, but song 2 fulfills the sunset requirement unusually. It is really about the creation of the sun and refers to the sunset only in a perfunctory but happy last line: the new sun sets in the west; the diurnal course is established. Also unusual is that the sun is not mentioned again until song 31. Most Pima song sets begin with a long sequence of four, eight, or twelve songs on the sunset. Now we may consider the originality of song 31, which is about the sun’s death, not about its setting. This death harks back to the unusual dwelling on creation in song 2: what was originated can also end. But it is not metaphysics that makes the song remarkable: it is the implication for singing. When the sun dies, the song says, all the birds but one terminate their singing; the exception is the mockingbird, who is understood by the PimaPapagos (as well as ornithologists) to imitate the calls of other birds. The Pima-Papagos conclude that mockingbirds do not give fresh information on themselves or the universe but merely regurgitate, or “parrot,” what they have heard. Accordingly, song 31 describes a dismal scene: the end of the sun entails the end of fresh bird calls. One more step takes us to the plea for singing. Oriole songs are a variety of bird songs, and Pima-Papago singing is replete with sets dreamed from birds: the oriole, blackbird, woodpecker, hummingbird, and buzzard, as well as the bat and butterfly (conceived as birds—“flying things”) and more. So far as I know, there are no mockingbird songs, because they are considered unoriginal birds. Of course, one could make the same case about human song dreamers—they are like mockingbirds because they too only 226 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

repeat the songs that other, more original spirits give them. I believe this is exactly the point. The lone mockingbird singing at the end of song 31 is like a human singer who can no longer dream, or at least can no longer dream songs—analogous to a washed-up poet in our society. I never asked Joseph whether he had dreamed songs, but I suspect he could and would have if he thought people had a real use for them. I am not sure what he thought about this last, but his strategic placing of song 31 implies an intelligent doubt. To complete the survey: the bulk of the songs between 2 and 31 are in effect an oriole’s tour of Pima-Papago land, apparently, thanks to song 2, a tour made in daylight. Geographically the tour begins a few miles from Pablo’s home and goes to the eastern edge of the universe (song 3), then south into Papago country (songs 5 and 6), back to Pablo’s neighborhood (songs 7–11), then north (songs 12–16), and finally west, ending at the Gulf of California (songs 17–22). Songs 23–30 are dedicated to the various bird species mentioned above; then comes the key song 31. Soon after (song 33) is a conventional song about the sunset, such as one might find at the start of other sets. Then follows a series on medicine men (songs 34–39) and whores (songs 40– 44), and finally are three songs on the end of a night of singing. These last make further comments on the fragility of song. It is not possible to discuss all the songs here, but I will comment briefly on the series on medicine men and whores. These seem to be the favored male and female human character types in all bird-song sets. Such sets have been used in “social dancing,” in which men and women clasp hands to dance in a circling line in celebration of harvests, war victories, girls reaching puberty, and in this century, American national holidays. Thus, although it is rare and welcome to find the character of the medicine man, or shaman, paired with a nonshamanistic alter in a tribal literature, this particular pairing owes much to the social-dancing context and must be seen in exactly that light. As I read it, the set says that both medicine men and whores seek songs. The seeker is away from home, alone in nature, in the first case (songs 4, 7, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, and 26) and away from home adulterously, in society, at dances, in the second (songs 40, 42, and 43). The first search enables the second, and it is not clear whether the second motivates the first. Thus says this social- dancing poetry. The translation of Joseph’s prose given below is literal in that it follows his word order rather closely and preserves his ambiguity and terseness.5 Joseph spoke quite grammatical, “good” Pima, but I have bent English grammatical and stylistic norms, generally to avoid saying any more than he did. The same is true of the song translations. I have not tried, or have tried Pima Oriole Songs 227

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

rather little, to make the translations into beautiful English poems. Word order was changed some, in deference to English, but the content of each line is limited to the content of that line in the original. In general, I find the Pima poems understated on the surface and boiling underneath. The translations imperfectly reflect this. I thank Adelaide Bahr, John Bierhorst, Arnold Krupat, Brian Swann, and Emmett White for discussing these translations with me.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. George Herzog, “Musical Styles in North America,” in Proceedings of the Twentythird International Congress of Americanists (New York, 1928), 455– 56. 2. Larry Evers and Felipe Molina, Yaqui Deer Songs/Maso Bwikam: A Native American Poetry (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1987); A. M. Halpern (credited to W. Wilson), “Excerpts from the Lightning Song,” in Spirit Mountain: An Anthology of Yuman Song and Story, ed. L. Hinton and L. Watahomigie (Tucson: Sun Tracks and University of Arizona Press, 1984); Judith Vander, Ghost Dance Songs and Religion of a Wind River Shoshone Woman, Monograph Series in Ethnomusicology no. 4 (Los Angeles: University of California, 1986); and Donald Bahr, “A Format and Method for Translating Songs,” Journal of American Folklore 96 (1983): 170–82, and “Pima Heaven Song,” in Recovering the Word: Essays on Native American Literature, ed. Brian Swann and Arnold Krupat (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987). 3. Herzog, “Musical Styles in North America”; Alfred L. Kroeber, Handbook of the Indians of California, Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 78 (Washington DC, 1925; reprint, New York: Dover, 1976), 754– 90; and Bahr, “Format and Method for Translating Songs” and “Pima Heaven Song.” 4. For a discussion of this, see Bahr, “Format and Method for Translating Songs.” 5. Pima-language transcripts of Vincent Joseph’s prose and song performance, as well as an audiotape of the performance, are available (Donald Bahr, Arizona State University, Tempe AZ).

Pima Oriole Songs 1 “Here I sit, here feather- down topknot sticks to me.¹ It waves nicely with my song.” Thus says this, which is the first [song] and says,

228 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

I’m seated, crowded by people, crowded by feather- down topknots, wavering with songs.

2 Look, and this tells when the sun will rise where it is called—uh—Casa Grande Ruins.² Here the sun was newly made: “Sun is newly made. Away in front of the east, toss it, and it rises. Here above us it goes, and away westward it sets,” so says this song. It says, Make a new sun. Toss it east. It will climb, will light the ground, will pass over me, will sink in the west.

3

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Look, and that which stands there is the Shining Rain House.³ “In front of the east, the Shining Rain House stands. Who sings there? Inside a song is locked. I unlock it and see”; so this one sounds. Who sings? Away where the East Shining Rain House stands, inside, various kinds of song are locked. I then unlock them and then see.

4 Then is the one that says, “Where will you take me? Away far is the Witch’s Making Place. Upon it brings me. On the Witch’s Bed the land sparkles.”⁴ Where are you taking me? Where are you taking me— bringing me to the Witch’s Making Place? On the Witch’s Bed earth sparkles.

Pima Oriole Songs 229

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

5 Then [the Oriole traveler arrives] there, where Santa Rosa is,⁵ where there is the Children’s Burial, as we call it. Children’s Burial, Children’s Burial I come upon, where ocotillo flowers enclose me:6 such I come upon.

6 Then the Red Rock, as it is called, which is Red Rock Hill.⁷ “There behind it I circle. There behind it burned bows crumbling lie, and I see it. Then my heart hurts.” Red Rock Hill, Red Rock Hill I circle behind, where burned bows lie crumbling. while I watch, my heart hurts.

7

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Look, then he [the traveler] comes to Rainmaker Rain House where two [songs] stand. It [the first song] says, “Rainmaker Rain House stands. Inside [I] enter. Inside rainmaker drink lies, and I drink it and get drunk. Much talk,” it says. Rainmaker Rain House stands. Rainmaker Rain House stands, and I enter. Inside rainmaker drink lies, and I drink it and, drunk, many will sing.

8 There is also this about Rainmaker Rain House. “Rainmaker Rain House, where Bitter Wind jumps out.⁸ There back and forth it staggers and, like a rainbow, curves across. There on top of Feeler [Mountain] it stops,”⁹ sounds this song.

230 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Rainmaker Rain House from which Bitter Wind jumps out, back and forth staggering rainbowlike across staggering, then stops at Feeler Mountain.

9 Look, from here he reaches Black Water, where he says, “Women spring out from Black Water.¹⁰ And they run to us; all crowned with cattail leaves they come running. Green dragonflies sit on them,” sounds this Black Water [song]. Black Water lies, from which women jump out, run up to us, all crowned with cattail leaves, clung with green dragonflies.

10 Look, and then behind the [Gila] River is White Pinched [Mountain]. “From inside a shining wind jumps,”¹¹ as it says. Another mountain also stands. “On top it [the wind] stops,” this song says. It is called Grey Hill. Over that way [from Joseph’s house] it stands.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

White Pinched, White Pinched, from which a shining rainbow comes out and, spinning, stops atop Grey Hill.

11 So he says and then reaches what is Zigzag Connected [Mountain]. “Zigzag Mountains so connected. On top he rests. There alongside a black cloud zigzags. He likes it and watches”; thus this sounds. Zigzag Connected, on top I pause. There beside me a black cloud floating zigzagged, pleasant for watching.

Pima Oriole Songs 231

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

12 Then [he comes] this way, to what is called Red Split [Mountain], where “inside a song sounds.” He circles behind but can’t enter because, they say, it’s a devil’s house. “Yet what can I do to enter? In there are many songs to learn,” it sounds. Red Split, Red Split. Inside songs sound and do me ill. I circle behind. Oh, what can I do? Now enter, then know many songs.

13 Then in this direction stands, where stands the Long Grey [Mountain]. It says, “Long Grey below sings. Companion [Coyote] runs toward it and has a reed flute. He runs and runs, then dances toward me, then hoots and tells songs with me,” thus sounds our companion. Long Grey beneath sings. Companion runs near, then runs up, then dances to me, then hoots and tells songs with me.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

14 Then afterward he reaches Bent, Remainder Bent [Mountain].¹² He says, “[from] inside a shining wind comes out.” It’s an oriole bird that takes him there. “No one sings; no one knows,” sounds this Bent song. Bent Remainder, Bent Remainder, from which a shining rainbow comes out. Oriole bird leads me there, and I enter. No one sings; no one knows.

232 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

15 Then is another on this Bent. “Inside a song sounds loudly. He heard and hurried there. It seems to be Rock People; it is they who loudly sing.” People once turned to rock there. They speak and are Rock People. Bent Remainder, Bent Remainder, where songs excitedly sound, I hear it and run to sing; must be Rock People who sound there excitedly singing.

16 Look, and then away beyond Camel-Back [Mountain] stands what is called Iron Mountain. “Not invitingly it sounds”; it makes frightening sounds. “Wind runs there, and there is hooting inside.” There really is an Iron Mountain. I have gone there, gone and crossed the [Verde] River, and reached Iron Mountain. Iron Mountain, Iron Mountain, uninviting sounds. Wind runs there, then stands, then hoots.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

17 Look, and then next he arrives where a mountain stands, where an Apache spoke. He was named Thin Leg. “Pitifully slumping, they did it to me, and [I] slump pitifully.¹³ [My] feather is already wet,” sounds this Thin Leg song, and it says, Many people gather off while my head slumps. This, my feather tip, is already dying.

18 Thus said Thin Leg. Then he [the traveler] lands at Greasy [Mountain],¹⁴ where he says that I’itoi came out from below.¹⁵ “Below Greasy, I’itoi comes

Pima Oriole Songs 233

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

out. He poses on a peak. Like the morning star he seems, and [his] flames shine.”¹⁶ Thus says this I’itoi song. Below Greasy little I’itoi comes out, then poses at the peak like the morning star, distant flame lighting.

19 Look, and then he crosses the [Gila] River again. At Broad [Mountain] he arrives, and two [songs] stand there. He says, “Broad [Mountain] stands. In front drizzle stretches. I go in front of that; my wings are already wet.” Broad stands with drizzle passing in front. And in front I go, my wings already wet.

20

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then one more [song] sounds, which is also [about] Broad. “Broad Mountain stands,” it says; “inside it speaks very windily. And I circle behind it and peep in and hear that it sounds rainy inside,” he also says. Broad Mountain, Broad Mountain, inside speaks windily. From behind I slowly peep in and listen. Broad Mountain, inside speaks rainily.

21 Look, and then there, down that way [is] the Hot Water [Spring].¹⁷ “Hot Water distantly, noisily lies. I arrive above it and look, and above are variouscolored dragonflies. Above it they hover—hovering lies,” he says. Hot Water far and noisily lies. I arrive above and watch. Above, many colors of dragonflies hover; a hovering lies.

234 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

22 Look, and next I end the line where the oceanfront is,¹⁸ which is called Spongy Water, where “above it many times [I] come. Behind it people’s running path shows,”¹⁹ sounds this one. Spongy Water lies, And I above often come. There around it people’s running path appears.

23 Look, this [song string] we lined up. From here are those that you call birds [songs]. He says, “What kind of bird goes low?” And he says, “It must be a pelican bird that goes low. Everywhere the land is fogg y.” Fog exists there. What bird goes low? What bird goes low? Must be a pelican going low, earth fogged.

24

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Look, and this one I will tell with them [the bird songs], about a bird flying. It sounds as if a mother bird’s children flew away somewhere, as birds will do. Eventually they grow large and fly off. Oh! Oh! my children, where did you fly? Oh, oh, my children, where did you fly? So I just cry and wander below, oh, oh, my children, each day filled with following you.

25 Of course it’s true that it [the last song] is also a God song,²⁰ but it belongs with the birds, since it says, as I have spoken, “Oh, oh, my children, where did you fly?” for birds grow large and fly . . . . This [next] is surely and Oriole song, it is Oh, oh, my children, what can I do and go with you— Now, how does it sound?21

Pima Oriole Songs 235

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Oh! Oh! my children, my children, what can I do to go high with you now that my wings are shredded? My poor children, what can I do to go high with you?

26 This [last song] is an Oriole song because it means and says, “My poor children, what can I do to go high with you? My wing is shredded.” . . . Yes, then [comes] the bird singing place,. This one sounds, “Bird singing places lies,” since birds sing there. “And I go to it. Here beside me a song stretches” like a rope. Look, “Beside me a song stretches, and I grasp its middle, then coil it, then grab it up, then go,” heh, heh, heh, heh.²² Bird singing place lies, and I go on top. Here beside me songs form a line. Oh, how I like it, grasp its middle, coil it, grab it, and go.

27 Here is the next, that tells of darkness, of flying at night. “Night-flying birds, and they go. During the night, topknots burn.”²³ They shine toward them.²⁴

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Night fliers, night-flying birds going away, topknots burning in blackness.

28 Look, this now is an oriole bird [song], since it says, “Oriole bird takes me to the sky. There brings me to Down-Nested Medicine Man.²⁵ His soft down shakes, encloses my body, and lowers me home,” as this song says. Yellow oriole, take me to the sky, where is Down-Nested Medicine Man; take me. Soft down shakes, encloses my body, and lowers me home.

236 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

29 He [the Oriole traveler] further says that something is a wren, a bird. “Grey wren, cholla flower makes into wine and [then] runs up to me.” He says “runs up,” but he means “summons.” “And I drink with him and get drunk. I don’t know [myself], slantingly running,” heh, heh, heh, heh. Grey wren makes cholla wine and comes to me. I drink with him and, drunk, alas for my knowing, slantingly run.

30 Look, this is another [about the flood], when it happened that we were [anciently] drowned. The land everywhere bubbled water—flooded, that means—when the water came out.²⁶ “Then they [the birds] forgot their flapping. Pitifully they huddled in a bunch.” Having gathered, they couldn’t fly. It will drown us; earth everywhere floods. Just then all the birds forget their flapping; they feel pitiful, bunched and clinging.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

31 Look, and then this one says the sun died. The other [the last song] said it flooded them. At that time the birds didn’t know their flapping, how to fly. Look, and this one then says that the sun died. “Sun dies, sun dies. Just then every kind of bird dropped its cooing,” it says. Then it says, “The lying land nowhere echoes.” Quiet is the land everywhere.²⁷ “Just the mockingbird pitifully speaks, but it just talks to itself,” as it [the song] also sounds. Sun dies, sun dies. Earth everywhere dark. Just then every bird stops cooing. Earth doesn’t echo. A mockingbird speaks pitifully, alone distantly talks.

Pima Oriole Songs 237

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

32 Look, and then he reaches this one. Above [songs 28, 30], our drowning was told and that the sun also died [song 31]. Now here I say that it [the sun] burned us. He says just, “Alas, we burn. From every mountaintop steam comes out. It will burn us, and I already knew it,” says this oriole. Oh! Oh! It will burn us; oh, oh, it will burn us. All mountaintops steam. Oh, oh, it will burn us, as I had thought.

33 Look, then he says, “Sun now sets. Darkness comes and covers me”—it’s still darker—”and then I sit down and rasp my scraper.”²⁸ He means, “I do it, rasp and sit,” thus to tell you an Oriole song. Sun now sets. Darkness comes, here covering me as I sit down, rasping my scraper, Oriole songs to tell.

34

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Look, and next he reaches the medicine men. This says, “A medicine man’s stick he four times cuts”—cuts apart, to make a scraper. “Using that, one tells nice-sounding Oriole songs,” as sounds this song. Medicine man stick cut in four to make scrapers, to make singing sound nice.

35 Look, and this is also a medicine man,²⁹ that “Earth bumps and comes out,”³⁰ molds it, one might also say. “Much cloud comes out with him. He stands it [the cloud] and breaks it into bits and throws them.” And of course he did it, now there are clouds above us.

238 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Earth Medicine Man, Earth, he bumps and comes out. Much cloud comes with him. Off he stands it, breaks it in short pieces, and throws them over all the earth.

36 Look, this [song] is also Earth Medicine Man. It surely says, “Earth Medicine Man has his own rock and makes stars. He tosses them in front of the sky. They cover the sky and shine,” and that is what this says. Earth Medicine Man has his own rock and makes stars. Here above me he tosses them. They fill the sky, great sparkling.

37 Now I’ve reached this one, and I’ll tell it: “Ill it does to me. And I sink, here at the world beneath us I stay. Oh, oh, ill it does to me.”³¹ This means that he was killed, he was buried, he remained there, and he said this:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Oh, oh, you really do me ill. Oh, oh, you really do me ill; so I sink. Below us is land, where I’ll stay. Oh, oh, you did me ill.

38 Look, and next is this, which is “Silver lightning, there in a cloud met and killed me. I was four days dead; then I remembered again.³² Now you can call me Silver-Lightning Meeting Man,” thus sounds this Lightning song. Silver lightning, silver lightning met me in a cloud;

Pima Oriole Songs 239

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

four times killed me. Four times I died; then memory returned. Now you call me Silver Meeting Lightning.

39 This is what I tell with them,³³ which says, “What is the windiness that runs up there?” And he says, “It is the hard windiness. Along its path the land is swished wet”—wet to a certain amount of swishing—then it [the wind] stops, having wet enough. What windiness ran up here? What windiness ran up here? Must be the hard windiness in whose path land is swished wet.

40 Look, and after those follows this one, which are their songs, which you call whore woman.³⁴ “There is a whore woman, and she runs up first to their [birds’] songs.” Then with someone’s husband she runs singing eastward. He’s not had.³⁵ “Ill he does to me [the wife says], and they [the good people] look askance in their midst.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Whore woman, whore woman, first to run to the singing, then runs to the dawn with my husband. I don’t have him; ill he does me, here in people’s glances.

41 Look, and this one then says, “Ill doing to me, are you making me a whore? Earth flower [you] wrap around my head”—threw earth flower on her head³⁶—”therefore my heart feels like a whore,” says this woman. These are women’s songs that I pursue. Are you making me a whore? Are you making me a whore with earth flowers that you wrap on my head?

240 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Oh, oh, my heart feels very whorish.

42 Now I’ve done the start.³⁷ Those two sound well together. Look, next he reaches one with a call to family: “My husband, my husband, I’m leaving you.” She’ll go alone in search of singing. “Here behind me people bother me; whore they call me. Oh, my husband, I’m leaving you.” Oh, oh, my husband, oh, oh, my husband, I left you and ran alone away to sing where people call me whore and bother me. Oh, oh, my husband, I left you and ran alone away to sing.

43 This one next says, “Who is the woman? Who is the woman that clasps my hand?” They connected and ran to sing. “It’s just the One-Flower-Having Woman who clasps my hand and runs off to sing,” says this song.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Who is the woman? Who is the woman who clasps me and runs far off to sing? Must be One-Flower Woman who clasps me and runs far off to sing.

44 Look, and this one also sounds like crying,³⁸ but now it says, “Who is the woman? She acts slightly whorish, there circling behind us. With her hair she hides her face. She acts slightly whorish, circling there behind us.” Who is the woman who acts so whorish, circling there behind us, hiding her face in her hair, acting so whorish, circling there behind us?

Pima Oriole Songs 241

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

45 This now is the one with which he closes, which is an oriole bird. “It [the oriole] does me ill. With a jimsonweed flower at the end of his wing tip, he offers and makes me drink. And I drink it all and get dizzy”—that means “get drunk.” “To standing sticks I cling.” White oriole truly mistreats me, makes me drink jimsonweed liquor from his wing tip. And I drink and get dizzy, slantingly run, on upright saplings clinging.

46 Look, and this says that they will stop singing. “And we stop singing. On top of our sitting place, our scrapers lie. With song marks marked on them they lie,” says this one. And now we stop singing and scatter. Here on our seats our poor scraping sticks lie, with song marks marked as they lie.

47

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Well, and one comes on top that is the very end, which says, “And we stop singing, go in various directions. Here at our singing place a wind jumps out. It runs back and forth. People’s traces—since they have stepped and it shows—people’s traces it erases. They [the traces] won’t remain after the wind has run,” it says. Well, thus he ends. And now we stop singing and scatter. Wind springs from our singing place, runs back and forth, erasing the marks of people. There’s nothing left at the end. NOT ES 1. IHDWKHUGRZQWRSNQRW Orioles, the source of these songs, do not have topknots. The reference is to people—social dancers—who crowd around as a singer sits down for a night of singing. People’s fancy ceremonial feathers, little used by the Pimas, are called by the same word that is used for topknots: siwoda, or siwdag.

242 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

2. &DVD*UDQGH5XLQV Joseph said this name in English. The ruins are a national monument about twenty miles from where Pablo lived, just outside the eastern boundary of the Pima reservation. The Pima name for the place is Siwan Wa’aki, “Rainmaker Rain House.” Joseph thought that the sun making occurred there. Song 3 names a different rain house, called Shining Rain House, which is considered to stand at the eastern edge of the earth, far from Rainmaker Rain House, which is “central.” Songs 7 and 8 refer explicitly to Rainmaker Rain House. For the last hundred years the Pimas have debated whether they are the descendants or the exterminators of the ancient people who built Rainmaker Rain House. They call the people the Huhugkam, “Finished Ones,” but those who champion descent do not consider that the name implies extermination. The archaeologists’ term Hohokam refers to the same people and was borrowed from the Pimas. 3. WKHUH Far in the east. 4. :LWFK·V0DNLQJ3ODFH¬¬¬:LWFK·V%HG Witch, Ho’ok, is an important character in Pima-Papago mythology, a female feebleminded monster who grew claws as a child and ate children as an adult. See F. Russell, The Pima Indians, Twenty-Sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology (Washington DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1908; reprint, Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1974), 221–24, for the story. Her birthplace is generally considered to be Rainmaker’s Rain House. Her bed is on the Pima reservation and is pictured in Russell, Pima Indians, 255. 5. 6DQWD5RVD A village eighty miles south-southwest of Pablo’s village. There is a shrine there for children who, according to legend, were sacrificed by the Hohokam to stop a flood. See D. Saxton and O. Saxton, Legends and Lore of the Papago and Pima Indians (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1973), 243– 61, 281–304, for the story. 6. &KLOGUHQ·V%XULDO¬¬¬RFRWLOORϩRZHUVHQFORVHPH The ocotillo is a cactus that grows long, straight, green sticks from a central point in the ground. The Children’s Burial is fenced with these sticks, which are ceremonially renewed every two or four years. The shrine sticks are stripped of their green skin, so they cannot take root and flower as the song implies. Unstripped ocotillo sticks, used as fences, do take root and flower in season. 7. 5HG5RFN¬¬¬5HG5RFN+LOO Joseph said this place name first in English, then in Pima. A small group of Papagos were killed by Apaches there in the nineteenth century. Their bows, burned by the Apaches and left undisturbed by the PimaPapagos, were visited by the Oriole. 8. %LWWHU:LQG A wind, or wind person, referred to in myth, especially in Frances Densmore, Papago Music, Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 90 (Washington DC: 1929; reprint, New York: Da Capo Press, 1972), 35– 55, and especially 36–39. Densmore misheard “bitter” as “beater.” 9. )HHOHU>0RXQWDLQ@ Newman Peak, east of Eloy, Arizona. 10. %ODFN:DWHU A village on the Gila River Reservation, named for a nearby pond. 11. VKLQLQJZLQG He misspoke. He should have said “shining rainbow.” Pima Oriole Songs 243

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

12. 5HPDLQGHU%HQW>0RXQWDLQ@ This large mountain by Apache Junction, Arizona, is called Superstition Mountain in English. It is said that there are petrified people on top of it—the “remainders.” See Russell, Pima Indians, 211–12, for the story. 13. QDPHG7KLQ/HJ¬¬¬´WKH\GLGLWWRPHµ Thin Leg was a nineteenth- century Apache raider with a shriveled leg (he rode a mule or a horse). He was captured by Pimas near the mountain Ajik, near the present-day village of Goodyear. Joseph is referring to the taunts of his captors who are about to kill him. 14. *UHDV\>0RXQWDLQ@ South Mountain, Pima name for the southern boundary of Phoenix. 15. ,·LWRL A man-god, the central character of Pima-Papago mythology. He was killed, went to the underworld, and reemerged. 16. ϩDPHV The word for “flames” is the same as the word used for “topknot,” or “head feathers,” in song 1—siwoda. Thus, these flames could be interpreted as feathers—or a hat full of feathers could be interpreted as a hat full of flames. 17. GRZQWKDWZD\ Sixty miles northwest of Joseph’s house. 18. ,HQGWKHOLQH That is, the series of travel songs. 19. people’s running path: The Pima-Papagos went on pilgrimages to the ocean to get salt. 20. LWLVDOVRD*RGVRQJ I had commented that I knew this is a God song, not an Oriole song. It was absent from Pablo’s Oriole songs that I had taped in Joseph’s company. Apparently Joseph had learned it elsewhere and decided to treat it as an Oriole song. 21. KRZGRHVLWVRXQG" He had made a false start. 22. KHK¬¬¬KHK This song has tricky words, hence the chuckling. 23. WRSNQRWV This is the same word, siwoda, that was discussed in relation to songs 1 and 18. It can also be translated as “flames.” 24.WRZDUGWKHP Toward the Oriole traveler and his companion. 25. 'RZQ1HVWHG0HGLFLQH0DQ That is, Down-Feather-Nested Medicine Man, a god who lives in the sky in a feather- down nest. At the time of an ancient flood, he is said to have suggested that various birds save themselves by making nests from their own down. The birds did so, the nests floated, and the birds were saved (Russell, Pima Indians, 211). 26. 7KHODQGHYHU\ZKHUH¬¬¬ϩRRGHG This flood was not from rain, as in the Sumerian and Judeo- Christian traditions, but from an abandoned baby’s salty tears (Russell, Pima Indians, 209–13). 27. 4XLHW Here Joseph used the English word. 28. VFUDSHU A musical instrument that is used to accompany singing. 29. WKLVLVDOVRDPHGLFLQHPDQ This song is about the second most important character of Pima-Papago mythology, Earth Medicine Man, or Earth Doctor. He created the universe, including clouds and people, and so was the first god. But he was rivaled and replaced by I’itoi. See Russell, Pima Indians, 206–14. 30. (DUWKEXPSV Earth Medicine Man bumps with his head.

244 BAHR AND JOSE PH

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

31. 2KRKLOOLWGRHVWRPH This song could refer either to Earth Medicine Man, who according to legend sank straight through the earth to the underworld after a quarrel with I’itoi, or to I’itoi, who was killed, resurrected himself, then journeyed to the underworld by following the sun’s path through the sky. The line “do me ill” is generally attributed to I’itoi: he is said to have spoken this lamentation to Earth Medicine Man after rejoining him in the underworld. See Russell, Pima Indians, 226, for a version of this meeting. Emmett White believes that the reference is to neither god but to some or any present- day Pima dead person, whoever is poorly treated in life, dies, is buried, and remains in the burial place. It is a song from a contemporary grave. 32. ,UHPHPEHUHGDJDLQ I became conscious again. 33.ZLWKWKHP With the rest of them. This song was not one of Pablo’s Oriole songs. 34. ZKRUHZRPDQ Pima-Papago ce:paowi (the colon in this word signifies that the preceding vowel, e, is long). These are women who like to make love, especially at social dances. There are songs about them in many social- dancing sets. 35. +H·VQRWKDG That is, he’s not had by his wife. 36. HDUWKϩRZHU A love potion said to grow in mountains. It is greatly discussed but is not shown to outsiders. When carried in a bag, its scent is said to make women crazy for love. 37. ,·YHGRQHWKHVWDUW I’ve begun the women’s songs. 38. VRXQGVOLNHFU\LQJ The calling to the husband in song 42 is interpreted as crying (suak in Pima-Papago).

Pima Oriole Songs 245

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song DAV ID P. M C A L L EST E R

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ In 1957 I was privileged to record the songs of the Blessingway ceremony performed by Frank Mitchell at Chinle, Arizona. Among the hundreds of Navajo songs I have studied in this and other ceremonies, I chose this text for inclusion here because of the extensive flights of metaphor, unusual in Native American poetry. The ceremony is used to ensure blessing, good luck, prosperity, and the increase of livestock—horses are symbolic of all those desired ends. Blessingway may be used when someone is dedicating a new house, going off on a journey, expecting a child, or in need of psychic and spiritual renewal. It may be sung over a bundle of ceremonial paraphernalia that needs to have its power recharged. Horse songs are not a part of every performance of Blessingway but are likely to be included when the reason for the ceremony involves travel, livestock, or the increase of wealth. The first version of this particular song to be published was “The War God’s Horse Song,” a much shorter text.1 Several versions of this translation and translations from other sources have been published since then; it is probably the most widely anthologized of Navajo “poems.”2 This is the third of my own revisions, and I do not expect it to be the last. Of the poem’s dozen or so appearances in print, only my “The War God’s Horse Song” has been accompanied by the Navajo text, but the Slim Curly version, as recorded in Navajo by Father Berard Haile, can be consulted in three repositories listed by Leland Wyman in Blessingway.3 In this respect the “Horse Song” does better than most Native American texts in the anthologies, where no recourse to the original in the native language exists at all, and we are dependent on what was gleaned from an interpreter and then filtered through the poetic sensibilities of somebody who is usually quite outside the culture. What follows thereafter, as subsequent editors “rework” the text from earlier translations, is increasing opacity regarding the original meaning 246

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of the song and the compounding of errors that is inevitable if there is no possibility of reference to an original Native text. In the case of the “Horse Song,” there are at least the two texts mentioned above, and another translator can begin by comparing them. There are also several Navajo grammars and dictionaries available, college-level courses in the Navajo language, and sophisticated Navajo speakers who can be consulted. Some of these are ceremonial practitioners who know Blessingway and are fluent in English. An ideal would be to work from the Mitchell and Curly texts with the help of such a colleague, who would doubtless be much interested in the two other Native versions. Still in question would be the poetic gifts, in English, of the practitioner and the new translator. Such a collaborative effort might yield at least enough information to place subsequent translators on firmer ground than usual. In what follows, the commentary is of particular importance in elucidating the meaning of the song. It was provided by Frank Mitchell in response to my questions. In addition, after Slim Curly’s name I give Father Berard’s translations of those phrases in Curly’s version that come closest to matching parts of the song as Frank Mitchell performed it.4 It is the same song but very different, raising considerable question concerning Washington Matthew’s dictum that “if the slightest error is made, . . . the fruitless ceremony terminates abruptly.”5 I include a short section of the song in musical notation to emphasize that this is a song, not a “poem” in the Western sense. I do not give the complete song because, to the Navajos, it is, as a song, a sacred entity with a life power of its own, susceptible to harm at the hands of casual strangers who are not trained in its use. The syllables in italics are vocables, untranslatable text, like the English “hey nonny-no” or “fa-la-la.” Many Native American song texts consist entirely or largely of vocables and so do not appear in our anthologies. Since Dell Hymes’s seminal article “Some North Pacific Coast Poems,” reference to such vocables as “nonsense syllables” has been obsolete.6 Hymes showed how the vocables are an inseparable part of the structure and meaning of the text. Charlotte Frisbie has given the most thorough discussion of this aspect of Navajo texts.7 In the text given here, the ŋ as in the vocable ŋa is a soft ng, as in doing. The vowels in the vocables have the “continental values.” Vowels marked with an acute accent are not stressed but pronounced with a high tone. Double vowels are long, and a hook under a vowel indicates nasality. An apostrophe indicates a glottal stop. Thus, dlǫ́ǫ́’ is pronounced with a high, Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song 247

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

long, nasal tone and concludes with a glottal stop. The lateral unvoiced l is written ł. The word order in phrases like “Clouds, dark,” are inversions of the usual English usage of adjective before noun. I keep the Navajo word order where possible in order to give the impact of ideas in their Navajo sequence. I cannot do this consistently, however, because in some cases it alters the sense. For example, if I rendered White Shell Woman in the Navajo order, Woman Shell White, it would imply a female white shell. It should be noted too that in the penultimate section the phrases “ever returning to long life” and “therefore blessed” are attempts to translate the two most potent phrases in Navajo ritual.8 One last explanation—about characters and story. White Shell Woman is one of the names of Changing Woman, the principal Navajo creator deity, and Enemy Slayer is one of her twin sons. In the songs about the origin of horses, he hears strange and beautiful voices calling, follows the sound up a rainbow into the sky, and finds that it comes from horses in the house of his father, the Sun. Enemy Slayer describes them and tells of his taking them into his possession, to bring them back to this world. This song, the fifth in a set of seventeen, tells of the journey to the sky and back again. I am indebted to the Mitchell family of Chinle and Tsaile, Arizona, for many years of hospitality and teaching, and to the late Albert G. Sandoval and the late Albert G. Sandoval Jr. for painstaking interpreting. Curt Cacioppo and Brian Swann have contributed close reading and helpful suggestions to the present translation.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. Dane Coolidge and Mary Roberts Coolidge, The Navajo Indians (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1930), 1. 2. For the publishing history and many interpretations of the song, see David P. McAllester, “The War God’s Horse Song”: An Exegesis in Native American Humanities, Selected Reports in Ethnomusicology no. 3 (Los Angeles: University of California, 1980), 1–21. 3. McAllester, “War God’s Horse Song”; Leland C. Wyman, Blessingway (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1970). 4. The material from Slim Curly’s version is in Wyman, Blessingway, 260– 62. 5. Washington Matthews, “Songs of the Navajos,” Land of Sunshine 5 (1896): 197–201. 6. Dell Hymes, “Some North Pacific Coast Poems,” American Anthropologist 67 (April 1965): 2. 248 M C A LLE ST E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

7. Charlotte J. Frisbie, Kinaaldá: A Study of the Navaho Girl’s Puberty Ceremony (Middletown CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1967), 177–79, and “Vocables in Navajo Ceremonial Music,” Ethnomusicology 24 (1980): 347–92. 8. Gary Witherspoon, Language and Art in the Navajo Universe (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1977), 17–29.

Frank Mitchell’s Horse Song

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

One dot below note signifies staccato release; two dots indicate voice pulsation. The E-flat as key signature indicates that the tone system used employs a minor third.

He-neye yaŋa, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song 249

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. With their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [1] Now White Shell Woman, ŋa, her child, since that is who I am, na, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [2] Now Day Disk Carrier, ye, his son, ‘e, since that is who I am, na, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [3] Turquoise Boy, since that is who I am, na, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

[4] The rainbow, iye, where it is blue, wo, they are on it there, iye, now, where it arches over, now where it touches the earth, yiye, closer this way, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. This means, “From where the rainbow arches over, edged with blue, a little way from the end, they are calling me.” His mother told him that sound was a horse. He had asked, “What is that sound? Is that anything bad from battles I have been through lately?” She said, “No, that is the sound of horses up where your father lives.” He was going to his father’s house. The rainbow road went clear up to the place where the Sun’s house was. Before he reaches the end is probably where he heard the horses. [5] Now Boy-Standing-Within-Day-Disk-Carrier, ye, his horses, i’e, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. 250 M C A LLEST E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Sun-Standing-Within-Boy, his horses—it is speaking of the other brother, the Sun’s son who lived up there. Since horses came from up there, it is his horses that Enemy Slayer hears. The Sun’s boy’s horses are calling me. The son of the Sun, his horses are calling. “Standing Within” refers to his mother. Sun’s boy, descended from the Sun, his horses are calling me. [6] The turquoise horses, those are my horses, i’e, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [7] Water jars, dark, iye, being their hooves, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. The little water jar is the horses’ feet. It refers to their hooves. [8] Arrowheads, ye, being the frogs of their underhooves, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. This refers to the arrowhead-shaped part of the hoof, underneath. [9] Mirage stone, ihiye, being their striped hooves, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

CURLY: Its hooves were striped mirage [verse 7]. [10] Now wind, dark, iye, being their forelegs, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [This] means in motion, running hard. CURLY: Its legs were zigzag lightning [verse 8]. [11] Cloud, shadow, dark, iye, being their tails, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song 251

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

This means the black shadows in the sky, coming down from the clouds. [12] Fabrics of all kinds being their bodies, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [13] Clouds, dark, i, with these being covered, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. This means their skin. [14] Sun flare, red, jiye, being scattered over their bodies, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. “Sun flare, red”—this means little bits of rainbow. “Being scattered over their bodies”—the sparks that you can see at night in a horse’s hair. [15] Now Day Disk Carrier, yeye, ‘eye, from before them is shining on them, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. The sun comes up in front of them, way over there, and shines on their hair.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

16] New moons, iye, being their cantles, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. “New moon” refers to his saddle. [17] Sun rays, iye, being their crupper straps, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. “Crupper straps”—leather straps that go around behind, under the tail. You used to see them on saddles in the old days.

252 M C A L LEST ER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

[18] Rainbow, iye, now being their girth straps, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [19] Rainbow, iye, they are standing on it, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. “Standing on it” means the rainbow is its means of power, like electricity in a car. They can start up fast, as when you turn the key in a car. [20] Rain horses, dark, diye, now with their manes streaming down, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Dlǫ́ǫ’́ —anything that travels on four legs. It means “horse” here; níłts ą́ dlǫ́ǫ́ means “rain horses.” And this refers to hair hanging down in a line along the neck, the mane. CURLY: Its neck fringed garment was hair [verse 10]; its tail was drooping rain [verse 17].

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

[21] Sprouting plants, iye, being their ears, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Nanise’ (“it grows up”) means his ears grow up like plants. CURLY: Its ears were reflected sunred [verse 11]; its face was vegetation [verse 16]. [22] Now great stars, dark, iye, being their eyes, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Since stars are always shining so bright at night, horses can see in the dark to where their home is. CURLY: Its eyes were pointed big stars [verse 12].

Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song 253

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

[23] Waters of all kinds, iye, being their faces, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Water from springs and brooks, out of the ground. Some is sweet, some is salty; it is all colors too. Łanáschíín means “all mixed together.” Horses, anywhere, will drink any kind of water, and it won’t hurt them unless it is poisoned. Any natural kind of water won’t hurt them. Sometimes it gets a coating of dust, and horses blow it off. It’s the same way they blow out to clean off the grass they are going to eat, so as not to swallow dirt or anything else that may be harmful. The marking on a horse’s face, the whorl of hair, is a sign of that. It is the guiding point of a horse’s whole being. The bridle is there. They can eat weeds with thorns, and it doesn’t hurt them, or poisonous insects, and it doesn’t hurt them. CURLY: It was eating pollen of beautiful flowers with collected waters [verse 21]. [24] Great shell, wheye, being their lips, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [This] refers to the big kind of seashell that has a lip and little points, like teeth. [25] Shell, white, ye, being their teeth, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

CURLY: Its teeth were white shell [verse 14]. [26] Now flash lightning being their neighing, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Lightning was put into their mouths to bite with. Horses’ bite will hurt. CURLY: Its speech was straight lightning [verse 15]. [27] Music, dark, iye, sounding from their mouths, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. 254 M C A LLE ST E R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Dilì ̨ refers to any sound of a musical instrument. When you are going to make music, you put the instrument to your mouth. When horses were fi rst made, dark sound makers were put in their mouths. [28] Dawn, iye, filling it with their sounds, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [29] Their voices, he, dark seeming, now reach me, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [30] Dawn pollen, iya, lying within their mouths, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. In the early dawn everything new is coming up with it. The horse will receive new air into its mouth to breathe and sound forth, with dawn pollen. It is like when you learn something; then it is in your head, and then you are using it and teaching others with hit. A horse does not know when it is tires or sleepy—they are not made like us. Whatever it was that was put in their mouth is what makes them not feel tired. It is put in its mouth and goes up in its mind so it cannot forget it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

[31] Flowers, blessed, ye, their pollen and dew lying within their mouths, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. It is like a certain food we like: we all eat plenty of that. The horse will always have flowers, pollen, dew, plenty of vegetation to eat. It means they will always have plants and water, and so they will always be lively. CURLY: From it, it was eating pollen of beautiful flowers, with collected waters [verse 21]. [32] Sun rays, iye, now being their bridles, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song 255

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

[33] To my right arm, e, beautifully to my hand they come, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. This means the horses will not be harmed in the future in any way; they will stay well. [34] On this day, ye, becoming my horses, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. It means the same for me. CURLY: If on this day it makes me its partner, I should be winner [verse 27]. [35] Increasing, now, not diminishing, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. CURLY: Always increasing, never decreasing [verse 28].

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

[36] Now ever returning to long life and therefore blessed, my horses, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. [37] Now, since I, myself, am the Boy of Ever Returning to Long Life, and Therefore Blessed, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, neye yaŋa. with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, yehe, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, with their voices, for me they are calling, ya’e, ne’eya!

256 M C A L LEST ER

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Two Stories from the Yana HERBERT W. LU T H IN

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ The Yanas were a mountain people of northern California. Their homelands were the rugged slopes, steep valleys, and upland plateaus that rise northeastward from the banks of the Sacramento River to the volcanic peaks and ridges of the southern Cascades. Mount Lassen is the tallest peak in their old stretch of range, which ran from the Pit River south almost to the Feather River. Modern- day Redding lies just west of their old territory. Yana belongs to the ancient, deep-rooted Hokan family of languages. It was spoken in four closely related dialects: Northern, Central, Southern, and Yahi. (Yahi was the language spoken by Ishi, the famed and so- called last wild Indian in North America.)1 The stories I have translated here come from the Northern and Central dialects and were collected early in this century by the great linguist Edward Sapir. The Yanas suffered early and hard at the hands of the white settlers and miners. Perhaps three thousand strong before contact, they were all but wiped out in 1864 in one of the most brutal and comprehensive massacres in California history. Jeremiah Curtin, visiting in 1884, put the number of speakers at a mere thirty-five.2 By 1934 only the smallest handful of knowledgeable persons remained. Today there will still be people—not many, though—who can claim Yana heritage, whose families endured only because the survivors of those times were sheltered and absorbed by neighboring tribes. Although the truth is hard to face, the Yanas no longer exist as a people, and the language itself is extinct. Sapir did his fieldwork among the Yanas in 1907, while there were still a few men and women who could recall the traditional culture and speak the language with authority. His Yana Texts was published in 1910, to be followed by some dozen other publications involving the language.3 Sapir’s work stands today as the richest and most reliable repository of knowledge on Yana language and culture.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

257

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Unfortunately, we know more about the language and the culture than we do about the individuals who told these stories. Sapir’s first consultant was Betty Brown (whose Yana name was C’iidaymiya), a Northern Yana speaker. At the time Sapir knew her, she did washing for white families in the Montgomery Creek area three days a week. That left only four days a week for Sapir, who worked with her, at the then-standard rate of $1.50 a day, through the summer and fall of 1907. Betty Brown died not long after Sapir completed his work with her. In the time they spent together, she gave him—in addition to the fundamental elements of Yana grammar— three myth texts and a series of charms, reminiscences, and ethnographic vignettes. Her stories are sometimes halting and often confused (Sapir rated her a poor storyteller overall), but her reminiscences are invaluable, emotionally charged re-creations of Yana life and customs. Without them we would know far less than we do about her people. In December 1907 Sapir moved down to Redding to begin work with Sam Batwi (Yana name, Bathwii), a Central Yana speaker. Unlike Betty Brown, Batwi was already an experienced linguistic consultant, having worked as a translator for Jeremiah Curtin in 1884 and then as a narrator for Roland Dixon in 1900.4 After his work with Sapir, Batwi was brought down to Berkeley by Alfred Kroeber to help interpret for Ishi. By most accounts, Sam Batwi was a lively but crotchety old man. He was also a natural-born storyteller, and the texts he gave Sapir in 1907 are full of detail, humor, suspense, and wisdom—stories that convey both the essential rhythms of Yana life and the fullest, freest swing of Yanan verbal art. Sam Batwi’s “A Story of Wildcat, Rolling Skull,” the second story presented here, is a widespread and favorite Native American horror story. In the Yana version of the tale, an unfortunate Wildcat is so disturbed by a bad dream that he acts out the dream in real life, dismembering himself limb by limb until he’s nothing but a skull. (How he is able to do this, and how a legless skull can bound around the countryside so fearsomely, are matters for the imagination. Sam Batwi told Sapir that “when the older Indians first saw the trolley cars of the whites, they compared them with the wildly rushing Pʿu’t!uk!uyā’ or Human Skull.”)5 As Person’s Skull he devours his newborn son and then sets off on a terrible superhuman rampage, frightening or killing everybody for miles around. Then he meets Coyote. Coyote disguises himself as an old woman and somehow tricks the Skull into letting himself be roasted alive in a pit. The story ends with the world restored to order— one of Coyote’s more serious functions, after all—with the people coming out of hiding and Coyote bragging up a storm. 258 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“A Story of Wildcat, Rolling Skull” was the ninth and final text that Sam Batwi dictated, and it would seem he was on a roll by the time he told it. There is even some linguistic evidence to back up this impression. Prosodically the performance is very smooth, with no chafing or champing, as if Sapir and Batwi had finally settled into a working rhythm that transcended the halting, artificial constraints of the dictation. By contrast, Betty Brown’s traditional stories, even the one included here, are distinctly jagged and hard to follow, as if she had been rusty or perhaps intimidated by the strangeness of the dictation process. In her traditional stories it is not uncommon for characters to appear without introduction, for scenes to change without warning, for stories to end without closure and new ones to begin without transition. For example, Betty Brown never actually identifies any of the characters in the story presented here. We only know who is speaking and what their names are because Sapir worked it out afterward— and even then we cannot always be sure. Still, it would be a mistake not to look beneath the sometimes rumpled surface of her words. By looking deep, we may recognize one of her texts for what it is: a rare gem of a story. That gem, “Dragonfly Woman: The Drowning of Young Buzzard’s Wife,” is a strange, disquieting tale, one that has the feel of a tragedy that may really have happened, but so long ago that it has entered the domain of legend. In the story Young Buzzard is chief of his people. It is the time of year to move camp and search for winter food, so he calls everyone together to announce his plans. Young Buzzard’s wife is Dragonfly Woman. She is headstrong, and it seems that something has antagonized her, because she will not take anyone’s counsel: if there’s a dare, she’ll dare it; if it’s forbidden, she’ll do it; if it’s denied her, she’ll have it. Dragonfly sets out with a group that will climb for pine nuts. They come to a river, and she decides to try to swim it. Her companions try to talk her out of it, but she insists, and she drowns. Her body is not recovered. When Buzzard arrives on the scene, he doesn’t know what to do. In his speeches we can hear shock and denial, anger and grief, confusion and despair, all in rapid succession. Finally he gathers his wits and tries to rescue her. He details a group of people to divert the flow of the river, though he knows it’s hopeless. Disconsolate, the people return home and begin their mourning. Now Young Buzzard must confront the girl’s parents. Her mother accuses him of carelessness; Buzzard despairs. It is clear that he just can’t understand why Dragonfly behaved as she did. The story ends with a long, difficult scene in which the mother tells about an alarming conversation she had with her daughter months before—how Dragonfly had had a dream of Two Stories from the Yana 259

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

death and how she had then made her farewells to her parents, cautioning them to fast in mourning and not to weep too much. Is Dragonfly, like Wildcat in “Rolling Skull,” driven to her strange, suicidal behavior by her premonition of death? The very last line of the story is critical to understanding the mysterious dynamics at work here: the mother quotes Dragonfly as having said, “I never thought I should have taken a husband.” Was this an arranged marriage, then, decided against her will? Was Young Buzzard, a chief, perhaps too old for her? Too autocratic, too conservative, too responsible? Or is this her mother once again fixing the blame on Young Buzzard for not controlling his wife? At this remove from the original culture, I’m not sure we ever can know the answer, and in the end Dragonfly’s motivations remain a mystery. But that’s why the story is so haunting. In working with these stories, I wanted to do more than just modernize Sapir’s translations and bring a contemporary slant to the English. Though still with his glosses as my inevitable partner, I have gone all the way back to the original Yana and sought to restore the sound of Betty Brown’s and Sam Batwi’s voices just as they told these stories to Sapir. I have done my best to read the clues preserved in the amber of Sapir’s phonetic transcriptions and found where the storytellers must have paused for thought or breath or dramatic effect—or just to wait for Sapir’s pen to catch up. In Betty Brown’s story the short lines reflect the frequent breaks that are phonetically evident in her delivery. And in Sam Batwi’s story the passages delineated by bullets (•) represent the rests—something like oral paragraphs—in his delivery, which Sapir marked with a period. The arrangement of lines on the page is meant to slow the eye as it follows down the page, to guide the flow of the voice in reading aloud. Punctuation is made to serve a similar function, with commas representing less of a pause or finality than a period or semicolon. I have kept my editorial amendments to a minimum, and I have chosen not to vary or eliminate repeated words or phrases. Sometimes, though, I felt I had to insert the name of the speaker in dialogue or specify the subject or object of an action. Indeed, in Betty Brown’s story almost all the “he said’s” and “she said’s” (but none of the “they say’s”) are added, as are all of the names and dialogue attributions; seven lines, each noted in the text with an asterisk, have been inserted in their entirety. The alternative was to present the story as a play, something it was not intended to be. I was unable to translate some of the place-names mentioned in these stories (and have guessed at others, like “Cross-Meadow Creek” and “South260 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Flowing Salt”). The Yana words and names you do encounter here may be pronounced more or less as follows: Bathwii (BAH-twee), C’iidaymiya (chEE-die-me-yah), K’aasip’u (k-AH-sheep-oo), Unchunaha (OON-choo-nah-ha), Wamaarawi (wa-MAH-ra-wee). The word for “Human Skull,” P‘uʹt!uk!uyāʹ (PUT-ook- oo-YAH), is cited in Sapir’s now archaic phonetic orthography. NOT ES 1. Theodora Kroeber, Ishi in Two Worlds: A Biography of the Last Wild Indian in North America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1963). 2. Jeremiah Curtin, Creation Myths of Primitive America, in Relation to the Religious History and Mental Development of Mankind (Boston: Little, Brown, 1898; reprint, New York: Benjamin Blom, 1969). 3. Edward Sapir, Yana Texts (together with Yana Myths, collected by Roland B. Dixon), University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnography, vol. 9, no. 1 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1910). 4. Roland B. Dixon, “Yana Field Notes,” 1900, Valory Collection, manuscript 70, Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley. 5. Sam Batwi quoted in Sapir, Yana Texts, 125.

Dragonfly Woman The Drowning of Young Buzzard’s Wife 1

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Young Buzzard spoke as a chief does:*1 “Now then, you will all dig for roots— they are already getting ripe. Let us climb sugar pines! We shall move out at dawn. You will all set up camp. Now then, I shall go climbing for pine nuts— they are already getting ripe. All the people will move out there. We shall all set up camp there. There is a good spring. Two Stories from the Yana 261

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Perhaps others will be arriving too. We shall wait for them, what do you say?” There were lots of people gathered, they say. Then Young Buzzard spoke again as chief:* “Now then, let us climb for them. Bring food along! Now then, some of you will dig for tiger lilies. Now then, gather food for winter! You women will probably want to dig instead of climb. If we should succeed in this— well then, we will all get winter food.

2 “I could wade out into that water there,” said Dragonfly Woman, Young Buzzard’s Wife.* “Let’s see!” she said; “let’s go for a drink!” “Do not go for a drink!” said the people.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Why should I be afraid?” she said; “I’m going for a drink.” She saw these logs, they say, bobbing up and down in the water. “Let’s see!” she said. “I could swim across there to the west.” They lost sight of her, they say. They looked around, they say. “Look out, I’m going to try it,” she said. “I could swim through that water.”

262 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“You could not swim through that water!” the people said. She took off her skirt, they say. “I’m going to swim out into that water,” she said. “Just keep watching me.” She swam to the west, they say. There were lots of people there, they say. Everybody saw her, they say. Now then, there in the middle, she sank down, they say. Now then, “We warned you beforehand!” the people said. They just lay there on the bank, they say: her buckskin shirt, her pine-nut-beaded tassels.

3 Now then, everybody cried, they say.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“What are you crying for?” asked Young Buzzard. “She has sunk down!” the people said. “‘Don’t take her near the water!’” cried Young Buzzard, “I told you that! This is all your fault! It would have been better if I had been there instead! Could it be for this that I have come to this place? I’m going to give it up . . .

Two Stories from the Yana 263

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

No, let’s search for her! Please do it— see if we can find her. Let’s try! She was a good person. Run back to get the rest of the people— they should all come here.” Someone ran back to get them, they say. “All right!” the people said. “Let’s see, just go ahead!” Young Buzzard said. “I’m going to try something.” They channeled off the water, they say. “Channeling off the water probably won’t work. You won’t be able to channel off the water,” said Young Buzzard. “Please, what should we do?” the people asked.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Channel it off!” Young Buzzard said. “But I doubt we’ll ever find her. We’ll never find her. She must have sunk straight down, maybe right between two logs. That place is bad.”

4 They broke camp for going back, they say. They all went home together, they say. Young Buzzard lamented:* “No more shall I gather winter food. Now I have done with all of that. Alas! that I was happy once. Is there more that I can do? Then I shall do no more.”

264 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Why did you let her wander off?” her mother asked. “You should have packed some water for the trail. You were foolish.” “I don’t know,” said Buzzard. “I should have packed some water. But she just runs off by herself. ‘Let’s go for a drink!’ she says. I should have been told about that. She was made angry. I am no good. My heart feels grieved.” They all came home, they say. They lay down in the ashes of the fire pit, they say. The men too, they say. Her people, they wept, so they say— all those who had been climbing. They dumped all their pine nuts in the fire, they say.

5

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now her mother told a story:* “A long time ago my daughter told me, ‘Perhaps I shall never enter this house again: I dreamed about my own death. So please, burn up all my things.’ ‘I am afraid of the way you’re talking,’ I told her. ‘We’ll probably be gone camping for two moons while we’re climbing,’ she told me. ‘Maybe I’m going to die. I will never come back into my house.’ ‘I’m going to cry,’ I said, ‘from the way you are talking.’

Two Stories from the Yana 265

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‘Really,’ she said, ‘in the end you will find out it’s true.’” Now her mother wept, they say. “She is dead,” she cried. “Now her hair comes flying back home, comes drifting back home.” Then she went on with her story:* “Long ago my daughter told me,* ‘I will surely have died if my hair ever drifts back home.’ ‘Take along your western mountain skirt, your fringed white-grass apron,’ I told her; ‘swing your pine nut beads around your neck!’ ‘All right,” she said. ‘Now then,” she said. ‘Mother! Farewell! You will not see me again!’

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‘I am afraid,’ I told her. ‘Stay at home! I am afraid for you!” ‘Daddy!’ she cried, ‘Please don’t feel bad; please just cry a little. Father! You have grown old. Mother! Please don’t cry, much. If you see feasting, you must not go over to the next house.

266 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

If you see food over there, please look away. You were happy once, raising me. I never thought I should have taken a husband.’”

