Ácoma, the sky city

Three types of the survivals of inherited traditions regarding the supernatural, and its relation to human beings, are the religious beliefs, the great myths, and the folk-tales, which may be regarded as myths in their infancy. Folk-tales are the happenings of more recent times than those that are concerned with the origin of the race and the heroic demi-gods.

Story-telling by the old men of any semi-civilized society is the pastime of their leisure hours, and is all the literature of the tribe. With the American Indian there were songs and tales for every adventure in their tribal history. Imagination is so vital an element of all that the Indian believes, entering into all he says and does in daily life, that it must never be out of mind in any study of his culture.

All unexplained phenomena belong to the world of necromancy, and every Indian language has its own name for this magic power residing in such phenomena. Throughout the Indian world the song of birds is deemed a magic spell. When, therefore, human beings sing, they too are weaving magic, over the grinding, over the planting, over the painting of jars, to bring the favor of those above upon that especial occupation. Hence, singing is a universal accompaniment of Indian life and Indian worship.

In the book of Indian music by Natalie Curtis Burlin[160] there are three songs given from Ácoma, belonging to the Corn-people, Gátsina (K’at’sina), those mythological beings impersonated by masked dancers in the ceremonials. Only two words appear in these songs, shiwanna, meaning cloud, and hawilana, meaning growing corn. For the remainder, vocables only are used. It is further stated that these songs are sung in other villages, such as Laguna and Zuñi, and therefore they may not be distinctively native to Ácoma. In folk-tales, just as in the myths, we are warned against too much reliance upon explanatory significances. A single tale may involve ten or a dozen interpretations. Waterman points out that a most interesting fact in American folk-lore is the enormous distance, sometimes thousands of miles, to which a tale can travel from what it is fair to consider as its original home. Naturally the explanation will vary with local conditions, for primitive man is even more interested in and occupied by his immediate environment than are we of a later age, and we are by no means emancipated from that limited outlook upon the world about us.

Waterman says very happily that

Ácoma on its craggy height, haughtily indifferent or inimical to its neighbors, has imparted little of itself to outsiders even in the way of folk-lore or of music. Espinosa considers that the “Pueblo Indians have given very little to the great traditional treasure of Spanish folk-lore of New Mexico.... But some of them have absorbed a considerable amount of Spanish folk-lore material.” He contributes two tales and about fifty short anecdotes or fables, collected at the farm colony of Acomita by one of his students, all of which show European ancestry.

I wish here to express my thanks to Mrs. N. V. Sanchez for her translation of the following selection from this group of tales. That called “San Pascual” is apparently a satire upon the Christian ritual. To the ignorant lad the figure of the Lord on the cross means only that he must be a criminal; when later He creates a feast from nothing tangible it could only be through sorcery. The Indian everywhere attributed diseases that followed the coming of the Spaniards to their sprinkling of the neophytes with holy water. Only with these three things in mind does the story of San Pascual become intelligible.

The same student collected fifty fables, from which I have chosen four, one of which bears a certain likeness to that of Æsop called “The Fox and the Crow.”[162]

Two stories given below were told to Dr. Parsons by the cacique of Ácoma and written down by her in English. In one of these, for the first time we gain faint hints of a tradition of an earlier settlement at the foot of the rock which, if confirmed, would seem to ally the movements of this Keresan tribe more closely to those of other mesa pueblos than has heretofore been evident.

The brief form of “Borrowed Feathers” is added because of its allusion to Katzímo, and also because there is little question that in it we have a tale of purely Indian origin.

One significant allusion to Ácoma may be read in a volume of tales collected by Cushing at Zuñi.[163] In the one called “The Maiden and the Sun,” an Ácoma spectator takes part at a Zuñi festival, and runs away with the body of the maiden’s mother. Later the scene moves to Ácoma itself in an attempt to get from the dance-priestess there the magic-working bones of the deceased woman. Here we have a striking proof of certain inter-relationships of tradition and of custom between Ácoma and Zuñi, about which ordinarily we hear emphatic denial rather than confirmation.

Borrowed Feathers: Don’t Look Up: Back to Life

Informant, cacique (hócheni) of Ácoma, about 75 years of age

Long ago at Hanishoku[164] the pigeons (houk) were flying about. They gave Coyote some of their feathers to fly with. Coyote (chuski) was heavy and lagged behind. The pigeons said, “Let us fly up to the water-hole on top of the mesa! Let us fly on ahead of Coyote. He has a dirty mouth.” They flew on to the water-hole, Coyote after them. When they had finished drinking, they took their feathers away from Coyote and left him there crying. As he was crying, the spider below heard him. Spider said, “Somebody is crying.” Spider went up, and saw that it was Coyote. Coyote said, “Will you take me down?” Spider said, “Yes. Wait here until I get my basket. I will lower you down in it.” Spider went down and got his basket. He said to Coyote, “Get in, but as you descend do not look up. If you look up, I shall drop you.” When the basket was half way down Coyote began to say to himself, “I wonder why Spider does not want me to look up!” Then he looked up. Spider let go of the basket, and Coyote dashed down into pieces.