A Story of Wildcat, Rolling Skull 1

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

• Lots of people were there, they say, dwelling at Unchunaha. Little Wildcat had his wife pregnant for him. • She bore him a child. The woman gave birth, so Wildcat’s not going deer hunting—she’s bearing him a child. • Said Wildcat, “Let’s go get pine nuts, there’s nothing else I can do but go pine-nutting. • And make your child look pretty.” And then they went east with their child. ‣ ‣ ‣ • There were lots of them there, they say—pine nuts, that is. The branches were loaded down toward the ground, they say. “I’m going to climb up after them here. Let’s get some pine nuts.” “Yes,” said the woman. • Already Little Wildcat has climbed up the tree. • And then he showered down pine nuts—pinecones—then he knocked more pinecones down to the ground. The woman laid her baby

Two Stories from the Yana 267

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

down flat on the ground. She pounded out the nuts down below, while Little Wildcat knocked the pinecones down from up above. • He shouted back down to his wife from above, “Are they big nuts?” Said the woman, “Yes! Knock them all down!” Said the woman, “They are big nuts.” He threw down pinecones. “There!” He threw them down again. “There!” “Yes!” the woman said. • In his heart, they say, Little Wildcat spoke to her, calling down to her from up above: “Hey-héy! • What could be happening to me that my sleep is so bad?” But the woman’s not answering. “There!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He knocked one loose down to the south, he knocked one loose down to the north, he knocked one loose down to the east, he knocked one loose down to the west. “I dreamed during the night while I was sleeping: I dreamed about tearing myself down in pieces. I threw down my shoulder, I threw down my other shoulder; I threw down my thigh, I threw down my other thigh.” • The woman’s not looking up from her nut-pounding. • The baby’s lying flat in its cradle. • 268 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“I dreamed about throwing down my backbone. • I dreamed that I ran all over as nothing but my skull. I dreamed about it.” The woman looked east toward the pitch-pine place, they say. • Blood was dripping down from the pitch-pine tree. The woman put her hand over her mouth, staring at the blood. • The woman was afraid. The woman ran away home. • Wildcat hopped around all by himself up above, nothing but a skull. • The woman ran off without her child. The woman forgot about her child, ran all the way back to her house. ‣ ‣ ‣ • “What could he be going to do? He throws his own limbs down, hops around up above as nothing but his skull. Blood drips down from the pitch-pine tree. I am afraid.” the woman said. “No wonder!” the people said. “Let’s run away; he might kill us all!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The people did: they have already run away, it is said, running away to the south then. They went all the way down into Wamaarawi. They blocked off the smoke hole with a sandstone rock. The people were all crowded in—children, women, men. ‣ ‣ ‣ • Said Little Wildcat, “Huuh!” But the woman’s not there to answer. Little Wildcat’s skull bounded down from above. • He saw his child, gobbled his child right up. “Ahmm!” Little Wildcat said to his missing wife. He bounded back west, came bounding back home to his house. There were no people. He bounded around to every house. There were no people. Two Stories from the Yana 269

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Ahmm! What has been going on, that they have run away? I shall find you.” Then he started tracking them all around, bounding from place to place. He found their footprints, all heading south. “Ahmm! I shall find you.” Bounding southward now, he mowed down trees, bottom oaks. He mowed down bushes. He bounded onto rocks, smashed the rocks to splinters. He bounded south to Red Clay Village, a skull person rushing along. He came on like a strong wind, they say. • He came along like that, they say. • He bounded south uphill to Bear Creek Village, tracking the people’s footprints. Then he came bounding into Wamaarawi. People’s voices could be heard inside the lodge. • “Let me come in! I’m going to come inside,” said the Person’s Skull. • “Keep quiet! Absolutely don’t let him come in!” said the people. • He was not allowed to get in. “Let me come in!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Absolutely don’t let him come in! Everybody just sit still!” “Há-ha-háah!” he said then in his heart, outside. “You people are not . . . not letting me come in.” He bounded off a long ways to the north. And then Person’s Skull came rushing back south across the earth. • Powerful. • He mowed down all the bushes one after another. • He mowed down all the trees one after another. He nearly broke through into the lodge . . . 270 LU T HI N

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

• But they made it too strong. • He bounded to the east, he bounded back from the east; he nearly broke through westward into the lodge. The lodge shook, but it was too strong for him to break down. He bounded south, he came bounding back from the south; he nearly burst in from the south . . . but they made it too strong. People could be heard talking inside the lodge. He bounded to the west, he came bounding back from the west. But it was just like that flint, they say: holding strong. They just made it too strong for him. He lay still to rest; he lay there. “Hey-héy!” Person’s Skull said. • “You have been clever, people!” He bounded up into the air. • He was about to burst down into the lodge from above the smoke-hole door. He hurtled back down from above, but they made it too strong for him, up on top. He bounced back up again.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Look out, I’m going to try it again; maybe I can burst down into the lodge.” He did: he bounded up into the air, he bounded back down from above—but that skull person just bounced back up again. He nearly burst down into the lodge. The sandstone door was already wearing thin, they say. Those inside were afraid. “Hey! It looks like we’re all going to die. It seems he’s about to burst down into the lodge,” the people said. • Little Wildcat bounded back north, downhill across the earth. And then he just lay there like a stone. • “What do I keep trying to burst in for? The house has been made too strong for me.” Two Stories from the Yana 271

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‣ ‣ ‣ • He bounded back north, rushed back as far as East River Side, came rushing back there to his old house. “Oh, where am I going to?” He bounded north, overtook some people, killed those people. Then he rushed on to the north, rushed north, downhill toward SouthFlowing Salt. • He killed ten people. He rushed uphill to the north. It was heard by all the people, they say, his rushing forth. • It was making a wind, his rushing forth. • He rushed as far as K’aasip’u there.

2

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

• Coyote came along from the north past Bone Place. • Coyote had on an elk-skin belt, they say. He carried an otter-skin quiver. • Coyote stood still, listened. “That must be the Person’s Skull.” Coyote said. He was coming along from the north. “I’m going to be crossing his path,” said the Coyote in his heart. • “But maybe I won’t be killed. I have heard about him killing people.” Then Person’s Skull came rushing down from the south. Likewise from the north came Coyote. There Coyote stood his ground, at CrossMeadow Creek. “Hey! What am I doing?” He unloosened his belt, hid away his otter-skin quiver in the brush, hid away his net cap in the brush. • Person’s Skull rushed from the south, they say, getting closer and closer. 272 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

• Said Coyote: “Let there be an old pack basket! Let there be an old fringed maple-bark apron! Let there be a woman’s skirt for me! This could get bad!” It happened: a shredded-bark apron came to him, an old pack basket, a woman’s skirt. “Let there be some pitch, some white clay!” He smeared his own head with pitch, smeared it onto his face. He could just barely see out his eyes through the pitch. • And then Person’s Skull came bounding out of the south. • “I should probably be weeping,” Coyote said. And then he hiked the old pack basket up on his back. Coyote did: he came from the north. Person’s Skull: getting closer from the south.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Héy-héy-héy-héy-héy-héy!” Coyote sobbed. Coyote poked along leaning on his stick. Person’s Skull, he lay there resting quietly, listening to the weeper. Coyote, as a woman, walked right up to Person’s Skull. • Coyote looked at Person’s Skull. • Cried Coyote, “I have heard about your badness in the south. Why do they say you are behaving like that?” Person’s Skull, he spoke. Two Stories from the Yana 273

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

• “I was dreaming,” he said to Coyote, “about having had a child born for me. I dreamed about throwing my own limbs down. I dreamed I was bounding about as nothing but my skull.” Then Coyote started talking to Person’s Skull, just whining away. • “Hey-héy! Wouldn’t I like to roast you down inside a pit! Because you are going to die from acting that way, bounding about as nothing but your skull. • I once saw a person act that way, acting just like you because of a dream, and I helped him to be a person again,” he was saying to Person’s Skull. • He’s just lying there, big-eyed, Person’s Skull. • He just sat there as nothing but his eyes. • “I fetched rocks in a basket, I dug a round hole, I gathered some wood.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Wildcat listened to him, to what he was saying, to Coyote. • “Next, I made a fire down in the fire pit. I put lots of wood on the fire, till it was burning along. Next, I put rocks into the fire, big rocks. And then the rocks were glowing hot. Next I . . . I looked around for some pitch—soft, honey- colored pitch. I mixed in some with old red pitch. Huuh! I smeared pitch around here on your skull. I smeared the pitch smoothly all over it. Huuh! Next, I put you down in the fire pit.” That’s what he said to Wildcat. • “Sssss! Went the pitch, spluttering as it blazed.” “Let’s see you do it to me!” Person’s Skull said. 274 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

• “Then I placed glowing-hot rocks down on top, big rocks. Huuh! And then, Sssss! the pitch was saying. It stretched out, turning into a person again. And then, huuh! He rose up again out of the fire, having turned into a person again.” • It shuddered all over. After that Wildcat didn’t move around at all anymore, being dead already, just as he was about to burst up out of the pit. • “Ahá, hey-héy!” Coyote said, speaking as a man again. “You did not beat me! I have never been beaten any place.” He reached back there for his quiver and bow, threw away his one-time pack basket, threw away his shredded-bark apron, cast them all away. He put on his belt, tying his hair up into a topknot.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Never will I be the one who is beaten!” ‣ ‣ ‣ • Coyote then went south. He went up-mountain to the south, he went up over the crest, he went south, he went down as far as South-Flowing Salt. • Then, going south, he got down all the way to Wamaarawi. There were lots of people in the lodge. “Everybody come back out again!” Coyote said, shouting to those inside. “I have killed the Person’s Skull; I have killed him there at CrossMeadow Creek.” The people did: already they were coming back out again, Two Stories from the Yana 275

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

moving back east, moving back south, moving back west, moving back north. • They have now all moved back on home again, it is said. NOT E

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. Lines marked with an asterisk have been added to the original.

276 LU T H IN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Raven Stories NORA M A R K S DAU E N H AU E R AND RICHARD DAUENHAUER

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Raven stories make up the comic genre in Tlingit oral literature, in contrast to the clan histories and legends, which might be compared to tragedy. Raven is a trickster figure, and in Tlingit tradition the trickster role merges with that of culture hero or demiurge. As the accompanying stories demonstrate, the Tlingit Raven cycle contains both elements, and this combination has frustrated two centuries of scholars. The Boasians, Jungians, Freudians, structuralists, and “other- ologists” have all had a shot at capturing Raven in English, German, Russian, and French, but Raven eludes them all in his liminal romp at the boundaries of everything imaginable. The most significant feature of Tlingit Raven is his dual, if not multiple, personality. In our opinion, Raven is not a god or a divinity, or even a creator, although he is sometimes described as such. Rather, he is a great rearranger of things. Lévi-Strauss calls him a “bricoleur,” a mythic handyman who fixes things up out of cosmic leftovers, and who in so doing makes the world more userfriendly for humans. Thus the stories happen in myth time, and there is usually some etiological component explaining how something came to be the way it is. But as a moral or ethical model, Raven is ultimately a negative example, a good example of how not to behave. He is ambivalent at best in his attitude toward humans and others. Raven is driven primarily by hunger, greed, and lust. He is manipulative and incapable of any honest, significant, or enduring relationship. In Tlingit the stem for Raven and liar is the same. Any benefits to humans and fellow creatures are secondary and accidental rather than altruistic. The stories included here are examples of this. Raven’s personal thirst drives him to steal water, although he also benefits humans and all life on earth by creating streams, rivers, and the hydrogen cycle. G̱ anook suffers mainly a blow to his ego and self-esteem, along with the loss of exclusive rights to water. He now has to share water with all of creation, but he still comes out of his encounter with Raven alive. In

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

279

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

contrast, Mr. and Mrs. Brown Bear die gruesome deaths with no benefit to anything but Raven’s gluttony and greed. Such episodes are grim and sobering examples of the darker humor in the Raven cycle. Other episodes are pure buffoonery, as when Raven loses his beak or nose to gluttony and has to invent an elaborate deception to get it back. Even though he suffers a major setback, he lands on his feet and flies away to further adventures. The themes in the samples here are found in other stories. Raven benefits the people by bringing fire, salmon migration up the streams, tide change, sun, moon, stars, and daylight; but beware the fellow creature who stands in the way of his gluttony and greed. Deer is lured into a death trap so Raven can eat him. Raven flies into the blowhole of a whale to eat all the fish the whale is swallowing, and when the fish are all gone, he lives off the whale’s internal organs until the whale dies and floats ashore, where Raven tricks the villagers into abandoning the carcass so he can eat that too. Raven stories were and are traditionally told to people of all ages. They can be didactic and entertaining for children, but as with all great literature, adults can grow with the stories and learn to be on guard against elements of Raven lurking in others and especially in themselves. Even those stories that are told so often as to become hackneyed (such as “Raven and the Box of Daylight,” not included here) can remain enduring and powerful examples of human behavior and relationships. For more about Raven and tricksters, please see the suggested readings. The stories presented here were tape-recorded in small group performances, transcribed in Tlingit, and translated into English (except for the story that was told in English). They will be included in our volume of Tlingit Raven stories, forthcoming from University of Washington Press and Sealaska Heritage Institute. Willie Marks told his story at home at the request of his daughter, Nora Marks Dauenhauer, with his wife, Emma, present. Katherine Mills was recorded at the request of her niece, Edna Lamebull, director of the Anchorage School District Indian Education program. She told six stories in Tlingit and one in English to an audience of four people. Austin Hammond told his story in the context of a museum conference on Northwest Coast art. The line turnings reflect pauses in delivery. Shorter lines reflect a slower pace, with more pauses. A longer line reflects faster delivery. Katherine Mills’s lines 50 and 112 show run-on grammar, with two sentences in the same breath unit, emphasizing Bear’s gullible eagerness in line 50 and Raven’s fast-talking sales pitch to Mrs. Bear in line 112. Indented lines indicate a continuation of the nonstop breath unit of the preceding line. The physical and cultural setting of the stories is important. The Tlingit 280 DAU E NHAUER AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

people live in southeastern Alaska, in the middle of the largest temperate rain forest in the world. This is a land of rocky ocean shoreline, and Raven stories often open with Raven walking along the beach in search of food. Many episodes take place in the wood-plank clan houses, with a smoke hole in the roof. Many episodes involve fishing and ocean-going canoes. Kinship is a very important part of the cultural context and is used by the storytellers and Raven. The storytellers use kinship for humor, following joking relationships in the culture and establishing a three-way interaction of themselves, the story, and the audience. Tlingit social structure is divided into two halves, called moieties, and traditionally people married into the opposite moiety. Following his mother’s line, Willie Marks is Chookaneìdí, of the Eagle moiety. In line 114 he humorously refers to Raven as his paternal uncle, his father’s brother, of the opposite moiety. In line 97 he teases his daughter about transcribing stories. At the end of his story, Austin Hammond, a leader of one of the Raven moiety clans, jokingly apologizes to the women of the opposite moiety, whom he calls his paternal aunts. Raven stories are the comic genre of Tlingit oral literature and can be told by persons of either the Raven or the Eagle moiety, whereas the clan legends are owned by the clans and performance is restricted. All three of these performances are characterized by audience chuckles and laughter throughout. Raven manipulates the kinship system to establish co-membership with his target and secure a position of trust from which he can deceive his victim. In line 26 of “Raven and Brown Bears,” Raven explains, “Your wife is my aunt through my father” (i.e., his paternal aunt), and in line 29 he calls his fishing partner “my aunt’s husband.” These stories also include stylistic features common to oral literature in general and worth commenting on here. These features are repetition, variation, and understatement. Repetition seems to be a universal feature of oral composition, and all three stories contain many examples. Variation means that versions of the story may differ from telling to telling. For example, kéel, the Tlingit word used by Willie Marks, means either “auklet” or “murrelet.” There is also a tradition of G̱ anook being a petrel. All of these birds nest on remote rocky islands. Some versions have Bear using other parts of his genitalia for bait. Understatement is also universal in oral literature. Storytellers may omit explicit details they know their audience understands. In line 32 Willie Marks, knowing that his audience knows what he’s talking about, is evasive or indirect. Raven brings in dog excrement and smears it on the sleeping G̱ anook. We have supplied this information in the text. But in contrast to his own understatement as storyteller, Marks has his characRaven Stories 281

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

ter doing quite the opposite: in line 53, G̱ anook uses verbal abuse to match Raven’s literal abuse of G̱ anook. On a botanical note, we don’t know the English name of the plant mentioned by Willie Marks in line 107. It grows on the top of cliffs and similar high points. One possible contender is parsley fern, also called mountain parsley (Cryptogramma crispa), but the most likely is mountain fern (Thelypteris limbosperma). SUGGEST ED READING

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Babcock-Abrahams, Barbara. 1975. “A Tolerated Margin of Mess: The Trickster and His Tales Reconsidered.” Journal of the Folklore Institute 9: 147–86. (Good survey of critical theory and very important suggestion of trickster as a liminal figure.) Boas, Franz. [1916] 1970. Tsimshian Mythology. New York: Johnson Reprint. (The classic Northwest Coast comparative study.) Dauenhauer, Nora Marks, and Richard Dauenhauer. 1998. “Tlingit Origin Stories.” In Stars Above, the Earth Below: American Indians and Nature, edited by Marsha C. Bol, 29– 46. Published for the Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Niwot CO: Roberts Rinehart. (Our most recent published work on Raven.) Goodchild, Peter. 1991. Raven Tales: Traditional Stories of Native Peoples. Chicago: Chicago Review Press. (The most recent collection; uses the Tlingit Raven cycle as a departure point for comparative study.) Pelton, Robert D. 1989. The Trickster in West Africa: A Study of Mythic Irony and Sacred Delight. Berkeley: University of California Press. (Good survey of critical theory; suggests that tricksters help humans become aware of their own potential for divinity.) Radin, Paul. [1956] 1972. The Trickster: A Study in American Indian Mythology. With commentaries by Karl Kerényi and C. G. Jung. New York: Schocken Books. (This is a classic study; the 1972 reprint has an introduction by Stanley Diamond.) Swanton, John. [1909] 1970. Tlingit Myths and Texts. New York: Johnson Reprint. (This is the classic collection for Tlingit.)

Raven and Water TOLD BY WILLI E MARKS TRA N SL AT ED BY NORA M AR K S DAUENH AU ER

There didn’t used to be water long ago. Maybe after it rained then there was water 282 DAU E NHAUE R AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

for people to drink. I don’t know exactly where. Now, G̱ anook used to live around Deikee Noow. He’s the only one who has water. G̱ anook is what they call an auklet. That’s what he is. An auklet. He’s the one Raven happened across way out there. Deikee Noow, you see, is far from shore. That’s where Raven’s visiting. He went out there on vacation. That man owns the water. He’s always sitting by it. He sits by the lid of the spring. I saw that island. It’s not long. Was it eventually Raven began to study the situation? He wants G̱ anook to get up from there. But meanwhile G̱ anook fell asleep. While he was sleeping Raven brought in by him something no good [dog mess]. After Raven messed him up he said to G̱ anook, “What did you do? You did something! Yuck! Go outside!” That’s why he went outside like Raven told him. While he was outside, Raven ran to the water. But the cover of the water is on it. Raven Stories 283

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He pushes it aside. He drinks with all his strength. You all know how skinny Raven is. Just the same, he drank how many gallons? While he’s still drinking G̱ anook opens the door of the house on him. “Are you at it again? Are you, you shit-assed Raven? You’ll pay for this!” There used to be a smoke hole, you see. The smoke rises through it. That’s what’s called gaan—the smoke hole. That’s where he flew. Caw! Caw! “My Smoke-hole Spirit, grab him!” G̱ anook said. He was flapping his wings in one place. He just stayed there. But that Raven was white then. He was still flapping his wings. The water is still inside him. Finally, G̱ anook makes a fire under him. With sapwood, the sapwood people used to have, see, he makes a fire there. Raven was still flying in it. It’s tough for him. It was he, it was he, who did godlike things then. Tough. It was for the sake of the people. It was for the sake of the people of this whole world, so they could drink the water. That’s why Raven suffered for it.

284 DAU E NHAUER AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

45

50

55

60

65

70

75

80

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Only when he had turned as black as coal then he let him go. “Let him go now, Smoke-hole Spirit,” he said. He was like a little hunk of coal. He’s flying away from there. These—these dribbles from around his mouth— these are the rivers here. That’s what a river is. Maybe the first one was the Copper River, maybe. He spit it down. But maybe to the North, maybe it was the big rivers he spurted out. Then he named them, “This is such and such a river.” But who was there to transcribe it? Then he named them. This is how fresh water came to be. Raven spit it out throughout the world. But those that fall off the mountain peaks don’t have any lakes at the head. Even so, you can see they never run dry. Where does it flow from, this mountain grass? Perhaps it’s called shaa lukalít’gi. But I don’t know what this lít’k is called in English. That’s what he spun into a wheel. He squirted some water on it. That’s when he rolled it down. That’s why water flowing from a mountain peak flows in a circle. He was the one who made it that way. That’s why it never runs dry. Pretty smart guy, huh, my paternal uncle?

85

90

95

100

Raven Stories 285

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

105

110

Raven and Brown Bears

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

TOLD BY K AT HERINE MILLS

The Raven with the fish tail: he was carrying it around, walking on the beaches. And all of a sudden he saw Mr. and Mrs. Bear. This is Mr. and Mrs. Bear, I’m telling it in English. And he came to the place. Both of the bears were growling at him. They didn’t want him around. And then the Raven kept on trying to be friendly. So, Mr. Bear had some halibut hanging in his smokehouse. And the Raven says to this Bear, “If you want to get more halibut, I have just the right bait for it.” But he didn’t tell them that it was a fish tail. “I have just the right kind of bait for it. Your wife is my aunt through my father. We can go, we can go out. My aunt’s husband, you can go out with me, and I’ll fill up your boat in no time. Then you’ll bring it ashore. We’ll help your wife hang them up, 286 DAU E NHAUE R AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

5

10

15

20

25

30

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

clean them up and everything.” 35 And so he finally convinced the Bear. They went out. The Raven has another sidekick, it was the Cormorant bird. He was sitting behind him [Raven], or up in front, 40 up in front, behind Mr. Bear. And then he didn’t let the Bear see what he was baiting his hook with. He [Raven] let it go down. 45 He was using this fish tail. And then he kept on getting fish after fish until that boat was loaded. Finally the Bear asked him, “What do you have for a bait, anyway? I want to try your style of baiting.” 50 “You wouldn’t do that, you wouldn’t do that,” the Raven said. “It’s very— it’s a very crucial thing.” 55 And so, [Bear said] “Even if it’s that crucial, let me try it. Just tell me what to do.” [Raven:] “You won’t like it a bit. It hurts, [audience laughter] it hurts.” 60 So the Bear kept on begging the Raven to show what kind of bait he was using. And finally the Raven said, “Allllllll right! 65 You have to cut part of your penis out, and put it on your bait. It will hurt you, but it’s just for a little while. 70 It will hurt you.” And so— and so the Bear did that. Raven Stories 287

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He was screaming and hollering. [Raven:] “It won’t hurt any more. So put it on your hook and let it go down into the water.” And so he did. But the Bear died before he caught a fish. That was the purpose. And so he towed the Bear ashore on the other side of the point. And then the Cormorant was saying, “You did something wrong! His wife’s gonna find out about [it] from who I am, I’m going to tell on you!” And so the Raven said, “You better not!” [Cormorant:] “No, I will. I will!” And then the Raven told the Cormorant, “Stick your tongue way out!” And then, the Cormorant did that. He stuck his tongue way out, and the Raven pinched it off as far back as he can reach. And then [Raven:] “Now, talk!” [Cormorant:] “Errrrrrrrr!” Nobody would understand him. So he took the Cormorant and the load of fish back to the lady. And she was so happy that they got a boatload first time. And the Raven said, “I’m gonna cook the stomachs of this fish, this halibut stomachs.1

288 DAU E NHAUE R AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

75

80

85

90

95

100

105

110

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So just throw the bigger ones to me. I’m going to do the cooking while you’re cleaning the fish.” [Mrs. Bear:] “Where is my husband?” [Raven:] “Oh, he’s on the other side of the point. He’s making new 115 halibut hooks because we broke all of ours. He’s going to come around pretty soon, maybe by dinnertime or after dinner.” And so she went to work on the fish. 120 And the Raven, he cut all the halibut stomachs. He put little rocks in them. He heated them. 125 He put the halibut stomach around the little rocks. And then he put it in that boiling water, 130 around the rocks. The halibut stomach was already cooked. And so he called the lady, “It’s time to eat now. People don’t chew my food, they just swallow it. 135 They just swallow it whole. It’s no good to chew my cooking. So you have to swallow it hard 140 just the whole thing.” And so those hot rocks: she was swallowing them right after another. 145 And then he gave her some cold water to drink.

Raven Stories 289

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And then it started to steam in her stomach. And she stood up and running around her stomach was real warm. [Raven:] “Cold water. Some more cold water. It will go away now. Some more cold water.” And she died too. And so Raven brought the other, Mr. Brown Bear. He skinned it and cleaned it. The lady too. And he lived there for a while until he finished aaalllll the halibut and the two bears. That’s the way the story ended.

150

155

160

165

Raven and His Nose

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

TOLD BY AU ST IN HAMMOND TRA N SL AT ED BY NORA M AR K S DAUENH AU ER

Raven didn’t do any deep-sea diving. Even so, this story about it exists. They say he heard about this fat, where people are using it for bait, for jigging halibut. Raven really loved to eat only fat. But even with this he was still thin. He saw where people were baiting their hooks for halibut. 290 DAU E NHAUE R AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

5

10

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

This was when, he went there. The sea, for example, he lifted like a cloth. 15 He went under it. After this he would untie them where they had tied on the bait. Long ago, they only tied 20 the bait on the hooks. Well, people couldn’t feel it when he untied them. 25 When the hooks were pulled up, there was nothing on them. Then as soon as they were baited—into the sea again. Well, after a while, 30 the same thing again. He’s untying them again. How many times was he doing this? Yes, they don’t feel this Raven there. 35 This is when that fisherman is thinking about it. That’s why this bite expert 40 was just the man. They rowed ashore for him, so they say. So once again, when they went to get the bite expert, Raven went down again. 45 Here he was just trying to work on them lightly. But he overdid it. He put his mouth to it as he was removing the bait. That man, the bite expert, felt it. 50 Raven Stories 291

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

As he felt it suddenly he told his hook to get it. This was when that hook caught Raven through the nose, they say. They’re pulling him up. He’s watching the bottom of the boat, just like it’s this ceiling, like here. As he was getting closer to it, he kicked the bottom of the boat. They pulled the line. (Whoever is Raven’s paternal uncle, please forgive me.) He kicked the bottom of it. They pulled the line. All of a sudden it fell into their hands. This nose of his was stuck to it. They didn’t know what it was. When they went ashore all the people looked it over. But that Raven, poor thing, swam ashore without his nose. He carved a piece of bark. He stuck his nose in it. Could anyone guess how it came into his hands? “Visor hat” is what it’s called. He started walking again. He started from the house at the end of town, asking, “Where did they jig the Alien Nose?” So he goes from door to door. “It was caught next door,” they say, giving him the brush off. That’s why he’d start out again. He’d come to another one. “Was it here that someone brought up an Alien Nose?” “No. That was next door.” He goes to all the houses. 292 DAU E NHAUE R AND DAUE NHAUE R

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

55

60

65

70

75

80

85

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Finally he gets here right to the place where it’s sitting. He asks, “Was it here that someone brought up an Alien Nose?” “Yes. It’s right here, over there.” This down was put all around it. That was when he looked it over. “My! Oh!” It was amazing to him, too. “My! This is great! Not too shabby, the way it is.” Just as he was looking it over he pulled out the bark. He stuck his nose back on in place of it. This was when he ran outside. That’s why Raven’s nose— you can see the way it is— doesn’t fit too well there. Well, this is how it was told to me. Please excuse me, my paternal aunts.

90

95

100

105

110

115

NOT E 1. The storyteller uses the English singular “this,” implying a “batch of stomachs.” Such usage is common among Tlingit speakers of her generation when speaking English.

Raven Stories 293

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

He Became an Eagle M . E L E A NOR N E V I N S A N D T HOM A S J. N E V I N S

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ “He Became an Eagle” is a story about desire, transformation, journeys between worlds, marriage, separation, and loss. It is set among the Western Apache people “in the old days,” when people lived in mobile village encampments across the mountains of Arizona and New Mexico. Apache marriage conventions required that husband and wife come from distantly related clans, each associated conceptually and sometimes physically with different places on the landscape. In this context marriage often involved spanning geographic as well as conceptual distance between the families of husband and wife. No doubt this story speaks to some aspects of that experience. Paul Ethelbah, who lives on the White Mountain Apache Reservation in eastern Arizona with his wife, Genevieve Ethelbah, and family, performed the story in 1998. An elder now, Paul Ethelbah spent a good deal of his young life on horseback, first as a cowboy and then working for the tribe’s forestry department managing cattle herds and forest resources. But at the center of his life is his role as a dighíń (dee-yin), or “holy man,” performing Apache healing ceremonies for those who ask it of him. Paul Ethelbah began his long training in Apache verbal traditions at a young age when his verbal and intellectual gifts were recognized and encouraged by his father and by elders in his community. Learning Apache ceremonies requires that the initiate retain very long sets of stories, songs, and choreographed ritual actions and be able to perform these flawlessly. Paul Ethelbah describes what was for him a supportive educational environment around his family home and community: I learned a lot of things in my young days, you know, because there’s a bunch of elders sitting around, you know. Sometimes they’d teach me. I was sitting right by my dad. I was little, about eight years old. And they talk and they sing, and then they want me to repeat. So I come out and make a speech like they say, and I sing, the way they do, you know. And 294

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

they look up: “Hey, that guy is good!” you know. All the way around, you know, nine of them sitting there, elders, talking to me. I never got nervous, you know. I know what to do, I feel it, you know. I did that. Recognizing his son’s ability, his father, also a dighíń, taught Paul Ethelbah many stories and songs, trained him in the ceremonies that he knew, and sponsored his training by dighíń in several other White Mountain and Cibecue communities. Today Paul Ethelbah is one of the most important practicing Western Apache dighíń, a status that frequently takes him to other Apache reservations in Arizona to perform ceremonies. While he knows many stories and songs in conjunction with his work as a dighíń, none of these is likely to appear in print because their use is restricted to very particular, ceremonially defined contexts. The story presented here, “He Became an Eagle,” is one that would be told in a more relaxed home environment, though still proceeding according to certain formalities. Paul Ethelbah describes the protocol followed when he was a young adult: “If we wanted a story from my dad or my mom, we usually get together and make arrangements for what day we should get together and let my dad or mom tell us a story. It would be a legend. And we have to pay them to do that too [i.e., bring groceries, something for them], so that way they are willing to do it. So, that’s how we used to do it.” This is the environment in which “He Became an Eagle” and other, similar stories would be told. Today, however, the conditions of storytelling and prevalence of this kind of storytelling performance within Western Apache homes have changed. Genevieve Ethelbah is roughly ten years younger than Paul and describes herself as typical of many people her age in being familiar with these kinds of stories but not enough to perform them confidently: “And beginning with me, my age group, I don’t think we know how to tell stories like this anymore. I don’t know a story of my own. These are all Paul’s stories. I don’t have any. I just remember bits of it here and there but not a complete story.” There also appears to be less demand for these kinds of stories from the younger generations. Paul Ethelbah said he hadn’t been asked to tell this story for about fifteen years. Many Apache people link the scarcity of stories like this and the requisite knowledge to tell and understand them to a profound difference in Apache language fluency between older and younger generations and to changes accompanying this difference in the language used in everyday life. While most adults over the age of twenty-five speak Apache fluently, many perceive a precipitous drop in fluency among young school-age kids. He Became an Eagle 295

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

For example, as we were working on the translation together, Genevieve Ethelbah commented,

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

A lot of these words I guess were just everyday words at one time, but now we don’t talk like that too. That’s why it’s hard to translate it. We throw in a lot of English words to make it easy for us to talk. Then, now we try to talk with our kids and we have to talk English with them and that’s hard. And we can’t tell stories like this to them because it loses the meaning, or the fun part in it, the joke in it, you know. It loses that as you try to speak it in English because it’s meant to be told in Apache, I guess. It has more meaning in Apache. We can’t even tell our grandkids stories like that anymore. They don’t understand. They don’t speak the Apache language. It’s just sad. She notes that this drop in fluency is not across the board. Families are different, and there are differences in perceived fluency among different communities: “I think, and good for them, more people in Cibecue speak Apache. Here, I don’t know what our problem is. My grandkids spoke Apache but later on picked up English on their own, and now they don’t speak Apache anymore. My niece is married out there, and all her kids speak real good Apache.” Many people were involved in the preparation of this manuscript. The central contributor is, of course, Paul Ethelbah, who knows the story and has license to perform it. He performed “He Became an Eagle” in the Apache language at his kitchen table to an immediate audience comprising his wife, Genevieve Ethelbah, and two graduate students from the University of Virginia, Tom Nevins and Eleanor Nevins. Also present was a potentially wider audience, anticipated by earlier discussions among the four of us about the desirability of publishing bilingual editions of some of the stories that Paul Ethelbah knows. In the days after the performance, we prepared a rough transcript and took this, along with the tape-recording, back to the Ethelbahs’ kitchen table. There the four of us worked together on the English translation. A year or so later, we worked with the materials generated from these kitchen-table sessions to prepare the presentation of the story for this volume. Acknowledging that translation involves an inevitable loss of meaning and, as Genevieve Ethelbah put it, some of the “fun part” of the story, we nonetheless endeavor to convey something of the beauty and meaning of the spoken Apache in this written presentation. Following Dell Hymes (1980, 1981), we have presented the story in print in a way that mirrors the rhetori296 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

cal features of the spoken Apache. And like Keith Basso in his treatment of another Western Apache oral narrative (Basso with Tessay 1994), we identify the smallest rhetorical elements of the story as narrative passages, which comprise one or more sentences or lines. In the Apache version passages are defined by pauses and intonational contours, and they are bounded by initial particles, final particles, or both (discussed later). To reflect these features in the English print version, passages are separated from each other by an extra line space, and we make an effort, when possible, to include a rough English equivalent of particles as they occur. A doubling up of several particles marks the boundaries between larger divisions or episodes within the narrative, and these are marked by section symbols (§). Paul Ethelbah makes regular use of particles, which act as a kind of punctuation. Many have meanings very similar to “and then,” “and so,” or “from there.” But some particles are notoriously difficult to translate inside the text without disrupting its narrative flow because they convey understandings that have no comparable shorthand equivalent in English (see, for example, Young and Morgan 1948; Pepper 1993). For example, léni (lenny), “it’s said to have happened,” conveys the sense that this is something people know, not from seeing it around them today but from stories about a time and place removed from the present here and now that people know about only through generations of storytellers. A related particle, shą’ (pronounced “sha,” with the a pronounced quickly through the nose and ending abruptly with a sharp closure of the glottis) is peppered throughout the narrative, often employed just before the speaker introduces a new point of focus. Outside of storytelling contexts this particle conveys the sense that the speaker is not speaking from personal experience or basing what he says on the surety of patterns of everyday life but is describing something that has potential or hypothetical reality. As it is used here, the particle indexes the relation of the story as a whole to the everyday life of its listeners as well as the relation between the two realities described in the story between the life of people on this earth and that of the Eagle People in the sky. The repeated movement from one of these narrative scenes to the next, and between the story and the everyday life of its listeners, implies a relationship of similarity between what are different places constituted in very different ways. These relationships are crucial to the motivations of the characters described by the narrative. More than a simple story, the tale is an intellectual exercise, replete with cosmological and philosophical meanings. It is addressed to the fascination of the unknown and the desire to transgress He Became an Eagle 297

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

the boundaries encountered in the course of ordinary experience. What motivates the tale’s protagonist is curiosity, aroused by stories he has heard, which has the ability to elevate him from his usual universe of experience to another, very different one. The story starts off by drawing a contrast between the world of a man and his people, who live on the surface of the earth, and the Eagle People, who live, it is said, on the surface of the sky. The man is curious about this sky world of the eagles and inquires of all around him how he might find his way to this place. He finally approaches one of his people’s elders. After hearing his questions, the elder instructs him to lie down at a spot were the river flows over a sandy bank and at this place between water and earth to pray to be transformed into an eagle. This he does, and after repeating his prayer four times he effects his transformation and begins to soar upward. He flies, as the story is careful to point out, in the manner of the eagle, wheeling through the sky in four circuits. After the last circuit, he comes to a door made of black obsidian, the passageway to the east. The people who live there open the door for him, and he passes through, completing the first leg of his journey. There he spends the night. The next morning he resumes his journey, making his way to the turquoise doorway to the south. Once there, he passes through and once again spends the night. In a similar fashion he continues through the remainder of his journey, coming next to the red shell doorway of the west and finally to the white shell doorway to the north. After passing through the last doorway, he finds himself among beings he recognizes as people. These, he concludes, must be the Eagle People and the place where he has found himself is the land of the Eagle clan. After spending some time with the Eagle People, he finds that they are at the mercy of what to him are fairly innocuous hazards—tumbleweeds and wasps. He confronts these threatening presences and quickly routs them. The Eagle People marvel at his display of unnatural strength and masculine virtue. No doubt as a result of his good deeds, the Eagle People welcome him among them and soon have him married to one of their own daughters. The man and his new wife have a child together and in time decide to return to visit the man’s family below the sky world of the Eagle People, in the human world. Just as the man had done several years earlier, they lie down at a place where water flows against a riverbank. They pray, are transformed, and fly through a hole in the ground into what the people below think of as the sky. Downward they fly, traveling in reverse the path the man had previously 298 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

followed. Over the next four days they pass from north to west and south and finally to the eastern doorway and then find themselves at last on the surface of the human world. Transformed into human form, the couple and their child are greeted by the man’s family, who ask him where he has been these past years. The couple lives with the man’s family until such time as the wife decides she must return to her people. The man states that he must stay with his people, and they part. The woman returns to her home, where she tells her people of her time among the people below. After some time, however, she decides to return to the human world to see her husband. She and her child transform themselves and once again descend to the earth. The woman inquires after her husband, only to learn that he has died. Deeply saddened, she spends four days with her former affines, a period of time that marks the ending of their relationship to one another. She and her child return sadly to her family in the sky. While consoling her, her family observes that her time on earth has brought her much sadness. Along with its air of contemplative melancholy, part of the attraction of the story is the attention it pays to the processes by which first the man and later his wife and child travel back and forth between the human and the eagle world. Anthropologists have often noted that in many Native American cultures animals are considered to be, at least in some sense, kinds of people (Brightman 1993; Fienup-Riordan 1990, 167–91). A given species of animals, such as the eagles of the story, by virtue of their “eagleness,” perceive a world unique to themselves, and it is in this world that they seem to one another to be persons, much in the manner humans do. In this story we discover that some individuals are capable of moving between the different worlds that humans and eagles respectively occupy. This wonderful ability allows the unnamed human protagonist to discover for himself what kind of place it is where the eagles fly. Another striking feature of the story is the importance of four—in the form of the four directions, the four prayers uttered by the man, and the four circuits of the sky the man flies through to pass from one gateway to another on his way to the eagle world. Each of the four directions is always associated with a quality that is both color and substance: black obsidian in the east, blue turquoise in the south, red shell in the west, and white shell in the north. The symbolic power of four and the associated power of repeated sunwise, circular movement obtains from the way in which these images evoke ideas concerning the place of human life in the larger cosmos. The place of the individual person is always situated at the crossroads of He Became an Eagle 299

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

two movements: the sun’s passage from east to west and the shifting preeminence of north and south signaled by the change of seasons. In Apache religious thought, this holy tetrad of paired cardinal points is understood to map not just the place of the person on the landscape but also the place of life in a larger encompassing reality. The cyclicity described by the passage of days into seasons is a metaphor for both the finitude of individual lives as they progress from birth to youth, maturity, and old age and the importance of this progression to the infinitely regenerative power of life itself. Considering this, it is not surprising that the characters in the story must move through the domains of each of the four directions in order to effect the transformations necessary to their journeys between worlds. But the story Paul Ethelbah has related is not an adventure tale, and it concludes with an obliquely cautionary message. The ability to literally move between worlds leads to a relationship that ultimately ends in sadness. Curiosity drives the characters of the story to break through the barrier separating earth and sky, but the joining that is the result of this cannot overcome the need of the human man for the world he was born to and of the Eagle woman for hers. The relationship of the two was possible and even desirable to them and their families, but it was not in the long run sustainable. The story does not pass judgment on the efforts of the man and his wife; it only lays bare the consequences of them. What curiosity leads to may seem at first to be remarkable, but in the end humans and eagles cannot easily inhabit each other’s worlds. The passage from one world to the other can be a lonely journey, as the characters of the story discover, that separates as it illuminates.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

SUGGEST ED READING AND REFERENC ES Basso, Keith. 1970. Cibecue Apache. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston. —   . 1996. Wisdom Sits in Places: Landscape and Landscape among the Western Apache. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Basso, Keith, with Nashley Tessay Sr. 1994. “Joseph Hoffman’s ‘The Birth of He Triumphs over Evils’: A Western Apache Origin Story.” In Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann, 636– 56. New York: Random House. Brightman, Robert. 1993. Grateful Prey: Cree Human-Animal Relationships. Berkeley: University of California Press. Farrer, Claire R. 1991. Living Life’s Circle: Mescalero Apache Cosmovision. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

300 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

—   . 1996.Thunder Rides a Black Horse: Mescalero Apaches and the Mythic Present. Prospect Heights IL: Waveland Press. Fienup-Riordan, Ann. 1990. Eskimo Essays: Yup’ik Lives and How We See Them. New Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press. Goddard, Pliny E. 1920. While Mountain Apache Texts. American Museum of Natural History Anthropological Paper, vol. 24, pt. 4. New York. Goodwin, Grenville. 1942. The Social Organization of the Western Apache. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. —   . [1939] 1994. Myths and Tales of the While Mountain Apache. Reprint, with introductions by Elizabeth Brandt and Boni Lavender Lewis, Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Hymes, Dell. 1980. “Particle, Pause, and Pattern in American Indian Narrative Verse.” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 4 (4): 7– 51. —   . 1981. “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Opler, Morris. [1969] 2002. Apache Odyssey: A Journey between Worlds. Reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. —   . [1941] 1996. An Apache Lifeway. Reprint, with a new introduction by Charles R. Kaut, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Pepper, Mary. 1993. “Particles in Northern Athapaskan Languages.” Meta 38 (1): 8–100. Young, Robert, and William Morgan. 1948. The Function and Signification of Certain Navajo Particles. Phoenix: Phoenix Indian School, Educational Division, United States Indian Service.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He Became an Eagle PE R FORM E D BY PAU L E T H E L BA H T RA N S L AT E D BY M . E L E A NOR N E V I N S , T HOM A S J. N E V I N S , PAU L E T H E L BA H , A N D GE N E V I E V E E T H E L BA H

A man was living with a village of people here on the earth’s surface. From here he heard people say that eagles live in a similar way up in the sky. “Where the eagle circles through the four directions, that is the home of the Eagle People.”

He Became an Eagle 301

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

That’s what people said; they would tell stories about it. § And so then, the man started talking like this: “How is it possible for me to go over to where the eagle lives?” He started asking many questions like that. The elders, there, he was continually asking them questions about it. “I want to go where the Eagle People live. People say that they live in the sky; so how is it possible for me to go over there?” he would talk to them like that. Well, he goes to this elder and talks to him about it. This elder says: “Well, if you really want to go there, there is a way,” and he tells him how to do it. §

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Following these instructions, the man goes to the river’s edge, to where the current has left its path in the soft sandy soil. He rolls around in this sand praying: “Let me become an eagle.” He prays like this four times while rolling in the sand. And then, following this, as he was told, he becomes an eagle. He becomes a golden eagle. At this point, transformed, he gets up in the manner of an eagle. And flies from there as an eagle flies. Upward from that place, circling, circling, circling, circling.

302 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

§ From there, farther on, to a place with an obsidian passageway, just as he was told, a doorway was there, as he was told, an opening in the blackness, a passageway to that world was there. And then, as he was told to do, he asks the people who are there: “Is this the way to where the Eagle People live?” this man says. “Yes, go on through here, the path goes through this door,” those people tell him. And from there they open the way for him, he passes through this doorway.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And once through, he spends the first night of his journey there. After that first night, the next morning, he flies as an eagle flies once again. He flies, circling along the path of the sun: upward, upward, upward, and upward. He is flying as the sun moves along its arc across the sky. Flying down, down, down, following the sun as it goes down. And from there he comes to a turquoise passageway. And again, the people let him through. And he again spends the night.

He Became an Eagle 303

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

From there, the next day he starts flying again as the eagle flies, circling, circling, circling, circling. He comes to a place where there is a passageway made of red shell, where again a doorway is opened for him, and again he passes through. From there, he spends the night in the same way, for the third time during his journey. The next day he again starts flying as the eagle flies, circling, circling, circling, circling. From there he comes to a place where there is passageway made of white shell. The people there open the way for him, and he passes through.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And then, he spends his fourth night over there, having passed through the white place. And in the morning, here he sees people living all around there, they say. These people living there, they are Eagle People, the Eagle clan. They are living just everywhere around there. He had finally made it to them. § And then, he starts to make his living among them, according to their ways. And so, time passes. He’s been living with them there for two years, it’s said. And it happened to be that there were things called “tumbleweeds” that were being blown around all over the place. 304 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

It happened to be that if Eagle People are hit by one of these, they are killed, they say. If the tumbleweeds hit them, they are killed, they say. This is how it was there, and then he arrived. And so, this man, he goes to them and jumps up and down on these tumbleweeds that were rolling around, flattening them out. He completely flattens them out. And in doing so he makes it much easier for the Eagle People to live. After what happened there, people had seen what he did, and so: “Truly, this is a strong man!” “Truly this is a powerful man!” they said to one another about him. “We are proud of him.” they said, it’s said. § From there, as more time passes, It turns out to be the same with wasps, when Eagle People are stung by them, they are killed.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So he pulled out a bunch of grass, and as a great many of them flew at him, he used it to knock them out of the air, it’s said to have happened. He knocks down great numbers of them, killing them, it’s said, with grass. Now, when an Eagle person is stung by a wasp it kills him; but not for this man, if he is stung, it’s no problem. So he really killed them all, it’s said. § And so from there, after more time has passed, A man who lives there announces that he wants to give his daughter to this man in marriage: “You and my daughter should become married to one another. You are truly a man of great strength. He Became an Eagle 305

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

You are a man who inspires good will. You have shown yourself to be a man of truly great strength. You can bring happiness to this place. Marry my daughter,” he says to him, talking about what he hopes for them. After this, they got married, it’s said. § From there, after they were married, one year passes. A child is born and lives with them there. “Let me take you back with me to the earth’s surface,” he says, hoping to persuade her. “I want to go back there.” His wife: “I also want to know how it is over there.” this is what she says to him. “So, let’s go then,” she says in agreement. §

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

From there, the three of them go to the river, to the sandy riverbed along its edge, praying in just the same way as he did before. Here they roll around and around in the sand. And they become eagles; his wife turns into an eagle, and their little one too. § And, from this, they fly in the manner of eagles, circling down through an opening in that earth, flying down through it. Flying down, they come to the white shell passageway. It is opened for them, and they pass down through. Down from there, they spend the night.

306 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The next morning they fly down through white shell earth, flying in the manner of eagles, circling down, circling down, circling down, circling down, falling, falling. Then they come back to what must be this same red shell passageway.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

From there, just down from this, they once again spend the night. The next day they take off flying, through the red shell earth, flying in the manner of eagles, following the arc of the sun, circling, circling, circling circling, following it down, all day. There they fly through an opening to a passageway made of turquoise. From there they again spend the night in the same manner as before. The next day they take off flying again, through the turquoise earth, flying, flying, circling, circling, falling downward for the rest of the day. And then an obsidian passageway is opened for them, and they pass through. From there they again spend the night. The next day they fly again in the manner of eagles, through the obsidian earth, circling down, circling down, in this manner circling down to that very cave into which the sun sets here on the earth’s surface.

He Became an Eagle 307

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so, after the fourth day of their journey they make it to the earth here, it’s said. From there they roll around in the sand made soft by the currents at the river’s edge, and they turn back into people. And as people, the three of them start off from there, to find where his family is living, to visit his father where he lives. § At a certain point they come to where his father has been living. “Hey, a long time ago you went away from me, my son. Why did you go like that?” His father wants to hear him talk about how he has been living. “I left so that I could go to where the Eagle People live. This earth is one of many. I have lived over there,” he said, wanting to tell him all about it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And then, his father: “We cried over you because we didn’t know what had become of you, and now the three of you have come to us.” § And so, from there, time goes by. His wife was living with his family on his earth according to their manner. “I would like to go back with my child, to where my Eagle People live, I would like to go live with them again,” she said to him. “Even though you are both dear to me, as for me, I will stay here. Will you two really go away from us?” he had said. §

308 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

From there he went with them to the sandy riverbank where his wife and child rolled around in the sand, and becoming eagles, in that manner, flew off. Sadly, they circled down into the sunset. They fly through a passageway made of obsidian. There they spend the night. The next day, going up, they fly once again in the manner of the eagle. And flying even so, until coming to a stop at the passageway made of turquoise, and the two of them just go through it, at the opening. And so, there, again, they spend the night. From there, upward, the next day, using their transformation to eagles to go upward, using their eagle’s bodies to fly in that way.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

There that red shell passageway, where he alone went through the first time, where the three of them had gone through together, here the two of them went back through it again. There they again spend the night. From here, through this land, they again fly in the manner of eagles, flying back up, flying back up. They go through the opening in a passageway made of white shell. And so from there, again they spend the night. The next day, through white shell earth, they again fly in the manner of eagles, flying back in this way, flying back in this way. Up just right at the place where the sun goes down, flying through that opening they go through the cave there to arrive at the place where they live. §

He Became an Eagle 309

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so, they roll around in the sandy riverbank. From there, they become Eagle People again so that they can go live with her father and mother there, it’s said. And so, her father questions her about it: “A person should stay home. Why did you three leave?” her father said to her. “Truly, I’m staying here at home. We two have returned to you. And when we go indoors, I’ll tell you all about those with whom we have been living. We’ll speak about it many times.” “You speak truly,” her father said; they were speaking like this with one another. And so, time passes, many years go by. And then: “The man who is married to me, I really want to go back to him. And so, my child and I are going to the earth’s surface. In the past you have said of me that I am given in marriage. You have said that I am not doing anything here.” And so, the two of them start off and prepare themselves to fly back over there. Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

§ There: “We two are going back again.” From that place in the sandy soil, from rolling around in the sand, from becoming eagles again, they are able to fly back again in the manner of eagles. There they get up as eagles, and they fly as eagles through an opening in the earth.

310 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

They go back down through the passageway made of white shell. And there they again spend the night. That next day they fly in the manner of eagles down through the white shell earth, flying back toward us, flying back, continuing flying back toward us, still. They go back down through this red shell passageway. From there they again spend the night. The next day they fly back again in the manner of eagles through the red shell earth, down from there, downward, down, flying down to that person. They go through an opening, a passageway made of turquoise.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And from there again they spend the night. And from there the next day they fly down through the turquoise earth, flying back for him, through the passage there. They go through a door made of obsidian. And so, from there they spend the night again. And from there, again, using the next day to fly back through the obsidian earth. Going downward again for a reason, they follow the way downward until they fly again through an opening onto this earth, it’s said. §

He Became an Eagle 311

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so, from there, they roll around again in the sand where river currents have left a path, And from that, they turn back into people. Thus, it came to be that they were once again people on this earth. In this way the child also became a person again too. To find out about her husband, just for this purpose, they went back looking for where his father’s village had moved, to talk to people about it. § And so, from there, despite going back to the very place where they had lived, they have to travel all around before they come to some people who were living there.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

When they come to them, She starts asking them questions about her husband’s whereabouts: “Where is my husband, the one I am searching after? Where is this person, the one who is married to me? They used to live here, they used to stay here. This is where we found them when we stayed with them before.” The woman was talking to people like this: “We have just come for this person, to see how he is doing.” And so, at last, they come to the man’s father, and he was the one who tells them about him: “He has been dead.” And because of that they only stayed there for several days. They spent four nights with them. They had come there because they had loved him. The boy also spent four nights, and his sufferings there were truly great.

312 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“My son, this one has gone from us, he has gone from you. What can we do here? Nothing,” she says to him. Their sufferings were great. And so, from here they stayed over through four days and nights, going through a hard time, feeling down, before going back. Then, “We are not happy here, I am not happy, it is of no use for you two to stay here. You have lived as one of us here, but now go back. You want to do it. Go back because there is nothing you can do for him.” From there: “These two should leave this place where they used to live with him. There is nothing to do, there is nothing but to let the customary time pass.” And so, it was decided that they would stay over for the expected amount of time, and then they would start back. There was nothing else to do but spend four days with them; it would be four. From here, they stayed over four days and nights at that place on his behalf.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

§ And then, there, they started back. They went back to the sandy bank of the river. There they would again become eagles. Upward, flying in the manner of eagles again, up, they just go back. They fly through an opening in the passageway made of obsidian. Right here they spend the night. The next day, they fly upward again through the obsidian sky, still flying around, still in this way.

He Became an Eagle 313

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

They fly through a passageway there made of turquoise. They fly across it, they go through it once again. From there they again spend the night. From here, they fly back up again in the manner of eagles, the next day, flying through this turquoise sky, going on still. They pass through this passageway made of red shell. Again they spend the night there. The next day, they fly back upward again in the manner of eagles, through the red shell earth, and they keep flying. From there, a white passageway, they just fly across here.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And so, they go through it, and they spend once again spend the night there. The next day they fly back upward, in the manner of eagles, through the red shell earth, flying up, aaaahhhh . . . to the passageway where the sun sets on their earth. Thus they return on the fourth day to the village where the Eagle People live. § They roll around in the sand at the river’s edge, and turning back into Eagle People, they just go back home. They go back to where her father and her mother are living. “How is it there is no man with you, why is this so?” people say. “Where is your husband?” “There is no longer such a person.” “How long has it been?” “When did it happen?” they talk to her in this way.

314 N E V I N S A N D N E V I N S

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“There was nothing for us on the earth, so we two came back here,” she says. They were very unhappy about what happened to the man on earth, it’s said. They stood there grief-stricken. “Hey, that’s terrible! What has happened is no good!” They were very sad about it. “For what reason did you stay with them for a while over there?” they ask her. “We stayed with them a while to mourn for this one before coming back.” She told her father’s village about it there.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

From there, here my yucca fruit lie piled up.

He Became an Eagle 315

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni PAUL G. ZOLBROD

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ The accompanying passage comes from a project now underway—an attempt on my part to recast in a viable literary form Washington Matthews’s English rendering of the Navajo Mountain Chant narrative, originally published in 1887 in the Fifth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology. At first glance the effort would seem futile, for on one level it is impossible to extract an essentially immutable printed text from a dynamic oral tradition with any real fidelity to how the narrative once functioned. An ongoing celebration of a story that frames it, the ceremony is part of a complex religious system that remains a mainstay of Navajo life, even as the dominant culture continues to encroach. Like some three-dozen known cognate ceremonies held to prevent or bring about the recovery from the effects of illness or misfortune, it occasions a gathering that is at once secular and religious, entailing song, dance, intricate paraphernalia, and detailed social interaction. This is among the best-known ceremonies because when held in the late fall it provides the occasion for a spectacular fire dance that attracts local nonNavajo onlookers and tourists from distant places. Yet the underlying narrative that endows the ceremony with much of its meaningful power can stand on its own as literature. It tells of a youth’s escape from Ute captors with ample help from the various Yeis, or Holy People—led by the all-powerful Haashch’éélti (anglicized as Yeibichai), or “Grandfather- of-the-Gods”—and of the fugitive’s struggle to reintegrate into his community following that harrowing ordeal. The hero must determine when to act on his own, when to seek help, and how to accept it. As he makes his way, he must learn what offerings the Holy People expect and what arouses their disfavor. The entire community eventually becomes involved, because he must transmit what he learns to others, who will then use that awareness to heal kinsmen who themselves may suffer the consequences of crucial inaction. In short, he acquires ritual knowledge, but along with that, he gains powerful self-awareness and a growing confidence that makes him virtually godlike. 316

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Nothing I have seen in print can duplicate hearing a Navajo storyteller recite such a tale; seeing a sand painting materialize on a hogan floor in preparation for the ensuing cycle of chants and prayers; watching the dancers appear in the roaring firelight; singing the story’s progress through the night; or feasting come dawn on fry bread, coffee, eggs, and green chilies as participants take turns offering closing remarks. Even so, a deep awareness of what the ceremony celebrates can be recovered from the event and the long tradition it represents. Matthews’s groundbreaking publication, with its accompanying description of the ceremony replete with sketches and full- color reproductions of the sand paintings, along with his verse translations of the ceremonial songs, is adequate in many ways. How he acquired the story remains unknown, although I surmise that he listened to various recitations over a period of time, quite likely in Navajo, and then reconstructed the narrative from memory in English. But he wrote it out more as ethnographic data than as poetic narrative. As a result his abbreviated and rather literal translation sidesteps the narrative’s essential verbal richness.1 At the very least it warrants added sensitivity to the leap from orality to print, even if the fixed silence of written prose may displace the dynamic elasticity of telling and retelling. My aim, then, is to adjust the English prose idiom Matthews employed so that the story might survive in a published version whose verbal texture reflects the essential poetry residing within it and honors its outward social function. I could not listen to what was recited to Matthews, of course, but in reviewing his correspondence and field notes, I developed enough confidence in what he achieved to base my revised version on his text, further influenced by fragments I heard both in Navajo and in English and by my participation in ceremonies. As I grew more familiar with this story in particular, with its songs and procedures, and more generally with Navajo culture and its essentially poetic traditions, I became increasingly aware that as much as delineating the action, the story of Dzilyi neeyáni projects a gradually shifting frame of mind. In a sequence of events whose thematic rhythm registers that subtle change, he moves from a state of inner paralysis to one of growing resolve—a theme common to a number of Navajo ceremonial stories—set fully in motion when he acquires the name that links him with the ceremony for all posterity.2 Embedded in that story of transformation and the gathering it frames is no less than a systemic worldview that fuses space and time in seasonal quadrants, aligns the Navajo landscape with the four cardinal directions, and fixes the hero’s learning cycle within that framework. Also subsumed The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 317

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

in its telling are patterns of repetition in speech as well as in song still evident in many facets of everyday Navajo life; a style of delivery with visible counterparts in such other arts as weaving, sand painting, ceramics, and silverwork; an approach to learning that relies on direct, trial-and- error experience rather than discursive instruction; and a perception of how humans should relate to one another, to animals, and to members of the spirit world. Wary of sounding trite and fawningly simplistic, I find it difficult to summarize such things, which I have learned only gradually from years of contact that include field research in Navajo communities; social interaction, especially with elders; participation in ceremonial activity; and classroom teaching on the reservation, which requires as much listening and learning as lecturing. In telling about the story and its full cultural setting, I simply cannot repeat all that I have come to know about Navajo life, any more than I can account in such limited space for the cumulative experience of getting to know the narrative more intimately through years of association with those among whom it endures. I can only try to combine some essence of that lived experience with my broad literary experience to forge a text that approximates the abiding beauty of the story when people gather to celebrate it. I hope it thus becomes one modest example of the potential for North America’s indigenous tribes to alter the way we define our literary past. A precautionary word to readers of a transcribed Navajo text such as this one: the narrative should be read on its own terms, so that standards common to mainstream works do not obtrude, because Navajo storytelling has its own distinct conventions. Incidents occur in series of fours, for example, and movement within a section of space, whether small or large, goes clockwise; variations from such patterns can suggest reversal and disorder. Comic traces can sometimes tincture the most dire circumstances, inasmuch as those involved in rescuing the hero might mock him as he learns. Thus, the Yeibechai occasionally laughs at Dzilyi neeyáni, for example, and the owlmasked figure repeats an interjectory expression commonly used in scolding children, “Shúúh, shúúh!” to get the youth’s attention. Familiar associations in Western literature do not apply: an owl stands as a figure not of wisdom but of admonishment; the whippoorwill resonates differently here than in an English romantic poem; youth is associated almost exclusively with inexperience rather than with physical strength, at least until some kind of initiation occurs, whereas power resides with age. Symbolism functions on an entirely different level in stories like this one. I was once asked if the hole the hero struggles to enter for safety from his pursuers might represent a rebirth of sorts. But rebirth as it might be 318 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

expressed symbolically in a mainstream literary work is not an issue. The issue is spiritual transformation. In other words, Dzilyi neeyáni is enlightened more than he is reborn. Following the subtleties of the Navajo language, the second part of the name given him suggests that his mind is lifted upward as he learns to initiate events, so that he can literally take flight to escape while at the same time learning how to propitiate the spirits and deified animals who assist him. Readers new to works broadly drawn from the oral traditions of the Native Americans should be advised that they are in another realm wherein literature is not only interpreted in new ways but should be defined differently. As I speak of literature when converting a Navajo story to print, I mean to specify only what exists in that medium. On the other hand, I expand the term poetry to include both what is written and what is recited, and I define it more broadly to include that art whose primary medium is language, whether written, spoken, or sung. For my purposes, then, I do not apply poetry just to verse as that word is conventionally understood, or to language deliberately spaced line by line on a page. Loosely speaking, what is seen on the page as verse represents what I call lyric poetry, whose language takes on properties of song, such as rhyme, fixed measures of rhythm, or other such carefully assembled patterns of sound. What appears as prose, on the other hand, I take as a term associated with the way print appears on a line from margin to margin. It designates properties of the conversational voice, which I call colloquial poetry, in contrast with lyric poetry, which is sung or chanted. While transmuted to prose on these pages, a narrative like this one is nonetheless poetic, albeit colloquial. What makes it poetic, whether performed orally or placed on the page, is a set of features drawn from a vast repertoire of verbal techniques that assure its survival. Those techniques ensure that those who listen to it will want to hear the narrative again and again, in the way oral tradition promotes variation over time and across the expanse of space, and those who read it will want to do so over and over. Such a refined vocabulary is needed if the conversion of Native orality to print is to reflect distinctions more peculiar to performance in the donor language and its cultural setting than they would otherwise appear in the recipient language. The numbers at the head of each section in my revision are those assigned by Matthews to individual paragraphs, which I have expanded into cantolike units. That, in addition to the way I have altered his prose, reflects the Navajo ceremonial system, the cadences of its language both sung and recited, conventional storytelling style, and the steady thematic rhythm of the hero’s progress. The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 319

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

$1RWHRQ2UWKRJUDSK\DQG3URQXQFLDWLRQ Although Navajo consonants introduce several unfamiliar sounds and form sound combinations difficult for newcomers to the language, they equate roughly with their Indo-European counterparts, except for two that are rare or nonexistent in English—the voiceless l (ł), which sounds a little like sh as in push, or like the double l in Welsh place-names; and the glottal stop (‘), which resembles the medial clicklike sound in the English expression “oh, oh.” There are only four basic vowels—a as in art, e as in met, i as in sit, and o as in note. However, vowels may be short or long, and length is designated by doubling a letter. A given vowel can take on a high tone. Hence, the second part of the proper name Dzilyi neeyáni includes a long vowel and hightoned one. Vowels may also be nasalized, but I have chosen not to designate those in the Navajo terms reproduced here. NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. I summarize Matthews’s achievement in originally compiling the Mountain Chant text and discuss the narrative as literature in Zolbrod 1997. A modified version of that essay appears in Zolbrod 1998. I explore in greater detail the process and its effects of converting Native American orality to written literature in Zolbrod 1984, 1992, 1995. By way of contrast, see Bahr et al. 1997, especially chapter 1 (3– 31). See also Tedlock 1983, Hymes 1981, and the various essays in Swann 1992. For a detailed inquiry into the history of committing Native American oral traditions to printed English, see Clements 1996. 2. Spencer 1957 provides an early list of Navajo ceremonial narratives along with synopses. Although published nearly half a century prior to this commentary, hers remains the most comprehensive survey. More recent guides can be found in Wyman 1983 and in Levy 1998.

SUGGEST ED READING AND REFERENC ES Bahr, Donald, et al. 1997. Ants and Orioles: Showing the Art of Pima Poetry. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Clements, William. 1996. Native American Verbal Art: Texts and Contexts. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Hymes, Dell. 1981. “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Levy, Jerrold E. 1998. In the Beginning: The Navajo Genesis. Berkeley: University of California Press. Matthews, Washington. [1883– 84] 1997. The Mountain Chant: A Navajo Ceremony. Fifth Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology. Reprint, Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.

320 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Spencer, Katherine. 1957. Mythology and Values: An Analysis of Navajo Chantway Myths. Philadelphia: American Folklore Society. Swann, Brian, ed. 1992. On the Translation of Native American Literature. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution. Tedlock, Dennis. 1983. The Spoken Word and the Work of Interpretation. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Wyman, Leland. 1983. “Navajo Ceremonial System.” In Handbook of North American Indians, vol. 10, Southwest, edited by Alfonso Ortiz, 537– 57. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution. Zolbrod, Paul G. 1984. Diné bahane’: The Navajo Creation Story. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. —   . 1992. “Navajo Poetry in Print and in the Field: An Exercise in Text Retrieval.” In On the Translation of Native American Literature, edited by Brian Swann, 242– 56. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution. —   . 1995. Reading the Voice: Native American Oral Poetry on the Written Page. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. —   . 1997. Foreword to The Mountain Chant, by Washington Matthews. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. —   . 1998. “On the Multicultural Frontier with Washington Matthews.” Journal of the Southwest 40: 68–86.

The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni STORY T E L L ER UN K NOW N

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

29 It is said that on the twelfth day of his captivity, the youth’s Ute captors went out to hunt, leaving two deer skins for him to prepare. They sat stretched across two poles in a small brushwood enclosure close to the tent wherein he was being kept prisoner. He set to work passively, laboring to scrape and rub, rub and scrape, until the sun reached its midday zenith. By then its heat intensified his hunger. So he entered the tent to see if he could find something to eat. There he spied a bag, opened it, found in it some dried meat, and placed several pieces over the coals. He then sat waiting for them to cook. As he watched the meat begin to sizzle, he heard a noise at the tent’s deerskin entrance. And looking up, he beheld an old woman crawling on her hands and knees. Moving sunwise, she passed once round the fire and The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 321

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

headed for the door, saying nothing as she made her way. But as she moved through the entryway to leave, she turned and addressed him thus. “My grandson, do something for yourself!” she addressed him. Having heard what she said, he paused in wonder at this strange vision and what it might mean. Baffled, he rushed through the doorway out of the tent, hoping to overtake his strange visitor, to question her, to learn who she might be, and to determine what she intended by the words she spoke. But he saw no one. He circled the tent four times, gazing in each direction to no avail. Not eating after that unsettling incident, he could accomplish little thereafter for the rest of the day. Occasionally he picked up a stone and rubbed the hides a few strokes. For the most part, though, he could hardly do more than loiter and pace, busying himself only with his troubled thoughts. Who was this woman? Where had she come from? Why did she crawl so? And with her words— “My grandson, do something for yourself!”—what did she mean for him to do?

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

30 The sun set that night, and with its return next morning the Ute hunters filed back into camp carrying an abundance of meat. Approaching the great lodge where the youth’s master made his home, they widened it by moving the anchor pegs at the bottom and extending its base outward from the center so that they could clear a large space therein. Many guests had been invited to gather there that evening to celebrate so successful a hunt—or else to determine his fate. With darkness about to fall, visitors began arriving in great numbers. As they came, the youth’s master ordered his captive to fetch some water. Accordingly, he took two large wicker bottles to a nearby spring, filled them, placed them on the ground at the stream’s edge, and set about finding something to fasten into the mouths of the jars. He did not want to return with half the water having spilled to the ground and be beaten or rebuked therefore by his master. As he did so, he heard what at first sounded initially like a hiss. “Shúúh!” it went, scarcely audible at first and so faint that he could not tell where it came from. He looked around for a minute or two. But seeing nothing and hearing nothing more, he resumed looking; however uncertainly now, he once again set about seeking plants suitable to seal the jars, pacing back and forth but unable to concentrate fully on what he was doing. 322 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

But the voice interrupted him again. “Shúúh!” it repeated. “Shúúh! Shúúh!” And again he stopped to look, aware now that it came from somewhere in the water. But in the gray light of oncoming night he could see only shadows flickering darkly against its surface. Somewhat tentatively, he again resumed his search for stopples and found several low branches of mountain mahogany supple enough to break off and pry into the top of first one wicker jar, then another. But as he set about doing so, he again heard that sinister noise, louder this time and sounding more clearly like that of a speaking creature. “Shúúh!” it repeated. “Shúúh! Shúúh! Shúúh!” Certain this time that he indeed heard something deliberately uttered, he looked again, focusing on a heavily shadowed spot upstream of where the water descended across a bed of pebbles. And instead of resuming his task of sealing the jars, he sat gazing thereat, aware that his heart was pounding in his chest, as just the stream’s muted ripple of water followed the sound of that voice. Until it again broke the silence. “Shúúh!” it cried. “Shúúh! Shúúh! Shúúh! Shúúh!” And now he could make out a humanlike form sitting in the water. While it had the shape of a person, its head bore a mask like that of a great owl, albeit smoking a pipe. And as the youth gazed on it fixed in his tracks with heart beating wildly, it had this to say. “You walk around like someone without sense,” it said. “Someone without knowledge or purpose. Someone willing to let things happen to him as they may. Why don’t you take it upon yourself to do something? When you next hear my voice, you would do well to approach it instead of standing dumb in your tracks as you now do, awaiting what is to happen.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

31 The voice ceased and the owl vanished, leaving the youth with nothing to gaze at but shadows flickering on the dark water, and nothing to hear but the sound of its rippling. So he finished sealing the vessels and dutifully carried them back to the encampment, troubled by that strange encounter and the words that issued from whatever vision it was he had see—“Do something for yourself!” What indeed was he to do? When he returned, he noticed two large dogs had been posted at the door of the lodge, one tied on each side. He observed, too, that three doors had been added to the dwelling in his absence, so that four doors in all now covered the entryway. The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 323

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Once in the tent, he found the lodge filled with Utes, all of them staring at him as he made his way through the door. He also saw four bags of tobacco and four pipes lying about the central fire, one to its east, one south of it, one at its western edge, and one on its northern side, all arrayed in ceremonial fashion. He also noticed a very old man and a very old woman seated at the doorway, one on either side of it. Tied to the old woman, a cord passed west round the edge of the lodge behind the onlookers. Another, fastened to the man, passed similarly round the edge to the east. Both ends came together near the center of the lodge. His master then commanded him to seat himself on the western side, whereupon one of the cords was tied to his wrist and the other to his ankles so that he was now secured to the elderly pair.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

32 Now he feared more than ever for his safety. Surely his captors intended to torture him to his death. As four elders lit the pipes, council among all present began. Long into the night their talk continued in their alien tongue. Listening to this strange chatter he could not understand, and looking helplessly from one hostile face to another, he grew more and more afraid. In his deep fear, however, he fancied that he heard a strangely familiar cry floating through the din of the Ute voices. “Wu’hu’hu’hu’,” he fancied he heard, the voice reaching from far in the distance, it seemed. Whose voice could that be? As he strained to listen and to be sure he indeed heard it, the voice again made its way across the cacophony of Ute chatter, a little louder now and a little bit nearer. “Wu’hu’hu’hu’,” it repeated. Could it possibly be the voice of Haashch’éélti, the Talking God, grandfather of all the other holy people? Not long thereafter, he heard the voice for a third time. “Wu’hu’hu’hu’,” it repeated, now more loudly and distinctly, as if coming immediately from the west side of the lodge. And yes! it was the voice of the kindly old Yeibichai, Haashch’éélti, the Talking God. He recognized that call. Upon realizing as much, he heard footsteps at the door and saw a streak of white lightning bolt through the smoke hole and circle round the lodge over the heads of those assembled. They, however, did not hear what the youth had heard. Nor did they see what he beheld. Nor were they aware that Haashch’éélti, the Talking God, had entered the lodge with the arrival of the white lightning, that he now 324 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

stood astride the lightning bolt, or that he addressed the youth, demanding this: “What is the matter with you, grandson?” he demanded. “Do you take no initiative at any point? Or do you merely sit helplessly as your fate is determined by others? Something you must do for yourself, else come morning you will be whipped to death. That is what the council has decided.” Without pausing, the Yeibichai continued. “Quickly,” he continued. “Pull out four pegs that anchor the bottom of the tent. Then push it open there. Then you can shove things through.” Hearing these words, the youth hesitated. “How can I do that?” he objected. “See how I am bound to my captors.” But Haashch’éélti merely continued issuing instructions, as if the youth had uttered no excuse. “As you leave,” he instructed, “take those bags filled with embroideries with you. And take with you tobacco from the pouches near the fire.” And with those words he vanished. He had scarcely done so before the youth heard another voice overhead, different this time from that of the Yeibichai. It was that of Hooshd
dii the Whippoorwill, who flew down through the smoke hole. “Woo-woo, wheeoh-wu,” it cried in its characteristic sedating way. “Woo-woo, wheeoh-wu; woo-woo, wheeoh-wu; woo-woo, wheeoh-wu,” it called as it circled the lodge four times above the heads of the assembled Utes, then soared back out the way it had entered. No sooner had this happened than a few of the Utes began to nod and close their eyes. Soon others likewise grew drowsy. Overpowered with drowsiness, in fact, they stretched out on the ground and dozed off. Still others stood up, raised their arms wide overhead, arched their backs and yawned, then filed out to sleep in their own dwellings. The last ones to fall asleep were the old man and the old woman to whom the youth was bound, seated to one side of the door and the other, respectively. At length their chins dropped to their chests, their eyes closed, their mouths fell open, and they too dozed. Now fearing no watchers, the youth went to work loosening the cords that bound him. And doing as Haashch’éélti had instructed, he removed four of the pegs that anchored the edge of the tent to the ground. Through the opening made thereby, he shoved the two bags of embroideries that the Yeibichai had bid him take. Then he made his way through the door of the lodge, where he found both dogs sleeping as soundly as the Utes inside now slept. The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 325

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Taking along the cords that had fettered him, he circled round the lodge to the back, where he had put the bags and the tobacco. These he carefully bound with the cords, so that they would make an easily balanced bundle, which he then shouldered so that he could move with it easily.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

33 Just then he heard the hoot of an owl. It came from a short distance south of where he stood. Remembering the words of the owl-like form near the spring at nightfall, he set out in that direction. He did not go far, however, before he found himself atop a steep bluff formed where two branching canyons converged, its walls rising out of sheer darkness below. Thus it seemed impossible for him to venture any farther. Before him lay a dark abyss whose bottom he could not see; behind him were his Ute enemies, who would surely wake soon and fly after him in angry pursuit. So he again feared for his life. However, he spied the top of a tall spruce tree that grew alongside the precipice where he stood, apparently growing out of the canyon floor. For day was beginning to break and he could see more clearly. Even so, he stood indecisively in his tracks as if paralyzed. Until suddenly he beheld Haashch’éélti, the Talking God, who had again appeared and admonished him thus. “How is it, my grandchild, that you stand there motionless?” he admonished. “Are you ever to initiate something on your own? Are you ever to think and act for yourself? Grab the top of that spruce tree and climb down through its branches to the canyon floor!” Whereupon the hapless youth put out a hand to seize the tree’s topmost branch. But it swayed beyond his grasp. Again he reached, this time leaning a little bit forward and extending one arm tentatively to grab it. But again the branch swayed out of reach. Securing the bundle on his back so as to move more freely, he lifted his other hand in an effort to guide the branch into the hand of his outstretched arm. To no avail, however, for the tree’s topmost bough again bent away. “See, my grandfather,” cried the youth. “It moves away from me. I cannot reach it.” In desperation he stretched both arms as far as his balance would allow and inclined his body forward even more. And with his doing so the kindly Yeibichai flung a bolt of white lightning around the tree’s topmost stem, as if it were a lasso ready to fling around the neck of a horse the way Navajo 326 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

cowboys now do during roundup time, thus drawing its high branches within the youth’s grasp. “Now descend,” he instructed the erstwhile prisoner. “And when you reach the bottom of the cliff, take four sprigs from the tree, each from a different lower branch. One branch must extend to the east; one must extend southward; one must reach toward the west; and the remaining one must reach northward. For you may well need them in the future.” Doing what he was told, the youth made his way down the tree to the canyon floor, where he took the four sprigs as he had been instructed, and he placed them under his clothing.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

34 When he reached the foot of the cliff, he found Haashch’éélti waiting for him. But at the same time he heard a noisy clamor. At first it seemed to come from the cliff ’s ledge overhead whence the youth had made his escape. But it grew louder and louder from moment to moment, and seemingly nearer at hand. As he listened, the fugitive recognized the angry shouts of human voices. The Utes had apparently awakened to the discovery that their prisoner had escaped. Now they were in spirited pursuit. “Your enemies are after you,” advised the Yeibichai then. “But yonder on the far side of the canyon do you see some small holes? They are the doors of a dwelling of mine down here, and inside you can hide,” he advised. “But you will need my help getting there,” he added. “Large rocks and fallen trees have strewn the canyon floor,” he advised. “So you would have a hard time trying to make your way over them by foot. But I can make it easy for you to get there. As for you, you must learn to determine when to act on your own and when to expect help from the Holy People.” Whereupon he inhaled deeply and then blew a powerful breath. Instantly a great white rainbow spanned the canyon floor. Anxious to get across now that he heard the voices of his pursuers, the fugitive tried to step on it. But first his one foot then the other sank shin deep into its luminescent dust, and he found himself going nowhere, all the while hearing the clamoring voices of his pursuers. Watching him struggle so, Haashch’éélti merely stood alongside him and laughed at his fruitless efforts to mount the rainbow’s shimmering nothingness. But after he had made sport enough of the youth’s gyrations, he again drew a breath and blew hard. At once the rainbow’s powdery glow took on The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 327

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

the substance of hard ice, and the two of them crossed easily to the canyon’s far wall. Upon reaching it, the Yeibichai pointed to a small hole therein, saying, “This is the door to my lodge.” He said, “Go in.” All the while the youth could hear the angry shouts of his pursuers. Their voices rang in his ears, so near at hand were they. Surely they had descended to the canyon floor, where they had picked up the fugitive’s trail, and were now somehow making their way across to this side. It would not be long until they spied him. Terrified, he tried to wiggle his way into what he considered the largest of those small holes. But indeed he could barely poke his head into it, so narrow was the passage. And as he struggled, Haashch’éélti again began to laugh. The more he struggled, in fact, the harder the laughter became. As he watched the youth thrust his arms into the hole and try to widen it with his shoulders, the Yeibichai slapped his hips with glee. Meanwhile, the angry clamor of the pursuing Utes grew louder and louder still, so near now that they seemed to be distinctly upon him. Any second, he feared, one of them or another would grab his feet and pull him away from the hole. Having laughed his fill by then, Haashch’éélti again inhaled deeply and blew hard at the small hole, which instantly enlarged, and through it they both easily passed, making their way along a passage yielding three rooms and stopping in a fourth. Once there, the Yeibichai took from the youth’s back the bundle he had placed there before descending the tree down to the canyon’s bottom. The Holy One then opened the bags and withdrew from them an array of beautifully decorated clothing. He withdrew a pair of moccasins; he withdrew a pair of long fringed leggings; he withdrew a finely crafted shirt; he withdrew a pair of eagle feathers. He arrayed himself in these and went out, leaving the fugitive alone in the cave. No sooner was the Yeibichai gone when the clamoring voices of his pursuers outside resounded through the passageway, their angry shouts lasting for a long, long time, until at last they died away. Perhaps they had lost the trail of their escaped prisoner; and after searching the vicinity and not finding him, they now looked elsewhere, likely led away by Haashch’éélti, the crafty Talking God. Once it was silent, the Yeibichai returned, assuring the youth that he could now leave. “Your enemies have gone,” he assured him. “You can safely go forth and begin making your way back to your people.

328 ZOL B ROD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“But before you go, you must accept the name Dzilyi neeyáni, or Enlightened in the Mountains, inasmuch as you will be helped by various other Holy People along the way and that you will learn amply from them. “They will protect you against further danger; they will instruct you as to what you must do and must not do; they will teach you songs; they will show you what sacrifices you are to make and how you must do so. And all that you learn from them you must take back to your people.” So, taking a tanned elk skin to cover his back and a pair of moccasins to protect his feet, the fugitive set out from the cave, eager to rejoin his family in the aftermath of this ordeal. He was now able to make his way confidently, as ready to act on his own as to obey, it is said.

The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni 329

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Red Swan MONIC A MAC AULAY AND MARIANNE MILLIGAN

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Menominee is an Algonquian language still spoken by a small number of elders on the Menominee Reservation in Wisconsin. This story was told to Leonard Bloomfield in the early 1920s by Nyahto Kichewano (Nayāēhtow in Menominee) and published in Bloomfield’s Menomini Texts.1 Unfortunately, Bloomfield does not tell us anything about the narrator, beyond making the point that none of the speakers with whom he worked spoke English well. Bierhorst describes Red Swan as “one of the most characteristic of Midwest myths, told by Algonkians and Siouans alike,” although the published versions that we have been able to find differ in significant respects from the one presented here.2 Much of what transpires in the Menominee version is found in the Ojibwe and Fox versions with which we are familiar, but this version ends where the others begin a new episode. The part that all the versions share (and which is the entirety of the Menominee version) proceeds as follows: There is a set of brothers (eleven, in the Menominee tale). The youngest spots a red swan in a lake and tries to shoot it. After failing to hit it with normal arrows, he takes arrows from someone’s sacred bundle (his oldest brother’s here) and with those is successful. The wounded swan flies off, and he pursues it. On his journey he stops at a number of villages and marries a woman at each one. Eventually the swan leads him to the house of an old man, who feeds him with food that magically replenishes itself as soon as it is eaten. The old man asks him to retrieve something variously described as his head (in the Menominee version), his scalp, and his hat, which has been stolen. The hero transforms himself into a variety of things (first into plant down and then into a small dog in the Menominee version), so that he can sneak into the enemy’s territory and recapture the head/scalp/hat. He brings it back to the old man, who rewards him (with eleven red feathers or with the red swan itself in some versions). On the way back he collects the women that he married and brings them back as wives for his brothers. The brothers are grateful, 330

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

but eventually the oldest brother decides that he wants the youngest’s wife. He hatches a plot to kill his youngest brother (and gets the other brothers in on it), which in the present version involves making a swing, getting the youngest into it, and then cutting the rope. The youngest knows what the others are up to and sends all the women away before it happens. In the Menominee version the hero dies, the brothers go back to their home, find the women gone, and then apparently regret having killed their youngest brother. In the Ojibwe version, after the hero has returned from the adventure with the scalp, the brothers send him off on a hunt so that they can take his wife.3 He goes to the land of the dead, and the spirits give him arrows to replace the ones he shot the red swan with. He then goes back and kills his brothers with those arrows. Lucy Thomason describes six Meskwaki (Fox) versions of this story.4 In one the story turns into the tale of Rolling Skull (with the hero becoming Rolling Skull after the brothers kill him). This is another traditional narrative that Thomason says is “almost certainly grafted onto a tale with which it has no very close traditional association.”5 In all the other Fox versions described by Thomason, however, the youngest brother goes to the underworld and has various adventures there. Bierhorst says that Red Swan is part of the Hare cycle among the HoChunk (Winnebagos) but that the other tribes who tell it treat it as a standalone story.6 It appears, then, that although the basic story line is shared among a number of midwestern tribes, there is great variation in how and where different groups (or even different storytellers among a single group) end the story. As we mentioned, this text was published in both Menominee and English in 1928. We have retranslated it using ethnopoetic methods, following Hymes and others.7 Such work has established that there is a “rhetorical architecture” to oral narrative signaled by a variety of devices in the text.8 These devices allow us to treat the text as verse rather than prose (as was done earlier in this century by scholars such as Bloomfield) and indicate major and minor divisions in the structure. As in so many other Native American languages, a great deal of this narrative structure is communicated through the use of initial particles.9 Menominee, like some other Algonquian languages, has both predicative and nonpredicative particles. In the former case the particle functions like a verb and in Menominee can even carry certain verbal suffixes. In our translation we reflect the choices the speaker made between predicative and nonpredicaRed Swan 331

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

tive particles by using predicative and nonpredicative English expressions. So, for example, the predicative particle enewen is translated as “it was then,” while the nonpredicative ehpeh is translated simply as “at that point.” No matter how careful one is to replicate—to whatever extent possible— the forms and style of the original, a translation necessarily loses something critical by virtue of its alien audience. In a traditional narrative such as “Red Swan,” the intended audience has a wealth of background knowledge that it brings to the story, while the audience for a translation is missing that cultural context that supplies crucial detail. This problem became especially clear to us as we began to realize the amount of foreshadowing present in “Red Swan”—foreshadowing that is entirely lost in the English version. Two particular instances were entirely due to connotations of the words used in the Menominee version and the lack of similar connotations of the words that were used to translate them into English. The first involves the bundle from which the hero of our story takes the arrows with which he shoots the swan. Bloomfield uses the term medicine bundle in his translation of the story and sacred bundle in the Lexicon.10 We wondered which term would strike the elders as more appropriate and asked them to translate the Menominee word. They were shocked and told us never to say this word out loud; it was a very dangerous word for a kind of evil spirit, and just talking about it could cause harm or even death. Because there is no corresponding cultural item in the English-speaking world, no term can be used in translation without obscuring an unambiguous signal in Menominee that the use of these arrows will bring death to the hero. We have chosen to use sacred bundle to translate the Menominee term, but the reader should keep in mind that this is an imperfect equivalence. The second such case is the name of the oldest brother, Macehkewes. Bloomfield’s Lexicon provides this entry for Macehkewes: “man’s name in mythology, the eldest of the ten brother Thunderers; eldest of a set of brothers, as common noun and nickname.”11 This, however, omits the connotation of bad behavior that is considered characteristic of eldest siblings.12 It is significant that the term first appears precisely at the point that the oldest brother comes home and sees that the youngest brother has returned, bringing women with him, leading to the jealousy that will ultimately cause the death of the youngest. One of our primary goals in doing this translation has been to put the story into a more colloquial English style. Bloomfield, following the fashion of his day, translated the story into very archaic-sounding English (using terms such as fie and hither, for example); we hope that by using more mod332 M AC AU LAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

ern forms we have made it more accessible to today’s readers (both Menominee and non-Menominee). NOT ES We would like to thank Menominee elders Marie Floring, Sarah Skubitz, and Tillie Zhuckkahosee for helping us with some of the more difficult lines and Rand Valentine and Ives Goddard for their comments. In addition, Lev Blumenfeld, Anna Griffith, April Winecke, and especially Rebecca Kavanagh contributed to the analysis of the Menominee as well as with data entry. Of course, all errors in translation are ours alone. 1. Note that the tribe now uses the spelling “Menominee,” so that is what is used here. 2. Bierhorst, Mythology of North America, 218. 3. For the Ojibwe version, see Bierhorst, Red Swan. 4. Thomason, “Two Types of Mesquakie Stories.” 5. Thomason, “Two Types of Mesquakie Stories,” 6. 6. Bierhorst, Mythology of North America, 1985. 7. Hymes, “Discovering Oral Performance”; Hymes, “Particle, Pause and Pattern”; Hymes, “Some Subtleties of Measured Verse.” 8. Hymes, “Some Subtleties of Measured Verse,” 18. 9. Cf. Hymes, “Discovering Oral Performance”; and Bright, “Karok Myth in ‘Measured Verse.’” 10. Bloomfield, Menominee Lexicon, 212. 11. Bloomfield, Menominee Lexicon, 106. 12. Ives Goddard, e-mail to authors, May 17, 2001.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

SUGGEST ED READING AND REFERENC ES Bierhorst, John. The Red Swan: Myths and Tales of the American Indians. New York: Farrar, Straus, & Giroux, 1976. The “Red Swan” story is reprinted and retranslated from Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, Algic Researches (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1839). —   . The Mythology of North America. New York: William Morrow, 1985. Bloomfield, Leonard. Menomini Texts. Publications of the American Ethnological Society, vol. 12. New York: G. E. Stechert, 1928. —   . Menominee Lexicon. Milwaukee Public Museum Publications in Anthropology and History, no. 3. Milwaukee: Milwaukee Public Museum Press, 1975. Bright, William. “A Karok Myth in ‘Measured Verse’: The Translation of a Performance.” In American Indian Linguistics and Literature, by William Bright, 91–100. New York: Mouton, 1984. Hoffman, Walter J. The Menomini Indians. Bureau of American Ethnology Annual Report 14 (1896): 1–328.Washington DC.

Red Swan 333

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Hymes, Dell. “Discovering Oral Performance and Measured Verse in American Indian Narrative.” New Literary History 8 (1977): 431– 57. —   . “Particle, Pause and Pattern in American Indian Narrative Verse.” American Indian Culture and Research Journal 4 (4) (1980): 7– 51. —   . “Some Subtleties of Measured Verse.” In Proceedings of the Fifteenth Spring Conference of the Niagara Linguistics Society, 13– 57. Buffalo NY: Niagara Linguistics Society, 1985. Keesing, Felix Maxwell. The Menomini Indians of Wisconsin: A Study of Three Centuries of Cultural Contact and Change. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1939. Thomason, Lucy. “Two Types of Mesquakie Stories: A Comparison of ‘The Ten That Were Brothers Together’ with Five Variants of ‘Feather.’” Unpublished manuscript, 1998.

Red Swan TOLD BY NYAHTO KICHE WANO TRANSLAT ED BY MONIC A MAC AULAY AND MARIANNE MILLIGAN

AC T 1: PROLOGUE

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Their house was a long lodge; there were ten men. But there were really eleven of them; they had a younger brother, a boy. And he was the one who took care of the house, while the others hunted. The oldest of all the brothers, he was the one who always came back first; he was the one, as they returned, coming one by one. They didn’t have wives; they were still bachelors. 334 M AC AUL AY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

AC T 2 : T H E BOY ’ S A DV E N T U R E S Scene 1 One time when they were out hunting, that boy— there was a lake where they always got their water— that boy was fetching water; the water out in the lake was red. When he got to the water’s edge, when he looked out on the water, a swan floated on it; it was entirely red. And that was why it looked like that, that lake. He ran home for it, his bow, he ran back to the water’s edge, he shot at it over and over, but it kept floating around undisturbed.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now, his older brothers had left some of their arrows. At that point he fetched them and kept shooting at it. Finally, he used up all his older brothers’ arrows. It was then that he must have remembered that there were probably two more in their oldest brother’s sacred bundle. He pulled down that sacred bundle, ran back, untied the sacred bundle, and spread it open. There were two arrows. It was then that he must have used them too. Red Swan 335

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

When he shot at it with the last one, it was that one that must have hit it. The swan flew up. After a while it hung at about half the height of the trees; it was then that it flew along, it was then that the trees looked like that. It was there that he must have set off; he pursued it. When the sun had set, it was then when he reached a village. He just stood there; he looked strange to them. From somewhere, it was then that someone called him. When he entered, after he had been fed, it was then that he married. When they were about to sleep, at that point he asked her, “When was it that a swan flew by?”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“When the sun hung very low.” “That’s the one that I’m pursuing.” Scene 2 Now, I have to go back to the other place. The oldest brother, when he got home, his younger brother wasn’t there. When he called and called him, no one was there.

336 M AC AU LAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

It was then that he must have gone to the lake; when he got to the water’s edge, his sacred bundle, it was open in plain view. When he looked out on the water, their arrows were floating there. He went back home, it was there that he sat. As they came back, he told them of his youngest brother. “Hey, something has happened to our youngest brother; as for my sacred bundle, at the water’s edge, it’s there that he must have untied it; our arrows are floating there.” Scene 3

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now, as for that boy, it was then, the next day, he must have started off, again pursuing it. When the sun had nearly set, it was then that he arrived at another village; it was then that he was about to sleep again; it was then that he married again. At that point he asked her, “When was it that it flew by?” “When the sun was at half a tree’s height.” The next day, it was then that he must have started off again. Ten times he had slept on the way; and it was there, where each time he got married.

Red Swan 337

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Scene 4 Now, it was there, when for the eleventh time he had taken a wife on the way. Now, having started off again in the morning, when it was almost noon, it was then that there was a small wigwam. As he stood for a while by the entry, it was then that the door flap must have opened: “Oh, Grandson, come in!” When he had entered: “Sit down over there across the wigwam, Grandson!” When he gave it to him in a tiny cup, sweet corn, and a spoon, he could not possibly be satisfied. It was then, when he would scrape once at that corn, when he would scoop it up, that was all of it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

After he had taken that mouthful, it was then [that there was] as much as before. That was what he was busy with, he was full; it was then, just a moment before, when he scraped at it. After he had finished eating: “Well, then, Grandson, I want you to do something for me. Over here, over here nearby, this is what they’re busying themselves with, it is this, my head; this thing isn’t really my head; they outwitted me; they cut my throat.

338 M AC AU LAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And that’s what I wanted to ask you to do; as for everyone else, that’s what they have failed at. Well, then, and it was you who I thought of; this is why I sent out my pet.” A box was there; that was what he opened. The swan lay in plain view. “Well, then, he is an evil being;1 his house is a long lodge. And it’s there in the middle, it’s there that he lies on his back. And he’s the one who watches for anything that might fly by. Well, then, but be on your guard! If you want to start off right away, it’s over here; it’s nearby.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“All right!” he said. “Farther on, on the other side of the hill, it’s there, it’s there that they are busying themselves with my head; they’re swinging it around on a string there. The strands of my hair are beaded. From here where they dangle down, the beads make a clattering sound.” It was then that the boy started off. When he arrived, what was it? A long lodge, of course.

Red Swan 339

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Scene 5 Now, it was then, at that time what he said was, “If it were a bundle twice the size of plant down!” And that was the body he had. Now, it was then that he must have risen up. “Well, then, you won’t see me!” It was then that, silently, he must have begun to move. Just when he was being blown past there, it was then that [the other person] must have seen him. “Wait! What is it, this thing flying by?” “Hey, so he does see me!” It was then that he did it all over again; and it was a bundle not even once the size of plant down, and it was there that he must have used it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now, it was then that he must have been blown into the air again. When he got to the middle [of the long lodge], [the other person] didn’t see him. Farther on, after he had descended, on the other side of the hill there was lots of whooping. He must have walked over, now, it was then, really, that they were dangling down; the beads made a clattering sound. “And now, what is it that I should do? Well, then, I’ll be a little dog; I’ll be good-looking.” He started to run then, running along the side; one of them must have seen him. 340 M AC AU LAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Oh, brothers, the one who catches him, he will have him as a pet!” “All right!” they said; he was pursued, and he really took off. He must have run all around, he ran back up towards the woods. When he got to the head, he cut it free. After tucking it into his shirt, he was blown up into the air again; they didn’t see him. After he had descended over there, he started off towards his grandfather; when he entered the wigwam: “Now, that’s it, Grandson, did you bring it?” “Yes!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

After he took it out, he handed it to him. “Oh, thank you! But really, they’ve made a mess of it. But it didn’t look like this! But it was all made of beads! Well, then, Grandson, tomorrow you will go home.” The next day, after he had eaten, he went and opened that box; he took out his pet. It was actually bright red. Red Swan 341

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Well, then, Grandson, these are what I’ll pay you with. You will take eleven [feathers]. Your older brothers, they will put them in their sacred bundles.” After he had given him eleven, it was then that he started off home. The last house where he had slept on the way, it was there that he slept on the way back. The next day, it was then that he took along the woman. In every place that he had slept, it was there, every place that he slept on the way back; and it was then, that he picked up the woman each time. It was then, every time, that he gave them one of the feathers. “Your father, he’ll have some use for it.” And it was then, that he took all those women away with him, he remembered his older brothers. When he reached their long lodge, well, no one was there.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“They’re hunting, of course!” The oldest of all the brothers, it was then that he pointed it out to her: “Now, this is your bed!” All of them, it was then that he placed them, where each man had his bed; the last one whose house he had slept at, and this one, her too. 342 M AC AUL AY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

AC T 3 : BETRAYAL Scene 1 And now, that Macehkewes, it was he who always came first when they were hunting. Well, he had ordered them beforehand to cook. Now, well, when this Macehkewes came in sight of the long lodge— Oh! There was smoke. “Oh! Can it be? Could our younger brother be alive?” When he had laid down his game outside, he entered the house, now, here sat his younger brother. What? He was fasting!

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Hey, younger brother, so you are alive! Well, I wonder how long you’ll live.” As the men came on in, it was then, each time he would call out, “Hey, our younger brother, he has come!” as he was grasped by the hand. The women; it was over here, when they looked up, he had brought women to his older brothers. “Oh! And that’s that!” Scene 2 Now, it was suddenly, Red Swan 343

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

it was then, [the oldest brother] must have begun to admire the younger brother’s wife. Now, suddenly, aha! He must have thought something up, he spoke to his brothers, when they had started hunting, now, somewhere over there: “Well, then, younger brothers, this is what, as for me, I’m thinking about. As for me, at any rate, I really admire our younger brother’s wife. Well, then, and it’s over here that we’ll do this; you will order your wives to gather basswood bark, when it’s a thick rope, they should hang it in place. When they’ve finished making it, well, then, and then we’ll tell them to make a basket as well.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

When they’ve finished making it, now, and then we’ll tell our younger brother, as for him, he’ll be the first to go look at the people.2 We’ll go make it. When we’ve finished making it, that’s what we’ll go tie up. Well, then, and he’ll be the first one, our younger brother, who will go look at them. When he has ridden in the basket, just when we’ve pushed it many times,

344 M AC AULAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

and he’s started to speed towards us, it’s then that we’ll cut it off. Well, then, and the one who outruns the others, he’s the one who’ll marry our younger brother’s wife.” “Wait, now! Is that it, Macehkewes? Even though he brought them to us, even after that, you intend to do away with him that way!” “Now, younger brothers, whatever an older brother says, that’s what always happens!” “Oh, all right!” they said. It was there, later, that they went on hunting. Now, well, in the evening after they had all come— Aha! He must have spoken:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Well, then, my younger brothers, as for our wives, let them gather basswood bark; they’ll make a long rope for a swing. Now, it is then, also a basket. And now, then, as for our younger brother, well, and, as for him, he’ll be the first to go look at the people. And later, when he’s come gliding back, it’s then, in turn, each one will go look at the people.” “All right!” he was told. Scene 3 Well, now, the women gathered basswood bark. The next day, well, soon they had made it.

Red Swan 345

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Now, tomorrow it will be ready, our younger brother will start to swing with speed from there.” In the evening, when they were about to sleep, it was then that he told his wife, “Well, then, tomorrow, I’m the one who they intend to swing from there first. But when I’ve started to swing with speed, it’s then that they plan to cut it off. And it’s there that, as for me, I die. And you are the reason that they plan to do this. When they’ve cut me off over there, it’s there, our older brother will say, “‘Well, then,’ he’ll say, ‘the one who outruns the others, he’s the one who will marry our younger brother’s wife.’

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Well, then, as soon as we’ve started off from here, at that point, hurry and start off. Where I had taken you from, you’re going back there.” It was then that he so urged her. The next day, after they had eaten: “Well, then!” they said, setting out in single file, they started off. He started off with his bow. When they arrived: “Now, younger brother, you look at the people first!” 346 M AC AU LAY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

After the men had started off in single file, the women began the work of getting ready, they ran home where he had taken them from. .

“Now, younger brother, come on, get in the basket!” he said to him. With his bow, he got in the basket, he must have been swung by hand from there; it was pushed hard by hand, that basket that he was in. After a while, when he was swinging with speed, it was then that it must have been cut. That was the last he knew of it. “Well, then, younger brothers, the one who outruns the others, he’s the one who will marry our younger brother’s wife!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They started off; Macehkewes must have outrun them; he ran inside. There wasn’t even one in there. At the far end, it was there that he ran out; he ran in a circle around that long lodge. Oh, who was the one he would see? No one. “Oh! Younger brothers, we have destroyed our youngest brother!” That is all.

Red Swan 347

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. In this line, he refers to one of the group who stole the Grandfather’s head. 2. Bloomfield translates this as “the first to look at the world from up aloft.” We chose to follow the original more closely, but the sense of it is precisely what Bloomfield’s translation gets at: the boy will be the first to view the people (i.e., all of humankind) from the vantage point allowed by the swing they have constructed.

348 M AC AUL AY AND M ILLIGAN

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Birth of Nenabozho RAN D VA L E NT INE

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ The four stories in this section were told a century ago by Waasaagoneshkang, an Ojibwe man whose name, according to William Jones, the original transcriber and translator of the stories, means “He Who Leaves the Imprint of His Foot Shining in the Snow.”1 As with many authors of oral traditional literature, we know almost nothing about him. He is described very briefly in introductory notes to the original texts as “an old man, bent with age, living at Pelican Lake, near the Bois Fort Reservation, in Minnesota. He grew up on Rainy River, Rainy Lake, and the Lake of the Woods” (Jones 1974, xvii). The narratives were recorded under dictation, with Waasaagoneshkang pausing at the end of each sentence to allow Jones sufficient time to write down forms. Given such an unnatural method of delivery, the general organization, stylistic quality, and accuracy of transcription of the stories are truly remarkable. Waasaagoneshkang provided many narratives in this fashion, including an extended account of the birth and many exploits of Nenabozho, a central figure in Ojibwe oral tradition.2 He is sometimes described by scholars unaccustomed to ambiguity as paradoxically both a trickster and a culture hero, in that he is very racy and many of his actions involve imaginative deception while at the same time establishing the basic institutions and practices of Ojibwe life and landscape. The stories associated with him form a loosely defined suite, which different Ojibwe storytellers arrange and elaborate in different ways according to their artistic sensibilities, their audiences, and their purposes for a given telling. There are recognizable Nenabozho stories of particular subtypes, based on organizational structure and thematic content. For example, Christopher Vecsey (1983) has suggested that there is a core set of cosmologic narratives, which basically establishes the order of the world and many Ojibwe cultural institutions. The stories in the cosmologic “cycle” typically include Nenabozho’s birth, his theft of fire, battles with one or more of his manitou brothers, his travels with a pack of wolves

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

349

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

who eventually part ways with him after providing a talented young wolf to be his helper and provider, the subsequent murder of his wolf companion by the underwater manitous, his killing of the chief underwater manitou in revenge, a retaliatory flood, and Nenabozho’s subsequent re-creation of the earth. Alongside this particular sequence, there is also another ancient and widespread group of stories that deals with Nenabozho in the form of a giant who battles giant mythic creatures such as a family of beavers and a skunk. There are also stories involving comic and cunning hunting methods, such as capturing ducks or geese by hosting a “shuteye” dance or swimming underwater to tie their feet together. There are many stories of misidentification, such as when Nenabozho mistakes a distant bed of bulrushes blowing in the wind for a group of dancers and can’t resist trying to outlast them in their dance. There are many stories in which Nenabozho fills the role of what folklorists call a bungling host, in which he goes visiting and his host produces food for him by some extraordinary method, which Nenabozho then tries to copy, only to make a fool of himself. There are stories in which Nenabozho attempts various sexual escapades, rarely succeeding in his schemes. In many stories clever schemes backfire, though they can sometimes have beneficial results for humanity. Given Nenabozho’s prominence in Ojibwe oral tradition, it is no surprise that of the two volumes composing William Jones’s fieldwork in Ojibwe country a century ago, one entire volume is devoted to Nenabozho stories. Waasaagoneshkang recorded a large number of such stories with Jones, including the cosmological sequence as outlined by Vecsey (1983), interspersed with several other familiar stories, in such a way that it is difficult to know if the storyteller intended them as a logical sequence and a coherent whole. Translations of three of his narrations were published in Coming to Light, in a piece introduced by Ridie Wilson Ghezzi. Here I include the first three in the originally published sequence, along with the seventh, and Ghezzi’s work provides two others in this sequence, the twelfth and the fourteenth.3 Obviously, real justice to Waasaagoneshkang’s artistry will only be served with the publication of the full sequence, along with the Ojibwe, which would easily fill a volume in itself. The stories I present in fresh translation, though with considerable debt to Jones’s sensitive and nuanced work, include Nenabozho’s birth, his theft of fire, a battle with a brother that institutes death, and his travels with the wolves. Appreciating the verbal artistry of a particular individual such as Waasaagoneshkang speaking from a culture and artistic tradition utterly different from one’s own requires a lot of background in particulars, to provide some 350 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

grounding in the relationship between the linguistic and cultural resources available to the storyteller and the ways that these resources are deployed in specific narrations. Information of this sort typically comes under the rubric of style in discussions of European literature. Style has been very little studied in Ojibwe, though what information exists is relevant to appreciating Waasaagoneshkang’s narratives. At the broadest level Ojibwe people traditionally made a distinction between everyday stories and so- called sacred stories. The term for sacred story, aadizookaan, varies in its grammatical gender across different dialects of Ojibwe. In some dialects, such as Waasaagoneshkang’s, the term is of animate gender, indexing an important property of aadizookaanag (NB, the plural form), namely, that to tell them is to invoke the beings that inhabit them or at the very least to invite their audience. For this reason certain aadizookaanag were only recounted in winter, when a host of creatures and their associated manitous (Ojibwe manidoo, plural manidoog) were hibernating, such as amphibians and reptiles, or had migrated south, such as the thunderbirds. The concept of manitou is difficult to translate precisely but is typically glossed in English as “spirit,” a potentially misleading term. In traditional Ojibwe society seemingly anything could have a manitou associated with it, and most, though not all, had considerable power, which they would usually share with particular humans according to their level of engagement with the spirit world. Parents blackened the faces of their sons, and often their daughters, and left them to fast and dream in an isolated spot away from human habitation, with the goal that the child humble himself or herself before the cosmos and, by virtue of humility and poverty of spirit, invite the dream visitation of a sympathetic, tutelary manitou, whose help could then be judiciously invoked in situations of crisis, such as in the failure to procure game to the point of starvation or the illness or injury of a loved one. The relative power and desirability of particular manitous as tutelaries varies somewhat among different groups of Ojibwe people, but a generalization or two can be cautiously put forward. For one, the physical properties of a manitou’s biological correspondent often have a bearing on the nature of the assistance a manitou can provide, in essence helping to define the manitou’s “specialty.” For example, the manitous of birds are often associated with battle, because birds have the ability to fly and with this special powers of movement and reconnaissance, and they are usually small, which confers on their beneficiaries the advantage of being a more difficult target The Birth of Nenabozho 351

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

in battle. Small creatures share the property of inconspicuousness, which makes for good eavesdropping, and their manitous often provide those they bless with critical information about the secret weaknesses of an adversary. In traditional stories of Nenabozho animals are often indeterminate as to whether they represent particular individuals or the manitou of the given species, and typically, events that alter their form or behavior have consequences for the entire species. Another important property of manitous generally is their capacity to change shape, a power that they can confer on those they bless, allowing them to strategically take on the form of the tutelary in times of need. A basic axiom of traditional Ojibwe life is that things are often not what they appear to be. As a consequence, everything should be treated with respect, or at the very least, never prematurely dismissed in contempt, because the grandest appearing thing can ultimately represent very little, and the humblest thing can be a repository of great power and means. Furthermore, each species is endowed with attributes and abilities that define its uniqueness and provide it with the particular talents needed to carry out its way of living. These skills often exceed the equivalent abilities of humans and thus too provide a basis for respect and admiration. There are many details of Waasaagoneshkang’s narratives that can only be appreciated with an understanding of traditional Ojibwe culture. For example, a child is typically given a name by means of an elder who receives it in a dream. Children do not generally announce their names to their elders, as Nenabozho does! Furthermore, wrapping a body in birch bark was traditionally, at least among some Ojibwe people, a standard burial preparation. Now, in the case of Nenabozho’s incubation, it’s possible that his grandmother had wrapped up the blood as a part of her daughter’s burial; nonetheless, it is consistent with the “upside- down” nature of Nenabozho that he be born by means of a burial. He’s a very tricky guy. Notice how he gets fire, by using ice. Note too that he does not use force but rather makes himself among the most harmless of creatures, a bunny rabbit, and wills not that he overpower his adversaries but that they find him adorable. There is also a vast amount of ambivalence with regard to Nenabozho’s character—for example, Waasaagoneshkang never reveals his role in his mother’s death. And when Nenabozho desires to find his brother, his grandmother objects, and we are left to wonder whether the institution of death is a good or a bad thing. Waasaagoneshkang is consistently and artfully ambivalent in his treatment of Nenabozho and his deeds. Throughout these stories we find a common motif in Ojibwe traditional 352 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

stories, the gendered dyad, in which a male and a female live together according to the traditional household economy, in which men hunted and women took care of most domestic tasks. The two daughters of the firehoarder are immediately recognizable to students of Ojibwe oral tradition as well-known sisters who wander the earth in search of ribald adventure, often behaving in a fashion not unlike Nenabozho himself, and are sometimes even said to be his daughters, based in part on resemblances of impulse, appetite, and character. Another prominent dynamic in these stories is the wisdom and discernment of elders as opposed to the impulse and indiscretion of the young. Details and connections of this sort are extremely common in Ojibwe traditional narratives but are lost on readers unfamiliar with the tradition, which contributes to a devalued appreciation of the artfulness of such traditional stories. With regard to linguistic resources, Ojibwe is vastly different from English in its basic grammatical patterns. To begin, the previously mentioned distinction between animate and inanimate pervades all aspects of grammar, and every noun is classified as to its animacy. Living things such as creatures and most plants are all animate. Objects of manufacture and other inert things that don’t operate under their own power are usually inanimate, though anything can become animate if an animating force behind it, such as a manitou, becomes active, which frequently happens in myths and dreams. In addition, many things that are believed to be inherently powerful are animate or conceived in terms of their animating manitou, such as the sun and the moon, the stars, snow, ice, and objects of traditional religious significance, including pipes, tobacco, and in most dialects, drums and myths themselves. The world is imbued with power, and this is reflected in language in part in the grammatical category of animacy. At the same time sexual gender is not grammaticalized as in English, nor is there any straightforward grammatical distinction between humans and any other animate thing. In part as a result of this, many aboriginal writers claim that the trickster’s gender is far more ambiguous than English translations might suggest.4 Kinship terms in Ojibwe are grammatically required to have inflections indicating who the relation is being expressed in terms of, so to speak in general terms of, say, “a grandmother” is decidedly marked and not common. This fact is relevant to these stories because Nenabozho’s grandmother has come into English literature through Longfellow’s poem The Song of Hiawatha as Nokomis, which literally means “my grandmother.”5 This is indeed the principal way that Nenabozho identifies her, because she is, after The Birth of Nenabozho 353

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

all, his grandmother. Issues immediately arise as to whether this designation constitutes a specific name or is simply a term of reference particular to Nenabozho. Myth complicates things, because this woman is, as Jones observes in a footnote, mother nature, and so it is arguably appropriate for any of us to refer to her as nookomis, particularly in Ojibwe, where ancestors and spirit antecedents are customarily referred to with terms designating grandparents. But I have elected to refer to her with the designation Ookomisan, which literally means “animate singular’s grandmother,” that is, “his or her grandmother,” since in these stories it is her relation to Nenabozho that is always at issue. Among animates an important grammatical distinction often used skillfully by storytellers is that of obviation. Basically, in any given span of narration, one particular animate is chosen to be primary, called proximate in Algonquian grammar, and all others are grammatically marked as obviative. This in essence provides a kind of narrative perspective roughly corresponding to distinctions of voice in English, and obviation is often translated by means of active and passive voice, something perhaps initiated and very consistently carried out by William Jones in his translations. To this end, for example, when Nenabozho is born and speaks to his grandmother, I have put all of Nenabozho’s utterances in the passive, because Waasaagoneshkang has elected here to tell the story from the perspective of Ookomisan, even though the dynamic of the story draws attention to Nenabozho. By making Ookomisan proximate and Nenabozho obviative, Waasaagoneshkang essentially subverts the climactic development of the narrative, adding further ambiguity to the status of Nenabozho vis-à-vis his grandmother. Subtleties of this sort are, of course, crucial to understanding and appreciating the text, but they are almost impossible to translate with any elegance. Oral narratives share a set of features across languages that present challenges of many sorts in transfer to the page. Languages typically have conjunctive expressions equivalent to English forms such as “and then,” “so then,” and so on, which are liberally used to pace, sequence, and orient oral narrative development. Those used to the written standard of English, whether fiction or nonfiction, often react to such devices as constituting unnecessary and artless repetition. But to do so is to fail to appreciate the nature of oral storytelling. Waasaagoneshkang’s narrations are essentially organized by means of such devices, most importantly the “discourse” particles mii and dash, as well as many others. Many such elements are predicative in Ojibwe, which, if translated literally, would have the effect of 354 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

giving a majority of translated sentences the form “it was then that . . . ,” which quickly becomes monotonous if applied too rigidly in translation. I have sought to capture the flavor of the original without imposing a formal straitjacket, though in more general terms it must be recognized that rendering an oral performance on the page is to invite injustice by suggesting a kind of fixity and finality that has little place in the original. Another distinctive feature of formal Ojibwe oral narrative is the use of quotation frames. This device brackets direct expressions of quotation or thought with explicit verbs of speaking or thinking. An example occurs in Nenabozho’s discussion with Ookomisan in part 2 with the following form:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And this he said to his grandmother: “Well, guess what, I’m going to go get that fire!” he said to his grandmother. This example illustrates another striking feature of Waasaagoneshkang’s style that I have not found as prominently in the narratives of other Ojibwe storytellers, namely, his frequent framing of direct quotations with a formula using a demonstrative pronoun, “And this X said (to Y).” It is possible that this is an artifact of the fragmented nature of his delivery under the conditions of dictation, but that seems unlikely to me, simply because Waasaagoneshkang is such a talented storyteller. Rather, it is probably representative of an extremely formal style. It has become customary in recent years to cast oral narrative on the page in lines, suggesting that it is more akin to European poetry than prose. Depending on what is given prominence in the poetic analysis, lines are determined on the basis of either prosodic or grammatical criteria. Where there is no auditory record, such as with the stories presented here, one steers a safer course with the latter, though it might be possible to reconstruct the prosodics of stories recorded long ago on the basis of contemporary storytellers. I have organized Waasaagoneshkang’s narrations according to impressionistic, syntactically based criteria, typically treating each clause as a separate line and using indents to indicate the conjunction and subordination of clauses. This procedure produces a manuscript that allows one to more readily scan the text for parallelisms and other formal features, though at the price of disturbing the overall flow of thematic development. Line-based formats tend to sacrifice appreciation of the whole for attention to the parts. The Birth of Nenabozho 355

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

NOT ES 1. As with all cited Ojibwe words, I have converted Jones’s spelling to the modern orthography, as exemplified in Nichols and Nyholm 1995, which distinguishes three short vowels—a, i, o—and four long vowels—aa, ii, oo, e. Consonant symbols are b, p, d, t, g, k, j, ch, z, s, zh, sh, m, n, w, y, and ‘ (apostrophe), this last representing a glottal stop. 2. Nenabozho is also variously referred to as Wenabozho, Menabozho, and Wiizakejaak in different locales. 3. Ghezzi 1994. The twelfth narration is “Nenabozho Eats the Artichokes” and the fourteenth is “Nenabozho and the Caribou.” Ghezzi also includes another part of the story that is not part of this sequence. 4. See, for example, Wilson 1998 and Highway 1988, 1989. 5. Spelled nookomis in the standard orthography and pronounced NOKE-uh-miss or NUKE-uh-miss.