Another coyote passed by, and saw the pieces. “I wonder who died here!” said he. “I had better see.” He gathered together the bones, and covered them over with a cloth. On the north side he began to sing,

On the west side he sang,

On the south side he sang,

On the east side he sang,

The coyote said, “I wish to see who is underneath. Arise!” Out came Coyote. “Is it you?” “Yes.” “Who killed you?” “I was on top of the mesa, and Spider threw me down.” “Where do you live?” “I live far over on the south side.” “Well, go home.” That is all (tomesau).—Pp. 220, 221.

Forgetting the Song: Inside the Lizard

Informant, cacique of Ácoma

A long time ago (tsikinomaha) at Kaiaushitsa there was a lizard (?) (tapinosk) singing. He sang,

There came up a coyote (chuski) and listened. Lizard sang again,

Coyote said, “I think it was over there to the west.” He came closer. He said, “Friend (saukin), are you here?” Lizard said, “Yes.” Coyote said, “You have fine sound. I want you to sing for me. I want to learn it.” Lizard said, “Very well.” He sang,

“Did you learn it, my sound?” asked Lizard. “Yes.” “Sing it.” Coyote sang (in a lower key and ponderously),

“I see you have learned my sound,” said Lizard. Coyote said, “I am going.” He went to the east. As he approached a cedar tree, singing his song, a rabbit sitting under the tree heard him. The rabbit jumped up and ran into a prairie-dog hole. Coyote ran after the rabbit, and began to dig in the hole. He dug, dug, dug, until his nails were worn off. Then he tried to sing his song, and could only say, “Mati, mati.” The rest he had forgotten. He said, “I had better go back and ask my friend.” He went back to Lizard, and said, “Friend, sing for me.” Lizard only looked at him, saying nothing. “Friend, sing your song for me. I am going to ask you four times. Then, if you don’t sing, I shall swallow you down. Now, sing for me.” Lizard said nothing. “Sing for me.” Lizard said nothing. “Sing for me.” Lizard said nothing. Then he swallowed him down. Inside of Coyote, Lizard sang,

Coyote said, “Where are you?” “I am inside.” “Very well, friend; but don’t cut my throat or my stomach. Just sing.” But Lizard did cut his throat and his stomach, and Coyote fell down dead.[165]

Borrowed Feathers

Informant, Getsitsa of Laguna, about 60 years of age

Long ago (hamaha), the bluebirds (?) (kaihadanish) were grinding. Coyote (chuski) began to grind too. The bluebirds said, “Let us all go get a drink on top of Katzímo! But what shall we do with our friend (saukin) here? He has no feathers. We must give him some of our feathers.” So they gave him of their feathers. They flew to the top of the mesa. They drank. Then they said, “Let us take back our feathers! Let us leave Coyote here!” They took all their feathers away from him. He roamed about looking for a way down. He began to jump. It was steep. He fell and killed himself. The bluebirds wondered what had become of him.[166]

The Serpent, the Man, the Ox, the Horse, and the Coyote (From Acomita)[167]

Once a man, while going through a meadow, found a serpent trapped under a stone. The man had compassion for it and took away the stone.

At that time the animals spoke the same as we, and the serpent said to the man: “Now I am going to eat you: I am very hungry.” “Why do you wish to eat me after I did you such a great benefit?” But the serpent insisted on eating him and at last the man said to him: “Wait a little while. Wait until that ox gets here and then you may eat me.” “Good,” the serpent replied.

And as soon as the ox arrived the man said to him: “Where has it been seen that a good deed is repaid with evil?” “In me,” replied the ox. “After I served my master for many years he unkindly turned me out here to get fat so that he can kill me.” And then the serpent said to the man: “So you see it is right that I should eat you.”

“Wait a little until that old horse comes, and then you may eat me,” the man said to him. Good; so they waited, and as soon as he came the man said to him, “Where has it been seen that a good deed is repaid with an evil one?” “In me,” said the horse, “for after serving my master for many years they left me here for the wild beasts to eat me.” “Now you see how right it is that I should eat you,” the serpent said to the man. “Wait a bit until that coyote comes and then you may eat me.”

Good; so the coyote came and the man said to him: “Where has it been seen that good is repaid by evil? This serpent was trapped under a stone, and because I did him the benefit of taking away the stone he now wishes to eat me.” “It is quite right that he should eat you,” said the coyote, “but first I wish to see how the serpent was trapped.”

The serpent then consented that they should roll back the stone so that they might see how he was trapped. And as soon as he was well trapped, the coyote said: “Was it like this that he was trapped?” “Yes, it was like this,” they all replied. “Good,” the coyote said to them, “if that is the way it was, let him remain so, so that the devil may not cause him to eat me also.”

San Pascual

A poor man who lived in a city had no family but his disconsolate wife.

In the course of time they had a little child. And as they were so poor there was no one they could ask to be godfathers. Near the city lived a rich man who had many sheep, and they determined to ask this rich man to be the godfather.

The rich man consented with much pleasure, and they took the child to the chapel of the same city and baptized him. They named him “Pascual the destitute.”

Not long afterwards, in three months, death came and carried away the mother of the child, and the father then decided to go and deliver the orphan to the godfather. And as at the same time the farm foreman arrived with his party, the godfather gave the child to him and said: “See here, man, take this child with you, so that you may rear him with a goat, in order that he may be of some service to you when he is a man.”

Good; so they took him to the steward and told him what his name was and that the patron had said that they were to rear him. And then they took him.

The steward was a very religious man and whenever he could he went to divine services, but he never took the child.

When Pascual was ten years old and was now very useful, the steward ordered the farm foreman to go to the house of the patron, for he did not need him any longer.[168]

One day the steward went to mass, and left Pascual alone taking care of the cattle. Pascual began to think, and said to himself: “But what can mass be?” Finally he decided that if he left him alone again he would follow him to find out what mass was.

He did so. The steward went away and Pascual followed him. When he lacked only a mile to arrive in the city he saw a man coming in a cart for wood. As the poor little fellow had never seen carts, he said, “Now I know what mass is. This is it.”

As soon as the woodman came up he said to him, “May God give you good days, kind sir.” “Good days to you, good boy.” Then Pascual asked him: “Where is mass?” Said the woodman, “Go straight along this road until you come to the plaza, there where it is seen to coloriar, and the great house which is in the little square in the middle is the church, and inside of it they say mass.”

“And what does one do in mass?” asked Pascual. “Everything that you see done, you do,” the woodman told him.

Good; he then went straight to the plaza and soon found the chapel. Outside was an old woman, and he took her shawl from her and covered himself. And he took off his breeches and covered them up. Then he entered the church. And when they all prostrated themselves they saw him without breeches, and some of the mischievous ones pricked him behind. And then Pascual pricked the old woman, who was in front of him, saying: “Prick, prick, for they are pricking behind.”[169]

When everybody went out he remained alone, much frightened, and when he saw the Lord nailed on a timber he said, “This poor man killed or robbed.” The sacristan did not see him and locked all the doors, leaving him shut in.

Then Pascual went to where the Lord was and said to him: “Friend, do not be sad. I am going to work and I will bring you food to fatten you. Where can I find work?” “Look,” said the Lord, “go along the main street until you find a great house. Ask for work there.”

The door opened and Pascual went out and came to the great house, which was where the curate lived, and the sacristan came out and asked him what he wanted. “I am looking for work.” The curate then came out and said to him: “What kind of work do you want?” “I do not know how to do anything but take care of sheep,” replied Pascual. “Then come here. How much pay do you want?” “Nothing but food for myself and a friend of mine.” “Good, then take this hoe and weed the garden.” “How weed?” “Level it all,” said the curate.

And Pascual weeded the garden, leveling it all, chili, onions, and everything, he cut down level. The sacristan saw the destruction and went to tell the curate. But when the curate came he saw that all the pulled-up plants were flowering and giving fruit. And the curate said to him: “Surely this is a servant of God, who comes to test my gratitude.”

And he called Pascual to come and eat with him. “No, I only want food for myself and for my friend.” They gave it to him and he went away. When he returned the curate said to him: “To-morrow I am going to make a great feast, and I wish you and your friend to come and eat at my table.” They went, and the curate made a very great feast.

And the Lord said to Pascual: “Tell the father to invite to-morrow all the people to a feast except your godfather, because he was ungrateful.”

The next day the gentleman made the feast, and when the people were coming Pascual was much ashamed because he saw that nothing was ready, and he said to the Lord: “But, men, nothing is ready. That is why they have you a prisoner, because you are a deceiver.” “Go bring a barrel of water,” the Lord said to him. “And where shall I go to bring water?” “Go, Pascual, on one side of the street and you will find it.” And Pascual went out and returned with a barrel of water.

When he returned there was a large table well set out and full of all kinds of viands. And Pascual said to the Lord: “With reason they regard you as a witch.” “Be silent, Pascual; take this barrel and follow me.” And Pascual followed him, and when he turned around he saw dead persons lying on all sides, and he said to the Lord: “With reason they held you prisoner, for you are a regular murderer.” “Be silent, Pascual; follow me.” And they went on, scattering water on all sides until everybody was dead.