SUGGEST ED READING AND REFERENC ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Excellent overviews of the trickster from an Ojibwe point of view can be found in Lindquist and Zanger 1994, especially separate articles by Gerald Vizenor and Kim Blaeser. For translations of traditional stories, the original Jones collection has been reprinted by the AMS Press (1974). A selection of Jones’s English translations, with an essay on Ojibwe worldview, was prepared by Overholt and Callicott (1982). Another accessible collection of Ojibwe traditional narratives is that of Charles and Charlotte Kawbawgam, recorded and translated at the end of the nineteenth century by Homer Kidder (Ojibwa Narratives of Charles and Charlotte Kawbawgam and Jacques LePique, 1893–1895). Ghezzi, Ridie Wilson. 1994. “Nanabush Stories from the Ojibwe.” In Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann. New York: Random House. Highway, Tomson. 1988. The Rez Sister: A Play in Two Acts. Saskatoon SK: Fifth House. —   . 1989. Dry Lips Oughta Move to Kapuskasing. Saskatoon SK: Fifth House. Jones, William, comp. [1917, 1919] 1974. Ojibwa Texts. Edited by Truman Michelson. Reprint, New York: AMS Press. Lindquist, Mark A., and Martin Zanger, eds. 1994. Buried Roots and Indestructible Seeds: The Survival of American Indian Life in Story, History, and Spirit. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Nichols, John D., and Earl Nyholm. 1995. A Concise Dictionary of Minnesota Ojibwe. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Ojibwa Narratives of Charles and Charlotte Kawbawgam and Jacques LePique, 1893– 1895. Recorded with notes by Homer H. Kidder. Edited by Arthur P. Bourgeois. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1994.

356 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Overholt, Thomas, and J. Baird Callicott. 1982. Clothed-in-Fur, and Other Tales: An Introduction to an Ojibwa World View. With Ojibwa texts by William Jones and foreword by Mary B. Black-Rogers. Washington DC: University Press of America. Vecsey, Christopher T. 1983. Traditional Ojibwa Religion and Its Historical Changes. Memoirs of the American Philosophical Society, vol. 152. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Wilson, Alexandria. 1998. “How Our Stories Are Told.” Canadian Journal of Native Education 22 (2): 274–78.

The Birth of Nenabozho TOLD BY WAASAAGONESHK ANG TRA N SL AT ED BY RAN D VAL EN T I N E

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

I Once some people were living in a wigwam, an old woman and her daughter. And at some point she said to her daughter, “Listen, my daughter, be on your guard. Take careful heed of what I’m about to tell you. I’m terribly afraid, I fear for your well-being. Never ever sit facing the west when you go outside to relieve yourself.1 Something bad will happen to you if you sit facing in that direction. That’s the basis of my fear for you. Take heed of what I’m telling you, because you could bring great harm on yourself. That’s what I want to tell you now.” Well, it seems that that young woman was exceedingly careful. No man ever came within sight of her. But then once she forgot, and at that instant she heard the wind rushing toward her. And she felt the rush of a cool breeze there at her going out. And she leapt to her feet.

The Birth of Nenabozho 357

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Mother, look at me, this state I’m in. Perhaps it’s happened to me as you said it might.” Well, the old woman said to her daughter: “Oh, most assuredly you’ve brought great harm on yourself!” And the old woman began to weep. “That’s how it is, you’ve brought harm on your body. Listen to what’s going to happen to you. Beings have entered your body, and that’s what has left you so pitiable. They’re not humans, those who entered your body. And it won’t be long until they’re born. Alas, it’s the very ones I feared.” Well, after a while the old woman heard the sound of them arguing with each other. And then she knew for sure that her daughter wouldn’t survive. She heard them arguing; there within her daughter’s belly they rumbled. And this they were heard to say: “It’s I who shall be firstborn!” “No” was heard another, “You will not be firstborn—I shall be!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And always the old woman wept when she heard them contending in this way. She knew what a large number they were. Well, as they spoke they pushed each other back, seeking in vain to exit. Some of them said: “Don’t! We’re going to harm our mother. Let us exit in an orderly fashion,” some said, in vain. But those who wanted to be firstborn weren’t happy with this. And so they declared that they would exit through various routes. One of them saw a light. “Well, as for me, I’m going straight in that direction.” And so as they contended as to who would be firstborn, they tore their mother apart. 358 VA L E N T INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And some time later as the old woman was looking about, she found a bit of blood. And so she peeled some birch bark. And into the birch bark she placed the blood, repeatedly folding the bark, and then she laid it away. Well, from time to time she took a look at it. And once, when she unwrapped it, she beheld a child. And she was spoken to by the child, this is what she was told: “Grandmother!” she was told when she was spoken to. And then it spoke to her again: “Do you know who I am? Why, I am Nenabozho.” II So the old woman began to raise him. And at some point he said to his grandmother: “Might you not know of people living anywhere here on the earth?” “Yes,” he was told by his grandmother, “across Gichigami there are people.”2

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“And by any chance might they not be in possession of fire?” “Yes,” he was told by his grandmother, “most certainly they possess fire.” And this he said to his grandmother: “Well, guess what, I’m going to go get that fire!” he said to his grandmother. And this his grandmother said to him: “You won’t be able to do it. They keep very close guard over their home. There’s an old man living there. The Birth of Nenabozho 359

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Every day he works at making a net. He never goes out but always remains inside. But he has two daughters; they’re the only ones who ever venture out.” And this he said to his grandmother: “Nevertheless, I’m going,” he said to his grandmother. “Very well,” he was told by his grandmother. Well, at some point then he said: “Let Gichigami freeze over, let Gichigami freeze as thick as a sheet of birch bark covering the lodge.” And truly, it happened just as he said. “And this is what I’ll look like,” he said. “I’ll look like a bunny.” And then truly, that’s how he looked.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And so he set off across the ice, and most assuredly he didn’t break through. And eventually he came in sight of where the people were living. And when he arrived at the place from which they drew their water, he arranged this at the place where they would come to draw their water: he was thrown up on the shore by Gichigami; he was rolled up there, precisely where the woman drew her water. And this he said: “Let her find me irresistibly cute.” And so he lay in wait for her to come to fetch water. And what do you know, but indeed he saw her walking toward him. And when she arrived where he was, she drew up some water. 360 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And he was noticed by her, and he was picked up by her, And so, he was wrung out by her, and he was carried away home, tucked inside the bosom of her dress, he was. And when he had been taken inside the lodge, indeed he beheld an old man sitting there. And, truly, the old man was making a net. And the woman said this to her elder sister: “Look at this!” She said secretly to her elder sister. “Look at what I found, a little bunny rabbit!” And this she was told by her elder sister: “Our father’s going to take us to task,” she was told by her elder sister; that is, secretly she was told this by her elder sister. And then she searched inside the bosom of her dress, and she extracted him and set him down beside the fire to dry off his fur.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And the women were laughing it up, they found the bunny so irresistibly cute. And as a result, they were discovered by their father. “Pipe down!” he told them. “Take a look at this bunny!” “What!” they were told by their father. “Haven’t you heard that manitous were recently born? And might not this indeed be one of them? Go and put it outside,” they were told by their father. But this the woman said: “How could it be that a bunny rabbit be a manitou?” she said to her father. The Birth of Nenabozho 361

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And this he said: “Truly you’re not in the habit of listening. Have you never noticed how advanced in years I am?” But this is what the woman did: she exposed the bunny to the heat of the fire, and to make its fur dry, she kept turning it over and over by the fire. And this then thought Nenabozho: “I must be dry by now.” Well, the women kept amusing themselves with him. And this he thought: “Let a spark fall on me!” And truly a spark alit on him. And after he was on fire, he leaped out of the lodge.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And the women said this: “Look, it’s racing out with the fire!” they said to their father. “Oh, no!” said the old man. “Truly you don’t know how to listen, even though people try to tell you. Undoubtedly it’s a manitou, come to rob us of our fire!” And the old man leaped up and ran to his canoe, intending to toss it into the water. But it was of no use, because the water had been frozen into ice. And so they were left to watch helplessly as far out in the midst of the great expanse of Gichigami, it began to flicker with a blue flame, 362 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

until it faded from their sight. They were utterly helpless to do anything. And he came in sight of where they were staying. And this he had said to his grandmother before setting off: “Be prepared because I may indeed return with fire,” he had said to his grandmother. And so he spoke to her as he came in sight of their home; this he said to his grandmother upon entering: “Extinguish me, grandma, I’m on fire!” And that is how they came to have fire. And this said Nenabozho: “And thus shall the rabbit appear mottled in the summer.” III And thus they came to be in possession of fire. And Nenabozho remained there with his grandmother, and all this time the waters of Gichigami were heaving. Seated-Rabbit is the name of that portion of Gichigami. And always he went there to sit.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And this he said to his grandmother: “So be it, Grandma, that this be the duration of my being a rabbit.” And at that place there was evidently a promontory, and there on the height of the rock he would sit. Indeed, that is the appearance that the rock has there. And then he said, “Seated-Rabbit is what the people shall call it.” And afterward he took on human form. But no longer did he have the appearance of a child. And this he said to his grandmother: “Do you know who I am?” “No,” he was told. The Birth of Nenabozho 363

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“I am Nenabozho.” And this he said to his grandmother: “Can it really be that I am an only child?” he said to his grandmother. “Yes,” he was told. “Truly you’re an only child,” he was told. And this he answered: “Can you tell me this, then?” he said to his grandmother, “Might not I have had a father?” “Yes,” he was told, “but whoever it might have been was not visible,” he was told. And this too he was told, “She who was your mother is dead. That’s all I can tell you. I would not hide anything from you.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And this Nenabozho said to her: “How could it be that I be an only child? You must be hiding something from me,” he said to his grandmother. And then he said: “Why do you do this, hiding from me what transpired with us? But be that as it may, I haven’t forgotten what happened. I know that I have brothers. So tell me the truth of what happened to us.” Well, these words frightened the old woman. And this she said to her grandchild: “Very well, I will tell you, it’s true that you weren’t alone when you were born. 364 VA L E N T INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

As truly as I speak, this is what happened to you: You and your brothers killed your mother when you were born. But steadfastly I held to what I had purposed, and that is why I have raised you.” And this he said to his grandmother: “Oh, so that’s what happened to me at my birth! It was not I who killed my mother.” And then he thought: “I’m going to go looking for those brothers of mine,” he thought. Well, then he said to his grandmother, “I’m going to go look for the one who made me an orphan.” “Don’t!” his grandmother said in vain to him. “What is to be gained in your doing this, going into battle against your brother?” “Nevertheless,” he said, “I’m going to do it.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And then he set to work making his arrows. And when he had prepared, he set off; directly to the south he went, because he knew that that was where his brother was. And when he was near the home of his brother, he made four caches of arrows. And then he came to the place where his brother was. And Nenabozho said, “So, are you ready to do battle with me?” “Indeed,” his brother said to him. “Well, then, let the battle begin.” The Birth of Nenabozho 365

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so they began fighting, and they were firing at each other. And as he was being forced back, Nenabozho came to the place where his arrows were, where he had cached them. And from there in turn he drove the other back, almost to the place where he lived, Nenabozho drove him back. And from there once more Nenabozho was driven back, once again he was driven back to a place where he had cached his arrows. And once more, futilely, he drove the other back, near to where he lived. And then once more Nenabozho was driven back, until yet again he reached a cache of arrows. And at that point he thought: “It seems likely now that I’ll be vanquished.” He had only a very few arrows left, and they were very small.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And so he began to weep. And this he thought: “It’s likely now that I’ll be killed,” he thought. And then he was addressed by the weasel. “What’s the matter with you, you look as if you’ve been weeping, Nenabozho,” he was told by the weasel. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Listen, I’ll tell you what you must do,” said the weasel to him. “Listen, shoot him there . . .” “Shoot him at the base of his hair knot.” 366 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So then Nenabozho gave a war cry. And no sooner had he begun driving his brother back, than he shot him at the base of the hair knot. And his brother fell forward. Nenabozho raced up to him, and this he said: “Die!” And this he was told by his brother: “You’re doing vast harm to those who are yet to live.” And his brother wept; he wept for the people. In vain he sought to avoid being killed. But Nenabozho was thoroughly determined to kill him. And at last he succeeded in killing his younger sibling. And for a short time his brother was out of his wits. And Nenabozho said, “In return, you will be leader over there where those who cease to live will come. It’s there you shall be, and there you shall be leader.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And then after his brother had consented, he said to him, “You’ve done vast harm to the people who are soon to live.” “Well, the earth would fill up with people. And where might those people live who are soon to be born? That is why it shall come to pass that people die, because otherwise the earth would soon be filled, and although we could arrange it such that only the aged might die among those who are to come, nowhere would they have room were this to come to pass. You see, that’s why they will also die while yet children. Yes, that is what I foresee, that it will happen thus to those who are soon to die, The Birth of Nenabozho 367

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

that it will happen as it now does with you. Because it is only a change of place from one earth to another. Where you are those who have ceased to live shall meet you.” IV And once as he was wandering about, he saw someone— well! they were wolves. And so he shouted out to them to come over to where he was. And this said the wolves: “Don’t go anywhere near him, he wants to engage you in conversation,” the lead wolf said to them. And so indeed they stood at a great distance from him when they spoke to him.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And this he said to them: “Why do you always act like this whenever I see you? ‘We are no kin to him.’— Is this what you’re always thinking? But in point of fact I’m quite closely related to you; your father is in fact my brother.” And this he said to the old wolf there: “My fellow eldest,” he said to him. And this he said to the sons of the old wolf: “Why, you are all my nephews,” he said to those wolves. And this he said: “Where are you headed?” he said to them.

368 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Well, over here off a ways, where last summer your nephews did some killing; it’s over there that we’re headed. For it’s over there that we always cache whatever they’ve found. And it’s over to that place where we’ve made a cache that we were planning on going now. And this Nenabozho said: “Well, I’m headed in that direction too, so I’ll just go along with you,” he said to him. And so indeed he set out with them on their journey. But he was barely able to keep up with them. And a cold wind was blowing as they went along. And now evening was coming on.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Well, it’s time that we look for a place to camp,” they said. And indeed they looked for where they might camp. And soon they found a place. But the wind raced through the site they prepared. “Here is a place,” they said. And at once they lay down. And after each had circled a spot where he was to lie down, then Nenabozho did the same thing. And this he was told by the old wolf: “There in the midst of where your nephews lie, you lie too, because it seems you’re cold.” “Yes, I’m quite cold.” And his teeth were chattering, he was so cold.

The Birth of Nenabozho 369

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so indeed he lay down in the middle of the pack. And this said the old wolf: “Please, provide your uncle with a top covering.” And so truly one of them tossed his tail over Nenabozho, and then another did so, until he was able to fall asleep. And truly he was warm as he slept. And once when he awoke, he was actually sweating. And so this he said: “Damn, these worthless old dog tails have really got me in a sweat!”3 And after he had flung them aside, he heard this from the old man wolf: “Most certainly you wound your nephews with your words,” he was told by the old man wolf. And then after awhile he began to get cold again. And once again his teeth began to chatter.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Without a doubt your uncle is freezing to death. Why don’t you once again offer your uncle a top covering?” And so once more one of them offered his tail, and then another. And so once again he began to get warm. Then when dawn came, once again they were eager to set off. And this he was told by the old wolf: “Well, we’ll arrive at our destination this evening, if only we hurry.” And so truly they set off, and Nenabozho tried his best to keep up. And at one point as they were going along, “Well, by now we should have eaten,” he was told by the old wolf.

370 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And Nenabozho was told: “Please go on ahead and have a fire built up for our arrival.” And so after he piled up some wood, he began to look in vain for his flint. “What on earth are you doing?” he was asked by the old wolf. And one of the young wolves standing there was told, “Please, you, start the fire!” So the young wolf went over to where Nenabozho had heaped up the firewood, and the instant he leaped over the pile, it burst into bright red flame. “There, that’s what you do when you intend to make a fire.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And so they ate there, and then they set off again, because they were eager to make their destination. And they did not stop even when the sun set, but continued on their way. “Well, it’s near now,” he was told. And so at twilight they arrived. And after they had established a camp, they built a shelter. And then they went after the contents of their cache. And Nenabozho was given some choice firewood. And he was given some fungus. “Don’t look at it all through the night, but later, when it’s morning, then you can look at it,” he was told. He was told, “Later, when it’s morning.” But he grew extremely restless waiting for morning to make its appearance.

The Birth of Nenabozho 371

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Now, truly, I’d really love to have a look at it,” he thought. And so in secret he looked at it, and what should he see but an enormously large moose gut! And then after he had bitten a piece off, dawn appeared. And the wolves turned, and what should they see but an enormously large moose gut! And when Nenabozho turned to them, he was told, “It seemed that in the night you were making the sounds of someone eating.” And now he too was trying to take out the things that he had been given. And, lo, the marks of his teeth were on the choice firewood, and the marks of his teeth were on the fungus too.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So they started laughing at him. “Why did you do what you did? You shouldn’t have disturbed it in the night, for look at the hardship you’ve brought on yourself now. Truly you’re not in the habit of listening, and as a result you’ve brought this hardship on your belly. Now what is he going to eat?” And so at once he needed to be fed. And he longed for what they had. And after he had been given food, then he too ate. And this he was told by the old wolf: “Now then, we’ll travel about,” he was told. “With this nephew of yours in particular shall you go about hunting, for all time I make you this gift. Truly he is good at getting animals.”

372 VA L E NT I NE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And so when they broke camp, already their companions had left. Not until a while afterward did they leave. And ever as their companions set down tracks, they followed along after them. And from time to time as they followed along, looking about, they beheld the fresh droppings from where their companions had started running. And this he was told by the old wolf: “As you go along, take up the top covering of your nephew.” “How disgusting! What would I ever do with an old turd that I should want to take it along with me?” said Nenabozho. And this he was told by the old wolf: “Most certainly you wound your nephew with your words.” And the wolf went along finding the turds, and when he took them up, he shook them, and what should he be holding but a blanket!

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Oh my gosh! Bring it here, my fellow eldest, I’ll carry it on my back,” Nenabozho said to him. And when he brought it to him, he carried it on his back. Well, then, once more they set off. And once while they were walking along, he was addressed by the old wolf, who said to him, “Well, it’s a big cow moose that your nephews are after. And your nephews are at this moment pressing hard on it.”

The Birth of Nenabozho 373

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And shortly thereafter he saw a tooth of one his nephews stuck in a tree trunk. “Look, Nenabozho, maybe it’s here that they shot at the moose but missed. Nenabozho, take up the arrows of your nephews as you come upon them.” “How disgusting! What would I ever do with an old dog’s tooth that I should want to take it up?” “Truly you wound your nephews with your words.” By giving it a twist, the old wolf pulled it out. And when he shook it, what should he be holding but an arrow! “Bring it here, please,” Nenabozho said to the old wolf. And indeed it was brought to him, and he carried it along. And at some point he saw his nephews lying down. Nowhere at all in their vicinity was the snow at all bloody.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Behold, Nenabozho,” he was told, “your nephews must have killed something, because that’s just the way they behave when they’ve found a moose.” And the old wolf was happy. “Come on, come on, Nenabozho, let’s make a place where we can prepare the meat.” “Where in the world is the meat for us to prepare?” Whereupon he was told by the old wolf: “Truly you wound your nephews with your words.” And so against his will Nenabozho agreed to help them make a shelter. But not at all did he move until they had finished and were entering one by one.

374 VA L E NT I NE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

What was he now to see? He too had already been allotted a share. Half the fat had been given to him. So he was very pleased. “It’s certain that I too will eat,” he thought. “Truly we’re living well now.” And once when preparing moose meat there, “Please, our father is going to boil the broken bones down for marrow. So let him be the only one to do the cooking,” the young wolves said of their father. And then truly their father set to work. And this they were told by him: “I beg of you, don’t look at me when I do this boiling down of the bones for marrow. Be careful about this, Nenabozho,” he was told by that old wolf.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And indeed. Well, Nenabozho was wrapped in his old, soiled blanket, and as they listened to their father, it sounded as if he were gnawing on a bone. “Oh my, I’ve just got to take a look,” thought Nenabozho. And so he quietly lifted his old, soiled blanket, and indeed he saw the wolf at the exact moment that it was biting on an ulna, but at just the moment that it slipped from its mouth. And its saliva was stringing from its mouth, nearly to the ground. And as Nenabozho watched him, at some point the old wolf lost his hold on the bone in his mouth, and straightaway it flew into Nenabozho’s eye. Then there was the constant sound, “Choe, choe.”

The Birth of Nenabozho 375

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Oh, I must have caught Nenabozho in the eye with the bone!” And then the old one said: “Attend to your uncle; cool him with water!” And so indeed they cooled him with water, and he was revived. And the old one said to him: “Nenabozho, you were looking at me!” “No! No!” “Nenabozho, most certainly you were looking at me!” Well, then, in the morning, how thick was the grease frozen! So they were fed in the morning with grease made from the boiled bones. And he says to them: “Well, now it’s my turn to make the grease from bones broken and boiled!” And then indeed he started in to making grease.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Well, it’s the same with me, I must never be observed when I’m making grease from bones broken and boiled! So cover yourselves up!” And then he set to work on cracking the bones. And the bones were extremely greasy. And he sucked grease from as many bones as had grease in them. At some distance away, rolled up in his blanket and with his head toward the center, lay the old wolf.

376 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And with care, Nenabozho selected a very large bone, which he had split crosswise, and with it he struck the old wolf. And by so doing knocked him unconscious. And this he said to his nephews: “Look! Cool him off with some water!” he said to them. And then he said: “My fellow- eldest was most certainly watching me. This is the way I behave whenever anyone watches me!” Well, presently the old wolf revived. And he said this: “Nenabozho hit me,” he said. “He hit me on purpose,” said the old wolf. “I was not in the least watching him,” the old wolf said. “So, not till later will I feed you.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And so morning broke. And the grease in his kettle was frozen as thick as a sheet of birch-bark covering on a lodge. And once more he fed his nephews with it. And now they had consumed their moose, “It’s time now to move camp,” Nenabozho was told by the old one. And the old said to him, “I’m giving you one of my sons,” he said to him. And Nenabozho agreed. “And by him shall I be well supplied!

The Birth of Nenabozho 377

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

So let him go forth from here to hunt!” he said to the old one. “Well, tomorrow we’ll break camp,” he was told by the old one. And indeed they did break camp. “I’m leaving you one who will keep you supplied with food throughout winter,” he was told by the old one. And it was true. NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1. Nenabozho’s brothers and father were traditionally associated with the cardinal points of the compass. 2. I use the Ojibwe designation for Lake Superior, Gichigami, throughout, assuming that it is known from Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha, though the correct pronunciation is GITCH—ih—guh—mih or gih—CHI—guh—mih, with all the is short as in English pin. 3. Traditionally no insult was more grievous than to call someone a dog.

378 VA L E NT INE

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Umâyichîs JUL I E BRI TTA IN A ND M A RGU ER IT E MAC K E NZI E

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ “Umâyichîs,” which translates loosely into English as “Little Shit Man,” belongs to the âtiyûhkin (traditional tales) genre of Algonquian oral literature. This version of “Umâyichîs” was narrated by the late John Peastitute, a Naskapi elder, in the summer of 1968 at the Naskapi community of John Lake, near Schefferville, northern Quebec. This community has since relocated several miles to the north, to Kawawachikamach. “Umâyichîs” is one of a number of oral narratives recorded that summer by students working with the Laboratoire d’anthropologie amérindienne, under the supervision of Rémi Savard. Although the presence of the anthropologists may have been the catalyst for telling these stories, it is evident from the sounds of audience participation that this telling of “Umâyichîs” was an authentic performance and that the audience was composed mainly of children; they can be heard laughing, and at one point in the story, presumably out of consideration for the youth of his listeners, John Peastitute takes a moment to describe how people used to dress in the days when this story is set. The Naskapi Grammar and Lexicon Project at Kawawachikamach has transcribed these stories and provided a word-for-word translation into English. The initial transcription and translation of “Umâyichîs” was done by Alma Chemaganish and Silas Nabinicaboo under the supervision of Bill Jancewicz. The English translation of “Umâyichîs” that we present here goes some way beyond this early word-for-word translation; we have endeavored to reproduce the elegance and style with which John Peastitute told his tale and to do so with minimal sacrifice to its original content. We have also sought to re- create the oral performance by employing formatting conventions introduced by Anthony C. Woodbury and Leo Moses in their translation of “Mary Kokrak: Five Brothers and Their Younger Sister.”1 The distinct typefaces we use correspond to the various tones of voice John Peastitute employs throughout the story, and his pauses are represented in the following manner: a line break signifies a pause of less than one second, and a

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

379

line space signifies a pause of one second or more. In the following section of “Umâyichîs,” for example, John Peastitute made a short pause after “he goes from tent to tent,” and the line space between “looks like a person” and “Now then” signifies a longer pause: This Umâyichîs, he goes from tent to tent because he already looks like a person. Now then, he’s looking for something, he’s looking for anything he might be able to use for clothing. The following is a summary of the formatting conventions employed in our translation of “Umâyichîs.” A pause averaging slightly less than one second. A long pause within a sentence or a drop in the pitch of the narrator’s voice to mark the end of a sentence or group of sentences. Large capital Episode break, marked by vocal features and/or determined by a shift in scene. Small caps Harsh or raspy voice quality, low pitch. Italics Mild voice quality, higher pitch. Italic small caps Mild voice, low pitch.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Line break Line space

Our aim has been to create a literary work that mirrors, insofar as is possible, given that typologically Algonquian and English are quite different, John Peastitute’s performance of “Umâyichîs.” 3ORW6XPPDU\ This is the story of a manlike creature created from the human waste left behind after a group of Naskapis breaks camp. This creature is Umâyichîs, the Little Shit Man. The first half of the story sees Umâyichîs, dressed in the fine clothes of a chief, wander from one abandoned campsite to the next looking for signs, literally, of the people from whose excrement he is formed. Referring to himself at this stage of the story in the first-person plural (“That’s who must have been living here, our long-lost kin”), he is, in spite of his fine attire, still less than human, still a composite and there380 B RI T TAIN AND M ACK ENZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

fore plural entity. When he finds his kin, he becomes whole and refers to himself in the singular from the moment of his initial interactions with the community: “It should be a leader who comes to fetch me.” He demands to be treated with respect, as if he were a chief, and the community—who sees him as nothing but a handsomely dressed stranger—receives him with due graciousness. Only the flies can see through the fine clothes; ridiculing the naivety of humans, the flies say to the children, “You treat your shit as if it were a person.” Umâyichîs stays long enough in the village to see an eclipse of the moon and then goes back into the woods, pursued by two sisters, where he dissolves into the river, losing his human form. The story ends with the “death” of Umâyichîs and with the younger of the two sisters, who has been gathering up his discarded clothes as he stumbles toward the river, declaring a romantic attachment to him; she will keep his clothes because, she claims, “I will not have a husband.” It is a characteristic property of the oral tradition that each unique performance of a story omits certain details that the members of the audience are presumed to be able to fill in for themselves. This is evident in this performance of “Umâyichîs”; other community members at Kawawachikamach confirm that they know more complete versions of the Umâyichîs story. There are also references in this story that none of the Naskapis we consulted could explain to us. The section in which the eclipse of the moon occurs, for example, feels disconnected from the rest of the story; one feels that it should be more complete in order to fit smoothly into the narrative. Significantly, it is in this section that the phrase mâtut pisimw occurs to describe the eclipse of the moon. (Pisimw means “moon” but, because no one could remember the meaning of mâtut, the phrase “mâtut pisimw” has been left in Naskapi.) Clearly, as the story has been passed down through the generations, parts of it have become opaque to the contemporary listener. :K\:H6HOHFWHG7KLV6WRU\ We chose “Umâyichîs” from all the other stories simply because we liked it. We were drawn to it because it has obvious universal appeal; it was a story that we—who are not Naskapi—felt we could relate to. We empathize as Umâyichîs searches for his “long-lost kin”; he seems to be like the Wizard of Oz’s Tin Man, who wanted a heart, or Frankenstein’s monster, who wanted to be accepted by the villagers around the castle. Of course, we asked the Naskapis what “Umâyichîs” was about. We asked, “Is it a warning against taking people at face value?” People agreed that on some level it probably is. Certainly, the narrator and the audience side with the flies, laughing at Umâyichîs 381

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

the folly of the community that serves its best food to its own excrement just because it is well dressed and so petulantly demands respect. We asked, “Is it a love story?” People said it could be viewed that way. And we asked, “Does it have an ecological message?” Again people agreed that it could have this interpretation; as one man we spoke to about this observed, “One thing’s for sure, Umâyichîs is always there when you break camp.” In fact, we turned out to be wrong on all counts in our determination of what “Umâyichîs” is about. We almost missed the whole point of the story because we had been asking the wrong question of the Naskapis. We were asking, “What is this story about?” when we should have been asking, “What is this story for?” It wasn’t until we had done with our own speculations on the meaning of “Umâyichîs” that its real significance casually emerged as we were chatting and packing up our books after an afternoon of work. “Umâyichîs” is told at night, in winter, in order to make the weather of the following day milder. It is one of a series of “weather- changing stories.” The person who told us this then narrated another story that is told during slushy weather, to make it colder the next day, to facilitate travel. To the Naskapis gathered around the table, the purpose of telling these stories was so completely obvious that no one had thought to mention it.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

:HDWKHU&KDQJLQJ0DJLF In his book Bringing Home Animals, Adrian Tanner describes a set of “weather control rites” used by the Cree hunters of the Quebec-Labrador peninsula.2 Tanner identifies two basic types of “weather magic”: techniques that make winter weather colder and (less numerous) techniques that make winter weather warmer. Rites that make the weather colder might typically be performed during a period of mild winter weather that has turned the snow to slush, making for poor travel conditions. Rites that make the weather warmer, on the other hand, are typically performed in the spring in order to hasten the end of the dangerous break-up period, when the ice is melting. To the set of rites identified by Tanner, we must now add the telling of “weather- changing stories” such as “Umâyichîs”; the act of telling the story is, in fact, the magical rite. This is consistent with the fact that chunks of story that are no longer understood continue to be included in the narration. It is the act of telling the story that creates the magic, and not the actual content of the story. This is not to say, however, that the function and content of “Umâyichîs” are unrelated. In light of the new information we had received about the function of this story as a weather-warming rite, we realized that weather amelioration is, in fact, a central theme. 382 BRI T TAI N AND M ACK ENZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Lisa Philips Valentine, in an analysis of Ojibwe oral narratives, observes that repetition of utterances is a stylistic device used to highlight the theme of the narrative; she refers to these sequences of repetitions as “doublets.”3 Roger Spielmann also makes this observation of Ojibwe discourse.4 John Peastitute makes use of this technique, not exclusively, but nonetheless significantly, it would seem, in the parts of the story in which he describes the weather becoming warmer. The third paragraph of “Umâyichîs” opens with repetition of the fact that he begins his travels in the winter: “It’s winter. / It’s winter when he sets off walking.” By the time he finds fresh tracks of the people he is searching for, it is already spring. At this point in the narrative repetition is again used, and there is reference to the snow being slushy: “Now, by this time it’s spring. / Already it’s spring. / Already the days are getting longer. / The snow must have been slushy at that time.” There are further references to the snow having melted as Umâyichîs carries on through the forest: “he sees that there’s already, already, / no snow at all in some places. / But there are patches of bare bare ground, / bare ground where there must once have been a camp.” And slightly further on in the narrative: “Then he reaches a place / where there’s no snow at all. Already the snow has gone. / Already it’s summer.” In addition to this highlighting of parts of the text having to do with the amelioration of the weather, it is also the case that Umâyichîs, because he is made from a substance that dissolves in water (or any type of liquid), is completely at the mercy of the weather. He eventually “dies” because he stumbles into a stream: “And from that place, he is being washed away, / he’s dissolving, / he’s being swept away by the current.” This is, in fact, the demise that he predicts for himself at an earlier point in the story, another stylistic device, perhaps, for drawing our attention to the important role water—or, to give it its correct prominence in the context of this story, thawed ice—is to play in the narrative. Had the weather been colder, the lakes and rivers would have been frozen and there would have been no story because Umâyichîs would not have been in constant peril of dissolving. He avoids contact with liquids throughout the entire story. When the elder comes to pick him up, he has the man turn the canoe sideways so that he can pole-vault into it without touching the water: “‘Bring your canoe in sideways,’ says Umâyichîs. / The man in the canoe turns it sideways, but he doesn’t go ashore. / And then, using his spear, Umâyichîs jumps aboard. / He jumps into the canoe.” He disembarks in the same manner. When he is in the camp, the very sight of the blood soup causes him to begin to dissolve: “So blood soup was prepared. / When Umâyichîs saw it, when he saw that blood soup, / he began to come apart, / aahaa / he began to come apart.” Umâyichîs 383

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Before we discovered the function of “Umâyichîs,” it didn’t seem that weather played a significant role in the story. After discovering the unusual function of this story, however, the significance of the state of the weather became clear; the two main characters in this story are, arguably, the weather and Umâyichîs, who is the victim of the weather. While there is more to this story than merely the opposition of its principal character to the weather— there is humor, suspense, and romance, all the ingredients of a good yarn— the content of “Umâyichîs” is clearly related to the function it serves. In Bringing Home Animals Tanner explains that, ideally, a “summer-born person” should perform rites that make the weather warmer and, conversely, rites having to do with making the weather colder should be performed by a “winter-born person.” Members of the community at Kawawachikamach whom we consulted on this matter agreed that ideally “Umâyichîs” would be told by a summer-born person but that John Peastitute, irrespective of the season of his birth—and no one was sure what it was—had full authority to tell this story because he was an elder.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

7KH1DVNDSL3HRSOHDQG7KHLU/DQJXDJH “Umâyichîs” is not a uniquely Naskapi legend. A longer Ojibwe version exists in which the creature is constructed by a group of men who want to punish a girl who is too proud to marry any of them. The girl’s brother and his peers create Umâyichîs, breathe life into him, and commission him to go out and make the girl fall in love with him. When she discovers what her lover really is, she is humiliated, her rejected suitors reaping what they view to be an appropriate revenge. A monster with a mission, the Ojibwe Umâyichîs is more like the Jewish golem than his Naskapi counterpart. Presumably there are versions of this story told in other Algonquian-speaking communities. The rendition of “Umâyichîs” presented here, however, is Naskapi. Originally nomadic caribou hunters, by the mid-1950s the Naskapis had divided into two more or less sedentary groups—the Western Naskapis, now resident at Kawawachikamach, and the Eastern Naskapis of Natuashish, Labrador. While distinct subdialects of Naskapi have emerged within each community (Western Naskapi and Eastern Naskapi), the people of Kawawachikamach and Natuashish retain much in common. Members of both communities have family connections that stretch across the Quebec-Labrador peninsula, attesting to their recent common history, and both groups have adopted English as their second language. A unique subset of linguistic properties common to speakers of Eastern and Western Naskapi reflects the fact that the Naskapis at one time constituted a single linguistic community. 384 BRI T TAI N AND M ACK ENZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Among older Naskapis in particular there exists a common pool of lexical items, and Eastern and Western Naskapi share a number of phonological features.5 A characteristic difference between Eastern and Western Naskapi is that the latter is a “y dialect” while Eastern is an “n dialect”; these terms refer to the surviving reflex of the Proto-Algonquian consonant *l. Although in his later years John Peastitute was a member of the Western Naskapi community, his speech retained many Eastern Naskapi features, including the use of n in some contexts where a Western Naskapi speaker uses y. In 1978, after several years of negotiations between the Quebec provincial government and the Native peoples of the area (Inuit, Crees, and Naskapis), the Western Naskapis signed the North-Eastern Quebec Agreement, under which they surrendered their claims to traditional lands in exchange for exclusive rights to limited territory and the promise of provincial and federal funding for social and economic development. One of the many benefits of self- determination has been the creation of the Naskapi Lexicon and Grammar Project, a community-funded project that operates under the auspices of the Naskapi Development Corporation. Since 1981 they have employed a full-time linguist and a team of Naskapi language consultants. To date, a trilingual dictionary (Naskapi-French-English) has been produced, and work on a descriptive grammar is underway.6 The Naskapi Lexicon and Grammar Project is also undertaking the task of transcribing John Peastitute’s stories into the Naskapi system of orthography (syllabics) to make them available to the Naskapi-speaking community. While the primary goal of the project is to make the literature available to Naskapi readers, ideally the stories will also appear in French and English translation, thereby reaching as wide an audience as possible. “Umâyichîs” is the first of John Peastitute’s stories to appear in English translation.7 Finally, as far as we know, “Umâyichîs” is also the first published example of a “weather- changing” story, at least in Algonquian literature, if not more generally. NOT ES 1. Anthony C. Wallace and Leo Moses, “Mary Kokrak: Five Brothers and their Younger Sister,” in Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, ed. Brian Swann (New York: Vintage Books, 1994), 15–36. 2. Adrian Tanner, Bringing Home Animals: Religious Ideology and Mode of Production of the Mistassini Cree Hunters, Social and Economic Studies 23 (Saint John’s NL: Institute of Social and Economic Research, 1970). 3. Lisa Philips Valentine, Making It Their Own: Severn Ojibwe Communicative Practices (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995).

Umâyichîs 385

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

4. Roger Spielmann, You’re So Fat! Exploring Ojibwe Discourse (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1998). 5. Marguerite MacKenzie, “Fort Chimo Cree: A Case of Dialect Syncretism?” in Papers of the Tenth Algonquian Conference, ed. W. Cowan (Ottawa: Carleton University, 1979), 227–36; Marguerite MacKenzie, “Toward a Dialectology of CreeMontagnais-Naskapi” (Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 1980). 6. Marguerite MacKenzie and Bill Jancewicz, Naskapi Lexicon (Kawawachikamach QC: Naskapi Development Corporation, 1994). 7. Several Eastern Naskapi stories (from the Davis Inlet community) appear in Swann, ed., Coming to Light, 20821.

SUGGEST ED READING

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Byrne, Nympha, and Camille Fouillard, eds. It’s Like the Legend: Innu Women’s Voices. Charlottetown PE: Gynergy Books, 2000. Clouston, James. River Runners. New York: Penguin, 1979. Einish, Jimmy Peter, and John Pratt, eds. Nine Lives: Naskapi Survival on Thin Ice. Kawawachikamach QC: Naskapi Nation of Kawawachikamach, 1992. Henriksen, Georg. Hunters in the Barrens: The Naskapi on the Edge of the White Man’s World. Newfoundland Social and Economic Studies 12. Saint John’s: Institute of Social and Economic Research, Memorial University of Newfoundland, 1973. Murray, Laura J., and Keren D. Rice, eds. Talking on the Page: Editing Aboriginal Oral Texts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999. Nichols, John D., and Arden C. Ogg, eds. Nikotwâsik Iskwâhtêm, Pâskihtêpayih! Studies in Honour of H. C. Wolfart. Algonquian and Iroquoian Linguistics Memoir 13. Manitoba: Algonquian & Iroquoian Linguistics, 1996. Speck, Frank. Naskapi. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1935. Turner, Lucien. Ethnology of the Ungava District. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1889–90.

Umâyichîs TOLD BY JOHN PEAST ITUT E TRANSLAT ED BY JULI E BRITTAIN, ALMA CHEMAGANISH, MARGUERIT E MACKENZI E, AND SILAS NA BINIC ABOO

Even then, way back then in the past, people told legends. They told stories, in the fall. So people say. 386 B RI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now then, so the story goes, there was this shit that looked like a person. And so it was called Umâyichîs because it looked like a person. Now then, as legend has it, it was in a camp that people had abandoned, a camp they had left behind one winter, it was here that Umâyichîs was born.1 This Umâyichîs, he goes from tent to tent because he already looks like a person. Now then, he’s looking for something, he’s looking for anything he might be able to use for clothing. And then he finds just the thing, clothing. He puts these things on, he clothes himself, he put these things on, pants and all.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And then he goes to look for a spear, a spear, a spear. He goes to look for a spear. He finds a good one. He uses this spear as a walking stick. And when he had everything he needed to look like a person, well then, he left. Umâyichîs 387

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

It’s winter. It’s winter when he sets off walking Now then, while he’s walking, he comes across an abandoned camp. And it seems to him that his kin have been here, for he can see that whoever had been living here was human. The impressions in the snow show him that they must have been here a while ago. “That’s who must have been living here, our long-lost kin, it must have been them,” he says. He says this to himself; he’s speaking to himself. And then he sets off walking. And he again reaches what seems to be yet another camp. For the whole winter he’s been walking. Again, he leaves this camp behind.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Again, he sets off walking. Again, he arrives at a camp. And it’s here that the impressions in the snow look different. He sees fresh tracks. “This must be our long-lost kin,” says he. For once again, he sees where they have camped. Again, he sets off walking. Now, by this time it’s spring. Already it’s spring. Already the days are getting longer. The snow must have been slushy at that time. 388 B RI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Sometimes he comes across recently abandoned camps. Again, he sets off walking. Now then, while he’s walking again, he sees that there’s already, already, no snow at all in some places. But there are patches of bare bare ground, bare ground where there must once have been a camp.2 “Now then, now then, here are the traces of our long-lost kin.” Again, he sets off walking. Then he reaches a place where there’s no snow at all. Already the snow has gone. Already it’s summer. It must already have been summer when they were setting up this camp.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He isn’t bothered about them not being there anymore, he just wants to go off and look for them.3 HE SETS OFF WALKING. While he’s walking, he stops to make a fire. And as it burns, the smoke becomes visible. “Well, well, look at that. That has to be a stranger making that smoke,” they say.4 “It’s a stranger all right,” the elders say. Umâyichîs 389

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Then, a little while afterward and from the same direction, right from that very same direction, again the smoke goes up. “Just look at that. He’s coming this way.5 There’s that smoke again, getting closer and closer,” they say. “So let’s go see him then, let’s go on over there. Whoever he is, he’s going to come out of the bush at that bit of shore just over there,” [speaker points across the water]6 the elders say. They look out across the water toward the place where they think this stranger’s going to emerge from the bush. THEY GO OFF TO GET HIM. The smoke looks close now. He’s going to be here today.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Later on, as the day fades into dusk, UMÂYICHÎS CAN BE SEEN COMING OUT OF THE BUSH RIGHT AT THE PLACE WHERE THEY GUESSED HE WOULD. “Go and pick him up in the boat,” the elders said to some of the young unmarried men.7 And off they go to fetch him. THEY’RE COMING TOWARD HIM.8 They’re almost right at him now. “What are you up to!” Umâyichîs says.

390 BRI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“We’ve come to take you back with us,” they reply. And Umâyichîs says, “Are you leaders among your people?” “No,” replies one of the young men. “It should be a leader who comes to fetch me.” [Audience and narrator laugh] “But none of us is a leader,” they say. One of the young men says, “But my friend here in the boat with me, his father usually accompanies us, and he tells the people what to do. It’s him that people listen to any time there’s a decision to be made.” Says Umâyichîs, “He’s the one, he’s the one, the one to come and get me!” The young men go back home in their canoe, THEY LEAVE UMÂYICHÎS BEHIND.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

They don’t have Umâyichîs with them, when they return to the shores of the camp. “Why haven’t you brought him with you?” the elders say. “He said something really strange to us,” the young men reply. “He says to us, ‘It should be a leader that comes to fetch me,’” say the young men. “Well then,” says one of the elders, “what does he look like?” “He looks like a person, of course,” they say. “His clothes are very beautiful.”

Umâyichîs 391

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“He’s dressed like a person. He’s wearing mittens and he’s wearing a hat, and his coat is beautiful.” Now, long ago, so legend has it. people wore leggings, and the ones Umâyichîs wore were beaded right here. [Narrator gestures to show audience how leggings used to be beaded.] His clothes are so very fine. Now then, so the story goes, there’s a man over there, and he’s making a canoe.9 People think of him as a leader. He’s invited to go and fetch Umâyichîs. He sets off in his canoe to get him. He knows just where the stranger is. “Bring your canoe in sideways,” says Umâyichîs. The man in the canoe turns it sideways, but he doesn’t go ashore. And then, using his spear, Umâyichîs jumps aboard.10

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He jumps into the canoe, breaking one of the seats clean in two. He lands right on one of the seats, breaking it clean in half. He doesn’t sit down. He stands there, just like this.11 HE STAYS STANDING UP. The leader takes Umâyichîs back across the water. AS THEY’RE PADDLING Umâyichîs says to the leader, “What’s that place over there, that place where it looks like there’s a stand of tamarack trees?” 392 B RI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“It’s a creek,” replies the chief. “The children used to play there,” the chief says. “It has a lovely pebble beach.” “The person who broke the seat of this canoe will be washed away from that place over there. He’ll break into pieces and vanish,” Umâyichîs says. “WHAT CAN HE BE TALKING ABOUT?” THE LEADER THINKS TO HIMSELF. Then he paddles Umâyichîs in to shore. So, once again the leader turns his boat sideways and Umâyichîs jumps ashore. Mmm. Umâyichîs jumps ashore. He’s been invited into one of the tents. They think he’s a man of high status because his clothes are so handsome. They think he’s a leader. HE IS TAKEN INSIDE, INSIDE HE GOES.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“What on earth are we going to feed this stranger! There’s nothing for us to feed him,” the people say. “At the very least, let’s make him some blood soup,” they say. “He’ll eat that,” they say. So blood soup was prepared. When Umâyichîs saw it, when he saw that blood soup, he began to come apart aahaa HE BEGAN TO COME APART.12 Now then, already it is truly night, already the sun has set. Umâyichîs 393

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

In run the children. “Those flies, they were talking, we heard them!” “‘You treat your shit as if it were a person,’ that’s what it seems we heard those flies say.” [children laugh] “It’s a well-known fact about flies, that they can talk,” says Umâyichîs. “My, my late father,” says Umâyichîs. “My late father once said, ‘it’s at just this time of the year, that flies can talk.’” And as we all know, Umâyichîs’s father never tells a lie.13 [narrator and children laugh]

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Nobody says anything. You see, those people must have thought that Umâyichîs knew an awful lot. When everyone’s ready to go to sleep, the children say, “The moon, the moon, it’s hiding!” Everyone goes out to see, THEY ALL GO RUNNING OUTSIDE TO SEE THE MOON. “This will be the first eclipse of the moon I’ll ever have seen,” SAYS UMÂYICHÎS He goes outside, he goes out to look at the moon. “It looks as if, 394 BRI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

the moon has been hidden behind something,” he says. “When the moon looked like this,” Umâyichîs says, “my father used to call it ‘mâtut pisimw.’”14 [child laughs] “He really seems to know everything,” the people think. He goes over there, out of sight behind the trees, and it seems that he’s leaving. That’s what he does. As soon as he’s completely out of sight, as soon as he’s a little farther on, he drops the mitten that is his hand. When his mitten tears away, there’s only shit there, there in the mitten. And again he sets off walking, and again he drops his moccasin. Then he walks on. And again his sock, his sock comes off.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And his hat, his beaded hat comes off too. And so it was that Umâyichîs was nowhere to be found. “Go on and look for him; go and look for this stranger who has left us, who is nowhere to be found,” the young people were told.15 Now, some of the girls say, “We’ll go and look for him ourselves.” AND OFF THEY GO. There was his moccasin sitting there. Umâyichîs 395

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now, there’s this one young girl who has her older sister along with her. “Older sister,” she says. “I’m going to keep this moccasin, because I will not have a husband.” And she puts the moccasin on. All over her foot there is shit. “WHAT CAN THIS UMÂYICHÎS BE DOING?”16 And off they go on their way again. AND THERE IS HIS MITTEN SITTING THERE. “Older sister,” says the young girl, “I’m going to keep this mitten, because I will not have a husband.” And she puts the mitten on. ALL OVER HER HAND THERE IS SHIT. [child laughs] Now, again, Umâyichîs drops his hat.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Older sister,” says the young girl, “I’m going to keep this hat, because I will not have a husband.” And she puts the hat on her head. ALL OVER HER HEAD THERE IS SHIT. [children laugh] And off they go on their way again. And there are his leggings sitting there. “Older sister,” says the young girl, “I’m going to keep these leggings, because I will not have a husband.”

396 BRI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

AND SHE TAKES THE LEGGINGS AND PUTS THEM ON AND ALL OVER HER LEGS THERE IS SHIT. [narrator and children laugh] Now the girls have reached the bank of that creek where the children used to play. Right there sits his coat, and it seems to be completely covered in shit. And from that place, he is being washed away, he’s dissolving, he’s being swept away by the current.17 That is the length of the story.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. These are the people for whom he searches and whom he eventually meets. 2. Wherever possible, we have tried to mirror the techniques used in the original Naskapi; for example, we have replicated in English the Naskapi “reduplicated” verbs (e.g., the verb “it is bare ground,” pânâkutâyuw, appears in its reduplicated form pipânâkutâyuw, which is translated “bare bare ground”). 3. The “there” referred to in this sentence is the camp of the people for whom he has been searching, the same people from whose excretion he has been created. The deictic terms the narrator uses from this point in the story onward locate him in the camp with the people. 4. The “they” who are speaking here are the people in the camp. 5. There is no gender specified in Algonquian pronouns. I have translated the pronoun as “he” because the reader already knows the stranger is male. 6. The deictic term mâniyâyuwa, which appears in this sentence, is accompanied by a pointing gesture. 7. Traditionally men married at a relatively young age. The fact that these men are unmarried indicates both their youth and their lack of social status within the community. They are the ones who are likely to be sent off by the elders to do errands that nobody else wants to do. 8. At this point in the story the point of view changes. The story is now told from the point of view of Umâyichîs rather than that of the people in the camp.

Umâyichîs 397

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

9. The narrator reenters the world of the story. His use of the term “over there” relocates him physically in the fictitious camp. 10. Umâyichîs knows he will dissolve if he touches water. He asks the man in the canoe to come in sideways, close to shore, so that he will not have to wade through the water. He uses the spear to pole-vault into the boat, clear of the water. 11. Possibly the narrator accompanies this sentence with a gesture, showing his audience how Umâyichîs stands in the canoe. 12. As was the case with the water (and getting out of the boat), Umâyichîs cannot make contact with soup. This too causes him to dissolve. It is not clear whether the very sight (and prospect of ingesting) the soup causes him to begin to fall apart, or whether we are to assume he eats some of it. 13. This is an aside to the audience. 14. Although pisimw is the standard word for “moon,” the phrase mâtut pisimw could not be translated. People we asked said that they felt it was a very old word and that no one now remembered what it meant. 15. The first group of young people seems to have consisted of just two boys. This group of youths is composed of at least some girls too. 16. Since this comment isn’t attributed to either of the girls, it is assumed to be the narrator asking the question of the audience. 17. This is the demise he predicts for himself when he is in the chief ’s canoe traveling toward the camp.

398 B RI T TAIN AND M ACK E NZI E

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The Delaware Creation Story JOHN BI ERHORST

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Under the heading “Work of Mr. Jeremiah Curtin”—referring to the philologist folklorist and former diplomat who had come on staff during the previous twelve-month cycle—the annual report of the Smithsonian Institution’s Bureau of Ethnology for the year 1883–84 states briefly, “On September 1, 1883, Mr. Jeremiah Curtin went to the Cattaraugus Reservation, New York, where he collected about one hundred and seventy myths and some texts. Many of these myths are long and were written out with full details.” Not to be published for another thirty-five years, the myths in question were the traditional narratives comprising “the first serious attempt to record with satisfactory fullness the folklore of the Seneca.”1 Not mentioned in the 1883 notice, and here published for the first time, was a narrative of somewhat greater rarity, written out in the Munsee Delaware language, with English interlinear glosses, and provided with the title “Mōskīm.” This, a version of the Iroquoian-Algonquian creation story, including the descent of the sky woman, the establishment of the earth on the back of the turtle, and the birth of the culture hero, was obtained by Curtin on November 28, 1883, from the versatile traditionalist John Armstrong. The manuscript gives the location as Versailles, New York, which is in the northernmost part of Cattaraugus County, adjacent to the Cattaraugus Seneca Reservation. At a later date Curtin’s manuscripts passed into the hands of the Iroquoianist J. N. B. Hewitt, who recorded additional Seneca narratives at Cattaraugus in 1896 and who was inspired on that occasion to reelicit the Delaware Moskim text from Armstrong in a fuller version. In a prefatory note to a Delaware vocabulary obtained from Armstrong in October 1896, Hewitt described his informant as “a Delaware Indian, married to a Cayuga woman.” A few years later, when publishing Armstrong’s Seneca-language version of the creation story—as if to emphasize Armstrong’s Seneca credentials—Hewitt described him as “of Seneca-Delaware-English mixed blood, an intelligent and conscientious annalist.” Armstrong’s photograph, submitted to the Bureau of

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

401

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Ethnology by Curtin in 1887, shows a man well past middle age, with penetrating eyes and almost a smile, holding an opened book in his hands and looking toward the camera. It is a portrait that calls to mind Hewitt’s further description of Armstrong and other traditionalists at Cattaraugus as “patient, kind, and interested. They were men whose faith in the religion of their ancestors ennobled them with good will, manliness, and a desire to serve.” Armstrong supplied Seneca stories, as well as Delaware stories, to both Curtin and Hewitt. Among his accomplishments he is said to have been an herbalist. From the dated photograph it can be conjectured that he was born about 1820 (in fact, according to Hewitt, “he was born about 1824”); he died between 1896 and 1903.2 The Munsee community at Cattaraugus, which we may assume had nurtured Armstrong, originated in the early 1790s at the time of the Delaware exodus from western Pennsylvania and Ohio. At least in part, the Munsee group that ended up at Cattaraugus reached New York by way of the Allegheny River valley. As the main body of Delawares moved across Ohio and into Indiana, other Munsee groups immigrated to Ontario, settling at Moraviantown, Munseytown, and Six Nations Reserve near Brantford. Many Delawares continued on to Kansas and eventually Oklahoma; these were principally Unami Delawares, who had often banded with Munsees over the course of the westward trek. At the time of the American Revolution, the combined Unami and Munsee population is estimated to have been thirtytwo hundred. At Cattaraugus, in 1800, the Munsee colony was censused as thirty cabins and 160 souls. That same year of 1800 marked the beginning of a notorious series of events in which the Cattaraugus Munsees were accused of witchcraft by their Seneca hosts—an episode colorfully re-created by Anthony F. C. Wallace in his Death and Rebirth of the Seneca. According to some accounts, including Wallace’s, the Munsees escaped persecution as witches by fleeing en masse to Canada, where they found refuge with their sisters and brothers already safely settled at Six Nations Reserve. Still, a document that can be dated to 1821–22 lists the Munsee settlement in Cattaraugus County as having a population of no less than fifty, including twenty “warriors.” Thereafter Munsee culture at Cattaraugus declined—though at the end of the century it glowed brightly in Armstrong’s dictations to Curtin and Hewitt, and as late as 1945 the ethnologist Frank G. Speck could report that “some Delawares, of the Armstrong family, reside there yet.”3 Though removed by many generations from their seventeenth- century homeland of New Jersey, eastern Pennsylvania, Delaware, and southeastern 402 BI E R HORST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

New York, Delaware storytellers preserved memories of “the great water” and “the dense woods.” Even in the twentieth century a traditional tale might begin, “Many long days ago, when the Lenape [i.e., Delawares] lived in the East.” Armstrong himself set one of his stories on the Delaware River, and as recently as the 1970s a narrator at Morpeth, Ontario, south of Moraviantown, was able to tell a fragment of the creation epic, calling it “an eastern story.”4 Armstrong, of course, was sought out by Curtin and Hewitt as a Seneca, not Delaware, informant. His Delaware material, for them, must have been incidental. By far his best-known contribution is his Seneca-language version of the creation story, published by Hewitt in 1903 and treated for the past hundred years as a standard work of Seneca literature. On the surface this major text agrees quite well with other Seneca versions of the Creation and fits comfortably within the Iroquoian tradition. Yet on close inspection it reveals features that set it apart. Among these the most significant is the emotive Dying Brother episode, highly typical of Algonquian versions (Ojibwe, Cree, Montagnais, Menominee, Fox, Sauk, Blackfeet), in which the hero’s brother is killed by evil beings, prompting the hero himself to weep inconsolably. In Menominee and Fox versions his sobs are answered by the trembling earth; in Armstrong’s Seneca-language version, by the rumbling sky.5 Further, Armstrong slips in a hint that the hero had two additional siblings, echoing Algonquian tellings that specify triplets, quadruplets, or even a company of five (Ojibwe, Mahican[?], Potawatomi, Powhatan).6 We also learn that the hero’s mother had been impregnated by wind, another Algonquian feature. In Armstrong’s Delaware-language versions, the Algonquian affinity asserts itself unmistakably in the name given to the hero, Moskim (“hare” or “rabbit”), corresponding to the familiar Manabozho, Nanabush, Tschimammus, and others of Central and Eastern Algonquian lore, generally translated “hare.” As understood in the second half of the twentieth century, the Munsee term is móoshkiingw, with the two vowels approximately as in “no” and “skim” and the final ngw trailing off into voicelessness. Since both Curtin and Hewitt wrote s for either /s/ or /sh/ (i.e., /š/), often missed the wordfinal /w/ when preceded by a consonant, sometimes wrote m for /n/ (and n for /m/), and could have put m for /ngw/, we may not conclude that Armstrong pronounced the term differently from modern speakers. In any case it is here assumed that readers of the English translation will have no objection to Curtin’s “Moskim,” rhymes with “no skim” (accented on the first syllable), wherever the word is used as a proper noun—saving the form móoshkiingw for the common noun “hare.” The Delaware Creation Story 403

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Linguistically the text is better than the preceding comments might imply. The opening sentence, as written by Curtin, reads:7 Nûl īn yok lennapewak monenawáuwûl yol hwatdjĕ míntgwûl Which may be rewritten in modern orthography:8 Nál íin yóok lunaapéewak mahkŭnaawáawal yóol xwáchu-míhtkwal. With the help of these English glosses added by Curtin in the manuscript: /Then/ /those/ /people/ /pull up/ /this/ /big/ /tree/ Minimally refined as follows: /Then/ /it is said/ /these/ /people/ /they pull it up/ /this/ /big/ /tree/ Freely translated: Then, it is said, these people pulled up this big tree. And finally, in the presentation that follows:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then these people pulled up this big tree. Thus the Armstrong- Curtin text (though it is not without problems) is comprehensible in the light of modern language study. Seemingly unobtrusive in the preceding example, Armstrong’s “it is said”— always unobtrusive in the Delaware text—becomes an impediment in English. A further example, not atypical, should make the point: When Moskim, it is said, was born, it is said the old woman was very glad, it is said. Here, incidentally, is another of Armstrong’s non-Iroquoian touches. The old woman’s pleasure over Moskim’s birth belongs to Algonquian, not Iroquoian, versions of the creation story. In Iroquoian tellings the grandmother usually favors the hero’s troublesome brother and is never said to be “glad” when the hero is born. The detail, interestingly, is not included in Armstrong’s Seneca telling or in his 1896 Delaware version. It appears only in the 1883 manuscript, which is also the only version that explains how Mos404 BI E R HORST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

kim received his name (“As for you, you’ll be called Moskim, because the móoshkiingw likes to jump right out and creep into its burrow. From now on you’ll be Moskim”). Overall, however, the Delaware manuscript of 1896 is superior to the 1883 text.9 Its forty pages more nearly follow Armstrong’s well-developed Seneca version, carrying the story beyond the hero’s birth, covering his various adventures and the death of his younger brother. The four-page 1883 version, much shorter, stops with the birth of the hero and the establishment of the path of souls, and it omits the opening mind-guessing episode in the sky world. Moreover, it fails to include the origin of Ursa Major (“the Bear Followers, or Chasers”) and the autumn-appearing Pleiades (“the Bunched Ones”). These and other, lesser details that are helpful for a full understanding of the story have been supplied from the 1896 Delaware version and enclosed in brackets. Note that nothing has been suppressed or reordered in the 1883 text. The translation of Armstrong’s 1883 version, presented here, is complete and in sequence. A point that is somewhat obscure in all three of Armstrong’s dictations (including the published Seneca-language variant) is that the sky woman takes her shawl, or blanket, in her teeth so that she will have both hands free to support herself as she looks down through the sky hole. The important shawl holds her infant daughter, who must accompany her in her descent to the world below—because it is the daughter who will become the mother of Moskim.10

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. J. N. B. Hewitt, ed., “Seneca Fiction, Legends and Myths,” in Thirty-Second Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1910–11 (Washington DC: GPO, 1918), 48. (“American” was added to the Bureau of Ethnology’s title beginning in 1894.) 2. Scraps of information on Armstrong and on Curtin are in Hewitt, “Seneca Fiction”; Hewitt, “Iroquoian Cosmology, First Part,” in Twenty-First Annual Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, 1899–1900 (Washington DC: GPO, 1903); William N. Fenton, The Great Law and the Longhouse (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998), 38; Jeremiah Curtin, Seneca Indian Myths (New York: Dutton, 1923); National Anthropological Archives (NAA), Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC, photographic catalog, no. 947-i; and NAA MS 15, “Vocabulary of Delaware Taken October 1896.” The quotation “patient, kind, and interested . . .” is from Hewitt, “Seneca Fiction,” 50. 3. In addition to Anthony F. C. Wallace, Death and Rebirth of the Seneca (New York: Knopf, 1970), 254– 61, the references are: Frank G. Speck, The Celestial Bear Comes Down to Earth (Reading PA: Reading Public Museum, 1945), 9–12; Ives Goddard, The Delaware Creation Story 405

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Delaware,” in Handbook of North American Indians, ed. William C. Sturtevant, vol. 15 (Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1978), 214, 223–24; Goddard, “The Delaware Language, Past and Present,” in A Delaware Indian Symposium, ed. Herbert C. Kraft (Harrisburg: Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, 1974), 105; and C. A. Weslager, The Delaware Indian Westward Migration (Wallingford PA: Middle Atlantic Press, 1978), 163, 205. 4. John Bierhorst, The White Deer and Other Stories Told by the Lenape (New York: Morrow, 1995), 14, 85, 99; and Bierhorst, Mythology of the Lenape: Guide and Texts (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1995), 71–72. 5. Hewitt, “Iroquoian Cosmology, First Part,” 242– 43; John Bierhorst, The Mythology of North America, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 218–20, 259. 6. Hewitt, “Iroquoian Cosmology, First Part,” 233; Victor Barnouw, Wisconsin Chippewa Myths and Tales (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press), 14–15; Adriaen van der Donck, A Description of the New Netherlands, ed. Thomas F. O’Donnell (Syracuse NY: Syracuse University Press, 1968), 107– 9; Margaret W. Fisher, “The Mythology of the Northern and Northeastern Algonkians,” in Man in Northeastern North America, ed. Frederick Johnson (Andover MA: Phillips Academy, 1946), 232; William Strachey, The Historie of Travell into Virginia Britania (1612; reprint, London: Hakluyt Society, 1953), 102. 7. Curtin’s monenawáuwûl is here taken to be a slip of the pen for mokenawáuwûl. Hewitt’s 1896 transcription of the corresponding passage clearly has k. 8. The writing system used here has been taken from John O’Meara, DelawareEnglish / English-Delaware Dictionary (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996). The same system, without the stress marks, was used in the Delaware Nation Council’s Lunaapeew Dictionary: Basic Words (Thamesville ON: Moravian of the Thames Band, 1992). 9. The 1896 Delaware version is NAA MS 16, Smithsonian Institution, Washington DC. A philological study of this text has been promised by Ives Goddard, who has an English translation prepared in the late 1960s in collaboration with Anderson Pheasant of Moraviantown (Goddard, personal communication). The 1883 text is NAA MS 2204. 10. My reading of NAA MSS 16 and 2204 is indebted primarily to O’Meara’s DelawareEnglish / English-Delaware Dictionary, which incorporates most of John Armstrong’s creation-story vocabulary, and to Ives Goddard’s Delaware Verbal Morphology (New York: Garland, 1979), which permits the analysis of Munsee verb forms.

SUGGEST ED READING Bierhorst, John. “Tales of the Delaware Trickster.” In Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann. New York: Random House, 1994. —   . Mythology of the Lenape: Guide and Texts. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1995. 406 BI E R HORST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

—   . The White Deer and Other Stories Told by the Lenape. New York: William Morrow, 1995. Goddard, Ives. “Delaware.” In Handbook of North American Indians, edited by William C. Sturtevant, 15:213–39.Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. Grumet, Robert S., ed. Voices from the Delaware Big House Ceremony. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2001. Kraft, Herbert C. The Lenape-Delaware Indian Heritage: 10,000 BC to AD 2000. N.p.: Lenape Books, 2001. Weslager, C. A. The Delaware Indians: A History. New Brunswick NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1972.

Moskim

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

TOLD BY JOHN ARMSTRONG

[Above the clouds they lived. The chief had his lodge in the middle of the village. He had a wife, and he had a child, a little girl. One day he began to brood. He declared there was something unclean. He was jealous. He desired something. Everyone tried to enlighten him. No one could guess what this chief might desire. After a while, a man spoke up. He announced, “Now I really believe this might be what he wants. Perhaps he’s thinking, ‘I ought to pull up this tree of mine, then I ought to set it over there.’” Then everybody came.] Then these people pulled up this big tree. Then the ground fell out through the opening. All the people saw how the ground opened up, right while everyone was looking at it. And the chief, too. He told his wife—he said, “Come on, let’s go over to this hole, where everybody’s looking!” [Then the woman picked up her child and put the little girl on her back.] Then they set off at once. They got there, and right away the chief looked into the hole. Then he said to his wife, “Come on! You look, too!” The woman said, “Alas! I’m frightened.” “Come on now, take a look!” So the woman stepped forward, and she looked. The chief said, “Look closely, get down there!” The Delaware Creation Story 407

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

She put her shawl between her teeth. [Then she took hold of the ground there, on the far side and on the near side.] She took hold on both sides— closed her fists on some huckleberry bushes with soil attached. [Then she bent her head far down.] Right away the chief grabbed his wife and pushed her all the way in. Then the woman was really flying. While they were traveling through the clouds, she met the fire serpent. He said to her, “You poor thing! I’m the one he’s jealous of. That’s actually why he wanted to kill you.” He put his hand in his side and took out some corn, an ear of corn—just one. And a bone, a beaver bone. And a little kettle. And a mortar. And a little corn pounder. That might be all. Then the manitous and spirit powers held council and said, “Who will watch out for this poor one?” [They said, “Maybe the sunfish?” And he spoke up: “I can take care of that person!” Then the others declared, “The sunfish couldn’t take care of anything. He’s an ugly one.” They said, “The pike fish. He could be the one.”] Then the pike fish spoke up: “I’m a good man. I could take care of her forever.” The manitous answered, “Not you. You couldn’t do it. You’re too silly, too ill-tempered. You couldn’t do it at all!” Then next, the turtle—the good one—spoke up: “I can take care of that person forever.” “You’re the one who can do it, all right.” Then in fact he came over and raised his back, and the woman landed there. Then, as she wept, she said to her child, “My little one, truly we are poor.” Then she saw that she had some dirt in her hands, and she let it fall to the ground. What she spread out there grew larger. The more she spread it, the more it grew, and eventually it got much bigger. Then it kept on growing bigger and bigger. [And before long this woman saw everything growing.] Eventually trees grew, and potatoes, and grass. [And whatever this woman might say, that’s what would happen. Before long she thought, “The sun! There it is!” And immediately it came about. So there it was, the light of day. It walks the road each morning, that light of day. Then she spoke again. “Well,” she said, “There are stars, too.” Then it really happened. Then she used her hand and pointed to where the stars are. And she declared, “Now these are the Bear Followers—the Chasers. And these are 408 BI E R HORST

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

the Bunched Ones—in wintertime, thanks to them, people will know how much of the winter has gone by.” Well then, the little girl was now grown.] Now, this girl, as she went out to play, found some woods where she could swing. When she grew tired, she would lie down. It felt very good, because of the wind. [Now really, the way the wind was blowing she enjoyed it, and it made her feel as if it might be inside her.] One day the old woman took a good look at her and wondered. She thought, “This daughter of mine looks pregnant.” Then she questioned her. She asked, “Didn’t you ever see anyone? No one at all?” asked the old woman. But then it must have been so. [Indeed, later on, twins grew in the belly of this girl.] It was not long before these two—these twins—began to quarrel, arguing over which one would be born first. The one who was in position to be firstborn spoke up and asked his younger brother, “Which way would you come out?” “Right here at my mother’s navel,” he answered. Moskim said, “You’ll kill our mother,” and then he said to him, “From now on you’ll be called Flint.” “So be it,” said Flint. “As for you, you’ll be called Moskim, because the móoshkiingw likes to jump right out and creep into its burrow. From now on you’ll be Moskim.” When Moskim was born, the old woman was very glad. And then another one. And so Flint was born. [In fact, when he was born, he went straight out. He was born through his mother’s navel. He cut through it.] When Flint was born, the young woman died. Then the old woman cried. When she had quite finished crying, the old woman dug a grave. As she laid her daughter’s head toward the west, she spoke to her encouragingly. [She made her daughter hear her.] She told her, “You are the first to go. [You prepare the road to the cold winds above the clouds.] Everyone will go when they’ve finished living here. “That’s where they’ll go. Now you go first. That’s where all will go. It will be that way forever here.”

The Delaware Creation Story 409

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

A Pair of Hero Stories SUSAN M. PRESTON

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ These stories are two of many recorded by Richard J. Preston, my father, during the 1960s in Waskaganish (then Rupert House), Quebec. They were told by his Cree mentor, John Blackned, who was in his seventies at the time. John had heard the stories from his grandmother at the outset of the twentieth century, when his family—like most others—lived by subsistence hunting and trapping within a vast traditional family hunting territory. The stories were translated during the telling by Anderson Jolly, one sentence at a time. Anderson was about the same age as John, and his English was vernacular rather than academic, learned through having been raised by a fur-trading-company family. The recordings were later transcribed by a young Cree high school graduate who conscientiously worked to improve the accuracy of the English translation. Even so, a few details were missed, so I have retranscribed from the original recordings and inserted only items that were clearly omitted in the earlier work. John’s careful use of brief sentences and repetition add narrative tension, so I have respected that stylistic quality in this transcript, in an attempt to retain the rhythm of the telling in Cree.1 In some instances I have made minor grammatical changes for clarity but have refrained from imposing the use of English words that imply conceptual structures more characteristic of a Western cultural way of thinking than of Cree. Sometimes the distinction appears subtle, but in terms of culture, the change in meanings can be quite significant. The result may seem a little stilted, but its effect should be understood as a conscious and intentional part of the narration. Both of the stories are part of a tradition of unknown duration—the Eastern Cree have lived in the James Bay region for about five millennia. Within this tradition are atiukan, which might be described as ancient myths or legends; tepachiman, or old stories believed to represent the history of persons now long dead; recent historical events and life histories of the narrator or persons known to him or her; and hunting songs. When considered 410

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

as a whole, the stories and songs reveal much about the traditional experience of subsistence life in the Subarctic, including a detailed depiction of the cultural relationship to—and understanding of—landscape.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

/DQGVFDSH The Western idea of landscape or environment does not have an equivalent concept in traditional Cree culture; instead, what we might consider “landscape” for them consisted of the land, waters, topographic features, climate, animals, spirits, and humans. It is an integrative, holistic concept from both an ecological and a social perspective, which is to say that, as the Crees understood it, all these elements of the landscape were active participants in a set of relationships with one another that were predicated on mutual respect and associated expectations for the behavior necessary to maintain equilibrium and continuity throughout the whole. All have the status of “persons.” When trying to understand the meaning and representation of landscape in this tradition, I found that it was bound up in the context of the relationships and actions of persons. For the Cree families whose subsistence activities occurred inland from the coast, it was a life of near constant movement corresponding with the cyclical patterns of movement of the various animals they hunted. To be successful at living, one had to understand the language of the landscape and the life within it. The legends “The Birds That Flew Off with People” and “How the Wolf Came to Be” encompass most of the major symbolic landscape themes that I have discerned.2 These include a heightened tension in activities that occur on water, often associated with conjuring power; water is also often the locus of species transformation, both literal and symbolic. Islands and mountains are like topographic and narrative punctuation marks—they are places apart from everyday experience and are often associated in the stories with exceptional creatures or activities. The land itself is rarely if ever mentioned; instead the reference is to the tracks left by persons—typically in the surface of the snow. The representation of tracks is another key theme in understanding landscape. Tracks are critically important in the subsistence life way and are the most prevalent indicator of cultural activity in the landscape. Tracks have several experiential and narrative functions: (1) tracks are directional: they are maps; (2) tracks are language and text: they convey information of great complexity, they confirm the nature of circumstances and events, they are linked to dreams and metaphors, and they can be used intentionally to assist, deceive, or redirect activity; (3) tracks have a temporal funcA Pair of Hero Stories 411

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

tion: their condition reveals the time that has lapsed since their imprint, and they anticipate future events; and (4) tracks are carriers of the fundamental cultural values of endurance and competence. Finally, the depiction of interspecies relations is central to representing landscape, reflecting the values of reciprocity and respect that inform the hunter’s worldview through familial relations. Extending this worldview is the notion of multispecies perception—particularly when persons demonstrate their competence in their ability to experience the landscape through the mind of others. Cross-species transformation is the ultimate manifestation of this concept and can be literal, symbolic, or implied.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

7KH6WRULHV I think of these two legends as hero stories, which in the Eastern Cree tradition are subtle. In both cases heroism is manifested in a young man’s ability to understand the landscape and interact with it to overcome great adversity, gaining knowledge and, with it, a degree of authority. They are set in the context of traditional life ways, reflecting on ways of knowing the landscape through its form, the cues created by the activities of others, and the relationships among different species within it. Structurally the stories have important parallels; in both cases the hero is a young man who has been orphaned early in the story. In his vulnerability the hero is confronted by the perplexing lack of information about what has happened to his family and by an antagonist determined to kill him. The antagonist is described as bad or cruel and is in effect someone who is disrupting the balance or equilibrium of relations in the landscape. Both heroes respond by drawing on their own skills and self- control to overcome the challenge and restore balance. Their competence is demonstrated through skill in psychic ability, social relations, and traditional craftsmanship. In each case the hero offers to make for his captor a gift—a new nest and a new canoe. The captors are pleased and overconfident, not realizing that the gift is to be the vehicle of their own destruction. The events function as a rite of passage for the young heroes, and having overcome where many before them did not, they attain authority manifested as knowledge and “right behavior” consistent with maintaining the greater balance. One of their final deeds in the stories is to dictate the moral code of appropriate social behavior to new participants in the landscape who have been created through the events of the heroes’ challenge. Finally, both stories have an etiological component, explaining the current size and location of certain bird species and the origins of wolves. 412 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

NOT ES 1. With the financial assistance of the Cree School Board in 1999, and under the initiative of my father, I began the painstaking task of preserving the original acetate recordings by transferring them to CD-ROM format. The result of the first round of work was a twenty-six-volume set titled Eastern James Bay Cree Oral Tradition Series. Minor editing focused on improving ease of listening—entailing removal of excessive background noise such as crying children, coughing, and interruptions. The intent was to preserve the sound of the spoken word in both the Cree and the initial English translation, for use in the Cree school system as well as by scholars. In addition, the beauty and craftsmanship of traditional objects is preserved and shared through the use of photographs on the CD jewelcase covers. Copies are now in each of the nine Eastern Cree communities for school use, as well as being housed in various archival and research collections in Canada, including the Rupert’s Land Institute in Winnipeg and the Canadian Museum of Civilization in Ottawa/Hull. Inquiries should be addressed to Dr. Richard Preston, Department of Anthropology, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. 2. This introduction reflects a major research initiative focusing on landscape meaning and representation in Eastern James Bay Cree oral tradition, begun in 1998. Several articles have been published in conference proceedings, the most detailed of which is in the Papers of the Thirty-First Algonquian Conference (see “Suggested Readings”). The complete study is presented in my forthcoming book At Last He Could Walk No Further: Landscape Experience and Symbolism in Eastern James Bay Cree Oral Tradition. Thanks are due to R. J. Preston for introducing me to the world of Cree narrative and culture and for sharing many insights.

SUGGEST ED READING

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

2Q(DVWHUQ&UHHRUDOWUDGLWLRQDQGWKLVFROOHFWLRQ Preston, Richard J. 2002. Cree Narrative: Expressing the Personal Meanings of Events. 2nd ed. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press.

2Q(DVWHUQ&UHHZRUOGYLHZ Feit, Harvey. 2001. “Hunting, Nature, and Metaphor: Political and Discursive Strategies in James Bay Cree Resistance and Autonomy.” In Indigenous Traditions and Ecology: The Interbeing of Cosmology and Community, ed. John A. Grim, 411– 52. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. Preston, Richard J. 1978. “Le relation sacree entre les cris et les oies.” Recherches Amérindiennes au Québec 8: 147– 52. —   .1982. “Towards a General Statement on the Eastern Cree Structure of Knowledge.” In Papers of the Thirteenth Algonquian Conference, ed. William Cowan, 299– 306. Ottawa: Carleton University. A Pair of Hero Stories 413

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Scott, Colin. 1996. “Science for the West, Myth for the Rest? The Case of James Bay Cree Knowledge Construction.” In Naked Science: Anthropological Inquiry into Boundaries, Power, and Knowledge, ed. Laura Nader, 69–86. New York: Routledge.

2Q(DVWHUQ&UHHODQGVFDSHLQWHUSUHWDWLRQ Preston, Susan M. 2000. “Exploring the Eastern Cree Landscape: Oral Tradition as Cognitive Map.” In Papers of the Thirty-First Algonquian Conference, ed. John D. Nichols, 310–32. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba.

2Q$ERULJLQDOFXOWXUDOODQGVFDSHLQWHUSUHWDWLRQJHQHUDOO\ Feld, Steven, and Keith H. Basso, eds. 1996. Senses of Place. Santa Fe NM: School of American Research Press. Hirsch, Eric, and Michael O’Hanlon, eds. 1995. The Anthropology of Landscape: Perspectives on Place and Space. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Ingold, Tim. 1996. “Hunting and Gathering as Ways of Perceiving the Environment.” In Redefining Nature: Ecology, Culture and Domestication, ed. Roy Ellen and Katsuyoshi Fukui, 117– 55. Oxford: Berg.

The Birds That Flew Off with People TOLD BY JOHN BLACKNED TRANSLAT ED BY ANDERSON JOLLY

Just prior to telling this story, John made a point of drawing attention to the significance of the references to something strange or surprising happening in the story. This is understood to be quite serious, referring to the sense of being sudCopyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

denly confronted by something astounding. The reference occurs repeatedly at the beginning of the story for emphasis and is reinforced again at the end.

This is an old Indian tale about the birds that flew off with people. Once they lost a man, suddenly, just as if he had flown away; that’s what people thought. And when they followed his tracks, they found what he had been carrying, and his trail stopped at the same place. They didn’t know why they lost him like that, just the same as if he had flown away. He had been on his way home at night. Nobody ever knew anyone who lived up in the air, these people long ago, and they didn’t know who could have taken this man from his trail, leaving everything he was carrying behind. There was a woman who disappeared too, on her way home after check414 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ing traps with her husband. He did not find her, and he did not see where someone could have killed her. She was lost. Another man had been out checking traps with his wife. When they came home in the evening, the woman started cooking the beaver. It was dark outside when the woman went out. Suddenly, she could hear someone up in the air singing to a baby, as if they were trying to put it to sleep. So she called out to her husband, “Come quick! Listen!” They could both hear what sounded like a woman up in the air singing a baby to sleep, passing by in the sky. At last they could hear what she was singing, “Goodbye! A large bird is flying away with me! You, people, down there with your fire burning!” as she could see their fire from up above. “Goodbye!” After they went into their tent, the man said, “I guess that’s the one who has been flying away with people, like the man who was lost.” When a person disappears, their tracks are very clear in the snow until they end suddenly, as if they had just flown away from the ground, and whatever they were carrying was there, at the place where the tracks ended. And he told his wife, “It must be a big bird to fly away with people like that. It probably carries people away like it does rabbits. Someday someone will figure it out.” There was a young man who was an only child, living with his mother and father. One night, his father did not return home. They had plenty of food. His mother said to him, “I wonder what happened to your father; he did not return home, yet.” The young man dreamt about his father; he dreamt he was following his path, and at last he saw someone pick him up as he walked along. In his dream, he was thinking that his father was carried away by a very large bird. “I guess that’s what I’m going to find, what I saw in my dream,” he thought. He decided to follow his father’s tracks to see if his dream was true. At last he saw the signs at the place where his father had killed two porcupines along his trail, but he didn’t see the porcupines. His father had left from the side of their wigwam and was circling to go home. He wasn’t very far from it, and the young man was wondering how he could have lost his father so close to home. “My father seems to have been on his way home,” he thought. They were camping near a lake, and already he could see the lake through the bush. He thought his father must have starved before he reached the lake. But his father’s trail went halfway out across the lake and then stopped, suddenly. There they found his bow and arrows, and his axe too, but not the porcupines. The young man went home and told his mother, “This is where A Pair of Hero Stories 415

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

I lost my father, on this lake not far from here. I found his bow and arrows and axe there, at the end of his trail.” So it was just the two of them living together then, the mother and son. The young man started to hunt in the area, like his father had. He didn’t know to be scared to walk around at night. He didn’t think about how his father might have been killed by something that comes out in the night. He didn’t know that there was a large bird up in the air taking people away at night to eat them up. One day the young man and his mother were out hunting for beaver, and he told his mother to haul the ones he had killed back on the sled. It was getting dark already when his mother went home, and their wigwam was very close. She would have to walk in the open across a frozen lake to get there. The young man thought to himself, “I guess my mother is cooking now, and she will probably have some beaver ready for me.” So he came back home too, but his mother wasn’t there. He wondered what happened to her, so he turned back again to have a look around for her, but couldn’t find her. The next morning when he got up, the young man went back out again to look for her. As he came across the lake, all he could see was the end of her trail, but she wasn’t there. So he started to look around on the lake, and at last he saw something small and black. Here were the beavers his mother had been pulling on the sled, and they looked as if they had fallen down from the sky. The young man made up his mind to find out how his father and mother had been lost. So that day he started to talk, saying, “I wish that creature who carried my father away would come to see me.” All that day he talked that way, to make the creature hear him and appear. Then he started to dream, and he dreamt that he had a big bird as his grandfather. All that day while he was sitting in the tent he was saying, “My grandfather, come to see me.” Long ago people did not have very good axes to cut firewood, so they used long logs and sticks that reached all the way from the fire to outside the wigwam door, and they would just shift the wood further into the fire as it burned. Finally, he could hear someone, flying by very fast and heavy. He started to talk through the door of his wigwam, saying, “If you are a bird, start moving my firewood logs and sticks that are lying partly outside.” As soon as he said that, the wood started to move. He started to open his door. Standing there was a very large bird, and it spoke to the young man, saying, “My grandson, I am not the one who ate your father or your mother. I did not eat them. Your grandmother ate your father and mother. 416 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Your grandmother does not fly by day but by night. When she sees a person walking around in the night, she picks them up and flies away with them to kill and eat them. I eat the same kind of food you eat,” he told the young man. “Since you wanted to see me, try not to let your grandmother fly off with you. You are never to walk when it is dark because your grandmother will fly off with you if you do. We have two young birds, and they eat like their mother. We live at the very top of a big mountain. But I do the same as you—when the sun comes up in the morning, I start to hunt. So be careful. I am leaving you now.” The bird turned around and started to fly away. The young man continued to hunt, always remembering what the big bird told him. As soon as the sun would start to set in the evening, he would head for home, before it got dark. Sometimes he used to talk to himself, saying, “It’s my grandmother who is going to kill me.” He lived by himself for a whole winter and never forgot what the big bird told him. If he was walking at night, he did not cross the lake but went around it. One evening he came upon a small lake where he had walked earlier, as he was following his trail home. He thought he would be safe from his grandmother because it was a small little lake, saying to himself, “My grandmother will never fly off with me here.” So he started to run over it, and just about halfway across, he could hear someone coming after him. He was carrying an ice chisel. He could feel someone grabbing him, and he started to talk to her, saying, “Grandmother, don’t put your claws through me. Don’t, don’t.” The bird flew off with him and took him toward the mountain. She began knocking him against the rocks, and when he knew that she was going to try to kill him that way, he positioned his chisel to protect himself from the rocks. Without the chisel, he could not have saved himself, and the big bird would have knocked him down on the rock and killed him. At last she took him right to the top of the mountain and let him go. The bird who came to see him at his wigwam was sitting there and said to him, “What are you doing, my grandson? I told you not to let your grandmother carry you away. I told you to be careful.” The young man didn’t say anything. The next morning his grandfather flew away. His grandfather had told him that they called themselves eagles. While the young man was sitting there, the young birds started pecking at him, trying to eat him, so he hit their noses with a stick to stop them. His grandfather was not gone long and returned with a deer. He said to the young man, “Now we can eat, my grandson. I guess you will have to stay with us.” A Pair of Hero Stories 417

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So the young man stayed with them, but he thought he could not live up there very long or he would be very lonesome. He used to see his grandmother bringing men up there, killing them and smashing their heads off. On one side at the top of this mountain, he could see bones of many people she had killed. His grandfather kept the bones from his food in a separate place. Sometimes his grandmother would fly home with women too, but not very many children. When she got them near the top of the mountain, she’d knock them against the rocks and kill them that way. At last the young man was very angry at her for killing all the people, and he thought she would kill all the people on earth eventually if she kept on that way. He wondered how he could kill her. He thought, “I think I will ask if I can build them a nice, new, big nest.” There were some small trees up on that mountain, not very big and all dried up from the sun—that’s what they used to make their nest. He asked his grandfather first, saying, “I’ll make a nice one.” “Sure, make one,” the bird told him. After the grandfather came back from his hunt with a deer one morning, all the eagles started to eat. His grandmother ate the people in the morning, and then she would sleep all day. The young man started building the nest, using very dry twigs and grasses, and he looked for bushes and branches that were very dry and would burn easily. It was quite large and very high all around. Finally, he was finished. He said to his grandfather, “I am finished with our new home, Grandfather.” He also built a door. He said to him, “Now, you can sleep, if you want to sleep in it.” Then in the night his grandmother flew away and came back with someone to eat. In the morning his grandfather would fly away and come back with a deer every time. They had very big hands with heavy claws. All four of the eagles ate, and then they started to sleep. The young man built a fire away from the nest to cook himself a meal from the meat that his grandfather had brought. Then he took some of the fire and set it right at their door and all around the nest, even underneath. The flames rose up and up, right around, and at last the fire closed around the whole nest. When she saw the flames, the grandmother started to call out, “We got burned! Our nest is burning!” All the birds tried to get out but went into flames as they stood up. His grandmother and the two young birds were all on fire. All he could see was fire around them. At last they couldn’t move. 418 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The young man pulled his grandfather out of the nest just before it all burned up. He could see axes lying around that had belonged to all the people who had been killed there. So he took an axe and started to chop the bodies into small pieces. He started to throw the pieces over one side of the mountain, but not all around. Wherever he didn’t throw them, there are no eagles in that part of the country now, but on the side where he threw the pieces, there are some eagles. As he was throwing the pieces, he called out, “These birds will eat and hunt like my grandfather. There will be no more birds that will eat human beings.” The top of the mountain was very, very high, and it was rocky down below. He had not cut up the body of the grandfather, only the grandmother and the young birds. Now he cut open the stomach of his grandfather and pulled the guts out. He decided to try to go down the mountain inside his grandfather’s body. So he pulled it near the edge of the mountain and climbed inside. Before he entered, he started talking to the body, saying, “Grandfather, fly me down.” He shook himself, and the big bird fell down from the mountain. At last he managed to get down. He started to break the body into pieces and throw them in the same direction as the others. As he was cutting up the pieces, he told them, “You are only going to be this big, my grandfather.” The young man started walking around on the earth again. At last he found other people. He had saved one of the eagle’s feet and its beak to show people how big they were. When he found people, he asked them, “Did you ever hear of anyone who was lost? A person who disappeared, and his tracks ended, suddenly?” The people answered him, “Yes, yes,” they told the young man. “We found that often long ago. We lost someone from their tracks. We all wondered about them. We thought it was very strange to disappear suddenly, and see the person’s tracks end.” He said to the people, “I guess you will not believe the story I’m going to tell you.” And he told them his father got lost that way, “Someone flew away with him, and the same with my mother; I lost her that way too.” He had kept the bird’s foot and beak in his bag and brought them out to show the people. Then he started to tell them the story, all about the eagles. “There will be no more of these big birds flying around here for a while. They flew away with me too,” he said. He told them the story of when the first bird came to see him. “The bird who came was my grandfather, and he told me all about my grandmother. It’s my fault that she flew away with me.” He told the whole story to them, exactly what he did. He said to them, “I did not stay with them very long, but my grandmother sure flew back A Pair of Hero Stories 419

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

with a lot of people. You should see on top of the mountain; there are a lot of human bones. You can tell how many people she and her children ate. They were growing rapidly. But the male bird didn’t eat people, just deer meat. It is a good thing that the young ones were not fully grown; otherwise they could have helped their mother fly off with people too. There will be no more birds that size in this country,” he told them. Before the young man did that, no one knew how it was that people got lost—that the eagles were flying off with them. They could only wonder, and thought it was a person or a creature walking on the earth. On one side of the country, the Indians had not heard about or were not bothered by this bird. She only flew around the other side of the country. The story spread, and now they knew who was killing all the Indians. Other Indians heard about people disappearing, and they all wondered, “If the creature ate the Indians on the spot, why did it not leave any parts or stains?” If a person carried a baby on their back, the baby also disappeared. After the young man had finished telling the story to them, they knew what it was that was killing them.

How the Wolf Came to Be

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

TOLD BY JOHN BLACKNED TRANSLAT ED BY ANDERSON JOLLY

Once there was a man who had two sons. One of his sons was a very small little boy, and one was grown up. This man would hunt around, and many times he would go paddling in the canoe with his wife, leaving the older boy to watch after his younger brother. One day the man and his wife did not return home after paddling. The two boys started to search for their parents every day. The younger son started to cry for his mother and father. Their mother always warned them when they used to cry that a wolf would hear them crying. The older boy started to make toys for his little brother so that he would not miss their parents so much. But there was nothing that could make him stop crying, even when he had a lot of toys made by his older brother. At last the older brother made a whistle that made a sound when he blew on it. The older brother would go down to the shore, still waiting for the return of his parents. He thought they would be back. At last, when they didn’t 420 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

come home, the older brother was sure they must have died. The boys didn’t know what could have happened to them. They thought maybe they had drowned or someone had killed them. They could not go looking for them on the water, as their mother and father had taken their only canoe. And the older brother couldn’t go very far when he was walking around because he couldn’t leave his brother alone, crying all the time. This young man had heard that there were some Indians quite a distance away, and another man not very far from them who had a lot of daughters. He heard that he had sons-in-law for a short time; then he killed them. The young man heard that this was a very cruel old man. Just the same, he kept going down to the water to look for his parents. One day he saw someone coming in a canoe. He saw it was not his parents. The person came paddling to the shore and asked the young man, “What are you doing staying here?” It was a very old man and he was alone. The young man told the story. “My father and mother went away and never returned after paddling, and all I have is my younger brother with me, and he is always crying.” While he was talking to the old man, he was holding his young brother’s favorite toy, the whistle. He showed it to the old man and said, “This is the only toy that helps him stop crying.” The old man asked him, “May I see it?” After he finished looking at the toy, he threw it to the front of his canoe, way at the end. The young man told him to bring it back. “Take it.” The water was very deep, so the young man climbed in the canoe for the toy. As soon as he was in, the old man quickly pushed his canoe out, and he jumped in before the young man could get the toy. The young man said, “My brother is going to cry himself to death. Take me to shore! Take me to shore!” But instead of taking him to shore, the old man started to paddle very heavily. At last, they were very far from his young brother. Finally, the old man said to him, “We are very close to my wigwam.” Then the young man saw a wigwam and three girls there with children. When they reached the shore, the old man said to him, “Come on; come on up.” After he entered the wigwam, the old man said to him, “That’s my daughters, the three of them. You can have one of them as your wife. You can marry the one you want.” The young man started to talk to the girls. He started to tell them, “My mother and father went out paddling but never returned home. We left my brother over there, where we lost our parents. I guess he will die from crying so much.” A Pair of Hero Stories 421

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The girls warned the young man, “Our father always kills our husbands. You will not be able to stay with us very long. You might as well be sure that he will kill you.” The young man was very angry when the old man paddled away from his brother. He whispered to the girls, “Are you going to be glad if I kill your father?” There were three sisters; two of them wanted him for a husband. The girls said to him, “Those are all our children. After our babies are born, our father kills our husbands.” He asked them again, “Would you be glad if I kill your father?” They answered him, “We would be glad as we would be able to stay with you for a longer time.” The young man’s father had taught him how to build a canoe. He said to the girls, “Tell your father I am going to build him a canoe.” The girls told their father, “The young man wants to build you a canoe.” The old man thought, “He only wants to build a canoe for me,” not realizing that the young man was going to try to kill him. He thought, “He must be pleased because I gave him a wife; that is why he wants to build a canoe for me.” The young man started building the canoe. He tried to build it very quickly. He asked the girls, “Ask your father if he has any gum or glue from a sturgeon for the canoe.” The old man said to his daughters, “The last time I had gum or glue from a sturgeon was long ago, before your mother died. There are sturgeons in this lake where we can go and get some.” The young man’s wife whispered to him, “If you go with him, I think my father is going to kill you.” “Never mind,” he said, “I am going out with your father.” She replied, “Make sure you return.” The two men went out. The young man started to try to kill his father-inlaw. When they got to the first rapids, he said to the old man, “Let us play in the rapids. Here are very dangerous looking rapids. Let us go and play.” He knows that the old man is able to use a bird that sings in the winter, called a whiskey jack, as a helper to conjure against people. The old man pretends he’s a whiskey jack. The young man also pretends he is a small bird. They went to a very dangerous part of the rapids. He asked his father-in-law, “I believe you have a bird—where is your bird?” Suddenly, a whiskey jack landed right in front of them. The young man said, “It’s my turn. Come and fly here, small bird.” Then, a small bird landed beside the whiskey jack. 422 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The water of the rapids was falling down and splashing up, making a lot of spray, and it looked very dangerous. The young man said to the old man, “Look, I am going to fly.” Through the small bird, the young man started to fly. He crossed the rapids, circled around and returned, landing again. “You try it,” he said to the old man. “It’s your turn.” The old man sent the whiskey jack to fly, but he wanted to land and rest on the other side of the river. The young man yelled to him, “Don’t, don’t land.” He was halfway where the rapids looked very dangerous. The young man started shouting at the whiskey jack. It fell down into the rapids and died. The young man asked, “What happened, you could not make it across?” He said to the old man, “Now, let us go to where the sturgeons are.” This old man didn’t know he was close to dying already. He was still thinking he could kill his son-in-law before the end of the day. Now, the young man’s father had told him that if someone ever tried to kill him in the water, he should imagine he was an otter, and he would never be killed. The two men went out in the canoe. The old man said to him, “Here it is. This is where the sturgeons are speared.” The old man handed him a spear and told him, “You will look for them since you are younger.” The young man stood up. When he saw his son-in-law getting up inside the canoe, the old man told him, “You know these crosspieces on the canoe; that’s where I stand when I am looking for sturgeon to spear, right up on the last one at the end, right on the top.” The old man was trying to kill his son-in-law. He thought it would be easy, that he would sway the canoe and the young man will fall into the water. So the young man started to stand on top of the smallest thwart. Finally, he saw a sturgeon way under the water. It was a very big one. He speared it, and as soon as he did, the old man started to sway the canoe, knocking him into the water. The young man pulled the spear from the surgeon and held onto it. He remembered what his father had told him, to pretend he was an otter when someone tried to kill him in the water. He traveled under the water, holding onto the sturgeon. Finally, he reached the shore, hiding himself from the old man and secretly watching him. The old man was very still in his canoe, looking around in the water. Finally, he pulled in the spear that was floating in the water using a stick. He put the spear in his canoe. The young man started running way up into the bush, to go home with the sturgeon. When he reached her, he did not tell his wife what her father had done to him. He said to her, “Hurry up and cook the sturgeon. Tell the children to look for the return of their grandfather.” A Pair of Hero Stories 423

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Finally, it was very dark. The children came home saying, “Our grandfather is coming in his canoe.” The young man told his wife, “Give the children some cooked sturgeon, and let them eat it when they meet their grandfather down on the shore.” He said to one of the children, “Eat the sturgeon.” This was not his own child, but one belonging to another son-in-law whom the old man had killed. When the old man came to shore, he asked the children, “What is that you have, my grandchildren? What are you eating?” The children were very small, and they thought the young man was their father. They answered their grandfather, “Our father brought a sturgeon home.” He scolded them, saying, “You don’t make any sense. Your father is being tossed back and forward.” This was how the old man told them their father was dead, that he was being tossed about in the waves. They went up to their wigwam, and the old man entered. Here was his son-in-law sitting. The son-in-law was sitting, thinking, and staring at him. The old man wondered how he had managed to return. The last time he saw his son-in-law, he was way under the water, and he thought he was drowned. So the young man continued to build the canoe for his father-in-law. He also made new paddles, and he put something in the canoe that made a noise like a whistle. This thing he put in the canoe will destroy the old man. At last it was finished, but he did not give it right away. He waited until the old man lived with them for a while. One day he said to his wife, “Tomorrow morning I am going to kill your father. Are you sure you will be glad if I do it?” He was sure that his fatherin-law would not be able to kill him, no matter what he did. He was still very angry at the old man, as he was sure that his young brother was dead by then. The next morning he went out, and it was a very calm day. They were staying along the coast. He said to the women, “Ask your father to try out his new canoe and paddles. If he can’t paddle with his new paddles, I will make new ones for him. Also, if he doesn’t like his canoe, I will make him a new one.” The old man said, “Yes, I will try out my new canoe.” He was banging on his old canoe, saying, “What a rotten canoe I had.” He went out in his new canoe. As he pulled a paddle, there was a whistling sound: cho- c-o- o- o- o. The women yelled to their father, “Oh, Father, your canoe sounds good. Why don’t you paddle around here.” So, the old man was paddling with a choc- o-o-o-o sound. 424 PR E STON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then the women yelled at their father, “Why don’t you paddle farther out in the water?” At last their father was far out in the water. He was very, very far away. Suddenly, there was a heavy fog, and he couldn’t see anything. After a while they could hear him calling out, “My daughters, where are you?” The young man told them not to answer the old man. Finally, they could hardly hear him, he was so far out in the sea. He did not know where he was going. At last a storm came. The man said to the women, “Your father is drowning now.” The women were very glad about their father’s drowning. They thought, “We can live with this young man for a long time.” Sure enough, the old man did not return because he drowned. The young man started to build another canoe for himself, but he could not build it very rapidly. He realized he could not make it to where his young brother was in his father-in-law’s old smashed canoe. When he was finished and his new canoe was ready, he started to hunt for food so they would have some when they went to find his younger brother. At last they left. He had all the women and their children with him. He thought about his brother, “At least I can give him a burial,” as he was sure he was dead. When they went close to the point where they had left him, they saw someone come running along close to the shore where they were. This person said to him, “My brother, I am a wolf now.” It was his young brother. In their younger days, their mother told them many times that a wolf was going to hear them when they start crying. “You will become wolves if a wolf hears you,” she had said to them. The young brother said, “Now I am a wolf, older brother. A wolf heard me crying and that is why I am a wolf.” “I guess you will have to live as a wolf. I don’t want you to eat any people; you will only eat like people do,” his brother replied. “Yes, yes, yes, older brother.” The Indians of long ago said this was how the wolf came to be. When they reached the shore, he collected all his father’s belongings, also his mother’s belongings. He gave all his mother’s belongings to his wife and kept his father’s belongings. Then he said to the women and children, “Let us now return.” They all returned to his father-in-law’s hunting grounds, where the young man began to hunt.

A Pair of Hero Stories 425

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Winter Stories IVES GODDA R D

,QWURGXFWLRQ Presented here are translations of two Meskwaki winter stories, “The Ice Maidens” by Sakihtanohkweha and “Has-a-Rock” by Charley H. Chuck.1 Sakihtanohkweha and Chuck wrote these stories, in the Meskwaki language, for Truman Michelson of the Bureau of American Ethnology. The originals are in the collection of nearly twenty-seven thousand pages of Meskwaki manuscripts assembled by him that is in the Museum of Natural History of the Smithsonian Institution.2 Sakihtanohkweha’s story is on loose sheets of lined yellow foolscap, the standard U.S. government notepaper of the time, which Michelson passed out to Meskwaki writers in the first few years of his fieldwork, beginning in 1911. It was probably written in 1914, the date on the accompanying translation. Chuck’s story is the second of four he wrote in a school tablet, a kind of paper that Michelson provided later on. On the inside of the cover, Chuck wrote (in Meskwaki): “This is the whiteman’s book, for anyone to write an old story, and also if they tell a winter story.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

7KH0HVNZDNLV The Meskwakis (also called the Fox) have lived since the mid-nineteenth century on the Meskwaki Settlement, in Tama County, Iowa. Their land is not a federal reservation but was purchased by them over the years. There were approximately twelve hundred tribal members at the beginning of the twenty-first century and about three hundred speakers of Meskwaki, an Algonquian language nearly identical to Sauk and differing slightly from Kickapoo. 0HVNZDNL:ULWLQJ The traditional Meskwaki writing system derives ultimately from the Roman alphabet as used to write French, but the shapes of some letters and combinations have evolved.3 Word dividers are indicated, though often omitted, 426

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

but there is no punctuation separating sentences or marking quotations, and vowel length and preconsonantal h, which often distinguish meanings in Meskwaki, are not indicated. As a result, Meskwaki can be difficult to read, even for native speakers, but by the same token it is easy to write. The stories are written fluently, and it is clear that the written versions essentially reproduce the way they would have been told in an oral performance. For example, writers who discover that they have omitted something or said the wrong word typically correct themselves as they would in speaking, using the repair markers ne pehe, “Oh, I forgot,” and =we na, “or rather.”4 Note: The reader may wish to read the stories before reading the following discussions, which give away some of the surprises.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

:LQWHU6WRULHV Winter stories (Meskwaki a teso hka kanaki) are myths traditionally told only in winter. Many winter stories, like these, describe the deeds and adventures of legendary heroes, and for several hero tales the collection has multiple versions written by different speakers. These two, however, are unique: the adventures of their nameless heroes were recounted by no other Meskwaki writer or teller. At the same time, they well represent the generic type, though they illustrate two quite different styles of storytelling. To some extent these and other winter stories can be seen as a concatenation of motifs and episodes, a characteristic that reflects the basic technique of the oral composition that is never far below the surface, even when some concatenations have jelled into a conventional sequence. The stories presented here, though unique as wholes, incorporate a number of such conventional motifs. Among those found elsewhere in native North American oral literature are the moccasin switch, the inexhaustible kettle, and the feigned dream.5 Familiar from other Meskwaki stories are the orphaned brother and sister living alone; the footrace for power; white or albino animals as the object of the quest; the magically swift return trip; and the restoration to life and health by sweat bath (effective only if the pleas of the patient to be let out are ignored). Stock figures that appear are Old Lady Manoneha, who lives alone and welcomes and aids the hero, and, in both stories, Elder Sister, who is typically vain, mean, and jealous. Meskwaki stories, as commonly in North America, are greatly concerned with personal relationships. They tend to consist of dialogue combined with minimal scene setting and summary accounts of action and events. Detailed descriptions not crucial to the plot are rare, and when they appear, as in the eight lines devoted to the ice garments of the oldest of the Ice Maidens, they Winter Stories 427

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

have special impact. But these relationships exist within a world that is still in its primeval state, dominated by powerful creatures both humanoid and not, having not yet been made safe for the people to come. The first-time listener trying to understand what is going on is drawn into a world where the characters face similar but more exigent perplexities. Familiar expectations and any reluctance to yield to the flow of the narrative without being at every step in a state of complete enlightenment must be suspended. Listeners must “sit as children,” in the Meskwaki phrase, respectful and attentive, unquestioning but mentally active. Among the relationships of interest in stories are, of course, those that involve difficulties. Both stories may be said to deal metaphorically with the risks taken in seeking a wife and acquiring in-laws. In addition, the central factor in “Has-a-Rock” is the betrayal of the normally inviolate bond of solidarity between uncle (nešise ha, “my mother’s brother”) and nephew. The norms of traditional Meskwaki behavior require an uncle and nephew to defend each other to the death against all others. But the uncle in the story seems to have spent a good part of his life plotting against his nephews. In contrast, Meskwakis view the relations between brothers as fraught with potential conflict, but in the story the brothers’ loyalty to each other is absolute, and one takes great risks, against the other’s fearful pleas, to ensure his brother’s well being. As a foil to the norms of human relationships, “Has-a-Rock” exhibits a sort of native exoticism in its presentation of the kinship relations of the characters. The albino bear and otter are brothers to the uncle but apparently not related to the nephew. The hero and his brother and the girls he wins as wives for the two of them are nephews and nieces to the old man and even brothers and sisters to each other, a relationship that is never spelled out but that would seemingly violate Meskwaki incest prohibitions. 1DUUDWLYH'HYLFHV Meskwaki differs from English in its grammar, in the structure of its sentences, and in the types of stylistic devices employed by its speakers in narratives, features that are often interdependent. For example, because Meskwaki verbs are inflected for both subject and object, nouns are much less frequent than in English. Demonstrative pronouns are typically used to signal a shift in the referent rather than the continuation of the same referent. The use of a noun to refer to an established character almost always has some special significance, such as signaling the end of an episode. In the racy, dramatic style used by Chuck, quotations follow one after the other 428 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

with only occasional indication of who is speaking or spoken to. We can imagine that, in performance, such dialogues were fleshed out with distinguishing voice mannerisms and characterizations. A major transition, especially an exit line, may also be signaled by an expression like, “That’s what he did,” or, “That’s what happened to them.” Certain repetitions also serve this function, as in “The Ice Maidens” when the description of the hill owner as turning into a vulture is given twice, on successive lines. In the same story, the episode with the evil mother-in-law begins after she is portentously named twice in two successive lines that describe her anger at the killing of her evil daughter. Among the narrative techniques used by Meskwaki storytellers and evident in these stories is overlay. An event is briefly described and then reprised in more detail, or the reverse. For example, after giving the hero’s thoughts when he decides to seek a wife, Sakihtanohkweha then jumps back to, “He was hunting,” and recaps the event from an external perspective. After describing Elder Sister as burning the moccasins, the narrator returns to before this event to describe the hero’s actions. Similarly, Chuck twice recounts the resumption of speed by the pursuing bear and how the hindquarters monster stuffed itself to capacity, and after describing the uncle’s sister as swallowing the otter’s head, he goes back to report the threat that preceded this. An overlay typically ends by moving the narrative forward. In this it differs from repairs and asides, which can usually be bracketed off in the edition and translation, but the distinction is not always sharp. Also, the possible conscious use of false repairs after witting omissions further complicates the typology of nonlinear narrative devices and the task of annotating them for the reader. For example, at the end of Chuck’s story the overlays, repeats, and repairs follow with such rapidity that the chronological sequence is thoroughly obscured in the headlong narration, but the confusion works to heighten the drama of the climactic scene. A device used in Meskwaki narratives but nearly impossible to replicate in English is the proximate shift. If two characters are interacting, the nouns, pronouns, and verbal inflections referring to one will be marked as being in the proximate category, and those referring to the other will be marked differently, for the obviative category. The proximate character is foregrounded and determines the point of view taken by the narrative, while the obviative character is backgrounded. A skilled narrator, however, moves the characters in and out of these categories. A secondary figure may be shifted from obviative to proximate to take center stage for a while, and a primary character Winter Stories 429

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

may be shifted to the obviative to indicate that the action is viewed from the point of view of another. For example, in “The Ice Maidens,” after the hero finally defeats the owner of the hill, the vanquished man is shifted into the proximate, and his physical exhaustion and dispossession are recounted as if from his point of view, heightening the pathos. Later, when the evil mother-in-law meets her end, she is shifted into the proximate for the last five lines of the episode, while the hero disappears from direct reference, and the killing is recounted in the passive voice. Another feature of Meskwaki grammar that may be exploited in the telling of myths is gender. All nouns belong to either the animate (or high) gender or the inanimate (or low) gender, with all living things and many that are not living classed as grammatically animate.6 The word oši kani, “his hindquarters,” is inanimate, so describing the activities of the hindquarters monster in “Has-a-Rock” presents problems. At one point the narrator shifts the pronominal inflection for the monster from inanimate to animate for three lines. This variation introduces no clarity, but the ostensible uncertainty over how to articulate the description seems emblematic of the bizarre and ambiguous nature of the creature.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