And when Pascual died he was raised to the celestial mansions. And his godfather went to the eternal abyss for his ingratitude.

Short Folk-Tales and Anecdotes

(From Acomita)

22. A man who was very poor and had a very large family was once talking with his children, and he said to them: “When I have money I am going to build a house with balustrades.” One of his sons came to him and said: “I am going to climb on the balustrade.” Another said: “And I also.” And still another said: “And I am going to sit on the balustrade.” The man became angry and told them: “This disorderly family will wear out the balustrade.” And he gave them all a good beating.

27. A man was riding horseback one day. It was raining, and he wished to smoke his pipe. He had no matches, so he waited till there was a lightning flash, when he put spurs to his horse and went to light his pipe by the light of the flash.

29. A little coyote was going along with a chicken in his mouth, and on the way the chicken said to him: “Why don’t you say ‘cheese’?” And the coyote said ‘cheese’ and away goes the chicken to the top of a tree. “Come down,” said the coyote to her. “A command has come for all the animals to assemble.” “Good,” said the chicken. “There are some hounds coming now.” “That is not in the command,” said the coyote, and ran off.

36. They say that a Mexican of Alameda went to Albuquerque to sell eggs. The American of the store said to him: “Sit down.” “No sir, they are not to be given away (no se dan), they are for sale,”[170] he said to this. Then the American, who did not understand him, said: “Are you crazy?” And he replied: “No sir, they do not grow, the hens lay them.”[171]

30. Un pastor le diju al cura que quería pagar por una misa tutanada con alaridos (cantada) en el palo gueco (pulpito), con regaños en el tapanco (sermon) y con jumaderas en l’oyit’ el cuajo (incensario).

A shepherd told the curate that he wished to pay for a mass (tutanada) with shouts (sung) in the hollow stick (pulpit) with scoldings in the stall (sermon) and with smokes in the little hole of the bladder (censer).

42. A woman had a neighbor who everybody said was a witch. One night when she went to sleep with her she could not sleep because she was so frightened.

About midnight the witch got up, took out her eyes and put them on a plate, took off her arms and legs and hung them up carefully, and then herself turned into a wolf and went out by the chimney.

(In another version the woman goes away, unchanged, riding on a broomstick. Collected by Miss Matilda Allen.)

A Story of Long Time Ago at Ácoma[172]
or,
The Melons of Discord

(Ácoma Pueblo)

A long time ago, the people of Ácoma used to live on the mesa below the present village. One day during that time the governor announced to his people that there would be a rabbit hunt on the following day and advised them to get their shoes, clubs, bows, and arrows ready. So early the next morning the whole village, except the governor’s daughter, whom he commanded to stay at home, set out for the hunt.

But the daughter did not like to remain behind alone, so shortly after the others had gone, and contrary to her father’s wishes, she followed the party. That afternoon as the villagers were cleaning rabbits for their evening meal, she overtook them and hid behind a rock. A young man coming in late to join the others passed near by and startled her so that she made a movement that betrayed her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I am trying to get a rabbit out from under this rock,” she answered.

Then the young man, who had many rabbits strung around his belt, gave a number of them to the girl and they went together to join the rest of the party. The people were surprised to see that the girl had killed so many rabbits; but her father, the governor, was angry.

The hunt lasted four days. After they returned the governor, together with all of the villagers, scolded the daughter for her disobedience and ostracized her.

On the following day when everyone was busy preparing to dance a kachina dance in celebration of the success of the hunt, the governor’s daughter ran over to the Zuñi village, four miles to the west of Ácoma, and told the Zuñis that her people were having a dance. She invited them to come and dance too.

The Zuñis accepted the invitation and went to Ácoma loaded with melons, colored corn, and some of all of the fruits of their harvest. The Ácomas did not have any real melons. They danced with the melons made of dyed buckskin; and so when the first relay of their dance was over and the Zuñis danced in with their melons, the Ácomas were jealous. They demanded to know why the Zuñis were intruding themselves into their fiesta. Angry words followed and the Zuñis returned home enraged.

Then the Ácomas urged their governor to prepare for war, but he refused to do so; and the villagers, remembering the spirit in which the Zuñi Indians had left them, hastily removed their possessions to the top of the high mesa, and built the present village of Ácoma, leaving the governor alone on the mesa below.

Shortly thereafter the Zuñis came in their war paint and, finding only the governor in a deserted village, they slew him and returned home again.

Six days later the governor’s daughter went back to Ácoma and perhaps lived happily ever after. Because a governor mistreated his daughter and she avenged herself is the reason that Ácoma occupies its present inaccessible position.