7KH7UDQVODWLRQV These translations render the Meskwaki originals closely, in the sense that they start with an attempt to translate every word. There are a few systematic exceptions. The enclitic hearsay marker =‘pi, “they say,” has not been translated except to mark some lines that are presented as author’s comments outside the stream of narrative. The mild expletives =ni hka (used by men) and =škwe (used by women) are also usually not translated, following the practice of native speakers, except for an occasional “damn” and “darn.” Declarative statements in Meskwaki narratives mostly have verbs inflected in what is called the aorist conjunct mode, which is also used for a range of conjoined and subordinate clauses, translatable as “and,” “that,” “as,” “when,” and the like. It is often uncertain how to divide into sentences a series of clauses having aorist verbs. As a rule of thumb, an aorist is taken as the verb of an independent sentence to the extent that it is accompanied by other words, especially certain sentence particles, while one that is the only word in the clause is interpreted as coordinate or subordinate. To replicate the effect of the serial aorists in a colloquial narrative style, many sentences are translated with “And” as the first word. The absence of a sentenceinitial “And” where there otherwise might be one indicates a larger break. 430 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

A number of features of Meskwaki discourse and narrative style are kept in the translation. Rather than recasting whole sentences and, in effect, whole narratives as if they had been told from the outset in English, traces of these devices are left in the translation to convey an explicitly exotic style to the narrative. This subtly alien voice may serve to alert readers that learning to interpret these devices will heighten their experience of the tales and deepen their understanding of what is different about how they work their charm. The translation usually follows the Meskwaki text in using pronouns instead of nouns. In a few cases, where the lack of a noun would be burdensome on the English reader, it has been supplied. Similarly, the omission of quotative verbs has generally been followed in the translation of Chuck’s dialogues. To help indicate the intended reading of the English, commas have been used strictly to indicate breaks, and words to be stressed (usually on a high pitch) are in small caps, with intermediate pitch indicated by italics. One artificial distinction introduced into the dialogues in “Has-a-Rock” is to translate the vocative nesi hi, literally “O my younger brother,” as “little brother” when used to the hero by his older brother, but as “my brother” when used by the uncle to his animal kin. Also, the uncle’s animal brothers are referred to as “he” or “it” in dialogue, depending on the speaker’s attitude, but only as “it” in the narrator’s voice. The translation of interjections and imitative words has often been a matter of conjecture. Even where more or less conventional interjections are involved, the underspecificity of Meskwaki spelling may make identification uncertain. For the imitative vocables that Chuck used exuberantly for sound effects, the problem is even greater. They seem often to be his own ad hoc creations, Meskwaki spelling is completely inadequate for representing them recognizably on the page, and English is little better. One especially doubtful case is treated in a textual note. The presentation on the page employs a phrase-line format in order to follow the phrasing of the original and to reflect the slower pace of oral delivery. It is hoped that this format will “elicit a form of readerly attention slower and more intense than that invited by prose.”7 If not read aloud, the translation should at least be read with an internal speaking voice. And, in any event, the text should be approached not as expository prose, but more as the dialogue and stage directions of a play, to which such tales may usefully be compared. A new paragraph is typically indicated where the Meskwaki text has a proximate shift or certain delimiting words, expressions, or grammatical forms. A paragraph is also marked at the start of each direct quotation, Winter Stories 431

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

except in a few cases where a quote continues after a quotative verb. Within a quotation a new paragraph may also indicate a shift in addressee or the beginning or end of an aside. Closing quotation marks directly followed by another quotation indicate a shift of speaker. The section divider (≈) indicates a break larger than a paragraph, typically corresponding to the passage of time or a change of location. Repairs are set off by dashes used as brackets, and narrator’s asides, especially if they break the flow of the narrative, are placed in parentheses or, if lengthy, set off as a separate section. Where the idiom of the two languages diverges, I have been guided by advice and suggestions from native speakers on equivalents. The translation has benefited greatly from my review of selected words, lines, and sections with the late Adeline Wanatee and with an anonymous Meskwaki elder. Renderings of some words were taken from a free translation of Sakihtanohkweha’s story dictated by Harry Lincoln to Truman Michelson in 1914. There is no translation of Chuck’s story in the collection. Specific interesting or problematical cases of translation are commented on in notes.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

6DNLKWDQRKNZHKD Sakihtanohkweha (sa kihtanohkwe ha) was born in 1875 and died in 1957. Her name is of the Water clan. She never had an English name and was referred to in English as Bill Leaf ’s wife or Mrs. Bill Leaf, after the last of her husbands. She was skilled in the making of traditional craft items, including mats, bags, beadwork, and yarn belts (finger-woven sashes).8 Sakihtanohkweha’s stories tend to be carefully told, but with an occasional playfulness. She may violate the listener’s expectation or poke fun at the repetitive diction of the tales by using a conventional or repeated expression in an incongruous context. For example, in “The Ice Maidens,” after the hero receives each of his blessings he looks for who has spoken to him and sees, in turn, his arrow, his bowstring, and . . . his eye. &KXFN Charley H. Chuck’s full English name is a riff on the nickname Chuck, derived from his Meskwaki name, ča kehta kosi ha, which is of the highest lineage of the Thunder clan. He was born in 1867 and died in 1940 when he was struck by a train near the settlement. He was for a number of years the tribal secretary, making written records in Meskwaki of official meetings and other activities, and was for a time also the tribal policeman. In 1905 he rewrote some of his personal archive and writings in an alphabet that used English 432 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

letter values, and this collection was published, in Meskwaki only, by the State Historical Society of Iowa.9 Chuck is remembered as a lively storyteller, whose performances featured voice characterizations and oral sound effects. Various more or less conventional patterns of expressive and emphatic intonation are implied in his dialogue sections, but as these cannot be indicated in writing they can be recovered only by reviewing the texts with speakers. For example, a different intonation may turn a statement into a sarcastic remark with the opposite meaning. All these features present challenges to the interpretation and translation of the written text.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

´7KH,FH0DLGHQVµ The Meskwaki name for this story is pepo natesi hkwe waki. This was written at the top of the first page by the writer’s husband, Bill Leaf, and appears twice in the narrative itself. It is formally the plural of the feminine equivalent of pepo natesiwa, the name of the Winter God, and might thus be translated literally as “Winter Spirit women.”10 This feminine form is apparently not found elsewhere. The English translation used here for this name is, of course, borrowed from Hans Christian Andersen. The general characteristics of the Meskwaki Ice Maidens and the fatal difficulties men face in courting them justify the appropriation of the familiar and convenient label. It remains to be seen whether there is any further significance to the vague parallels found in Andersen’s tale and in the Grimm brothers’ tale of the Snow Queen. The ice bridge and the ice garments of Eldest Sister among the Meskwaki Ice Maidens recall the crystalline Otherworld of European myth, but exact parallels have not been found.11 The general plot of “The Ice Maidens” and the entirety of the opening and closing episodes match closely the Meskwaki story of we pene me ha, “Turkey-Owner,” of which there are several versions in the Michelson collection, including one by Sakihtanohkweha. The core tale about the Ice Maidens themselves, however, from the hero’s arrival at Manoneha’s house to his departure for home, is, except for a few incidental motifs, unique. This core tale contains the only occurrence in attested Meskwaki oral literature of the widespread motif of the Vagina Dentata (toothed vagina).12 It thus serves as a caution against taking as conclusive the absence of a motif or tale type from an attested tradition. A motif found in an oft-told tale or tied to a major character in one tradition may play a minor role in another and thus easily be at risk of being overlooked. Winter Stories 433

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

´+DVD5RFNµ Chuck’s name for this story was we to seni me ha, which literally means “the one who has a stone or rock,” here rendered “Has-a-Rock.” Other names of Meskwaki myth characters made on the same pattern include we to če ka me ha, “the one who has a fisher skin,” and we pene me ha, “Turkey-Owner,” already mentioned. It is noteworthy that Has-a-Rock is not the hero of the story, who has no name, but the hero’s uncle and antagonist. An unusual feature of this story is that it begins in medias res, with part 2, in effect. The listener is in the position of trying to deduce what happened in part 1 as the story goes along. This is gradually revealed by the hero’s older brother, whose pitiful condition and its connection with the earlier events also become clear only gradually: he speaks from high up and is described as standing and sitting but not as moving or doing anything else, and he can aid his younger brother only by shouting insults at his pursuers from afar. His brother stands while speaking with him. Well into the story we learn that his name is ki škesita, “Cut-Off.” It turns out that he was cut in two by their uncle’s arrow, with his upper half landing atop a tree and his hindquarters becoming a voracious monster that stalks the easternmost wastes of the earth. A close parallel to the Meskwaki story “Has-a-Rock” is the first part of the Menominee tale of the hero Wäwapikuahsemit.13 The name Wäwapikuahsemit (to use Bloomfield’s early spelling), later written technically as wɛ wa pekuahsemet, means “one who has (a or some) wa pekuahs-,” which is clearly “small white something- or-other,” perhaps “small white feather.”14 Wäwapikuahsemit’s antagonist is an evil grandfather that raised him, rather than an uncle, and it is the enchanted sisters who cut his older brother in two, sticking his top half on a stump and giving his hindquarters to the sky spirits of the east and west as a plaything. The hero marries both girls and makes his brother whole. But the Menominee tale, at least in the two tellings we have of it, does not have the same impact as the Meskwaki one, since the condition of the older brother is fully explained at the outset. On one point, though, the Menominee version clarifies an allusion in the Meskwaki one. Twice the uncle in the Meskwaki story refers to hummingbirds being worn as earrings, without specifying their significance or even exactly who is wearing them. The Menominee hero Wäwapikuahsemit also wears birds as earrings. They are referred to as “little birds called Masanakoka” in John V. Satterlee’s translation, which leaves them otherwise unexplained, but in the telling by Josephine Satterlee, John V. Satterlee’s

434 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

daughter-in-law, they are specifically hummingbirds (which are called something else in Menominee) and are a source of his power. The Menominee story thus makes it certain that the hummingbird earrings in the Meskwaki tale were worn by the hero. For Meskwakis, hummingbirds traditionally represent speed and endurance and are the source of the spiritual power of ceremonial runners (aška pe waki), as they are the ceremonial runners of the birds.15 In the Meskwaki tale, then, the hummingbirds give the hero extraordinary powers as a runner. While Chuck’s “Has-a-Rock” resembles the first half of the Menominee tale “Wäwapikuahsemit,” the second part of “Wäwapikuahsemit,” in which the hero goes to rescue two sisters, closely parallels the Meskwaki tale “TurkeyOwner,” which, as already discussed, matches the framing narrative of “The Ice Maidens.”16 From such comparisons the modular construction of such stories in general is evident, reflecting the way winter stories were told, one after another, night after night. Tellers would suture together different stories with nameless heroes, and in time some combinations became conventional. A man who is half tree also appears in an Eastern Sioux tale retold by Henry Schoolcraft: “[T]his man, who had the looks of great age, was composed of wood from his breast downward, and appeared to be fixed in the earth.”17 He gives advice to the hero, White Feather, who has been raised in isolation and kept in ignorance by his grandfather, but the stories are otherwise quite different. Even more different is a Teton Sioux tale in which a man is made to grow a tree base by a vengeful sister he had branded for tricking him into unwitting incest.18 A faint echo is in the Oklahoma Wyandot tale “The Old Bear and His Nephew,” in which the hero is called to by “A uki . . . sitting high up in the tree-top. His name was ‘The-one-with-bareloins- and-without-lower-limbs.’” The uki (manitou) comes down from his tree to converse.19 The striking agreement between the name of the hero in the Eastern Sioux tale and a possible interpretation of the name of the hero in the Menominee tale suggests that a search for versions of the Sioux and Algonquian stories that share more than the motif of the tree man might be fruitful. NOT ES 1. I am grateful to Lucy Thomason and Charlotte I. Goddard for helpful comments, and to Dan Zwiener for sharing his knowledge of Native American corn varieties and for his suggestions about the possible identity of the corn served by Manoneha in “The Ice Maidens.”

Winter Stories 435

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

2. National Anthropological Archives manuscripts nos. 2662 (Sakihtanohkweha) and 2737 (Chuck). 3. Goddard, “Writing and Reading Mesquakie (Fox)”; Walker, “Native Writing Systems,” 168–71; Kinkade and Mattina, “Discourse,” 274, fig. 13. 4. All Meskwaki words in italics are in a technical phonemic orthography. Short vowels are pronounced approximately as in Spanish or Italian; long vowels (marked with a raised dot) are pronounced roughly as in German; š is English sh; and č is English ch. The double hyphen (=) marks enclitics, words that must be pronounced together with a preceding word and therefore cannot occur at the beginning of a sentence. 5. For some references, see Thompson, Tales, 325, 330, 335. 6. Goddard, “Grammatical Gender.” 7. Ruth Moore, in the Times Literary Supplement, August 9, 2002 (no. 5184), p. 5. 8. Torrence and Hobbs, Art of the Red Earth People, 121, 127 (nos. 16, 97). 9. Cha kä ta ko si [Chuck], Collection of Meskwaki Manuscripts; Purcell, “Mesquakie Indian Settlement in 1905,” 52– 54. Few Meskwakis have been able to read the odd spelling used in this publication, and this may account for the reported belief that, when Duren J. H. Ward obtained the copies of Chuck’s writings from him, Chuck “did not take the assignment too seriously” (Purcell, 54). There is reason to believe, however, that Chuck made verbatim copies of his papers for Ward and did not alter them for publication, except for prudent omissions, though he did not provide a comprehensive tribal history of the sort Ward appears to have thought he was getting. His manuscript is in the State Historical Society of Iowa, Iowa City. 10. Pepo natesiwa, the name of the Winter God, is also translated “Spirit of Winter,” “Winter Spirit,” and more freely “North Wind,” “Cold Weather,” and even “Santa Claus.” The name is derived from pepo wi, “winter; it is winter” (compare Kickapoo pepoonwi) by a suffix -(a)tesiw that makes several names of nature gods and the like, including also ni petesiwa, “Harvest Spirit” (compare ni penwi, “it’s the time when the garden crops are ripe”). 11. Patch, “Some Elements,” 608n23, 610n30. 12. Thompson, Tales, 309n115. 13. There is an English version of this in Skinner and Satterlee, “Folklore of the Menomini Indians,” 317–324, 524, and a Menominee version told by Josephine Satterlee in Bloomfield, Menomini Texts, 468–77. 14. The unattested but implied word wa pekuahs- contains wa p-, “white,” and the diminutive suffix -hs, but the medial portion has no known meaning or obvious analysis (Bloomfield, Menomini Language, 234, 403). It is possible, however, that -ekuahs is an archaic fusion of the attested element - ekon, “feather,” and the diminutive suffix -hs. If so the name would mean “one who has a small white feather (or feathers).” 15. Michelson, “Notes on the Ceremonial Runners,” 9, 23–35.

436 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

16. On “Wäwapikuahsemit,” see Skinner and Satterlee, “Folklore of the Menomini Indians,” 324–27; Bloomfield, Menomini Texts, 476– 83. 17. Schoolcraft, Algic Researches, 76. 18. Deloria, Dakota Texts, xiii, 177–78. 19. Barbeau, Huron-Wyandot Traditional Narratives, 33, 199.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

REFERENC ES AND SUGGEST ED READING Barbeau, Marius. Huron-Wyandot Traditional Narratives in Translations and Native Texts. National Museum of Canada Bulletin no. 165. Ottawa: Canada Department of Northern Affairs and National Resources, 1960. Bloomfield, Leonard. Menomini Texts. American Ethnological Society Publications no. 12. New York: G. E. Stechert, 1927. —   . The Menomini Language. New Haven CT: Yale University Press, 1962. Callender, Charles. “Fox.” In Northeast, edited by Bruce G. Trigger, vol. 15 of Handbook of North American Indians, general editor William C. Sturtevant, 636– 47. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1978. “Cha kä ta ko si” [Chuck, Charley H.]. A Collection of Meskwaki Manuscripts. Iowa City: State Historical Society of Iowa, 1907. Deloria, Ella. Dakota Texts. American Ethnological Society Publications no.14. New York: G. E. Stechert, 1932. Goddard, Ives. “Writing and Reading Mesquakie (Fox).” In Papers of the TwentySeventh Algonquian Conference, edited by David H. Pentland, 117–34. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba, 1996. —   . “Grammatical Gender in Algonquian.” In Papers of the Thirty-Third Algonquian Conference, edited by H. C. Wolfart, 195–231. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba, 2002. —   . “Meskwaki: Two Winter Stories.” In Voices from Four Directions, edited by Brian Swann, 423– 67. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2004. Jones, William. “Episodes in the Culture Hero Myth of the Sauks and Foxes.” Journal of American Folklore 14 (1901): 225–39. —   . Fox Texts. American Ethnological Society Publications no. 1. Leiden, Holland: E. J. Brill for the American Ethnological Society, 1907. —   . “Notes on the Fox Indians.” Journal of American Folklore 24 (1911): 209–37. —   . Ethnography of the Fox Indians. Edited by Margaret Welpley Fisher. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 125. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1939. Kinkade, M. Dale, and Anthony Mattina. “Discourse.” In Languages, edited by Ives Goddard, vol. 17 of Handbook of North American Indians, general editor William C. Sturtevant, 244–74.Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1996. Michelson, Truman. “Notes on the Ceremonial Runners of the Fox Indians.” In Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin no. 85, pp. v–vii, 1– 50. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1927.

Winter Stories 437

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Patch, Howard R. “Some Elements in Mediaeval Descriptions of the Otherworld.” Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 33 (1918): 601– 43. Purcell, L. Edward. “The Mesquakie Indian Settlement in 1905.” Palimpsest 55 (1974): 34– 55. Schoolcraft, Henry R. Algic Researches. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1839. Skinner, Alanson, and John V. Satterlee. “Folklore of the Menomini Indians.” In Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 13, part 3. New York: American Museum of Natural History, 1915. Thompson, Stith. Tales of the North American Indians. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1929. Reprint, Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1966. Torrence, Gaylord, and Robert Hobbs. Art of the Red Earth People: The Mesquakie of Iowa. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1989. Walker, Willard B. “Native Writing Systems.” In Languages, edited by Ives Goddard, vol. 17 of Handbook of North American Indians, general editor William C. Sturtevant, 158– 84. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution, 1996.

The Ice Maidens

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

W RITT E N BY SAK I H TANOH K WEH A TRA N SL AT ED BY I V ES G ODDAR D

And then there were two other people, living in a single lodge,1 Indians,2 a young brother and sister. Their lodge was the only one there, far off in the wilderness. No other Indians lived nearby. They were all by themselves. And then at some point the man had a thought: “Well, why don’t I go out and look for a wife. At least then my sister would have someone to talk to whenever she’s left at home. “I mean, what else are we going to do for the rest of our lives!” the man thought. Without further ado, he then went back, going to tell his sister. He was hunting. And then it suddenly dawned on him, and he told her that. 438 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“But don’t just go, though. You must first do some fasting,” she told him. “The creatures called ‘women’ are hard to get,” she told him. And then the next morning he fasted. And before the full number of days had passed, that fellow received a blessing. And he told his sister. “That won’t do it,” she told him. “Women are hard to get, I tell you,” she told him. And then he began fasting again, and he received yet another blessing, and again he told his sister. “You definitely have to do some more,” she told him. “You still haven’t gone long enough,” he was told. And he then fasted yet again. And yet again he told his sister. So, then he was told, “Go, if you wish, as you now are, without full gear.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And then he departed. And having gone over the hill he came out in the open again. And on the hill someone else came into the open. They came out at exactly the same time. And at exactly the same time they said, “Hello!” to each other. Well, it seems every time they spoke they both said the same thing. After a while they got their conversation straightened out right. And then they could challenge each other to a race. And they gave each other their word. They ran the circuit of the whole earth, and that Indian lost the race. (Now, it turned out that the one who made the challenge was the owner of that big hill.) He lost all his clothes on the bet, and even his dream power. He was beaten out of all his blessings as well. That fellow was beaten out of all of them as well, and he went back naked. Winter Stories 439

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‣ ‣ ‣ After he got back to his sister’s place,3 he stood outside and asked for something he could wear. It was handed out to him, along with a scolding. His sister lost no time in giving him a big scolding. “That’s why I told you, it’s hard to go somewhere else,” the man was told. ‣ ‣ ‣ Now, the one that beat him had said, “Come back and challenge me again, whenever you want to come and challenge me.” And he had said he would.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And now he lost no time in starting to fast again. And before the fast was over he received a blessing. “Cease your weeping. I am, without a doubt, the fastest in the whole wide world,” said the voice of someone speaking to him. And when he looked at whoever might be speaking to him, why, here he found that what was speaking to him was his own arrow! “Gee, so THAT’S what it was!” thought the Indian. He set to weeping loudly all over again. And he didn’t eat anything. After a few days someone spoke to him again. “All right, cease your weeping. I am, for sure, the fastest in the whole wide world,” said the voice. And when he looked at whoever might be speaking to him, why, here he found that it was his bowstring! And he recommenced weeping loudly and recommenced fasting strictly. And again he received a blessing. 440 G ODDA RD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The voice told him the same thing as before. And when he looked at whoever might be speaking to him, why, here he found that his eye, his very own eye, was what had blessed him! In other words, he could run at speed as far as he could see. No matter. He thought that that as well was not enough. And he did not cease his weeping. He kept on as before, weeping and weeping. And AGAIN someone blessed him. “All right, cease your weeping. I bless you. That guy that outran you doesn’t AMOUNT to anything!4 But I am actually, for sure, the fastest in the whole wide world,” the voice told him. “Look at me,” the other told him, and he looked at him. Why, here he found that his heart, his own heart, was blessing him! “Hey, now I’m in business! It’s really true,” he thought. “Truly there’s no stopping me now,” he thought, and he left for home. When he got back to his sister’s place, he ate a meal. “It’s done,” he said to his sister. “I’m going to go race,” he told her. “Why, go ahead,” he was told, and he left. ‣ ‣ ‣ He went and ran out into the open over on that hill. And over there, after he ran out, in no time at all the same man as before again came running out towards him. “Hello,” they said to each other. “Do you challenge me?” they said to each other. Every time they spoke they said the same thing. Quite some time later they got their conversation straightened out right. Winter Stories 441

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Are you here to challenge me now?” the Indian was asked. “Yes,” he replied. “Oh! Why, it’s quite up to you, of course,” he was told. And they began to strip down.5 And they told each other, “Go!” And they took off. And he left him an overwhelmingly great distance behind. He ran at the speed that his heart beat. The other man was left really way far behind. Now HE was slowing down from exhaustion. He came running up slowly. He barely made it back, so far was he left behind. And then he began to pay off his bet. Everything he was wearing was won from him. He really lost a great deal, and his dream power was won from him with the rest. He turned over everything. “That’s it,” he said. “You are truly really fast,” he told him. “What’s more, no one else has ever beaten me,” he said. “So you’ve now beaten me for the first time,” the man who had been outraced told him. He even ceased to be a human being and turned into a turkey vulture. He ceased to be a human being, they say. And as for him, he arrived back loaded down with things.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And then he again set out from there. NOW he went a-courting. And on and on that young man walked. When nightfall overtook him, he built a small fire by a river. And he killed a deer. Then after his meal he slept a bit. When he woke up, it was early, and he started walking, setting out. He just started walking whatever way he was going, with no particular destination. 442 G ODDA RD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

That evening he again arrived over at a river, where he killed a single deer, and he roasted it on a spit. After cooking it, he ate it. And after eating, he slept. When he woke up, he set out. Quite late he again came to a river over somewhere, and he killed a deer. Then after eating something he slept. And when he woke up he set out, going to seek a bride. Over somewhere he again came to a river, and he went hunting and killed a deer. Again, after waking up, he set out without bothering to eat. He did not need to eat in the morning. All he ever did after waking up was set out. That’s what he did.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And thus, over yonder, he then came to a village, an Indian village. And he went into a certain little house, where there was a little old lady living all by herself. “Goodness me! It’s my grandchild,” she said to him, and she cooked a meal for him, Old Lady Manoneha did.6 “Why, I don’t think I can get my FILL, with her cooking so LITTLE!” thought the fellow. “Mercy me! My grandson is challenging my kettle,” said the old lady. “Whoops! Darned if she doesn’t know what I’m thinking,” the fellow thought. And he tried as hard as he could not to think about anything else. Soon she finished her cooking. And he watched her serving the corn into a little wooden dish. Well, it was half a small kernel of white hominy corn and half of a little currant.7 She fanned it to cool it off, and the amount of it grew steadily larger. Winter Stories 443

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Eat!” he was told. And he set to eating. Soon he could eat no more. He was unable to finish his plate. “That’s all I can do,” he said. “You challenged my little kettle,” he was told. “And now you’ve failed to avoid being unable to finish your plate,” the fellow was told. After he was through eating, his grandmother instructed him. “There are some young maidens that come to this place,” she said. “What’s distinctive about them is that a little old lady always comes last of all. SHE’s the young maiden of the lot. The ones further to the front are actually older,” she said. “So, SHE is for sure the youngest of them all,” his grandmother said.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ Why, soon someone was coming. Sure enough, it was some women. A bunch of them were seen coming, and a camp was made. And he saw a little old lady come walking last of all, using a cane. That night he and a lot of other guys went to sneak in with the girls.8 Except that the visitor went to sneak in with the little old lady. And the other young folks made fun of him for sneaking in with an old lady. Then did he make the old lady his wife. ‣ ‣ ‣ The very next day they left, and went back. When they camped over yonder, the women made a lodge. Every one of them had a husband. So there were really a lot of them living together when they all got there. That night, Elder Sister burned all the moccasins.9 But that Indian KNEW that she was going to do that. 444 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And a short time into the night he switched his moccasins from where he had hung them up, hanging up HER moccasins instead in the place where HIS moccasins had been. Then Elder Sister had inadvertently burned her own moccasins along with the rest. ‣ ‣ ‣

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

As if nothing at all were amiss she said, “This is the Planting Moon.”10 “Hey! Don’t take my moccasins down!” she was told. “Those are MY moccasins, as you can see,” she was told. “Oh my! Why, where did they go, then?” she said. That woman had really made things hard for herself, for there was a lot of snow, which she had to contend with. And as for those other sons-in-law, every one of them was without footwear. Meanwhile, Elder Sister wrapped her feet with a little blanket. And those other sons-in-law were told by the Indian, “Go back! “And I’ll give you these things to wear,” they were told, meaning as footwear. Now, it was all kinds of animals— a buffalo, a bear, a lynx, a wolf, a mountain lion— all kinds of animals. And they all turned back. “And I’ll bring your wives back to you,” the ones turning back were told. ‣ ‣ ‣ He was the only one who continued the pursuit. And remember, there was really a lot of snow. There was so much it came up to their knees. But that fellow was really powerful, as well. When they set out every time, he would say words, for the weather to stay warm. They say those women would really get worn down by the heat when the weather was warm. That’s how much that man was in control of things. Winter Stories 445

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And as for Elder Sister, she would lie down without even eating supper, as she was just too tired. But in the case of the man, whenever he got tired he would bar the path of the others. He would hang up his blanket, then, wherever he’d gotten to. That’s where the other woman would drop her load,11 where she would drop the things she was carrying on her back.12 Right away that other woman would set to making a lodge, while that man, for his part, went and killed a deer. Then he would bring it back, and then they would cook it. Much later in the night the woman Elder Sister would walk up. And before eating anything at all, she fell asleep, lying there dressed in the full outfit of clothes she was wearing.13

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ Over yonder they arrived at a river, and there was a bridge. He could see it was all ice. It was enveloped in solid ice. But come to him, he braved it, clambering up the last. Those wives of his, on the other hand, went running on up, as if there were nothing to it. But HE was expected to meet his end right there, when he would slip. And he did not suffer the expected fate. And he did not slip. As if there were nothing to it, he climbed on up. And he did not fall off. He still arrived over where those Ice Maidens lived. ‣ ‣ ‣ Elder Sister could be seen dressed in finery. She had ice for earrings, wearing it like those long dangler earrings that shimmer. 446 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And the woman also wore bracelets of it, and just everything. And even her leggins were of it, and besides all that she also wore a blanket of ice. She had quite a costume of finery, indeed.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ But when those women got back the older women were glad, at the prospect of killing that young man. And ONE of those women never went anyplace. So, whenever the others brought sons-in-law to the family, they say, SHE would sleep with them first. And she would kill them then. She would reportedly weep when they didn’t sleep with her. But he knew ahead of time that she did that, they say. So, they say, that fellow already had a rock with him. And sure enough, then, that woman announced, “I shall sleep with our husband first.”14 They say that woman’s vagina had teeth. And when anyone had sex with her, she would bite off his penis. So, as she lay there yielding, then, that fellow stuck the rock into her. Suddenly, early in the night, she was heard to cry out. “His thrusting broke all my teeth off,” she said. And right away she died, early, early in the night. And the old lady was angered, as the daughter of the old woman had been slain. ‣ ‣ ‣ And then she used an entirely different tone of voice. “I shall give a ceremonial feast,” said the old lady. “And you shall serve as my attendant for it,” the old lady told her sonin-law. “All right, I will,” he replied to her. And he served her as ceremonial attendant. Winter Stories 447

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And she gave a Grand Medicine feast with chopped- corn soup. After she sang some songs, she told him, “Okay now, I’m going to sing dancing songs.” “All right,” her son-in-law answered her. “And you must DANCE,” she told him. “All right, I will,” the man told her, and he stepped outside for a moment. And he put a rocky crag on his back.15 This time the old lady was sitting there with a war club. And when her son-in-law danced past her, she took the war club and struck him on the back. And failing to snap his spine, all she did was make the rocky crag resound from her blow. “Gosh!” she said, and she was frightened. After she broke off singing, “Now me,” she was told. “I actually have just the right medicine for that, too. “We’re supposed to take turns singing when we do this,” declared the son-in-law. “All right,” his mother-in-law replied to him. And he began to sing. He sang any old way at random. After he finished singing, “Okay now, you must DANCE,” she was told. “Now it’s your turn.” “All right, I will,” said the old lady, and she danced. “Why don’t I do just what I saw you do!” she was told. And the war club was at the ready on the sidelines. And when she danced directly in front, the old lady was struck with that war club, and she was killed. ‣ ‣ ‣ Those whose mother she had been hauled their things outside. And after taking them out of the lodge, they burned it up along with everything in it, 448 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

along with their mother. They burned her up as well. And also that thing she somewhat prayed to they burned her up with, too. And as for that man, “Get ready to travel,” he said to those ten girls.16 “We’re going to leave. “Wait, I have to work on you first,” he told them, and he had them sit in a straight line. “Bare your knees,” he told them. And he grazed them on the knees with the shot of an arrow. Every one of them had their knees twisted sideways by it. So, then women were fixed, so they would not have stamina, so they would tire pretty easily. Before that was done to them, they really had stamina. So, now, since that time, they tire pretty easily, after that was done to them. ‣ ‣ ‣

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Then they left to go to where the man came from. —To where he was married, rather.— They only slept once on the way. And the next day they arrived over where the women’s husbands were. And the women were dropped off. They say that’s what happened to the Ice Maidens at the time they were fetched back. Only, first their mother had to be killed.17 ‣ ‣ ‣ And then that man and his wife lived there at Manoneha’s house. For quite a few years in all, that man hunted for his grandmother. And after a while, then, they had a baby, a little boy. And then at some point that man informed his grandmother of his plans, telling her that he would be leaving. “Why, go right ahead and do that!” the old lady told him. Only, he first cut great loads of wood for her. Winter Stories 449

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ After they had cut loads and loads of wood for her, they left her, going to his sister’s place. After arriving over at a river, all they did was go to sleep. And eating a deer the next day, they then arrived over where his sister was. And when they came walking up a short distance off, they noticed that their house had no smoke coming from it. “Uh- oh! What could have happened to my sister!” he thought. And when they got to the door, here they found it shut. And he spoke to her. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?” he asked her. And here what she said was, “Here they are, back again!” And she said to them, “Mind you, you’re always making me mistake your voices.” “I promise you it’s US,” he told her. “See, that’s what you always say to me,” she said. “And what’s more, here’s your nephew. Feel his hand,” he told her. She went over there, and she felt his hand. And sure enough, she found her hand in contact with the little hand of a baby. It turned out that foxes had been abusing her, always throwing ashes in her eyes. That’s what they did. Those foxes had made that woman’s eyes turn inside- out from the burning. And then that man just kept hunting. That’s the end of the story about them.

450 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Has-A-Rock WRITT EN BY CHARLEY H. CHUCK TRA N SL AT ED BY I V ES G ODDAR D

This uncle and nephew, as it turns out, were living wherever it was. One time, “Nephew,” said the one to the other, “if I have a nightmare, you must use my rock. You must hit me with it, if I have a nightmare.” And one time his uncle was moaning, and he hit him with it. THUNK! “Yow- ow-ow- ow! You hit me too hard, Nephew.” “Come on, I just rolled it over that way a little.” “Listen, Nephew, I saw a vision of a bear, for me to put on a ceremonial feast with. He’s white, apparently. In the south, not far off, that’s where he is, apparently. So, he’s the one you must go get for me, for me to put on a ceremonial feast with.” “Okay, I will. Sure, I will go after him. I’ll leave tomorrow morning,” he told him.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ When it was daylight he left. And at some point as he was walking on, someplace over that way, someone spoke to him from somewhere. “Gee, it’s my little brother,” said the other to him. He kept looking around for the place where the speaker might be. And high up, there he saw him sitting. “Where are you going, little brother?” “Has-a-Rock sent me to get something so that he can put on a ceremonial feast with it.” “Listen, little brother, I will tell you. Winter Stories 451

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Stand there a while. “Now our uncle is making plans for you. That’s the reason you see ME like this. This is where the blow launched me to, when our uncle shot me. Though I did bring the creature to him. It’s a pretty fast runner, but me, I outran it, and another one as well. I outran them. I ran faster than both of them. “So here’s what you must do. After you have killed it, and after our uncle has had a look at it, he will say, ‘Say, that’s terrific! This will make a splendid tobacco bag for me,’ he will say. “You must walk over to pick up a firebrand, and pick up the creature on the way. You must whoop four times and throw it in the fire. “Me, I went different places doing what he wanted. And so that’s the reason I’m the way I am. That’s why it was easy for him to do me in. “So, don’t you believe him. “Oh, say, I forgot, when you pick up the firebrand: ‘You might have made a slip of the tongue about yourself. I mean, really, don’t you think you would have said, “I had a vision of a creature I’m to make a tobacco bag out of.” Don’t you really think you would have said that at the outset. What you did say, remember, was, “For me to put on a ceremonial feast.”’ “And after you have put it all in the pot, you must cook it uniformly to perfection. His sister will rush to take a spot down there in the entranceway. And so she’s the one you must serve the head to. And also you must tell her, ‘This is what he’s praying to here: his war club.18 And this is what, I imagine, you should be praying to as well,’ you must tell her. You must set it standing in front of her. 452 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‘This is what he prays to, as it is hungry. So any dawdler I imagine I’m supposed to club to death with this war club.’ That’s what you must tell her, so she will eat. “Well, he will have a toothache. The moment you walk over to take up the firebrand is the exact moment our uncle will develop a toothache. “That’s it. “Now go on ahead,” his elder brother told him.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ Sure enough, when he arrived over there, the bear was lying about. There was none but a small bit of black on it, and he shot it in the hollow of its throat. And as soon as he let fly the arrow, he took off running. —Say, I forgot, what his older brother instructed him to do: “There are guards over there. So you must toss tobacco to them. And again further on. Those are the kind that are really ravenous. ‘Don’t cry out,’ you must tell them. And then a little further on is where it’s lying.” So then that’s what he did. He offered tobacco to those creatures each time he came out of the forest, so they wouldn’t cry out. So then he got to the place where it lay.— And when he took off, he ran really fast. And with that, sure enough, he could sense it coming behind him. And with that, sure enough, every thrust of his feet was followed instantly by the sound of the snapping of its teeth. CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! He ran really fast. ‣ ‣ ‣ Winter Stories 453

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And he came running back to where his older brother stood. “Bravo! Run fast, little brother. You’re outrunning the red- eyed one. “So, what does he look like as he comes? His eyes are RED! Isn’t he ASHAMED of himself for always CHASING people around!” he said to the bear. And after it ran right by him: “And what kind of a BUTT does he have going by? Why, he’s got a really big brown bunghole!”19 The bear in its anger twisted sideways as it ran. And after it had gone past, again: “So, what sort of heels does he have running off? Why, his heels are really chapped,” he said to it, once more, angering it by his insults. But meanwhile his younger brother had already run on a considerable distance, so much had he distracted the bear. The bear went running off atwist for quite some distance, and took off. After it had gone a good distance past, it took off again, running after its prey.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ Before it could manage to catch up with him again, they came running out of the forest back at the house he shared with his uncle. Now, the old man had barricaded himself in the house to a farethee-well. He stopped up all the holes, so there was no way the other fellow could dash in through someplace.20 And he closed up all the little cracks. And then every now and then he looked to try and see them. And suddenly they came running out of the forest. “Bravo! Run fast, my nephew! You’re outrunning him. 454 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Run fast, my brother! You’re definitely catching up with him. Fling him headlong!21 “Run fast, my nephew! You’re definitely outrunning him. “Fling him headlong! Fling him headlong!” And they came rushing up. “WHUMP! WHUMP!” was the noise they made.22 “Phew!” “Oh my! Well, my younger brother IS quite a runner! “Oh, why did you have to face hummingbird earrings!23 “Well, my younger brother DOES run fast!” Suddenly he was aware of him quivering his arrows. Now, he was kneeling at the door, gripping the door in his hands.24 And just as he looked, he saw him quivering his arrows. “Uh- oh! Well, I always DID tell my nephew to fast. Well, my nephew IS a swift runner.” And he opened the door and looked at him. “Terrific! By golly, Nephew! This will make a splendid tobacco bag for me to wear when there’s a celebration, Nephew.” He walked over and picked up a firebrand. “Say, you might have made a slip of the tongue about yourself. I mean, really, don’t you think you would have said at the outset, ‘I had a vision of a creature I’m to make a tobacco bag out of.’ What you DID say, remember, was, ‘For me to put on a ceremonial feast with.’ You might now have made a slip of the tongue about yourself.” He was holding the bear by the leg. “Yohohoho! Yohohoho! Yohohoho! Yohohoho!” He whooped. After he whooped four times, there was a joyful shout from the people.25 And he threw it in the fire Winter Stories 455

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

and singed the hair off it. “They’re in on it with that scoundrel. Woe is me, my poor brother! Woe is me, my poor brother!” After singeing the hair off, he brought it back and set to butchering it. “What shall I do now? You’re not keeping on with your instructions to me.” “Actually, I’m bothered by a toothache, Nephew. Just any way will do. You be in charge of how to butcher it yourself. “Yow- ow- ow! Yow-ow-ow! Yow- ow-ow! My poor brother!” “Why, you really keep making the most inappropriate outcries!” “Actually, it’s just because the worms are biting me every which way—that’s the reason for the way I keep on crying out, Nephew. “Yow- ow-ow-ow! Yow-ow- ow! “Don’t pay any attention to me, Nephew.” After putting it in the pot, he barely let it boil at all. “All right, now here this is clearly all overcooked.” “Well, okay, Nephew, invite people. Now you must go outside and give the call. Namely, you must tell them they’re invited to eat. And he went outside. “You must tell them they’re invited to eat!” “You said exactly what I said.” “Well, that’s what you told me to say. So that’s the reason I said it.” And he went out again. “You are invited to eat!” He shouted then for real. And the other people trooped in. And then, after they had all filed in: “This here is what this man prays to, as it always eats at that time. ‘It’s probably hungry,’ he says. Actually, he’s bothered by a toothache. So this war club of his is what he prays to.” And he stood it up in front of them. 456 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

“Anyone who doesn’t completely finish everything I’m supposed to club to death. As each of us finishes our plate we’re supposed to sink into the ground,” he told them. After serving it out to them, he told them, “Pitch in!” In no time they were sinking into the ground one after the other. And last of all was the old lady, last of all, at her wit’s end, unable to chew the severed poll.26 “Why, now I suppose I must club this one to death,” he said to her. But concluding there was nothing else for it, she swallowed that head in a gulp, as the war club was being aimed at her. And with that she went sinking into the ground, barely in time. “You were frightening the old lady,” the other told him.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ “All right, Nephew, you must hit me with my rock again, if I come to in my sleep, Nephew.” “Okay, I will.” And again at some point he moaned. He even sprang up in the air a bit. He threw it hard, and the blow he struck against him went, “THUNK!” “Yow-yow-yow-yow! You hit me too hard, Nephew.” “Why, and here I only rolled it over that way a little. I wonder what kind of a noise you’d make if I DID hit you hard.” “Listen, Nephew, again I had a vision that I am to give a ceremonial feast. A bit further on from where you went to get the other one there’s an otter, apparently. It’s white, apparently. So, that’s the one I want you to get for me.” Again he told him, “Okay, I will. I’ll go early tomorrow morning.” ‣ ‣ ‣ Winter Stories 457

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

The next day he left. And he went by where his older brother was. “All right, little brother, try your hardest. This time he runs even faster. But once you outrun him, you shall outrun him. Though I DID outrun that one as well. So, once you outrun him, you must do the same thing you did to the other one. You must do exactly the same thing as before. And on your way there, as well, you must do exactly what you did as you went on your way before. Exactly the same as what you did before is what you must do,” his older brother told him. And he went on.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And he arrived over there. But he did the same series of things that he had done as he went along before. When he got there, here he saw it facing him from the hillside opposite. And he shot at it. And as soon as he let fly his arrow, he took off running. And with that, sure enough, every thrust of his feet was followed instantly by the sound of the snapping of its teeth, coming behind. Then he really ran fast. ‣ ‣ ‣ And he came running to where his brother was sitting. Then HE, as before, hurled insults at the otter. “What are his eyes like as he comes running? See, his eyes are really red. Or is it when he’s running fast? 458 G ODDA R D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

His eyes must just be red like that when he’s running, apparently, the one who apparently has no shame,” he said to it. It turned its head the other way as it ran and ran by. But meanwhile his younger brother had already dashed on a considerable distance. After it had gone past, it took off running again.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ But as for the old man, “Which way do you suppose that guy runs in through?” the old man was muttering. And sure enough, at that he came running into view. “Bravo! Run fast, my nephew! You’re outrunning him. “Run fast, my brother. He has killed your older brother. Fling him headlong, my brother! “Run fast, my nephew. You’re outrunning him. “Fling him headlong, my brother! Fling him headlong.” And they arrived there on the run. “WHUMP! WHUMP!” “Phew! Phew! Phew!” “Oh my! Well, the younger brother IS quite a runner! “What’s going on? “Don’t think you didn’t grieve me no end in killing my younger brother!” And he said to the other one, “Why did you have to face hummingbirds in the ears!” At some point he was aware of him quivering his arrows. “Uh-oh. Well, I DID egg my nephew on. I always DID tell him to fast. My nephew IS quite a runner. That’s the reason why I told him to fast.” Winter Stories 459

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And he opened the door. “Say, that’s terrific! This will make a splendid tobacco bag for me, Nephew, when there’s a celebration. You realize my tobacco bag would be a unique standout.” “Wouldn’t you have said, ‘I had a vision of the one I will have as my tobacco pouch.’ But BEFORE you clearly said, ‘This time I had a vision of the one I will make a ceremonial feast with.’ You might now have made a slip of the tongue about yourself,” he told him. And he walked over and picked up a firebrand. “Woe is me! My poor brothers! Woe is me! He has now killed both my younger brothers. “Yow- ow-ow-ow, Yow Ow-ow-ow, Yow Ow-ow- ow. Woe is me! My poor brothers!” He whooped four times, and a joyful shout could be heard. “They’re in with that rascal on the killing of both my brothers. “Woe is me! My poor brothers!” He finished singeing the hair off it and brought it back. “What the . . . ! I must have a toothache again.” “It’s darned inconvenient for you to start having a toothache every time you’re about to give a ceremonial feast. Talk about bad timing! I mean, here you had a vision that you would give a ceremonial feast.” He set to putting it in the pot. “Why, now here this one’s bones have clearly come loose in the boiling.” “Evidently, you could try to invite people to eat, now.” “Yes, I could.” “Now you must go outside and give the call. Namely, you must say what you said before. “Yow Ow- ow- ow, Yow Ow-ow-ow.” And he stepped out. “You must say what you said before.” And he stepped back in. 460 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“‘It’s US. You’re invited to eat,’ you must tell them.” And he went out again. “‘You are invited to eat,’ you must tell them.” “You must say just what you said.” “Well, that’s what you told me to say.” He shouted for real. “You’re invited to eat!” The other people kept coming in. After they took their seats, he began serving them. And that old lady was again the one he served the head. “All right, this time now this same thing is again what he prays to. So this time now it will want to be fed. It’s exactly the same thing again we did before. Again we must eat it bones and all. As each of us finishes our plate we’re supposed to sink into the ground,” he told them. “Pitch in!” he told them. There was nothing but CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP, CHOMP. One after the other they sank into the ground as they finished their plates. Last of all the little old lady was wondering what to do with the head. She had no teeth, you see. But eventually she swallowed it whole. “All right, here I go, I’m going to club this one to death,” he said to her, as he stood there taking aim at her. “You’re definitely frightening the old lady.” She just barely sank into the ground in time. ‣ ‣ ‣ And then, after they had finished their doings, his uncle again lay down. “Again you must hit me if I have a nightmare,” he told him. “Nephew, you must hit me with my rock.” “You must be keen to have a toothache again. And also, I’m always hitting you too hard.” “No, it’s okay to hit me.” At some point he saw he was having a nightmare. Winter Stories 461

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And he said, “Apparently this guy has a fearfully hard head,” and hit him as hard as he could. THUNK! “Yow Ow- ow, you hit me too hard, Nephew.” “Why, I just pushed it over there a little.” “All right, Nephew, I had a vision that I would have daughters-in-law living here.27 A bit beyond where you went after the others is a place where there are women. So those are the ones you must go after.” “Sure, I’ll go tomorrow.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ The next day he left. And he went by where his older brother was. “All right, little brother, now, they run really fast. Try your hardest! “Once you do outrun them, here’s what they’ll do: Once you do the business with those women, then you’ll meet your ruin. “Try your hardest! “Myself, I did the business with Elder Sister.28 And consequently that’s why this was done to me. “And once, by some chance, you get through, then what’s there is the thing. A stone-headed arrow with a cedar shaft is there. And that’s what you must use. You must tell him, ‘This is our arrow, the girls’ and mine.’ And what he’ll tell you is, ‘Use this,’ referring to HIS arrow. Don’t listen to him. “He’ll shoot at you twice. And if he does that and misses you, then you will shoot. And you must hurriedly set a fire under him while he’s up in the air. If you don’t do that to him, however, he’ll get back in it. You must take the firewood there on the run, hurriedly. Only then will you kill him. That’s what you must do, little brother. 462 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Try your hardest! “And here’s the thing: those women will press you hard to do the business with them. But don’t, little brother. Believe what I’m telling you now.” The other finished speaking to him. And he went on, then. He went the same way he had gone the times before.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ When he got over there, here he saw there was a little dome-shaped winter lodge. And he snuck up on it, and peered in through a crack. They were on opposite sides, making yarn belts. “Well now, someone is peering in at us,” said one. And he took off running. When he came rushing up to where his older brother was, “Bravo, run fast, little brother! You’re definitely outrunning them. “And, what kind of bodies are they coming with? Well, there’s my old shafting hole in the older one.29 So, what kind of bodies are they coming with?” The women covered themselves with their hands. And after they had gone by, this time he said to them, “And what kind of rear ends are they going away with?” They ran off atwist. And then at some point he saw them take off again. In a short time his younger brother was caught up to. And when they caught up, they stopped running a bit. “Oh, the woman is in love,” thought Cut-Off.30 ‣ ‣ ‣ Meanwhile, the old man had barricaded himself in the house. And here they came, running out of the forest. “Bravo! Run fast, my nephew! Winter Stories 463

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Bravo, you two! Fling him headlong! He has killed both our younger brothers, both your brothers. Fling him headlong!” WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! “Phew! Phew!” he heard someone say. “Oh my! My nieces do run fast. They’re definitely pretty good runners.” Suddenly he was aware that they were taking their clothes off. “Uh- oh! Actually, I always DID tell my nephew to fast. Oh my! My nephew is definitely quite a runner,” he said of him. Now, that skin had an arrow hole in it, and that’s the hole he would rush in through. And then the old man made gifts of bridal clothing,31 handing broadcloth blankets out the door. After they had come in, “All right, my nieces, four days. “All right, my nephew, you must hit me if I have a nightmare. “Four days, my nieces.” “Mercy on us, what in the world is he talking about?” At some point he saw him rousing in his sleep, and he hit him. THUNK! “Yow Ow- ow- ow! “What gives, my nieces?” “Well, what in the world is it that he keeps talking about? That he would be putting us at the end of the line, apparently.” “I frankly don’t believe you, my nieces. I think you’re fibbing me. I’ll start over in four days again. This time for certain. “All right, Nephew, if I rouse in my sleep, you must hit me with my rock, Nephew.” —Say, I forgot, back when he slept with the other two the first time, the man slept in the middle. And the older one pressed him hard, as she would wrap herself around him. And her younger sister said to her, “Really now! You realize the one you’re getting in with killed them both!” 464 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

I forgot that’s what they did first.— And then this time again they did the same thing, too. And they paid no attention when the uncle roused in his sleep. After four days, “Darn it all, try and hit him as hard as you can!” “Well, obviously that’s my practice. I always hit him as hard as I can,” he told them. And he hit him as hard as he could. “Yow Ow- ow-ow. “I think you egged him on, my nieces.” “Really the only thing he did was kick it over there as we were occupying his attention,” he was told. “Listen, Nephew, I had a vision that we would try to shoot each other, Nephew. We must try to do it right now,” he said to him. “Okay,” he told him. Right away he found himself being made to stand in place. “Hold him firmly, my nieces,” he told his nieces. (Understand, he was being held by both arms.) And after he was held, he shot at him at a spot a little below his navel. And as soon as he let the arrow fly, he was pushed down, and the uncle’s shot missed him. KSHEEOOO! Its sound was heard going by.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And Cut-Off, “Ee! I wonder what happened to my poor brother. Oh dear, I hope he gets to shoot,” said Cut-Off. “Now he’ll be shot at one more time, if, by some chance, the shot missed him.” ‣ ‣ ‣ “All right, THIS time, my nieces. You definitely pushed him down. You’re in with him, I think. Winter Stories 465

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

After all, this fellow killed both your brothers, my nieces. Hold him firmly!” “But, can’t you see, he almost knocked us over,” they answered him. “Maybe we can NOT hold him.” “No, my nieces. DO hold him,” he told them. “Now!” And he took his stance. “You must jump up in the air,” the women told him. As soon as the uncle’s shot came off the bow, they jerked him up in the air. Now, this fellow shot a little below the height of his knees, in order to hit him if he threw himself down again. KSHEEOOO! And he missed him. ‣ ‣ ‣ And again Cut-Off, “Well now! The shot must have missed my brother. And then, once he shoots, that’ll be that,” he said, and he kept listening for the sound.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And then again he said to them, “All right, my nieces.” And after taking his stance he told them, “You must push him down.” “All right, Nephew, here’s our arrow, yours and mine.”32 “Oh, well here’s our arrow, THEIRS and mine.33 And this is what I will use.” “Gee, but with that you won’t be able to shoot me, if you were to use that one.” “Oh, well this is the one I’ll use.” “Down, my nieces. For, if you go in with HIM, that’ll be that. Don’t forget, he killed both your brothers.” The arrow was loosed at him. KSHEEOOO! 466 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‣ ‣ ‣ Cut-Off made his tree rock with his whooping. ‣ ‣ ‣ Meanwhile, the others made a large fire. And after making a large fire, they could hear the sound of him getting closer. Whereupon he landed in the middle of the blaze and burned. They burned him up. After they burned him up, they left. “We’ll go camp over yonder where her husband is, so they can talk together.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And they arrived over where he was. “Hey, I’ve brought you your wife, so you can talk with each other and see each other.” And they built a house. And after they built it, Elder Sister was told, “Well, this will be your spot.34 And you can see each other across the lodge, directly up through the smoke hole.” “Well now! That’s excellent, little brother. “That WAS how I was expecting you to get through, little brother. All I’ve been thinking here is, ‘If only he, by some chance, gets through.’ So now I’m really pleased that you got through and overcame our uncle. That’s what pleases me. And also that you brought me this old lady. And, that’s where she and I can talk together, at least.” ‣ ‣ ‣ And one fine day some time later on he asked him, “By the way, big brother, where’s your bottom half ?” “Gee, don’t, little brother. Winter Stories 467

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

It’s very dangerous. Don’t do it. What do you care about it, that you would talk about it?” “I DON’T. It’s really just so I’ll know that I’m asking you. But not to do anything with it.” “Well, it stays far off toward the sunrise. Where its territory begins, right there human life ends. When anyone smokes, it immediately attacks them. That’s the nature of it. Our uncle’s arrow is the same thing. That’s its tooth. It’s very dangerous, little brother. What do you care about it, that you would be talking about it?” “Oh, I see. Actually, I was just asking you for the heck of it.”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And at some point they said to Elder Sister, “All right, we’re going to gather Indian hemp to fix.” “By the way, where have our younger brother and sister gone to, Wife?” “Well, they announced they were going to gather Indian hemp to fix,” she told him. “Look OU-UT! I’m ’onna chop you DOW-WN!”35 “Gee, don’t, Wife. I mean, as it is we’re having pleasant conversations. Understand, I won’t LIVE if I fall down. Anytime I ever fall, I will die for real.” “Well, I’m STILL going to chop you down!” “Don’t be cruel to me, Wife.” He was really hard pressed by her, to have her chop him down. “Well, perhaps she really WILL chop me down sometime,” he thought about his wife. When his younger brother came back, “Little brother, could you SPEAK to your sister-in-law.36 She will deal me a cruel fate if she ever chops me down. 468 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

As it is now, we have pleasant conversations when we’re talking. I mean, it’s not as if I have to live the life that the rest of you live. And once I fall down, that very moment will be the end of my life, little brother. So, it would be good if you spoke to your sister-in-law. I think she’s going to chop me down sometime. You see, if we’re left by ourselves, that’s what she makes me worry about. When we’re at home by ourselves, she’s always after me to chop me down.” “Listen now, that’s right. Never say things to him. You might make him worse if you keep saying that to him. Only be talking with him. Don’t say that,” Elder Sister was told. But these others gathered Indian hemp all day long, day after day. They went off every day. “Wife, by the way, where’s our younger brother and sister? What could they possibly want with always picking Indian hemp? You must ask our brother and sister when they come back what they’re going to do with it.” “Okay, I WILL ask them when they get back. But you mean, YOU don’t know what it’s used for? Women braid string with it in the winter. That’s some of the work they do. So I guess that’s probably why they’re picking it.” When the others got back, “That other fellow up there wants to ask you what you’re going to do with that stuff. For that matter, I don’t know what HIS concern with it would be,” the woman was asked. “Well, it’ll be for me to be making string with this winter when there’s no work for me to do, and also to be passing the time when it’s nasty weather. Do you understand about it?” “Yes, I understand about it. Actually, I’m just asking for the heck of it. It’s nothing, little sister.” Winter Stories 469

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

‣ ‣ ‣ And there came a time, after they had finished a great deal of it, two whole large bags of it, and when they then left, that, as time went by, his younger brother never came back. Next day, “Where have our brother and sister gone, Wife?” “What’s supposed to be your concern with them, that you’re forever talking about them, always the same old story about them? They’ve gone to hunt for your bottom half, apparently.” “Oh no! My poor brother! What was the use of him making it through all those dangers! Now my little brother is going to die. In fact, from this moment on we shall see neither our brother nor our sister again. Oh no! The poor guy! What was the use of my little brother making it through all that!”

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ Meanwhile, those others could suddenly see bones lying around. “Oh, here is probably as far as it comes,” said the man. And they set to stringing the Indian hemp along the ground to be in place. And after they set it up, they smoked. “Let the wind blow to the east,” he said. Sure enough, with that it came into view, going, “CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!” as it came. And they stood up. And the creature37 made a beeline for the point where that Indian hemp was strung from and then immediately began devouring it. And it ate and ate till its mouth was full. The thing38 ate and ate till its mouth was full. And abruptly it stopped —when here it couldn’t get any more hemp in its mouth.39 And at that point they rushed at it.

470 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And they knocked out its teeth using a hatchet. They had killed it. And they started back with those hindquarters, carrying them home on their shoulders.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ That night they got back to their house. First thing the next morning, “My wife, have our younger brother and sister come back?” asking her. “Yes, they’re right here.” “Golly, little brother, your sister-in-law was really scaring me with what she said. She’s not being nice by saying that to me all the time. Whenever I ask her a question she always says things to me.” “My stars! Every time, as soon as they’re gone, every time, you ask about them. Right away, every time, you say, ‘Where have our brother and sister gone?’ So that accounts for what I keep saying to you.” “All right, go cut some small lodgepoles.” The others made a sweat lodge. And he went after a sweat-lodge stone and made a fire under it when he brought it back. When he almost had the stone heated up all the way, “All right, now chop him down,” the other’s wife was told. “Hey! Here I CO-OME! I’m ‘onna chop you DOW-WN!” “Gee, don’t! “Gee, is she really chopping me down? “Oh no, tell your sister-in-law not to! “Oh no, tell your older sister not to! “I will not SURVIVE if I fall down. “You deal me a cruel fate. “Oh my! Now is when I die, apparently.” And he began to fall.

Winter Stories 471

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‣ ‣ ‣ And then his parts were set against each other. And water was poured on the sweat-lodge rock for him, and he moaned. The second time, he was bouncing off the walls. “Open this up for me!”40 And he also begged them with, “What was the use of you putting me back in good shape!” Soon he fell silent. —Oh, I forgot, the woman kept making attempts to open up the lodge for him and was repeatedly thrown aside.— And when he fell silent, bitterly did Elder Sister weep. For, of course, she was desperate to open the lodge for him. But it was no use. She was held fast, and she was also admonished. And yet she was insistent that she would open it up for him. It came to where she was in a shoving match with her brother-in-law, as he held her back. After water was poured on for the fourth time, he fell silent. “WAA-HAA! You’ve KILLED him!” said Elder Sister, and she threw her blanket over her head, and wept in the entranceway. Suddenly the other’s voice was heard: “Hey, come on, these things have all gone cold.” He handed him something to use as a breechclout. “All right, so what’s the matter with you?” the woman was asked. “Go ahead and open it UP for him!”41 “You’re missing your big chance to open it for him,” Elder Sister was told. She rushed forward and opened up the sweat lodge for him. And here was this extremely handsome man. He immediately went tearing out and took a leak. And Elder Sister saw. Now they had restored him to health. That’s the end. 472 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

NOT ES 1. The introduction of the characters as “two other people” indicates that the writer was writing out more than one story at the same time and transitioning between them in the same way as if she were telling the stories in sequence. 2. “Indians” translates the plural of neno te wa. This word generally means “Indian,” especially “Meskwaki Indian,” but in winter stories and ceremonial texts it may be used generically for “human being.” For consistency, and because the exact intended nuance is often unclear, it is always translated in these stories as “Indian,” the meaning it has for contemporary speakers. 3. “His sister’s place” translates otehkwe meki, the local form of the word for “his sister”; this not an odd expression in Meskwaki, since dwellings are usually the property of women. 4. Sarcastic; to be said with declining pitch, the lowest pitch on the stressed word “AMOUNT,” before rising slightly at the end. 5. “To strip down” translates peninawi-, which means “get undressed, take one’s clothes off ”; it would be understood, however, that they stripped down to just their breechclouts. 6. “Old Lady Manoneha” translates mano ne hi-metemo he ha, literally “Manoneha little- old-woman,” a somewhat elaborate designation for Manoneha mano ne ha, a stock character in winter stories. The name has no meaning. 7. “White hominy corn” is a conjectural translation of otepimina, literally “brain corn,” a designation that probably refers to its appearance; “currant” translates pekomini, following Harry Lincoln. 8. “To sneak in with girls” translates no tehkwe we-; this verb applies specifically to the common method of courtship by sneaking into a girl’s sleeping place at night, and perhaps even snuggling under her blanket, usually chastely, like the colonial American practice of bundling. 9. “Elder Sister” translates mači hkiwesi hkwe wa; this word is treated here as a proper name, since she is a stock character in winter stories, though translation as a common noun is also possible. The listener would understand that everyone’s moccasins had been hung up to dry before the fire. 10. “The Planting Moon” translates the name of the month of the Meskwaki lunar calendar that is equated very approximately with May. 11. “The other woman” translates i na ihkwe wa (with vowel elision in the text), literally “that woman.” Such an expression implies a reference to a woman other than the one just mentioned, so here it must refer to the youngest sister. 12. From the reference to “the things she was carrying on her back,” the listener can deduce that, as in other stories, Manoneha has made a formal gift of fancy clothing to her grandson’s bride. 13. This whole line translates e h=kekiki kehčina hkwapiso ne šino hiniči, a word of amusingly bizarre complexity, a verb that incorporates a noun derived from a compound verb.

Winter Stories 473

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

14. “Our husband” translates nena pe mena na, specifically “our (exclusive) husband,” that is, “ours but not yours,” referring to the speaker and her youngest sister. 15. “Rocky crag” translates ši kona, which is both “rocky crag, cliff, outcrop” and “whetstone”; for the intended purpose, however, a whetstone would be rather feckless even in real life, let alone in a winter story. 16. “Get ready to travel” translates nana hi hta ko, literally “get dressed,” but idiomatically this implies getting everything ready for the trip. 17. “Only . . . had to be” corresponds to še ški, “only, nothing else but”; the translation follows Harry Lincoln, whose rendering was: “They had to kill their mother before they got there.” 18. “War club” translates mi si hikani, literally “instrument for causing to defecate by striking”; probably this is the same as what is elsewhere called pehkwiki hi, a heavy, ball-headed war club. 19. Chuck wrote the equivalent of: “Why, really (expletive) (emphatic),” omitting a verb, presumably by oversight. The insult has been supplied here from another of Chuck’s stories, “When Raccoon Was Smart.” 20. “The other fellow” is supplied in the translation because it is clear from later references that the old man is concerned specifically about his nephew. In the Meskwaki there is no overt subject, only a verb that could be translated with “he” or “they” (or, unlikely in this context, “it [animate]”). 21. “Fling him headlong!” translates anika pakiši (plural anika pakinehko), following William Jones. This is a conventional encouragement to deadly pursuers in winter stories. 22. “WHUMP!” renders an imitative sound effect written in Meskwaki as “kwa,” which I interpret as kwah. In the three episodes the number of WHUMP!s always corresponds to the number of runners, and the verb used in the present case, inwe we šin-, “to make such a noise,” indicates that the sound is caused by physical action and not oral. I take these vocables as representing the sound of the runners colliding with the barricaded door of the house, but the interpretation of such expressive words is always conjectural. 23. Literally “Oh, why does (did) it have to be that hummingbirds are (were) worn as earrings!” Since the hero must be the one with the magic hummingbird earrings (as explained in my introductory essay), the uncle must here be anguishing over the uncertain fate of the bear. 24.The door would naturally be a skin door flap. 25. From the other lodges. 26. “The severed poll” translates opehkwa tepi, a rare word for a head by itself, detached from a body. 27. In the Meskwaki kinship system, a man applies the term nesemya, “my daughterin-law,” to the wife of a nephew. 28. “Elder Sister” is the translation of mači hkiwesi hkwe wa, the name of a stock character in winter stories; translation as a common noun is also possible.

474 G ODDARD

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

29. Here and later in the story “older one” translates mači hkiwesa, taken as a common noun. Usually this is the name of the stock figure Elder Brother. 30. “Cut-Off ” translates ki škesita, literally “the one who is cut off.” The elder brother’s name appears here for the first time in the story. 31. He would make the gifts as the uncle of the man, welcoming his daughters-in-law; a man’s family traditionally made gifts of fancy clothing to his bride. 32. “Our arrow, yours and mine” translates ki pena ni, “our (inclusive) arrow,” that is, “belonging to us, including you.” 33. “Our arrow, theirs and mine” translates ni pena ni, “our (exclusive) arrow,” that is, “belonging to us, excluding you”; stressed pronouns are used in the translation to bring out the contrast between the inclusive and exclusive forms for “our arrow” that Meskwaki distinguishes with different inflectional prefixes. 34. In a traditional lodge, every person or married couple (except the baby) had a permanent, delimited section along the wall for sitting, sleeping, and storing belongings. 35. To be read in singsong as a mock threat, with pitch rising to the words in small caps, then falling on two notes. 36. To be said in a pleading tone, with declining pitch. 37. “The creature” translates, not a Meskwaki noun, but a shift to animate gender. Up to this point the monster has been referred to with inanimate inflection, inanimate being the gender of oši kani, “his hindquarters,” but here it switches to animate gender for three lines. 38. “The thing” translates the shift back to inanimate gender. There is no noun in the Meskwaki. 39. Up to this point the monster, whether animate or inanimate, has been referred to with obviative forms, indicating that it is presented in the narrative as viewed by the human observers. Here, as indicated by the new paragraph in midsentence, it shifts to a proximate form, the equivalent of taking center stage or appearing in a cinematic close-up. 40. “Open this up for me!” translates pa hkeniko, literally “open or uncover me (you plural)”; the sweat lodge must be uncovered from the outside in order for the man to be able to get out. 41. To be said with a tone of mock impatience, the pitch rising to “up,” then dropping.

Winter Stories 475

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Pine Root STAN CUT H A ND

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ “Pine Root,” or “Wa ta pi wi yin,” is one of the myths my father used to tell us when we were children. My father was a Plains Cree storyteller and told us many stories in the winter months, which was the time to tell stories. I was born in 1918 on Little Pine’s Reserve in Saskatchewan. Growing up in the 1920s, I knew many elders who were storytellers. Some of these men had fought the Canadians at Cutknife Hill during the rebellion of 1885 in Saskatchewan, and some had fought the Blackfeet. I became a storyteller myself when, teaching at the University of Manitoba in the mid-1970s, I came across Leonard Bloomfield’s book The Sacred Stories of the Sweet Grass Cree and found some of my father’s stories in it! (Bloomfield had come to the Sweet Grass Reserve in 1925). “Pine Root” is a “long-ago” story, or atayohkewin, and its function was to teach the role of different age groups. Grandfathers, for instance, are supposed to be knowledgeable in weaponry, hunting, and spiritual power for survival. A grandmother is a kindhearted woman who has wisdom and power. Kinship relations are often the central theme in these stories. Much of the content of this story focuses on spiritual beliefs concerning the forces of creation, which we call Atayohkanak, or the First People. The Atayohkanak were numerous and lived together for ages in harmony. But in some mysterious fashion they changed as they developed, and eventually differences were sufficient to cause conflict, so they split into two camps. From the good camp originated different kinds of foods. They established institutions, arts, games, amusements, dances, and religious ceremonies for the coming race. They felt the approach of friends or enemies from a distance. For instance, Pine Root’s grandfather says, “I am alarmed that someone will come for you.” They knew what others thought in their hearts. If one of these beings expressed a wish, it immediately happened. The bad camp was cunning and deceitful and had harmful powers. The two sisters come from the bad camp and try to destroy Pine Root, who comes from the

476

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

good camp. They mock him, calling him “sweetheart.” There were great conflicts between these two camps until all in the bad camp were turned into things, animals, vegetable, and mineral. These things are either helpful or harmful to humankind, and thus Creation is accomplished. For instance, the old woman, after she is defeated by Pine Root, becomes a dead stump. Thence came the custom of shredding a rotten stump to make a moss bag, which kept an infant warm and dry. I have chosen to translate the story in short sentences, using the Cree style of telling. When I translated the spoken word to the page, I broke the lines where I did because I liked the way they appeared, seeming to create tension and energy, slowing down and quickening up the pace. Some parts of the story might need explanation. For instance, some men had more than one wife, and sometimes they married two sisters, who addressed each other by a term translated here as “sister-wife.” In olden times, when a man took a woman home, they were accepted as married; the same if a woman came home with a man. Also, it was taboo to speak to or touch your mother-in-law, and so Pine Root hits her with a stick to wake her. The part about naming shows each person trying to defeat the other by the spirit of the name. A person’s name is a guardian spirit. Some are more powerful than others. The “dart” is a throwing stick, or atlatl, flat and pointed at one end.

Pine Root

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

W RITT E N A N D T RAN S L AT ED BY STAN CU T HA ND

There was an old man and his grandson, a young man, who lived by themselves. And the old man was very fond of his grandson. He was always hunting. Then one day: “Now, my grandson, I will try and kill something that you may use as a hat.” That’s what he said to his grandson.

Pine Root 477

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“Yes,” answered the other. “I am alarmed that someone will come for you,” the old man said to his grandson. He killed a jack rabbit and skinned it. “Now then, Grandson, I will try to kill another one for your hat,” he said to his grandson. “Yes,” said the other. And so he killed a raven and skinned it. “Now, my grandson, as I hunt each day, if someone arrives do not look at him or her.” That’s what the grandfather said. “Grandfather, try and kill a partridge. I will have it for my tobacco pouch,” the young man said. “Certainly, my grandson. What you say is good. I will supply it for you. In it put this stone, an arrowhead,” he said to his grandson. Then the old man made a set of darts. “Now, my grandson, don’t forget to take these darts as you leave. They are for your use,” said the grandfather. “Yes,” he said. “And now, my grandson, sit here,” he said. And he blew his breath on him. There appeared a stone, sitting. “Now I am leaving you too weak. Perhaps someone will overcome you,” his grandfather said to him. “Grandson, allow me, lie down, 478 C U T HAN D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

lie down flat on your back,” his grandfather told him. He blew his breath on him repeatedly, as roots appeared from all sides, roots coming from deep underground, until he was firmly secured by the roots. “My grandson, this will be your name,” he said. “Pine Root Person is your name. Do not look at anyone,” his grandfather said. “Try to remember to grab these darts. I will tie them on the door-flap frame. All these things I give to you, and also your tobacco pouch,” his grandfather said. “Do not look at anyone who is to come.” “Yes, Grandfather,” he replied. Therefore he refused to look at anything at the door. He lay uncovered. He wrapped his head with his blanket. Suddenly a ringing sound approached. When he heard it he covered his head. Someone came laughing cheerfully. “These are women,” he thought. “These are the ones my grandfather meant,” he thought. They came in right away. “Oh, so this is where he sleeps, he who will not look at us, our sweetheart,” they said. “Surely they must be beautiful,” this young man thought. And so they kept talking to him, saying all kinds of things to him. He would not speak to them. “Our sweetheart, Pine Root, really hates us,” they said. “Go on, let us go home,” they said. But it happened one stayed to peek in while the other laughed as she left. “They have left by now,” Pine Root thought, Pine Root 479

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

“so I’ll look at the doorway now there is no one to see.” Thinking this, he uncovered his head and immediately looked toward the doorway. “Oh, so he is not sleeping at all, he who will not look at us!” she said. And she went on her way, laughing. Pine Root jumped to his feet, breaking all the pine roots as he moved with force. Those things his grandfather prepared he took with him. He followed the women at the same distance all the time. He carried those things made for him, his hat, his tobacco pouch, and his darts. Finally he arrived at a lake. Land was not visible in the direction one of the women was leading them. “Hey! Sometimes it is customary to tell: What is your name, sweetheart? Pine Root?” she said. “Wait now—I will not be the first to tell my name! You first, tell me your names!” he said to his sweethearts. “Yes, sister-wife, you first,” one girl said to her younger sister. “You first. Tell our sweetheart your name.” “All right. As far as that point of land, that far, Snowfall of Awls I am called.” “Then lead on,” he said to them. And it became slippery, on the ice. He took his dart, supporting himself with it like a cane. He took another. He attached an arrowhead to it. He walked on the great expanse of ice. Though awls were falling on his head yet he continued to walk. When they reached the point of land, yes, they were still accompanied by Pine Root. “Now it is his turn to amuse us. 480 C U T H AND

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Now it is his turn. Let him name himself.” “Oh no,” said Pine Root. “You first. You will tell me your names.” “All right. As far as that point of land, that far, Blown on Ice Walker is my name,” she said. And he will be swept away on the smooth ice by the wind. The lake was not frozen in the middle. The wind was to blow him there. And as they headed out there came a great wind. This young man took out his darts, and he leaned on them as canes. Although it was windy, he kept on walking. Finally they arrived. “Oh, our sweetheart is still with us. Now it is his turn to name himself.” “Yes, my sweethearts,” he said. “I have two names. Not far over there, at that point, that far, Hot Rainwater is my name. As far as that point.” “Then off you go, sweetheart. We will follow you.” As soon as he started out, it began to rain. Like boiling water, that’s how hot it was. And they said, “Oh, I am scalded!” The women touched themselves all over, walking with great difficulty. “Oh,” they said, “our sweetheart has a difficult name. Let him name himself again.” “All right,” said Pine Root. “Now your little cabins are in sight, as far as that house, there, Walking Backward Stooped Skirts Pulled Up Pine Root 481

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

is my name.” And so these women pulled up their skirts like this, walking backward and stooped. Now the old woman was on the lookout for her children. When she saw them she said, “What on earth makes you act in this silly way?” “Get away! We are learning our sweetheart’s name,” they cried. “We must walk this way until we touch your house.” They walked backward with their dresses up until they bumped into their house. Then they stopped. The old woman said, “Now, my children, sit over there, on my son-in-law’s bed. I have nightmares so often that I might accidentally bump into my son-in-law.” When darkness fell, they went to bed. Before dawn, suddenly this old lady was crawling about. She had an awful nightmare. At last her son-in-law hit her with a stick to wake her up. Then she sat up and said: “My children, that lake over there, there is a big beaver there. I ate its head and tail,” the old woman said. “That is when I stopped dreaming. Tomorrow my son-in-law should kill it,” she said. The young man heard all this. Then when daybreak came, he went out very early. He took his axe and his darts. When he reached the lake, he chopped the ice in the middle of the lake. 482 C U T H AND

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He chopped a big hole. “Oh, my grandfather, come out!” he said. “I came to feed you this, something you like.” Suddenly a big beaver appeared with its mouth wide open. He struck it with his dart and killed it. He took the head and the tail. He took them home. He threw them into the house. “Here are the things your mother wanted to eat!” The old woman cried out. “My dream spirit! My dream spirit!” she sobbed. “Oh, it was as foretold. Go and feed them to the people. They will eat these things, and that which is killed let them fetch it. They will eat it.” Again night came. They went to bed. And once again this old woman had a nightmare. When she woke up: “I dreamed that my son-in-law killed a big deer. When he killed that deer that is when I stopped dreaming, when eating the head,” she said. Then in the morning voices were heard by the people saying, “There he goes!” He jumped out of his house. There, passing by, was a deer leaping as it went. He threw a dart at it. He killed it. Pine Root 483

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He only took its head. He flung it into the house. “Here is what your mother wants to eat!” he called to them. And again the old woman cried out: “My guardian spirit is killed! I am grieving for that,” she cried. “Now, my children, go and feed the people.” “Yes,” they replied. Then the other people ate it. Then night fell. Again the old woman had a nightmare. “Now, my children, I dreamed that an elk ran by here, and I ate its head. That was the end of my dream,” she said. In the morning Pine Root was told. “I will not kill it this time,” he thought. Then someone said, “There goes the elk! It is huge!” and he went out, taking only one dart. He threw this dart at it as it ran past. And off it went with his dart in its belly. The young man went home. He took all his darts, his hats, and followed it. He kept coming to where it had sat. Soon it was afternoon. It had sat down now more frequently. Presently he came to a lovely stand of trees. There were willows round about. It was beginning to snow. “It will not die far from here, whatever happens. I will sleep here. I will have a fire. I will keep a fire going,” he thought. 484 C U T H AND

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

It was a big stand of mostly young poplars. So he cleared away the snow and made a fire. It grew dark. Close by was a tree, a dry poplar tree. “I shall put this on my fire,” he thought, and started to take it down. But as he did so, “Oh, oh!” cried the tree. He left it alone and moved away. On the other side of the fire he spread willows and grass. But he could not sleep. It was very windy, and it began to snow. Suddenly, on the lee side the young man heard something. He looked up in surprise. There was a person stumbling along, coming with her leggings all fallen down. She had not tied them up. “Oh,” said Pine Root, “Grandmother! My dear grandmother will freeze to death! Now, Grandma, sit over there. I was chasing an elk. I wounded it, and I am tired trampling over the deep snow. Tomorrow I shall kill it, Grandma. We will eat some meat.” “My grandson,” she said, “I am very hungry. Over there is a camp. The people are moving to that camp. They went off and left me behind. Now I am lost.” “Don’t worry, Grandma. I will take you home to the camp tomorrow, Pine Root 485

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

after I kill the elk. I will take you home. You are too cold.” He pulled up her leggings and tied up her moccasins. He was very kind to his grandma. “Now, Grandma, I am going to sleep. Try to keep the fire going,” he said. “Yes, Grandson,” she said. “If I am able I will put wood on the fire.” And so Pine Root went to sleep. But he did not really go to sleep. He wanted to deceive her, for he thought, “This is my mother-in-law.” After a while, the old woman said, “Grandson, I am cold.” But, despite this, he pretended to be asleep. “Argh, argh,” he snored. The old woman sat up. “I will add him to my trees!” she said. But the young man was listening. Then she untied something, a medicine bundle. “No, no,” she said, “not this one! This is the restorer.” She put it down. She untied another bundle and took out another medicine. “Yes, this is it!” she said. Then the old woman chewed a twig. She touched the medicine with it. “This is the medicine with which I make trees,” she said. Then she held it up to Pine Root, intending to touch him with it. But he grabbed her arm. “Why, you stinky-breath beast!” He seized the twig. “Grandson, Grandson, wait a moment! You have defeated me! Now, wait. 486 C U T HAN D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The time will come when people will multiply. They will take decayed wood with which to keep a child warm and help him grow up. I too will assist a child to grow up. I will dwell in the land of the setting sun. When a person says, ‘I have dreamed of the old woman,’ he will speak the truth. So now, Grandson; touch me.” He touched his grandmother with that same medicine, and there appeared the trunk of a tree. Thus the old woman became a dead stump. Then he took the medicine of which his grandmother had said, “This is the restorer,” and with it he touched a tree. Lo, there appeared an elderly man. “Oh,” he said, “I am weary with standing.” Then with the twig Pine Root touched a tree close by. It was almost daybreak. Lo, there stood a young man. “Now,” Pine Root said to the elderly man, “don’t stop touching these trees with this thing my grandmother called ‘the restorer.’ I am going to kill this elk, and the women will pack it for you to roast. If I live two nights I will, return,” he told the women. “All right,” they said. Then he took off. And soon, there, not far away was the dead elk. He took the head. Pine Root 487

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He brought it home and brought it into their house. He threw it in at the doorway. “Here is what your mother wanted to eat!” The young women were weeping, mourning for their mother. They were certain she was defeated. When night came, they went to bed. Suddenly the older sister had a bad nightmare. Pine Root shoved her aside. And when she woke up, she told her dream. “I dreamed that our sweetheart stayed one night in that empty house. That is when I stopped dreaming,” she said. He went there in the morning. He gathered a lot of wood and brought it into the house. At nightfall as he sat in the house, the doorway disappeared. The logs became solid. It was very cold. He warmed himself at the fire, but at last the wood was gone. So he went to bed. To a big rabbit he said, “Come now, my hat, warm me.” But the rabbit grew cold in a short time. He took it and blew his breath on it. “I told you to warm me.” Again it was cold in no time. He took it again. And again it became cold. He didn’t take it again. He took his other hat. “Now, my grandfather, 488 C U T HAN D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

flap your wings,” he said. And the raven croaked, and it beat the walls, which were covered with ice. But the raven was quickly overcome by the cold. “Perhaps I’m going to freeze,” Pine Root thought. So he took his dart and threw it at the fire. There was a big fire. The dart blazed high, but quickly the flame died down. The raven lay there freezing. Pine Root took another dart. Again he threw his dart at the fire. That too blazed up. He held the raven near the fire. By now it was almost daybreak. The fire went out. He took another dart and again threw it at the fire. It made a great blaze. Eventually, as it was dying out, he took his tobacco pouch and slammed it on the ground. “Flap your wings, my pouch!” he said. Then he took his hat and blew his breath on it. Lo, the partridge was alive. And to the partridge he said, “Flap your wings!” And suddenly this partridge was running about indoors, flapping his wings and calling, “Summer! Summer! Summer! Summer!” again and again, while the raven croaked without ceasing, and the rabbit threw itself here and there and everywhere. Pine Root’s dart was still blazing. “Grandfather, let my dart blaze higher,” he prayed. “I have no more darts.” Pine Root 489

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

He was addressing the grandfather who cared for him. And soon there was no snow in the house. The fire blazed higher, and the partridge ran around making summer indoors, calling for leaves, serving his grandson. Then before dawn everywhere leaves sprang forth, and inside on the floor berries grew, strawberries, because the partridge never stopped calling “Summer!” Pine Root stripped to his waist, as if in a contest, and sat eating strawberries. It was very hot inside. And in the morning when the sun was up, one of the women said, “Now, my sister-wife, go and throw out our sweetheart. He will defile our storehouse.” So one of them went over there. She heard the raven croaking over and over. She heard the partridge too. When she looked inside, he was picking berries. “Oh, my dear, can you give us those strawberries you are eating?” “Last night I had a dream that you and your older sister ate all these berries. That is when I woke up.” “Well, that won’t be hard to do,” she replied and went back home. “What’s going on now, Sister? What’s he up to?” “If we eat up all the remaining strawberries, then our sweetheart will not have nightmares,” she said. 490 C U T HAN D

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

So they went back. “Now, my sweethearts,” said Pine Root, “when you’ve eaten up all of these, then we can all leave.” These silly women were very glad, so they ate all the berries. But when they ate all the berries from one place, the partridge would run over and the strawberries would be back on the stalks. After a while the women just sat back, for they had eaten too much. “Ooh, my sweetheart, you have defeated us. Push us over toward the direction of the noonday sun. We will certainly be kind. When mortal people multiply and say ‘I dreamed of a silly woman,’ they will be telling the truth. Come, sweetheart, be quick!” And they went on their way, talking as they went, on their way to a new home after their defeat, these evil ones. That is the end of this story.

Pine Root 491

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Ghost Dance Songs JEFFREY D. A NDE RSON

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ Between 1890 and 1893 James Mooney collected at least seventy-three Ghost Dance songs in his extensive fieldwork among both the Northern Arapahos of Wyoming and the Southern Arapahos of Oklahoma (1896, 653– 54).1 At the same time, as both tribes became the leading cultural movers of the Ghost Dance from the Great Basin onto the Plains, many of their original, trance-inspired songs in the Arapaho language became the life force of the dance itself in other tribes. Mooney observes that Arapaho songs were the “favorite among the tribes of Oklahoma” (1896, 958). Alice Fletcher also mentions that “[f ]rom the Sioux delegation visiting Washington in February, 1891, [she] learned that the songs sung at the dance were in the Arapaho tongue” (1891, 58). Given the centrality of Arapaho musical creativity in the Plains version of the Ghost Dance, it is remarkable that there has been no intensive return to the linguistic features and cultural context of those songs. Informed by the more abundant ethnographic and linguistic evidence available today, retranscription and retranslation of Mooney’s original song texts will provide a ground for further interpretation to clarify distortions and reveal heretofore ignored details and dimensions of the songs. From his own archival manuscripts at Bethel College (Voth n.d.), it is clear that H. R. Voth, with the assistance of Southern Arapaho informants, completed most, if not all, of the original translations and transcriptions of the song texts appearing in Mooney’s work. A number of drafts in the making are available in his handwriting and in the orthographic style he used elsewhere in notes on Arapaho language, compiled from his research during ten years (1883–93) as a Mennonite missionary among the Southern Arapahos. Thus, it appears that Mooney recorded the songs and then solicited Voth and Southern Arapaho informants to transcribe and translate them, though clearly the accompanying commentaries and interpretations belong to Mooney. Though the original translations are remarkable for their time and the transcriptions roughly decipherable to anyone with a background in the 492

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Arapaho language, subsequent linguistic material collected by Alfred Kroeber (1916), Truman Michelson (ca. 1910), and Zdenek Salzmann (1983), along with the author’s own field data, can lend much to more precise retranscription and retranslation. From a contemporary perspective, Mooney’s transcriptions employ a cryptic orthography predating the systematicity of descriptive linguistics and include some very old forms of Arapaho usage no longer familiar to modern speakers. Though the majority of texts for the other songs have been retranscribed and retranslated, the twenty-five songs included here represent those for which the entire texts can be presented with a high level of reliability and validity. The Arapaho versions are presented in the modern orthography accepted by the Northern Arapaho tribe and based on the original system proposed by Salzmann (1983) for the first dictionary project. Salzmann’s works on Arapaho grammar were also employed to reconstitute inflections and derivations (1965a, 1965b, 1967). Lexical and grammatical evidence was also drawn from the author’s own field research (1989–2002) among the Northern Arapahos and materials compiled by the Arapaho Language and Culture Commission. Since the publication of Mooney’s classic monograph, much distortion and confusion has come to surround the Ghost Dance. As Michael A. Elliott argues (1998, 213–14), one contributing factor is the almost exclusive attention given to the first two-thirds of Mooney’s text, titled “The Narrative.” Another source is the still murky field of identifying the origins, diffusion, and causes of the Ghost Dance, often without systematic attention to cultural content (see Kehoe 1989; Hultkrantz 1981). In this body of literature, the concept of the Ghost Dance has taken on a generic definition that often ignores variation among cultural and historical contexts. More particularly, scant attention has been paid to what the Ghost Dance became for Arapahos, who are often treated as a passive cultural conveyer of the movement or of interest only as a causal link for other events elsewhere. Ironically, Mooney’s greatest ethnographic contribution via Arapaho fieldwork of songs has been set aside. The “Songs” section has been entirely ignored, in large part because the texts of the songs seem impenetrable or undecipherable for analysis to those with only a modest background in the languages or cultures involved. At the same time, Mooney’s connections of song elements to linguacultural contexts have largely eluded careful and critical reexamination. Without further explicating the ethnolinguistic background to the songs and without understanding Arapaho centrality in the movement, knowledge about the Ghost Dance as a cultural form has advanced little since 1896. Ghost Dance Songs 493

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Characterizations of the movement based on the narrative section generally focus attention on the “doctrine,” then trace divergences from the original among the various tribes that came to embrace it. For Arapahos, the doctrine is indeed a crucial part but not all of what shaped Arapaho experiences of the dance and what was expressed in the songs. The Ghost Dance was a religious movement but not one paralleling Western messianic reform movements in which a code, message, or doctrine embodied in an oral or literate text becomes the ground for consensual belief (see DeMallie 1982, 387). Rather, Wovoka’s prophecy and message provided Arapaho people themes for improvisation through trance experiences and songs composed from them. Mooney offers a remarkable—albeit unsystematic and at times misplaced—array of linguistic and cultural connections for appreciating the creative depth of the songs and the dance itself. A retranslation and more thorough reinterpretation of the Arapaho Ghost Dance songs open our understanding to the multiple layers and artistic creativity participants engaged. In other words, the Ghost Dance was less about blind adherence to a new moral order than about the unleashing of imaginations. Ironically, few if any studies have followed Mooney’s recognition that “[t]he Ghost- dance songs are of the utmost importance in connection with the study of the messiah religion.” The dances themselves inspired an unprecedented efflorescence of creativity through trance and song: “There is no limit to the number of these songs, as every trance at every dance produces a new one. . . . Thus a single dance may result in twenty to thirty new songs.” Out of these, some were transient; others endured: “While songs are thus born and die, certain ones, which appeal especially to the Indian heart, on account of their mythology, pathos, and peculiar sweetness, live and are perpetuated.” Among all the tribes who adopted the dance, Mooney further notes, “First in importance, for number, richness of reference, beauty of sentiment, and rhythm of language, are the songs of the Arapaho” (1896, 953). While Mooney acknowledges their central involvement in the movement and his research, Arapahos have been largely overlooked in studies of the Ghost Dance. For many reasons beyond the scope of this study, the turn to the causes, eventful history, or doctrine of the movement has detracted attention from the creativity of the Ghost Dance and the place of Arapahos in it. Only occasionally in larger works on the movement, one of the Arapaho songs or one of Mooney’s original illustrations is inserted to stress the tragic background of deprivation and suffering behind the movement. That context was indeed tragic, but all meanings for the movement cannot 494 A N DERSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

be reduced to an expression of historical conditions or political realities. To do so is to dilute the creative breadth of the songs produced by imaginations at play in a time of crisis. Furthermore, despite the reputation of Mooney’s classic monograph, many of the original cultural and linguistic connectivities he wove for translation and interpretation of the Arapaho Ghost Dance songs remain at times loosely tied or thinly sketched. While surveying many other cultures, Mooney supplied the first serious ethnographic account of Arapaho culture and language, but subsequent research has supplied a rich ethnographic base for a more elaborate study. One essential step toward excavating deeper layers of meaning and creativity is to retranscribe and retranslate the original song texts with the aid of accumulated ethnographic, linguistic, and archival evidence. Surviving much longer than the doctrine itself among the Northern and Southern Arapahos, the songs were the most durable element of the movement, a pattern consistent with the few studies of the songs in other Plains cultures. Åke Hultkrantz observed performance of the Ghost Dance among Wind River Shoshones during his 1948– 58 field research (1981, 273). As central to Judith Vander’s extensive research (1997), the Naraya (i.e., Round Dance/Ghost Dance) songs predated the Ghost Dance of 1890 and survived into the 1980s among the Eastern Shoshones, neighbor tribe of the Northern Arapahos. Among the Kiowas, as Benjamin Kracht describes (1992), the dance and songs persisted through social dances, much longer than previously realized. Likewise, Alexander Lesser (1978) has shown the enduring Pawnee cultural revitalization through the hand game that evolved out of the Ghost Dance. Alice Kehoe similarly documents the survival of the dance among the Dakotas of Saskatchewan as late as 1950 (1968, 298–302). Amid all of this, though, is the clear evidence that the form of the dance and accompanying songs preceded the 1890 Ghost Dance in various forms and has endured to the present in various permutations. In all, music and dance tended to be the most adaptable cultural form among Plains cultures, largely because it is an aesthetic expression with value and meaning transcending religion, societal consensus, and historical vicissitudes. By reducing the Ghost Dance to a doctrine, a historical event, or a social form, scholars tend to reify order and function where there was none. Moving in another direction, there is sufficient evidence to examine the real experience of the movement as poetically polysemous and imagistic. Human creativity as a current for enlivening sociocultural reality is not entirely dependent on consensual interpretations attached to single functions, whether it be needs, crisis resolution, “making sense” of the world, or political problem Ghost Dance Songs 495

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

solving. Neither do the elements always coalesce as into galaxies of shared meanings, since much of what is expressed in the songs dissipates, eluding interpretation despite the aesthetic power they retain. Both isolated and recurring elements in the Arapaho songs have multiple meanings irreducible to a single gloss or connotation. Drawn from trance states, many song elements remain ambiguous while retaining aesthetic form and affect. Further, the linguistic and poetic form of the songs lent much to their depth of expression in ways that defy simple referential meanings or reduction to the linguistic code. As Mooney appreciated, some songs were more resilient than others because of their depth and synergy of mythical allusions, musicality, mood, and prophetic elements. The images themselves creatively bridged old familiar forms, new invented elements, and individualized meanings. As such, the songs both conformed with and broke from past culture. For the Ghost Dance songs more than for any other evidence of Arapaho culture, the sense of dialogue between mythical past and prophesied future is rich and complex. On one level are the deep mythico-ritual continuities with Arapaho tradition. On a second, there are indeed elements conforming to the so-called doctrine of the movement, at least as Arapahos learned it from Wovoka or Ghost Dance leaders. On a third plane are elements that express the unique images individual participants experienced through alternative states of consciousness often linked to their life historical contexts or unique orientations to the world. Reanalysis will thus illuminate junctures of both cultural continuities and discontinuities in Arapaho experiences of the Ghost Dance, as well as the interconnections among them activated by creative imaginations at play. The ultimate aim, only sketched out here, is to explicate the immense complexity of the songs’ connections to other cultural and linguistic forms. To begin with one example of the complexities of retranslation, song 1, included here, was an opening song created among the Northern Arapahos and then borrowed by the southern tribe in Oklahoma (Mooney 1896, 958). The opening line refers to “another of your pipes” offered apparently by Heisonoonin, “Our Father.” The meaning of this reference to another pipe is difficult to establish. Kroeber later collected a replica of the “new” Flat Pipe in his study of Arapaho decorative symbolism a decade later. An old Southern Arapaho man, who had never actually seen the original, made the pipe, as directed in a dream or vision and apparently carried it in the Ghost Dance (Kroeber 1983, 359– 60). It thus does not resemble the sacred Flat Pipe itself, which is now as since the beginning of time held among the Northern Arapaho by a family of the Beesowuunenno’ (Wood Lodge Peo496 A N DERSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

ple), an ancient subtribe. As long as the Flat Pipe is cared for, the Arapaho people and the earth will survive. The implication of both song 1 and this evidence is that at least one man and perhaps a group received a message that they would receive a new pipe separate from the original as part of the renewal of the earth, human lives, and material culture. The last line refers to events in the Arapaho origin myth to be perhaps reenacted in the coming of the new earth. In the beginning, Flat Pipe took the dirt returned in Turtle’s claws from beneath the deluge and then expanded or moved it to create land (Dorsey and Kroeber 1903, 1–19). Homologous with the mythical beginning and renewal theme, the pipe precedes all other actions in ritual; thus it is logical that the pipe would be central in the opening song. An equally striking combined continuity and discontinuity involving the Flat Pipe appears in song 2. Talk of or appeals to the Flat Pipe outside the Offerings Lodge, pipe ceremonies, age-grade lodges, and women’s Buffalo Lodge deviates from what was and is accepted practice. It was not only the most sacred and powerful object but also a person in Arapaho terms; the pipe often spoke to the people about where to move camp or of coming dangers, but only to the pipe keeper entrusted with its care. That the song refers to someone other than the pipe keeper receiving direction is a break from traditional practice. As I discuss elsewhere (Anderson 2001a), there are two sides or phases in Arapaho ritual movement: first, to contain and concentrate on suffering or life negating things, then, to release or discard them for lighter lifegenerating movement. Overlooking the cultural details of this process, many works have cited song 28 to emphasize the historical conditions of suffering addressed by the movement in some generic sense. Most interpretive frames for this song follow Mooney in stressing the tragic break from traditional subsistence to deprivation in reservation life. As Mooney relates, “This is the most pathetic of the Ghost-dance songs. It is sung to the plaintive tune, sometimes with tears rolling down the cheeks of the dancers as the words bring up thoughts of their present miserable and dependent condition” (1896, 977). However, crying while singing or praying conforms to the Arapaho tradition of containing and expressing suffering, or pitiable conditions, in the ritual process. Here, retranslation and recontextualization recognize the level of continuity with all Arapaho prayers, supplications, and mythology. The song does not just refer to the current hardship, because the term for thirst, nookooyei-, in Arapaho also means “to fast.” “Pity” in the Arapaho verb stem hoowouu-, expressed through fasting and crying, is at the center Ghost Dance Songs 497

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of all Arapaho petitions to sacred beings above. Pity is further connected with senses of difficult movement, as in carrying a heavy burden, which can be released through song, dance, or ritual sacrifice into a lighter and easier life movement (Anderson 2001a, 261– 66). One vows to relieve one’s own hardship or that of another, then makes sacrifices to seek the pity of sacred beings beyond or on the earth. There is thus no break from past tradition in use of verb forms for pity, crying, and fasting. For this reason mainly, as Mooney observes, the song affected Arapaho people deeply. The songs were not necessarily direct expressions of sorrow for the historical moment, but really a means of transvaluing that state into a ritualized sorrow and thus a condition that could be discarded and from which release is possible. Arapahos are and were one of the most religiously conservative Plains groups, but the Ghost Dance inspired individual trance states without precedent in Arapaho culture or any other group that followed the movement before them. Arapaho Ghost Dance followers broke from traditional ritual process, for Mooney does not record that any of the traditional forms of preparation, exchange, or vows were required for participation. The words of the songs were in many cases expressions of trance or dream experiences and themselves helped trigger the trances that culminated in the Ghost Dance performance. The side-step dancing, the feather waving by dance leaders, and the power of the songs combined in synergy to effect release and even flight to another world. Compared to the ritual among other groups that followed the movement, the trance was most central and prolific in the Arapaho Ghost Dance. Thus, Ghost Dance songs involved direct relations to sacred beings outside the age-ranked system or appeals and prayers. In particular, prayers to Our Father above were generally reserved for the oldest men, such that older age groups mediated on behalf of younger participants. Furthermore, trance states were limited to individuals who had been purified and prepared. The Ghost Dance thus anticipated a trend to follow in Arapaho religious practice toward more general, collectively accessible ritual forms, open to all regardless of age or preparedness. Within the songs themselves, the appeal to Heisonoonin, “Our Father,” throughout the songs is remarkable but not unambiguous. Similar recurring forms are neisonoo, “my father,” and neixoo, “Father!” the vocative form used for direct address. Conversely, when songs take the voice of “Our Father,” the term neniisono’, “my children,” is used. Mooney (1896, 59) interprets this relationship as that between Wovoka as “Father” and Ghost Dance followers as children. Though this is one connection, the relationship deserves further elaboration. The Our Father addressed throughout all Arapaho prayers and songs 498 A N DE RSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

is the Creator, referred to alternatively as Hihcebe’ Nih’ooȝoo, “Whiteman Above,” though not connoting non-Indians, called by the same term nih’ooȝoo (nih’ooȝou’u, plural). The Creator is also called Beeteet, a term translated as “Great Mystery” but also referring to any medicine man (Hilger 1952, 144). However, forms other than Our Father rarely appear in prayers, songs, or other ritual supplications. Two intercultural paths also converge in the Our Father usage. One is from the tradition Arapahos share with Algonquian traditions in which the Creator is referred to as Father. The other is from the Great Basin and in particular Eastern Shoshones coresiding with the Northern Arapahos at Wind River in Wyoming. Prior to and separate from the Ghost Dance of 1890, the Shoshones performed a Father Dance, a round-dance form held in the fall to petition for blessings of food, good weather, and continued life (Hultkrantz 1981, 276). As in their appropriation of Christianity (see Anderson 2001b), Arapahos tended to embrace introduced parallel religious forms as revealing what they had known all along while rejecting the less familiar elements. What is remarkable about the songs is the direct appeal to Heisonoonin outside the Arapaho age-graded order of prayer and ritual authority in which only the most senior men were allowed to make such an appeal on behalf of others. There are indeed elements of the songs that reflect the doctrine of earth’s destruction and renewal, reunion with deceased kin, and regeneration of the land, the buffalo, and the culture. However, there are forms without precedent either in the Great Basin or in Arapaho tradition. Within the new mythical epoch, the fifth world in the Arapaho cosmology, Crow is a sacred being originating in the Arapaho dance and songs but subsequently borrowed by other Plains groups. Insignificant in Arapaho mythology, Crow (houu) figures as mediator and creator in Ghost Dance songs. Crow’s presence remains polysemous and ambiguous. In future prophetic time, he takes on roles paralleling those of other traditional beings of the mythical past, while also denoting the Christian God, Jesus, and Wovoka, as well as the Arapaho Crow Dance performed prior to the Ghost Dance. As Mooney adds, in song 40, Crow addresses the people of this world gathered on the border of the earth waiting to meet the people of the other world likewise gathered at the border of their land to the west. According to prophecy, with a piece of earth from his beak he creates first a mountain, then a land bridge between the two worlds, one of the living, the other of the afterworld (Mooney 1896, 983). In this manner, Crow’s power parallels the mediating role of Turtle in the earthdiver tradition of the original creation myth and the transformative role of the trickster Nih’ooȝoo (see Dorsey and Kroeber 1903). Like the turtle in the last creation, he supplies the part for generating the totality Ghost Dance Songs 499

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

of the earth. In this sense, Crow is the new creator of the new earth as the doctrine holds. From this context, the term houu, for Crow, has become a modern alternative form in Arapaho for Creator or “God.” Houusoo, meaning “offspring of Crow,” seems to have referred to Wovoka originally but also came to refer to Jesus in common usage. In general, Jesus, Our Father, Crow, and Wovoka are intermingled as the addressee or speaker in the songs. One common thread tied to the trickster Nih’ooȝoo, too, is that all died and came back to life. Like the trickster, too, Crow has unrestricted mobility and power to transform the world. In myth, Nih’ooȝoo himself changes from a mobile being into the unmoving Hihcebe’ Nih’ooȝoo, the Creator above. Crow’s role in the Ghost Dance seems to anticipate this metamorphosis, but more needs to be done to understand the rich connectivity of Crow. The songs also address a number of enduring and immediate questions or contradictions about Arapaho–non-Indian relations. These go beyond literally political resistance to raise and redress ontological, moral, and existential contradictions posed from a distinctly Arapaho perspective. Why do whites have so much wealth since they show no or little pity to Indians? And, why does the Creator not pity Arapahos for their deprivation at this tragic time in history? The answer is placed in the prophecies of the future built up from vision experiences. Several songs here and throughout the collection confront the irony of relations with Nih’ooȝou’u, Euro-American people. The term nih’ooȝoo refers also to the spider, for which the connection was made originally. The irony is based on the implied or explicit contrast between the original moment of “pity” showed to whites, such as “giving them fruits” in song 3, followed only by the realization that “whites are crazy,” the final line of song 23, in which Indians “render whites sad,” placing them in a pitiful condition and reversing the current relation between whites and Indians. Any being described as crazy is both foolish and powerful. Children are crazy, as is the trickster figure in myth, also called Nih’ooȝoo. One reading, then, is that Arapahos showed whites pity at first, treating them as persons, but in the end non-Indians proved to be less than persons. As Mooney explains, Left Hand created song 4 from a Ghost Dance vision in which he saw that all things the Father gave originally to whites out of pity for them would be given to Indians. In a vision paralleling the millenarian side of Melanesian cargo cults and the Shoshone Father Dance, Left Hand saw that Indians would receive the orchards and the fruits referred to collectively as koh’owootino, a term now used to refer to all canned goods, but that once perhaps referred only to fruits belonging to whites. In the end, the song embodies a larger prophetic vision narrative in which the Creator 500 A N DE RSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

revokes his pity for whites and places things in their right balance. Overall, the songs express an ironic tension between and continuity of tradition and renewal that breaks from the past. Another dimension to be foregrounded by reanalysis encompasses the unique poetic and musical formal properties of the songs. As George Herzog recognizes (1935, 403), the “paired progression” of repeated lines only characterizes Ghost Dance songs and hand-game songs. The latter accompany the progress of guessing and hiding tiles in the hands in a traditional gambling game, with roots in the Plateau and the Great Basin. This repetition is perhaps linked to the hypnotic effect of the songs, in the Ghost Dance for inducing trance visions and in the hand game to distract the guesser. One of the poetic features of the songs is effected through the linguistic complexity of Arapaho verb compounding and the indigenous play of images it generates. One measure of virtuosity in Arapaho speech performance is the ability to improvise novel combinations of two, three, or even more verb stems or modifiers in one construction. Song 27 contains a present tense verb construction, touheteinih’ohunoo, compounding three stems followed by the first-person suffix -noo: touh-, “yell”; -hetei-, “roar”; and -nih’ohu-, “fly.” The first two are interesting together since the first connotes an abrupt sound, such as a yell or thunder (e.g., neniitouht, “he/she thunders”) and hetei- referring to a sustained roaring sound, as in a variant heteiniicie, “roaring river” for the Wind River in Wyoming. Song 29 contains other verb compounds with aesthetic effect. The first two repeated lines contain a verbal construction combining a modifier for “yellow” (neniihoon-) and the verb “flying” (nih’ohu-), while the second pair combines three elements: “wild rose” (yeneisitii-), “wearing in hair” (-nookuu-), and “flying” (-nih’ohu-).Yellow predominates in Ghost Dance songs among the four main Arapaho colors, including also red, black, and white. Yellow is the color of east, dawn, childhood, and all new beginnings (see Anderson 2001a, 191– 96). Based on a trance-induced vision, both song 27 and song 29 contain the common motif of flight combined with aural and visual imagery, a recurrent theme in the Ghost Dance songs for rejoining deceased kin. Flight operates on multiple levels of meaning. It is indeed an archetypal motif of dreams and vision states but also pervades many American Indian subconscious reactions to specific confinement on reservations, in boarding schools, or in other exiling asylum contexts. Song 39 illustrates reduplication in verb construction, another function of Arapaho morphology for effecting poetic form, in this case, a unique parallelism. In Nonoononoo’ooteinoo houu the initial vcvcc- combination of Ghost Dance Songs 501

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

nonoo- in the stem form nonoo’oo (e)t-, “to circle,” is repeated to denote present, repeated action of indefinite duration. Repeated or replicated actions, events, or references in space or time can be marked by reduplication. Recognizing this level contributes much to a more involved understanding of the multifaceted complexity of repetition and its effect generated in the songs. Thus, song images cannot just be examined referentially, or even solely as metaphors or other analogical devices, which preoccupy Western poetic readings. Song elements are particularly imagistic and exceed singular glosses or one-to-one poetic associations. Most central to them is the piling of layers of homologous motion, rhythm, and stress. For example, songs invoke circularity paralleling the motion of the dance itself, such as in songs 17 and 39. The prosodic musicality of the songs is the most difficult to regain from the translations and render in written form. For instance, Arapaho speech lends itself to a rhythm and rhyme of recurring final sound combinations, especially -oo, -t, or glottal-stop endings. As each line is repeated, this lends a parallelism approaching rhyme. To suggest some interesting patterns, each line of song is generally preceded or followed by vocalic forms to extend the line and mark the breaks, usually, if Mooney’s orthography is consistent for these, as -ei-, -o(o)-, and glottal stop. In one simple song (6) the high backvowel orientation of ‘eiyeihei follows low back-vowel sounds moving to a frontal u sound in wonooyou’u. Finally, the stress of the songs has been left out of the retranslations, because Mooney did not mark them. As Salzmann has analyzed (1956), stresses combined with raising or falling register mark differences in meaning and give what some speakers described as the unique sing-song nature of Arapaho language to songs. To give one example, the line of song 67 with stresses would appear as nenééninoo tihnóokuunínoo nookóóxuu. These stresses in turn define the contours of singing, though this needs further research beyond the limits of this study. Some songs contain conspicuously novel grammatical forms. For instance, song 26 uses two conjunct constructions in the specific and habitual past tense as tihne’etiitoonehehk (when there was life) and niiteehehk (it was he). First of all, these are rare examples of the conjunct in the past tense. The conjunct order is generally reserved for present or future states comparable to a subjunctive mood, such as in “if ” statements. Second, reference to mythical events, such as in this text, are usually framed in the narrative past tense. Morphologically, almost all verb constructions in the songs are phrased in the past, future, or present tense, without employment of the narrative past tense marked by the prefix he(e)’ih- denoting the speaker’s temporal and epistemic distance from events presented in the third person. It thus func502 A N DE RSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

tions as an evidential modality for placement of events in a mythical time. By contrast, all the songs are presented as direct experiences in the present or near past, even though many recount images from visions or trance states inspired by the dance itself and accompanying songs. Connected and also missing here are the musicality and the kinesthetic motion of dance. Mooney offered musical transcriptions of eight songs and commented that “[t]heir religious nature has led them to take a more active interest in the Ghost dance, which, together with the rhythmic nature of their language, has made their songs the favorite among the tribes of Oklahoma” (1896, 958). Arapaho music is distinctive and preferred in the old style of Plains music, for its low, plaintive, and slow qualities. The music was shaped also by the distinctive dance step, now recognized as a “rounddance” form in Plains Indian social dancing. The song form and accompanying dance style clearly predate the Ghost Dance in the Great Basin and Plateau by an indeterminable period of time. Arapahos thus merged the syncopated rhythm of the round- dance form with their own low timbre and plaintive tone. The iambic cadence of the step infuses the music with a mournful but uplifting affective tone: When all is ready, the leaders walk out to the dance place, and facing inward, join hands so as to form a circle. Then, without moving from their places they sing the opening song, according to previous agreement, in a soft undertone. Having sung it through once, they raise their voices to their full strength and repeat it, this time slowly circling around in the dance. The step is different from that of most other Indian dances, but very simple, the dancers moving right to left, following the course of the sun, advancing the left foot and following it with the right, hardly lifting the left foot and following it with the right, hardly lifting the feet from the ground. For this reason it is called by the Shoshoni the “dragging dance.” All the songs are adapted to the simple measure of the dance step. As the song rises and swells the people come singly and in groups from the several tipis, and one after another joins the circle until any number from fifty to five hundred men, women, and children are in the dance. When the circle is small, each song is repeated through a number of circuits. If large, it is repeated only through one circuit, measured by the return of the leaders to the starting point. (Mooney 1896, 920) The poetic prosody of the songs combined with the kinesic syncopation of dance likely generated a collective effervescence without precedent in Ghost Dance Songs 503

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Arapaho culture. Holding hands in a dance open to everyone—and even hundreds—who wanted to participate irrespective of age and gender only occurred in social contexts outside the core ceremonies of the beyoowu’, including the Sun Dance, men’s age-grade lodges, and women’s Buffalo Lodge, all becoming extinct or threatened at the time of the Ghost Dance. The contradictions and possibilities of Ghost Dance songs, too, allowed individuals to participate by contributing new songs. For participants, “revitalization” was in and of the dance, the trance, and the songs themselves, not in a future world. The texts of the songs must be placed in an aesthetic moment not just framed by the millenarian doctrine or its history but radiating with unprecedented creativity and sociality. Songs were the medium of feedback for the unique poetic creativity circulating in the dance. They both inspired and resulted from trance states within a social context and scope unprecedented in Arapaho culture before or after. Prior to the reservation period, vision states from individual fasts or participation in the lodges inspired songs with individual power for medicine but rarely would these become collective songs readily shared with others. In this way the songs are still part of an uncanny history, given that Arapahos were and still are among the most conservative ritual practitioners on the Plains. As Fowler (1982) demonstrates, Northern Arapaho age structure remained very strong as a system for maintaining traditional authority and tribal consensus. Still to be fully studied, though, is the other equally essential side of Arapaho culture through which prolific creativity flowed through individual imaginations at play in dreams, visions, invention, and songs. Though it is impossible to return to the immediacy of their performance, it is possible to get closer to some of the images and some sense of how the songs were experienced. At a time of confinement the songs offered release but also reincorporation in the social. While non-Indian society was confining Arapahos to generic, even racial terms, Arapahos came together in a new sociality that allowed expression of individual creativity. While agents of assimilation were trying to liberate individualism from primitive communism, authors of the songs were released by trance and dream into novel paths of creativity. The promised or prophesied new world was really already experienced in the moments of dance, songs, and visions they engendered. I hope that the beginnings of retranscription and retranslation provided here will open eyes to the immediacy of the songs and Arapaho experiences expressed through them.

504 A N DERS ON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

2UWKRJUDSK\

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Contemporary Arapaho orthography is as follows: b is pronounced as in English, except at the end of words, when it sounds like p; c is like a ch in English (e.g., “church”), but voiced like a j sound at the beginning of words; e sounds like the a in English “cat,” and when written double ee, is held longer; h is like the English h, but always also pronounced at the end of a syllable or word; i is similar to the short i in English “bit,” but in the long double form written as ii, it sounds like the long e in English (e.g., “meet”); k is usually produced like the k in English, but voiced as a g sound at the beginning of words; n is the same more or less as in English; o is almost the same as in English “got,” and in the long form rendered as oo, it sounds like the vowel sound held longer in the pronunciation of “caught”; s is the same as in English though never voiced as a z; t is a voiceless alveolar stop much like English t, but voiced as a d sound at the beginning of words; u is like the u in English “put,” and in the long form, written as uu, it is held longer like the long u sound in English “cute”; w is the same as in the English word “water,” but also pronounced as voiceless at the end of words; x is most like the rough ch as in German ich; y is similar to the English form but also pronounced as voiceless at the end of words; ȝ is a voiceless dental fricative as in English “thin” or “three” (thus, the symbol) but never voiced as in English “than”; ‘ is a glottal stop in which the glottis at the base of the throat is closed. The vowel combination ou sounds like the long o sound as in “boat.” The oe diphthong sounds like the long i sound in English “bike.” The ei combination is just as in English “reins.” Triple-vowel forms are pronounced longer yet than their double-vowel counterparts but with a double stress as in éeé or óuú. NOT E 1. Several songs are also available in Densmore (1936) and Curtis (1934).

REFERENC ES AND SUGGEST ED READING Anderson, Jeffrey D. 2001a. The Four Hills of Life: Northern Arapaho Knowledge and Life Movement. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. —   . 2001b. “Northern Arapaho Conversion of a Christian Text: The Our Father.” Ethnohistory 48 (4): 689–712. Curtis, Natalie. 1934. The Indians’ Book. New York: Dover. DeMallie, Raymond J. 1982. “The Lakota Ghost Dance: An Ethnohistorical Account.” Pacific Historical Review 51 (4): 385– 405.

Ghost Dance Songs 505

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Densmore, Frances. 1936. Cheyenne and Arapaho Music. Los Angeles: Southwest Museum. Dorsey, George A., and Alfred L. Kroeber. 1903. Traditions of the Arapaho. Reprint, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1998. Elliott, Michael A. 1998. “Ethnography, Reform, and the Problem of the Real: James Mooney’s Ghost Dance Religion.” American Indian Quarterly 50 (2): 201–33. Fletcher, Alice C. 1891. “The Indian Messiah.” Journal of American Folklore 4 (12): 57–60. Fowler, Loretta Kay. 1982. Arapahoe Politics, 1851–1878: Symbols in Crises of Authority. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. Herzog, George. 1935. “Plains Ghost Dance and Great Basin Music.” American Anthropologist 37: 403–19. Hilger, M. Inez. 1952. Arapaho Child Life and Its Cultural Background. Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 148.Washington DC: GPO. Hultkrantz, Åke. 1981. “The Changing Meaning of the Ghost Dance as Evidenced by the Wind River Shoshoni.” In Belief and Worship in Native North America, edited by Christopher Vecsey, 264–81. Syracuse NY: Syracuse University Press. Kehoe, Alice B. 1968. “The Ghost Dance Religion in Saskatchewan, Canada.” Plains Anthropologist 13 (42): 296–304. —   . 1989. The Ghost Dance: Ethnohistory and Revitalization. New York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston. Kracht, Benjamin R. 1992. “The Kiowa Ghost Dance, 1894–1914: An Unheralded Revitalization Movement.” Ethnohistory 39 (4): 452–77. Kroeber, Alfred L. 1983. The Arapaho. Foreword by Fred Eggan. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press. (Originally published in three parts in 1902, 1904, and 1907). —   . 1916. Arapaho Dialects. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology vol. 12, no. 3, pp. 71–138. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lesser, Alexander. 1978. The Pawnee Ghost Dance Hand Game: Ghost Dance Revival and Ethnic Identity. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Michelson, Truman. ca. 1910. Field Notes. Smithsonian Institution, National Anthropological Archives. Washington DC. Mooney, James. 1896. The Ghost-Dance Religion and Sioux Outbreak of 1890. Fourteenth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1892–93, part 2, pp. 641–1110. Washington DC: GPO. Salzmann, Zdenek. 1956. “Arapaho I: Phonology.” International Journal of American Linguistics 22: 49– 59. —   . 1961. “Arapaho IV: Interphonemic Specification.” International Journal of American Linguistics 27: 151– 55. —   . 1963. “A Sketch of Arapaho Grammar.” PhD diss., Department of Anthropology, Indiana University–Bloomington. —   . 1965a. “Arapaho V: Noun.” International Journal of American Linguistics 31: 39–49. —   . 1965b. “Arapaho VI: Noun.” International Journal of American Linguistics 31: 136– 51.

506 A N DERSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

—   . 1967. “Arapaho VII: Verb.” International Journal of American Linguistics 33: 209–23. —   . 1983. Dictionary of Contemporary Arapaho Usage. Arapaho Language and Culture Instructional Materials Series, no. 4. Fort Washakie WY: Northern Arapaho Tribe, Wind River Reservation. Vander, Judith. 1997. Shoshone Ghost Dance Religion: Poetry Songs and Great Basin Context. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Voth, H. R. n.d. H. R. Voth Collection. Bethel College, Mennonite Library and Archives. Newton KS. Wallace, Anthony F. C. 1956. “Revitalization Movements: Some Theoretical Considerations for Their Comparative Study.” American Anthropologist 58: 264–81.

The Songs TRA N SL AT ED BY JEF F R EY D. AN DERS ON

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

1 ‘Eiyeihei! neniisono’ ‘Eiyeihei! My children. ‘Eiyeihei! neniisono’ ‘Eiyeihei! My children. Hinee ceese’ hetiicooninoo Hei’eiyei! There is another of your pipes. Hei’eiyei! Hinee ceese’ hetiicooninoo Hei’eiyei! There is another of your pipes. Hei’eiyei! Nohooni ne’niiȝeetouhunoo Hei’eiyei! Look! Thus I shouted. Hei’eiyei! Nohooni ne’niiȝeetouhunoo Hei’eiyei! Look! Thus I shouted. Hei’eiyei! Biito’owu’ tihno’oobenowoo Hei’eiyei! The earth, when I moved it. Hei’eiyei! Biito’owu’ tihno’oobenowoo Hei’eiyei! The earth, when I moved it. Hei’eiyei! (Mooney 1896, 958)

2 Se’iicooo hei’towuuneinoo—Eiyohei’eiyei Flat Pipe is telling me. Eiyohei’eiyei. Ghost Dance Songs 507

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Se’iicooo hei’towuuneinoo.—Eiyohei’eiyei Flat Pipe is telling me. Eiyohei’eiyei. Heisonoonin—Yohei’eiyei Our Father. Yohei’eiyei. Heisonoonin—Yohei’eiyei, Our Father. Yohei’eiyei, Hootniiȝoowuce’woohonoteino’—Eiyohei’eiyei We shall surely be put together again. Eiyohei’eiyei! Hootniiȝoowuce’woohonoteino’—Eiyohei’eiyei We shall surely be put together again. Eiyohei’eiyei! Heisonoonin—Eiyohei’eiyei, Our Father. Eiyohei’eiyei! Heisonoonin—Eiyohei’eiyei, Our Father. Eiyohei’eiyei! (Mooney 1896, 959)

3

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Hee, teebe tih’owouunonou’u, neniisono’ Yes, at first when I pitied them, my children. Hee, teebe tih’owouunonou’u, neniisono’ Yes, at first when I pitied them, my children. Nih’ooȝou’u The whites. Nih’ooȝou’u The whites. Nihbinou’u koh’owootino I gave to them, fruits. Nihbinou’u koh’owootino I gave to them, fruits. (Mooney 1896, 961)

6 Eiyeihei! Wonooyou’u— Eiyeihei! They are new. Eiyeihei! Wonooyou’u— Eiyeihei! They are new. Hookouno The bed coverings. Hookouno The bed coverings. (Mooney 1896, 963)

508 A N DERSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

8 Neniisono’, neniisono’ My children, my children. Hee, Neniiniibeineese’ wookuuno’ Yes, it is singing wind, the head feathers. Hee, Neniiniibeineese’ wookuuno’ Yes, it is singing wind, the head feathers. Neniisono’, neniisono’ My children, my children. (Mooney 1896, 965)

10 Neniisono’, neniisono’ My children, my children. He’ne’nowouunou’u nih’ei’towuunono’ Thus I pity them, those who have been instructed. He’ne’nowouunou’u nih’ei’towuunono’ Thus I pity them, those who have been instructed. Tihce’inih’oniitowooȝi’ When they again were ambitious. Tihce’inih’oniitowooȝi’ When they again were ambitious. (Mooney 1896, 966)

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

13 Hohootii niiboot—Eiheiyei Cottonwood song. Eiheiyei. Hohootii niiboot—Eiheiyei Cottonwood song. Eiheiyei. Neniibootowoo I am singing it. Neniibootowoo I am singing it. Heiyeyo’oheiyei! Heiyeyo’oheiyei! (Mooney 1896, 967)

14 Eiyeihei! Hee, nii’ehiisoono’ Eiyeihei! Yes, the young birds. Eiyeihei! Hee, nii’ehiisoono’

Ghost Dance Songs 509

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Eiyeihei! Yes, the young birds. Hei’ei’e’eiheiyuhuuyuu! Hei’ei’e’eiheiyuhuuyuu! Hee, boh’ooni’ehiisoono’ Yes, the young thunderbirds. Hee, boh’ooni’ehiisoono’ Yes, the young thunderbirds. (Mooney 1896, 968)

15 Hee, heisonoonin neyoooxetihi’ Yes, Our Father little whirlwind. Hee, heisonoonin neyoooxetihi’ Yes, Our Father little whirlwind. He’ne’nihi’koohunoo Thus, I run swiftly. He’ne’nihi’koohunoo Thus, I run swiftly. Heisonoonin he’ne’noohowo’ Thus, I saw Our Father. Heisonoonin he’ne’noohowo’ Thus, I saw Our Father. (Mooney 1896, 970)

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

16 Hee, heisonoonin neyoooxet Yes, Our Father, the whirlwind. Hee, heisonoonin neyoooxet Yes, Our Father, the whirlwind. Woow ce’ni’iinookuunit houno’ Now, again he can wear a crow headdress. Woow ce’ni’iinookuunit houno’ Now, again he can wear a crow headdress. (Mooney 1896, 970)

17 Nonoo’onih’ohunoo I am flying in circles. Nonoo’onih’hunoo I am flying in circles. Biito’owu’ heneiisei’i The earth’s boundaries. 510 A N DE RS ON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Biito’owu’ heneiisei’i The earth’s boundaries. Heeneihȝi’ ne’nih’ohunoo They are long (feathers), as I fly. Heneihȝi’ ne’nih’ohunoo They are long (feathers), as I fly. (Mooney 1896, 970)

18 Hoho’nookoowuunen beniineinoo Rock man is giving to me. Hoho’nookoowuunen beniineinoo Rock man is giving to me. Hinowun koononeinoo His paint—he washes me. Hinowun koononeinoo His paint—he washes me. (Mooney 1896, 971)

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

21 ‘Iiyeihei! hee, neniisono’—‘Uhiiyeheiheiyei! Yes, my children. ‘Uhiiyeheiheiyei! ‘Iiyeihei! hee, neniisono’—‘Uhiiyeheiheiyei! Yes, my children. ‘Uhiiyeheiheiyei! ‘Iiyeihei! hootowouuno’—Eiyei’oeyoheiyuu! We render him sad. Eiyei’oeyoheiyuu! ‘Iiyeihei! hootowouuno’—Eiyei’oeyoheiyuu! We render him sad. Eiyei’oeyoheiyuu! Nih’ooȝou’u hohookeeniȝi’—‘Oheiyuheiyuu! Whites, they are crazy. ‘Oheiyuheiyuu! Nih’ooȝou’u hohookeeniȝi’—‘Oheiyuheiyuu! Whites, they are crazy. ‘Oheiyuheiyuu! (Mooney 1896, 972)

24 Ho(h)’onookee, ho(h)’onookee The rock, the rock. Teneesokuutowo’ I am standing on it. Teneesokuutowo’ I am standing on it Heisonoonin he’ne’noohoowo’ Ghost Dance Songs 511

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Thus, I see him, Our Father. Heisonoonin he’ne’noohoowo’ Thus, I see him, Our Father. (Mooney 1896, 973)

26 Hee, teebe tihne’etiitoonehehk Well, just when there was life. Hee, teebe tihne’etiitoonehehk Well, just when there was life. Niiteehehk be’enoo neeceeheiht It was turtle who gave this gift. Niiteehehk be’enoo neeceeheiht It was turtle who gave this gift. Biito’owu’ The earth. Biito’owu’ The earth. Tihtowuuneinoo neisonoo When he told me this, my father. Tihtowuuneinoo neisonoo When he told me this, my father. (Mooney 1896, 975)

27

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Neneisono’, neneisono’ neneeninoo touhnoo ne’nih’ohunoo My children, my children. It is I. I yell-thunder; thus I fly. Neneisono’, neneisono’ neneeninoo touheteinih’ohunoo My children, my children. It is I. I yell-thunder-roar-flying. (Mooney 1896, 976)

28 Neixoo nehcih’owouunoni Father, have pity on me! Neixoo nehcih’owouunoni Father, have pity on me! Woow, biixonokooyeinoo Now, I am wailing-fasting-thirsting. Woow, biixonokooyeinoo Now, I am wailing-fasting-thirsting.

512 A N DE RSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Hoowuuni biiȝitii There is no food. Hoowuuni biiȝitii There is no food. (Mooney 1896, 977)

29 Neniihoonih’ohunoo Yellow I am flying. Neniihoonih’ohunoo Yellow I am flying. Yeneisitii’inookuunih’ohunoo Wild roses I wear on my head, I fly. Yeneisitii’inookuunih’ohunoo Wild roses I wear on my head, I fly. Hihcebe’—Hei’ei’ei! Above. Hei’ei’ei! Hihcebe’—Hei’ei’ei! Above. Hei’ei’ei! (Mooney 1896, 977)

39

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Nonoononoo’ooteinoo houu Crow is circling and circling me. Nonoononoo’ooteinoo houu The Crow is circling and circling me. Tohce’noȝeinoo houu Because he Crow is coming after me again. Tohce’noȝeinoo houu Because he Crow is coming after me again. (Mooney 1896, 984)

40 Hee, neniisono’ Ei’ei’yei! My children. Ei’ei’yei! Hee, neniisono’ Ei’ei’yei! My children. Ei’ei’yei! Hiiyou heeȝeibenowoo Here it is; I hand it to you. Hiiyou heeȝeibenowoo Here it is; I hand it to you.

Ghost Dance Songs 513

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Biitoh’owu’, Ei’ei’yei! The earth. Ei’ei’yei! Biitoh’owu’, Ei’ei’yei! The earth. Ei’ei’yei! (Mooney 1896, 984)

48 Beih’ineniinootee’ niitobeenoo Everything, I hear. I hear well. Beih’ineniinootee’ niitobeenoo Everything, I hear. I hear well. Neneeninoo houu I am Crow. Neneeninoo houu I am Crow. (Mooney 1896, 993– 94)

51

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Niicie’iiȝeti’ Beautiful, good river. Niicie’iiȝeti’ Beautiful, good river. Ciinohootiini’ Where there are no trees. Ciinohootiini’ Where there are no trees. Kouun boh’oonibino ȝii’ookou’u But thunder-berries are standing. Kouun boh’oonibino ȝii’ookou’u But thunder-berries are standing. (Mooney 1896, 995)

63 Niinoo’oekoohuwoo ciibeet I am walking around the sweat lodge. Niinoo’oekoohuwoo ciibeet I am walking around the sweat lodge. Heinootee’ beii ȝi’eyoone’ The shell is lying there on the mound. Heinootee’ beii ȝi’eyoone’ The shell is lying there on the mound. (Mooney 1896, 1001)

514 A N DE RSON

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

72 Hee, neixoo nookooxuu Yes, Father! Morning star. Hee, neixoo nookooxuu Yes, Father! Morning star. (hii) noohoobei niinoho’ookeenohowoono’ Look at us, we dance (habitually) until dawn arrives. (hii) noohoobei niinoho’ookeenohowoono’ Look at us, we dance (habitually) until dawn arrives. (Mooney 1896, 1011)

73

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

‘Ohouyuu heeȝeinoo heisonoonin houu Our Father the crow says. ‘Ohouyuu heeȝeinoo heisonoonin houu Our Father the crow says. Yooȝon heetih’useebe Five times may you walk. Niiȝeinoo heisonoonin Says Our Father. Niiȝeinoo heisonoonin Says Our Father. (Mooney 1896, 1011–12)

Ghost Dance Songs 515

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

FROM Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved. Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Star Husband Two Brothers’ Versions of a Traditional Skokomish-Twana Story TOLD BY FRANK ALLEN AND BY HEN RY ALLEN E D I T E D BY W I L L I A M W. E L M E N D OR F A N D ST E V E N M . E GE S DA L

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

,QWURGXFWLRQ William Elmendorf gathered many Skokomish-Twana myths and folktales during fieldwork in 1939 and 1940. The stories were narrated in English by two brothers, Henry Allen and Frank Allen. Their father and their Native cultural background were Skokomish,1 although their mother was Klallam. Elmendorf reports that the Allen brothers’ personalities differed greatly. “Frank Allen was strongly and self- consciously ‘Indian’ in most of his attitudes.” Henry Allen, conversely, showed a “much more apparent adjustment to the norms of the dominant white society.” Henry Allen was more objective and critically analytical about both white and Native belief systems, “by a kind of cross- cultural cancellation.” Frank Allen’s accounts of religious matters were more those of a knowledgeable direct participant, while Henry Allen’s were those of a knowledgeable observer (Elmendorf 1961:5). The stories below are different versions of the same “myth,” which relates events that occurred during the myth period (sábu). The myth period was set before the magical change of the world known as “the capsizing” (sp̓əláč’), when “the world turned over” and “when we were animals” (Elmendorf 1961:20–21). Elmendorf (1993:lii) further explains, “The people of the sábu are animals, or at least they bear animal names and have some of the attributes of animals. Yet they are also more or less human in personality and motivations. Informants [Frank and Henry Allen] consistently refer to the sábu period as ‘when the animals were people,’ but also as ‘when the people were animals.’ The subsequent fate of these myth-time animal people is variously described as change into the animals of today, and change into the guardian spirits (c’šált and swádaš) of today.”

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

519

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

The general plot of the myth concerns two women who wish for stars to be their husbands, and the events that follow when their wishes come true. They venture to the star world, marry and become pregnant, become homesick, and return home. The two versions differ greatly in the events that happen after the women return to earth and bear their children. In Frank Allen’s version, the women give birth to two children, a boy and a girl. The celestial father of the star boy feels threatened, so the father has the boy kidnapped and taken to a remote place in the north. Different characters try to rescue the boy, but only Wren succeeds. The star boy eventually introduces roots, berries, and salmon to the people. In Henry Allen’s version, the star boy is similarly kidnapped. But instead of a successful rescue, Bluejay finds him already a grown man. The star man then has adventures on earth—his “mother’s land”—during which he shows its inhabitants all he knows. It turns out that this star man is Dúkʷibaɬ, the Transformer.2 Numerous characters are brought into his adventures, including Mink and Snake Basket Witch. After he shows the people all he knows, he departs homeward for the star land. He takes Frog as his wife, and he ultimately becomes the Moon. In both versions, the star boy is important in engineering “the way things are” in the world. For Frank Allen, the star boy introduces what would be the principal foods of the people, roots, berries, and salmon. For Henry Allen, the star boy is specifically identified as the Transformer, “destroyer of dangerous monsters” and “establisher of techniques and customs for the coming human race” (Elmendorf 1961:11).

Star Husband (First Version, Snoqualmie)³ Now a story I heard the Snoqualmie tell when I was up Cedar River. Doctor Jack told it to me there. Those people say of themselves udúkʷdukʷɩl, we say bidúkʷdukʷukʷ, “miracles were done there.” And that is why they are called sdukʷálbɩxʷ. Now as you come to Snoqualmie Pass, on the left hand there is a big high rock mountain, and on it there is a big white spot every four hundred yards or so. Now these were the pictures of the Snoqualmie chiefs that Dúkʷibaɬ put there in the beginning. SɬXélčXqédəb was the first one, and then yá•qédəb 520 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

and then c’əl’qédəb and ɬəbášqédəb and lots more. And as they died those pictures dropped off and left those white spots. They call that mountain sαXʷaɬsXálacut αs dúkʷalbɩxʷti’iɬbá•dət, “mountain where the head people of the Snoqualmie are counted.” Now the Skokomish in their language call stories like this sábu or sx̣ʷiyáb, and the Snoqualmie call them the same.4 Now two girls slept outside on a nice clear night. One said, “I wish I had that bright star for my husband.” And the other said, “No, I wish I had that dark-looking star for my husband.” They went to sleep. And when they woke up two men were sleeping with them. Good-looking young men they were. One of them was that bright star, he had red eyes, and the other was dark. They asked the girls, “You want us, don’t you?” And they said, “Oh, yes! We wished for husbands.” And the men said, “Well, you wished for stars and here we are. We’re those stars you wished for.” And they told the girls, “You shut your eyes.” And the girls shut their eyes. And they told them, “Open your eyes, you women.” And the girls opened their eyes and they were in a different world. And the two men took their wives to their two houses. And people lived there, just as on this earth. And the girls dug camas roots and lived with their husbands. Now those people that lived there in that star world couldn’t talk to each other. They just made motions. And the two girls followed the other women out and dug roots with them. Now these star men told their wives, “You’re going to stay here, you’re not going back to your country any more.” And those girls felt bad when they heard that. So those two women talked to each other. “What are we going to do?” They’re getting homesick already. They know now that they’re way up in another world above their own. So they say to each other, “You dig that camas and you give me half of your camas.” So every day they went off and one dug and the other twisted cedar limbs into a long rope. Every day they worked that way. Well, one day they said, “Now we have enough rope.” So they dug a hole till they got through the bottom of the star world and they let down their rope till they reached the world below with it. And they tied the upper end to a big rock. And now they started to climb down that rope, one at a time. And one said, “When you get down, pull on that rope so I’ll know that you got down.” And there was one old woman there that was good to them. She’s helping those two girls. They both have babies in their bellies now. They told this old woman, the last one to go down told her, “When I get down there I’ll pull on this rope and then you untie it and throw it down.” So they climbed down and the last one down pulled on the rope and the old woman threw Star Husband 521

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

it down to them. And that rope coiled up on the ground and it is a big pile of stones there now, in a prairie above Snoqualmie Falls. And those two women got home now. Their bellies are getting big now. And those babies are born on the same day, one of them a boy, one a girl. And those women went out to dig roots. And they tied their babies up in a yákʷtəd (spring halter) and left an old blind woman to watch after them. And the old woman jiggled the babies back and forth in their yákʷtəd. The star that was father of one of those children sent a message to the farthest north, to the north end of the world. Now there was a thing there that went up and down all the time.5 The Snohomish call that thing bik̓ék̓ap̓qʷab or xʷádixʷadi. And beyond that, farther north, there were people. Now that star father of the boy was afraid that when that boy grew up he’d do something great. So he sent to this place beyond that thing that went up and down and he got a person there to go and take that boy baby and take him down north to that place. And he did that. Now all the people gathered where the two girls had come down. They’re all going to look for that child. Now that person from the north had taken the boy from the cradle board and he put rotten wood in his place. And when the baby’s mother came home, there was the old blind woman juggling that rotten wood. She didn’t know the baby was gone. And the mother saw the rotten wood, and she said to her old grandmother, “Where is my child? Who put that rotten wood there?” And the old woman said, “I don’t know anything about it. I didn’t know the baby was gone.” And that old woman sang:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

udákʷαdαxʷčád6 təyuyúk̓ʷay ú• ú• ú•

I’m shaking The rotten wood Oh, oh, oh!

And now those Snoqualmie people called the animals from all over to come. Those animals were people then. And the people gathered, and Bluejay said, “I’ll go through to get that baby!” And everybody said, “All right, you go.” And ahh, now Bluejay comes back with his head all flattened on the sides. And he came back crying. That thing that goes up and down had caught his head when he tried to get through. Now Eagle said, “I’ll go and get that baby.” And then he came back and told the people, “Well, I just sat down and watched that thing. I couldn’t make it. It’s too dangerous for me.” 522 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

And now Seagull said, “I’ll go.” So he went down north and he came back and said, “I can’t make it. I’m too slow for that thing.” And Mallard Duck said, “Well, I’ll go and try to get that baby.” But he came back and said, “I was too scared to try it. I’ll get killed if I try to go through there.” And now Loon said, “I’ll go and get him.” And he’s a smart man, Loon. He went and he was away a long time. And now he came back with his nose all flat. That xʷádixʷadi had caught his nose when he tried to get through. And now those small birds we call t’əbt’áb’ and the Puget Sound people call spícxʷ.7 That t’əbt’áb’ laughed. “Oh, I’ll go and get that baby.” And he went. And now the Snoqualmie got drumming planks and sticks to beat on them, all ready to have a big time when they get that baby. And ha! t’əbt’áb’ comes back now with that baby and he lays it down. And now the people are happy, And that old blind woman made a song now:8 uɬčíldubαxʷ təhúyuyúk̓ʷ’ay

They’ve brought it back, what was made of rotten wood.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And all the people danced and sang with her. And now all the animals went home except spícxʷ . They told spícxʷ to stay there. And they told spícxʷ, “You’re going to stay with the Snoqualmie now. Your name is Snoqualmie now.” So spícxʷ said, “All right, I’ll go and bring my family here.” And there are lots of spícxʷ in that country right today. And now that boy and girl grow up now. They become a man and a woman. Now the head men at Snoqualmie said, “We’re not going to give our blood away from this place. You two marry people right here.” And after a while sɬXélčXqédəb married that star girl. And they had children. And the star boy went down to the falls. He dived down the falls and washed and came home. And he did that two or three times and then he disappeared, he’s no more to be seen. Now that star father was afraid that boy would do something. That’s why he had him stolen and taken beyond the xʷádixʷadi when he was a baby. And now that young man is going to do something big. And he disappeared and people began to think he was dead or had gone back beyond the xʷádixʷadi. One morning that boy comes back with a girl. He had gone home to his father’s place and had married a girl there, and now he came home to his mother. Star Husband 523

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

And after a while that wife he had brought back told the Snoqualmie women, “You shut your eyes now.” And they shut their eyes and when they opened them, there were all kinds of roots, camas and all kinds. Where had that come from? Those women didn’t know where those roots had come from. And the woman from the star world said, “Get all your baskets, you women. We’ll go out in the mountains here and get berries.” When they got up in the mountains the star woman said, “Shut your eyes.” And they shut their eyes and when they opened them, the baskets were all full of berries. So they went home. And now that star boy said to the people, “Come on everybody, let’s go down to the falls.” And they went to the falls. And he told them, “You look up in the air, and you look all around [counterclockwise] till you come back to where you fi rst looked.” And the people all did as he told them. And when they looked down on the ground again there was a big pile of salmon by each man. And they packed that salmon home. And now sɬXélčXqédəb is breeding children now by that star woman. And that star boy and his wife are having children too, and they marry one another’s families. They didn’t marry anywhere else, they married among their own families. And they kept on that way and became a big tribe now. And in those times those Snoqualmie just married in their own tribe. And that is why those people are called sdukʷábɩxʷ, because they are the people who were there when those wonderful things happened. Now at the end of those story times, at the end of sábu, Dúkʷibaɬ went all over everywhere and changed the world to the way it is now. And those people became animals.

Star Husband (Second Version)⁹ Two sisters went out to dig roots. They camped out for the night. One said, “I wish that star was my husband!” The other said, “I want that other one.” They went to sleep and found themselves in the sky land, a flat earth above the sky. And there they were the wives of those two stars. After a while one had a boy, the other no child. They began to want to get back to this earth, so while they were digging for roots they dug a hole through the bottom of the sky land. They made a rope out of cedar limbs and climbed down, baby 524 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

on back. And after they got down everybody went to see that rope, and had a big time playing and swinging on it. There was an old man bachelor living alone in the woods. He made a fish trap in the river and caught one male steelhead. He’d never eaten fish before, so he wondered if the milt was eatable. He discovered each roe had an eye, and thought he’d better leave it alone. It incubated and after a while there were two girls. That old man had to raise them until they became grown; he called them “my daughters,” and they helped him. After a while he wanted to call them “my wives,” but they ran away. And as they went on they came across this hallelujah good time everybody was having, all the people swinging on the rope. And off to one side was the sky baby, with its old blind grandmother taking care of it, rocking it in its cradle with her toe. And those girls stole the baby and put a piece of rotten wood in its place. After a while the people discovered the baby was gone, and now everybody was looking for the child. Someone got a doctor to put breath into the rotten wood and it became a human child. And they got Hummingbird and Cougar and all the animals to go hunt the lost child. They came back one at a time, and none of them could fi nd it. But a long time later Bluejay went as far as he could go, where the earth got thin, and there was something going up and down. Bluejay had a hunch the thief had made that. Then Bluejay came back to the middle and he took out his watch and noticed one stroke was longer than others every so often. That thing was like a gate going up and down. Bluejay watched his chance and slid through feet first on the long stroke. But just as he got through the thing caught his head. You’ll notice Bluejay has a fl at head if you look carefully. Bluejay went on and saw smoke after a while. It was a man making arrow points. And that was the lost child grown up. So Bluejay told him all about the case, that he had been stolen and who he was. So the man told Bluejay to go on home and tell his mother that he was found and would come as soon as he could. Then Bluejay left him. And the man put arrow points into a bag and set out for his mother. He had children now by those two women who had stolen him. So he called them together and told them he was going back to his mother. He called his oldest son, Cedar Tree. I guess there were no people yet. “I leave it with you, my dear son, that you will be used for making canoes and for baskets.” And he told him all the other things cedar would be good for. Fir Tree was his next son. He called him and told him what he would be used for. And so with the other trees. Then he called all the fishes of the sea and said, “I am leaving you, my dear children.” They cried when he said that, and so some fish have wide open mouths. Star Husband 525

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Now he went along and the first thing he saw was a man who had rain coming through his roof. That man had the shakes on all wrong. And he showed him how to put the shakes on right. Then he saw Raven, a big chief with lots of slaves. He had a fish trap and the slaves were standing there acting as supports to the trap. Now Dúkʷibaɬ showed them how to make the three sticks as supports to a trap. And Raven had to be black after that. Now he went on and he heard people singing:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

dəbá•ɬčad qʷi sát sát sát10 We are the sons of fire. And he went up and asked them what all that meant. “Oh, we can start a fi re and burn the earth!” But he wouldn’t believe that, he told them to go ahead. So they sang and had power and the earth started to burn. And Dúkʷibaɬ had to run. He asked a big rock to save him but it couldn’t. “I crack when fire comes!” He came to water and it said, “I boil!” But the trail he was running on said. “I don’t burn. Lie down! Lie down!” So he lay down and was saved. Then Mink. Mink had been trying to make love to his niece. She died, so he took her down north to where there was a strong doctor. And the doctor brought her to life. Mink was a miracle man too. He had slaves he made out of rotten wood to paddle for him. As they came back in the canoe Mink’s other niece said, “That looks like Mink and my sister.” But her sister didn’t know her husband was Mink, her uncle. Mink played at being a big chief. He had lots of rotten wood slaves. After a while his wife began to catch on who he was from her sister, so Mink moved on with her. They saw sea urchins. They had no way to get them, but Mink was a diver. The slaves couldn’t get them, so he dived down and got some. He kept doing this. His wife knew now from this that he was Mink, her uncle. Mink was always a glutton for sea urchins. So she threw the baby overboard and told the slaves to paddle her back home. Mink told the child to swim to shore. They swam ashore and there they were, homeless. Now a salmon came ashore dead. So Mink and his son sharpened a stick and built a fi re and cooked him. Mink lay down while the fish was cooking, downhearted. They fell asleep. And when they woke up the fish was all eaten up. Mink wondered, who has done this? He knew the Dúkʷibaɬ was around by this time, so he set out to find him. But Dúkʷibaɬ just kept ahead of him. Finally Mink got disgusted and quit.

526 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Then Dúkʷibaɬ saw a child swimming out from shore, diving far out to tease his mother. That mother was worried and kept asking the child to come in to shore. But the child just laughed. Dúkʷibaɬ changed him to Loon. Then Deer sang: bɩsyα ’qyáq čəd11

I’m filing and filing.

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

This was to kill Dúkʷibaɬ. And Dúkʷibaɬ said, “Let me see that.” It was a sharp bone Deer was filing. So Dúkʷibaɬ stuck it in Deer’s leg, and you can find it there now. And Dúkʷibaɬ said, “You will be food for the hereafter.” Beaver had an ax he was sharpening to kill Dúkʷibaɬ. He sang the same song as Deer. And Dúkʷibaɬ stuck it on his tail, so it became flat like a blade. And Dúkʷibaɬ went on. He found a big bad animal, Bát’qs (“suck-nose”), was that monster’s name. It could draw in a canoe and people at a breath. Now there is a bluff near Lilliwaup sticking out into the Canal. This is what Bát’qs was changed into.12 And he turned all these bad animals into rock points along Hood Canal. Except for this you couldn’t use the Canal today. Then he came to a little creek below Hamma Hamma. There were so many salmon in that creek that he slipped around trying to cross it. He said, “You will have no fi sh.” Today we call that creek qačq̓ á•ƛ̓ ədəs, “No Salmon Go Up.” That is Wake Tiki creek.13 Near Dewatto, Dúkʷibaɬ turned a first-time menstruating girl into a big piece of rock like cement. That was because she wasn’t bathing or tending to business. Today we call it a•ták̓ʷčəd (“girl at fi rst menses”). He tried to get rid of the disk game, slahál. He threw the disks away several times, but they kept coming back, so he let them remain. And we still have that game. The little wrens (spícxʷ ) were using an elk-horn wedge. Dúkʷibaɬ saw one of them banging it with his head for a hammer. Wren sang: bɩspáw̓páw̓páw̓14 təciláladi

I’m banging and banging the side of my head.

Then Dúkʷibaɬ taught him to use a stone for a mallet, the way they do now. There was a bad old witch who would steal children and roast them. She had a live snake basket, woven of snakes, to carry the children in. She

Star Husband 527

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

drank at a little creek near Hamma Hamma, habibiəlqó (“Cascara Bark Creek”). She sang:

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

səbqɔ•čɩ səbqɔ•´ 15 axʷ óačɩd aƛ̓ɩ́dqoqɔ•´ habíbíawó habáy’ qé ó

I’m going to drink to my little creek, habibiəlqó (meaningless)

Now Dúkʷibaɬ told the old Snake Basket Witch he’d show her something. He saw Butterball Duck out catching crabs. He had a whole canoe full. Dúkʷibaɬ called Butterball over to shore and asked the old witch if she liked crabs. She said no, she was afraid of them. But Dúkʷibaɬ told her to go catch crabs with Butterball. He told Butterball not to hurt her, but gave him the wink. So they went out and Dúkʷibaɬ watched. The crabs in the canoe went toward that old witch. And Dúkʷibaɬ and Butterball called to them to stop, but of course they didn’t. So the old witch backed up and they tipped her out into the water. Today you see little freshwater springs out from shore in some places. That’s the old witch, bubbling up out of the water. Then when he finally did all his work he came home to his mother. He saw a young man coming to get water. And the young man asked Dúkʷibaɬ lots of questions. And it turned out this was his brother; this was that rotten-wood child. Then Dúkʷibaɬ knew he was at his mother’s. He didn’t tell his brother who he was. And that brother needed fixing. He was knockkneed, cross-eyed, had a big belly, and was all deformed. And Dúkʷibaɬ said to him, “Tell my mother I have arrived. Tell her to clean the house.” And now the brother knew him. And he fixed his brother all up and made him good looking and gave him a haircut and a shave. “Now my mother will know it is me, when she sees you.” Soon the brother came back and said the mother was ready. All the animals and birds were there and they feasted and had a big time. Dúkʷibaɬ knew just where they could get game, so they had lots to eat. They kept on feasting and having a good time, and everyone came to see the Dúkʷibaɬ. That went on for some time. Then he said, “I’ve showed my mother’s land all I know, how to live. Now I think I will go to my father’s country.” So he put his arrow points in a bundle and said he would take his brother with him. And any woman who could lift his bundle could be his wife and go with him. And all the big animals nudged each other and said, “This’ll be easy!” But none of them could lift it.

528 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

̓ Now grandma Frog had duxʷčəláxʷ [compulsive magic] power. She was over in a corner singing to her poor little granddaughter so she could win Dúkʷibaɬ for a husband. And poor little Frog held up the bundle first try! So she became his wife, and they went up to the star land. Now there had been no Sun or Moon up to that time. So Dúkʷibaɬ said, “I will rule in the daytime and my brother will rule in the night.” But in the daytime he saw that he was making too much heat; all the people were digging holes in the ground and going into the water. So he changed places with his brother. And you can still see Frog, his wife, in the Moon, holding the bundle. NOT ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Professor Elmendorf died in 1997. We are grateful to his wife, the late Eleanor Elmendorf, for sending a contribution from his notes for inclusion in this volume.—Eds. 1. Twana refers to a speech community of Coast Salish Indians in the Hood Canal region of western Washington, between Puget Sound and the Olympic Peninsula. Before 1860 the Twanas were divided into nine village communities, of which the Skokomish was the largest (Elmendorf 1993:xxix). 2. Dúkʷibaɬ is the Twana name for the Transformer. 3. For comparative references, see the second version of “Star Husband,” below. 4. The Twana (Skokomish) term is sábu, the Lushootseed (Puget Sound) sx̣ʷiyáb; Snoqualmie would use the latter (Elmendorf 1961:27n32). 5. This was the sky- earth border, described in the Upper Chehalis story “The Kidnapping of Moon,” told by Silas Heck, ed. M. Dale Kinkade, in Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories, ed. M. Terry Thompson and Steven M. Egesdal (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2008), 349– 68.—Eds. 6. The song is sung in Lushootseed (Puget Sound) (Elmendorf 1961:29). 7. Warren Snyder (1968:165) gives “snowbird,” probably Junco hyemalis or Oregon junco, a winter resident of the area. 8. This song is sung in Lushootseed (Elmendorf 1961:30). 9. Adamson (1934:374–78), “Moon and Sun.” Curtis (1913:117–21) gives a Lushootseed (Puyallup) version of this Transformer myth with a star husband introduction, in which Transformer’s adventures closely parallel the Skokomish versions. A detail supplied in the Curtis story is identification of Transformer’s grandmother, from whom he is stolen in infancy, as Toad (Elmendorf 1961:31n33.) This version contains very abbreviated accounts of many of the story themes in other stories in this book.—Eds. 10. This song is sung in Lushootseed (Puget Sound) (Elmendorf 1961:33). 11. This song is sung in Lushootseed (Elmendorf 1961:35).

Star Husband 529

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

12. Henry Allen remarks that sucking-monster’s name, Bát’qs, “suck-nose,” is Lushootseed (Puget Sound). Twana would be Bút’qs, but it is never used in the story. The place name is also Bát’qs, a rock on the Hood Canal shore into which the monster was changed. Cf. Lushootseed and Twana song words in the story (Elmendorf 1961:35n35). 13. First creek north of Cummings Point, on west side of Hood Canal (Elmendorf 1961:41 [item 57], 1961:35n36). 14. This song is sung in Lushootseed (Elmendorf 1961:35). 15. This song is sung in Twana (Skokomish) (Elmendorf 1961:35).

REFERENC ES

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Adamson, Thelma. 1934. Folk Tales of the Coast Salish. Memoirs of the American Folklore Society 27. New York: G. E. Stechert. Elmendorf, William. 1961. Skokomish and Other Coast Salish Tales (Parts 1–3). Research Studies of Washington State University 29 (1): 1–37; 29 (2):84–117; 29 (3): 119– 50. —   . 1993. Twana Narratives: Native Historical Accounts of a Coast Salish Culture. Seattle: University of Washington Press; Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Snyder, Warren A. 1968. Southern Puget Sound Salish: Texts, Place Names, and Dictionary. Sacramento Anthropological Society Paper 9.

530 E L M E N D OR F A N D E GE S DA L

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Source Acknowledgments Smoothing the Ground: Essays on Native American Oral Literature, edited by Brian Swann. © 1983 by the Regents of the University of California. Published by the University of California Press. Reprinted with permission. Elaine Jahner, “Stone Boy, Persistent Hero.” On the Translation of Native American Literatures, ed. Brian Swann. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992. Judith Berman, “Oolachan-Woman’s Robe: Fish, Blankets, Masks, and Meaning in Boas’s Kwakw’ala Texts,” 125– 62. Julian Rice, “Narrative Styles in Dakota Texts,” 276–92. Coming to Light: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann. New York: Random House, 1994. Ann Fienup-Riordan and Marie Meade, “The Boy Who Went to Live with the Seals,” 57–74. Catharine McClellan, Maria Johns, and Dora Austin Wedge, “The Girl Who Married the Bear,” 124–37. Robert Bringhurst, “John Sky’s ‘One They Gave Away,’” 225– 48. Dell Hymes, “The Sun’s Myth,” 273– 85. Dell Hymes, “Seal and Her Younger Brother Lived There,” 286–306. Dell Hymes, “Coyote, Master of Death, True to Life,” 307–10. Judith Vander, “Poetry Songs of the Shoshone Ghost Dance,” 357–73. Larry Evers and Felipe S. Molina, “Running the Deer,” 521– 40. Donald Bahr and Vincent Joseph, “Pima Oriole Songs,” 541– 63. David P. McAllester, “Enemy Slayer’s Horse Song,” 624– 63. Herbert W. Luthin, “Two Stories from the Yana,” 717–36. Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann. Reprinted by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright 2004 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska. Nora Marks Dauenhauer and Richard Dauenhauer, “Raven Stories,” 25–41. M. Eleanor Nevins and Thomas J. Nevins, “He Became an Eagle,” 283–302. Paul G. Zolbrod, “The Flight of Dzilyi neeyáni,” 303–16. Monica Macaulay and Marianne Milligan, “Red Swan,” 468–85. Rand Valentine, “The Birth of Nenabozho,” 486– 514. Julie Brittain and Marguerite MacKenzie, “Umâyachîs,” 572–90. Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America, edited by Brian Swann. Reprinted by permission of the University of

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

531

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Nebraska Press. Copyright 2005 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska. John Bierhorst, “The Delaware Creation Story,” 62–71. Susan M. Preston, “A Pair of Hero Stories,” 230– 46. Ives Goddard, “Winter Stories,” 320– 67. Stan Cuthand, “Pine Root,” 431– 47 Jeffrey D. Anderson, “Ghost Dance Songs,” 448–71. Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories, edited by M. Terry Thompson and Steven M. Egesdal. Reprinted by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright 2008 by the Board of Regents of the University of Nebraska. William W. Elmendorf and Steven M. Egesdal, “Star Husband,” 384– 94.

532 Source Acknowledgments

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

Contributors -HϱUH\'$QGHUVRQ is professor of anthropology at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. He is the author of The Four Hills of Life: Northern Arapaho Knowledge and Life Movement (2001). His newest book, Arapaho Women’s Quillwork: Motion, Life, and Creativity, was published in 2013. 'RQDOG%DKU is professor emeritus at Arizona State University at Tempe. He has published several books, including O’odham Creation and Related Events: As Told to Ruth Benedict in 1927 (2001), Piman Shamanism and Staying Sickness (1974), Swift Time of Gods on Earth: The Hohokam Chronicles (1994), and Ants and Orioles: Showing the Art of Piman Poetry (1997). -XGLWK%HUPDQ is a research fellow at the Penn Center for Native American Studies and a consulting scholar at the University of Pennsylvania Museum. She specializes in ethnolinguistics, oral literature, ethnohistory, and the history of anthropology and has published on Kwak’wala ethnopoetics and translation and on North Pacific Coast oral historical traditions.. She is also a prizewinning writer of fantasy and science fiction. -RKQ%LHUKRUVW is the author- editor-translator of more than thirty books on Native American literature, including Four Masterworks of American Indian Literature (1974), Cantares Mexicanos: Songs of the Aztecs (1985), and Mythology of the Lenape (1995). He specializes in the language and literature of the Aztecs; his works on Aztec poetry can be accessed on the University of Texas website, www. utdi.org. -RKQ%ODFNQHG (Eastern Cree) was born in the 1890s and lived in Waskaganish, Quebec. 5REHUW%ULQJKXUVW is an acclaimed translator and poet whose Selected Poems was published in 2011. His other books include The Solid Form of Language: An Essay on Writing and Meaning (2004) and A Story as Sharp as a Knife (1999, on Haida oral literature), as well as a collection of works by the Haida poet Ghandl, Nine Visits to the Mythworld (2000), and Being in Being: The Collected Works of Skaay of the Qquuna Qiighawaay (2001). -XOLH%ULWWDLQ is a professor of linguistics at Memorial University, Newfoundland. Her research focuses on Algonquian languages. She is director of the Chisasibi (Cree) Child Language Acquisition Study, which investigates the linguistic changes through which children pass as they acquire the grammar of Cree as a first language. $OPD&KHPDJDQLVK is a member of the Naskapi Nation of Kawawachikamach and works for the Naskapi Development Corporation as a Naskapi translator and proofreader.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

533

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

&KDUOH\+&KXFN (Meskwaki), was born in 1867 and died in 1940. A member of the Thunder clan, he served as tribal secretary and tribal policeman. His stories were published, in Meskwaki only, by the State Historical Society of Iowa in 1905. 5HYHUHQG6WDQ&XWKDQG grew up on Little Pine’s Reserve in Saskatchewan. He was ordained in the Anglican Church and worked for the Saskatchewan Indian Cultural Center as writer and translator. He has taught at several colleges, including the University of Manitoba. In 1998 he retired from the Saskatchewan Indian Federated College (now the First Nations University of Canada) and is working on a translation of the Bible into Cree for the Canadian Bible Society. 1RUD0DUNV'DXHQKDXHU was born and raised in Alaska. Her first language is Tlingit and in 2010 she was given the title Naa Tlaa (Clan Mother) as the ceremonial leader of the Sockeye Salmon clan. Her own writing is widely published, and with her husband, Richard Dauenhauer, she has coauthored and coedited several editions of Tlingit language and folklore material, including Classics of Tlingit Oral Literature (1994). 5LFKDUG'DXHQKDXHU was born in Syracuse, New York, and has lived in Alaska since 1968. He was Alaska’s poet laureate and has taught at the University of Alaska as well as being director of language and cultural studies at Sealaska Heritage Foundation, Juneau. With his wife, Nora, he has published many books, including Haa Shuka, Our Ancestors: Tlingit Oral Narratives (1987), and Haa Kusteeyi, Our Culture: Tlingit Life Stories (1994). 6WHYHQ0(JHVGDO has gathered, interpreted and published, with M. Terry Thompson, many traditional Salishan stories from the last, best speakers. He is now engaged in translating songs recorded by James Teit near the turn of the twentieth century and is writing a Bitterroot Salish dictionary and grammar. He is a corporate-securities lawyer in Honolulu, Hawaii. :LOOLDP:(OPHQGRUI (1912–97) was professor of anthropology at the University of Wisconsin. As a Salishanist, he is best known for his ethnography on the Twana in the 1930s. *HQHYLHYH(WKHOEDK is from North Fork on the White Mountain Apache Reservation. After studying at the Haskell Institute in Lawrence, Kansas, she worked in government agency offices in Phoenix and then at the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Whiteriver, Arizona. She is now retired and lives with her husband and family in North Fork. 3DXO(WKHOEDK of the Nagodishgizh clan was born in Cedar Creek on the White Mountain Apache Reservation. His father was a religious leader and he trained his son. Mr. Ethelbah was a professional range technician, managing herds on tribal lands, but is now retired and lives with his wife in the community of North Fork on the White Mountain Apache Reservation. /DUU\(YHUV is head of the English department at the University of Arizona. With Felipe S. Molina he has written Yaqui Deer Dance Songs/Maso Bwikam (1987), Woi Bwikam/Coyote Bwikam (1990), and Hiakim: The Yaqui Homeland (1992).

534 Contributors

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

$QQ)LHQXS5LRUGDQ is a cultural anthropologist who lives in Fairbanks, Alaska. She is the author of many books, including The Living Tradition of Yupik Masks (1995) and, with Lawrence Kaplan, Words of the Real People: Alaska Native Literature in Translation (2007). ,YHV*RGGDUG is senior linguist, emeritus, in the Department of Archeology, National Museum of Natural History, Smithsonian Institution. He has written extensively on Native North American languages, cultures, and ethnohistory and edited volume 17, Languages, of the Handbook of North American Indians (1996). Two edited Meskwaki texts, “The Autobiography of a Meskwaki Woman” (2006) and “The Owl Sacred Pack” (2007), are in in the University of Manitoba Algonquian and Iroquian Linguistics series. The Meskwaki texts reprinted in this volume are posted online at http://si-pddr.si.edu/jspui/handle/10088/17270/browse under “Meskwaki texts.” 'HOO+\PHV, anthropologist, linguist, folklorist, poet, best known for his work in ethnopoetics, died in 2009 at age eighty-two. He taught at Harvard and Berkeley and was dean of the school of education at the University of Pennsylvania. His books include Foundations of Sociolinguistics: An Ethnographic Approach (1974) and the influential “In Vain I Tried to Tell You”: Essays in Native American Ethnopoetics (1981). (ODLQH-DKQHU was professor of English and Native American studies at Dartmouth College until her untimely death in 2003. She is best known for her fieldwork at Standing Rock Reservation and published widely on Native American culture, including editing, with Raymond DeMallie, the work of James R. Walker, Lakota Belief and Ritual (1991) and Lakota Myth (1983). 0DULD-RKQV, born late in the nineteenth century, spent most of her life in the Yukon, but she also had Alaskan coastal connections. She was both a song composer and a splendid raconteur. $QGHUVRQ-ROO\ (Eastern Cree) lived in Waskaganish, Quebec. He worked as a translator with John Blackned and Richard J. Preston in the 1960s. 9LQFHQW-RVHSK was a Pima singer from Casa Blanca, a village in the Gila River Indian community in Arizona. Besides Oriole songs, he was expert in Blackbird and Swallow songs, all of which are used for social dancing. +HUEHUW:/XWKLQ is professor of English at Clarion University in Pennsylvania. He is a long-standing member of the Yahi Translation Project and has edited Surviving Through the Days: Translations of Native California Stories and Songs (2002). He has translated a number of anthologized translations from Northern and Central Yana and from Ishi’s Yahi. 0RQLFD0DFDXOD\ is professor of linguistics at the University of Wisconsin-Madison who specializes in the morphology of American Indian languages. She has worked on various languages, including Chalcatongo Mixtec, Karok, Potawatomi, and Menominee, of which she has produced two dictionaries. She is the author of Surviving Linguistics: A Guide for Graduate Students (2011).

Contributors 535

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

0DUJXHULWH0DF.HQ]LH is a professor of linguistics at Memorial University. Her work focuses on aboriginal language maintenance. She is coeditor of the Naskapi Lexicon and the Eastern James Bay Cree Dictionary, Southern Dialect and Northern Dialect, and is currently working with the Innu of Labrador and Quebec to produce language reference materials and an audio archive of oral narratives. 'DYLG30F$OOHVWHU, who died at age eighty-nine in 2006, taught most of his life at Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut, where he founded the ethnomusicology program. His main field of interest was Native American ceremonial music, especially that of the Navajos. His books include Peyote Music (1949), Enemyway Music (1954), and Hogans: Navajo Houses and House Songs (1980, with Susan W. McAllester). &DWKDULQH0F&OHOODQ was born in York, England, in 1921 and died in New Hampshire in 2009. She spent much of her life in the Yukon documenting the lives of Athabaskan, Tlingit, and Tagish people. Her publications include Part of the Land, Part of the Water (1987) and My Old People’s Stories: A Legacy for Yukon First Nations (2007). 0DULH0HDGH was raised in Nunapitchuk, Alaska, and has worked as translator, teacher, and Yupik language specialist for more than thirty years. Her translations have been the foundation of a number of bilingual books, including Ciuliamta Akluit/Things of Our Ancestors (2005). )HOLSH60ROLQD teaches in the Tucson Unified School District and lives in the Yoem Pueblo, a Yaqui community near Tucson. With Larry Evers he has written a number of books, listed above. 0DULDQQH0LOOLJDQ is a visiting assistant professor at Macalester College, teaching in both the Linguistics and the Environmental Studies Departments. She specializes in Menominee and has published two translations of traditional Menominee stories. She is working on a Menominee dictionary with Monica Macaulay. 6LODV1DELQLFDERR is a member of the Naskapui Nation of Kawawachikamach, trained as a Naskapi translator, and works for the Naskapi Development Corporation as a Naskapi language editor and technician. He is the editor of the Naskapi Hymn Book (1999). 0(OHDQRU1HYLQV is assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Nevada, Reno. Her work has appeared in various journals and she is working on a book utilizing Fort Apache as an exemplary case from which to address the role of language in the mediation of indigenous communities. 7KRPDV-1HYLQV teaches at the University of Nevada, Reno. In collaboration with M. Eleanor Nevins, he conducted three years of research on the Fort Apache Reservation among the White Mountain Apaches. His work has appeared in journals and edited volumes. -RKQ3HDVWLWXWH was a Naskapi elder and skilled storyteller who was born about 1890 and died about 1981 in Matimekosh, Quebec. His stories, as audio recordings, are now available to the Naskapi community.

536 Contributors

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

6XVDQ03UHVWRQ·V research and writing focus on culture- environment relationships, with particular attention to the expression of values and meanings. She is an adjunct scholar with McMaster University’s Institute on Globalization and the Human Condition, where she completed a postdoctoral fellowship in conjunction with the Department of Anthropology. -XOLDQ5LFH has published extensively on the Lakota oral tradition. His books include Lakota Storytelling: Black Elk, Ella Deloria and Frank Fools Crow (1989), Black Elk’s Story: Distinguishing its Lakota Purpose (1991), Deer Women and Elk Men: The Lakota Narratives of Ella Deloria (1992), and Before the Great Spirit: The Many Faces of Sioux Spirituality (1998). He has also written on film, with Kubrick’s Hope: Discovery and Optimism from “2001” to “Eyes Wide Shut” (2008). %ULDQ6ZDQQ has published books of fiction, poetry, poetry in translation, and books for children, in addition to work in Native American literature. His latest books are Born in the Blood: On Native American Translation (ed., 2011) and In Late Light (poetry, 2013). He teaches at the Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art in New York City. 5DQG9DOHQWLQH is professor of linguistics and director of the American Indian Studies Program at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. He has published a reference grammar of Odawa/Eastern Ojibway and a digital dictionary, with Patricia Ningewance, of Northern Ojibway. In 1998 he published Weshki-Bmaadzijig Ji-Noondmowaad: “That the Young Might Hear”: The Stories of Andrew Medler as Recorded by Leonard Bloomfield. -XGLWK9DQGHU has researched and written books about Wind River Shoshone music and culture for twenty years. Her books include Songprints: The Musical Experience of Five Shoshone Women (1988) and Shoshone Ghost Dance Religion (1997). She is also a composer, and her Powwow Suite for Organ and Flute can be heard on Marijim Thoene’s CD Wind Song. 'RUD$XVWLQ:HGJH lives in Carcross, Yukon. She continues to transmit the oral traditions of her grandmother, Maria Johns, and often participates in public storytelling events. 3DXO*=ROEURG taught at Alleghany College for thirty years until his retirement in 1976. He continues to teach at the Crownpoint, New Mexico, campus of the Navajo Nation’s Diné College as well as at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara. Among his works are Diné Bahane’: The Navajo Creation Story (1984), Reading the Voice: Native American Poetry on the Written Page (1995), and, with Roseann Sandoval Willink, Weaving a World: Textiles and the Navajo Way of Seeing (2001).

Contributors 537

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest

In the Native Literatures of the Americas Series Pitch Woman and Other Stories: The Oral Traditions of Coquelle Thompson, Upper Coquille Athabaskan Indian Edited and with an introduction by William R. Seaburg Collected by Elizabeth D. Jacobs Inside Dazzling Mountains: Southwest Native Verbal Arts Edited by David L. Kozak Algonquian Spirit: Contemporary Translations of the Algonquian Literatures of North America Edited by Brian Swann Born in the Blood: On Native American Translation Edited and with an introduction by Brian Swann Sky Loom: Native American Myth, Story, and Song Edited and with an introduction by Brian Swann Voices from Four Directions: Contemporary Translations of the Native Literatures of North America Edited by Brian Swann Salish Myths and Legends: One People’s Stories Edited by M. Terry Thompson and Steven M. Egesdal

Copyright © 2014. University of Nebraska Press. All rights reserved.

To order or obtain more information on these or other University of Nebraska Press titles, visit www.nebraskapress.unl.edu.

Sky Loom : Native American Myth, Story, and Song, edited by Brian Swann, University of Nebraska Press, 2014. ProQuest