1) The Hopi Bean
Ritual
With a landmass covering the northeast quarter
of Arizona, plus a sizable chunk of New Mexico to the east and Colorado to the
northeast, the mile-high desert site of the Navajo Indian Reservation is huge.
A state within a state; with its own administrative offices, policing,
schooling, and virtual sovereign authority. And smack in the heart of the
Navajo territory lies the Hopi Indian Reservation, and more different
contiguous cultures it is difficult to imagine. The Navajo are a “younger”
tribe, space and movement oriented – lots of ‘big sky’ attitude, lovers of the
horse, herders of cattle and sheep; they even “think” better on horseback or in
trekking. Conversely, the “older” Hopi clump together in small settlements, are
more agriculturally oriented in the same arid environment, and they live more
‘inwardly’ or contemplatively. As may be imagined, there’s considerable ongoing
tension between these adjoining yet so disparate neighbouring cultures.
It
was late February after leaving the Grand Canyon that we passed through the
western Navajo territory and into that of the Hopi. Our guidebook indicated
that this was the time of year for the Hopi bean rituals, whereby the Hopi
endeavored to bring about the necessary conditions for germination of their
seed beans. Beans and corn are the tribe’s
major food staples.
The
problem for us was that the ritual was a private one – no tourists wanted. No
one that we enquired of would tell us where to go, until we chanced upon an old
farmer who couldn’t get his truck started. We offered to jump his battery and
after his motor came back to life, he thanked us and enquired as to what we
were ‘up to’. When we told him we desired to attend a bean ritual, he said that
because we had helped him, he would help us by telling us where a good-sized
ritual was being performed the next morning, but cautioned us that if we tried
to attend it, we should be very careful to attend only as ‘guests’ would. Why
so?
“Well,
now” said the old farmer “these rituals are of a most religious nature, and the
people take them very seriously. They must be done right! Don’t want any
‘tourists’ snoopin’ around, taking pictures, pointing, staring, glaring,
gawkin’ and laughin’ at the proceedings – I tell you good folks, they’ll size
you up right quick and check you out, and if you’re not seen as respectful
‘guests’ they’ll just whip you ta hell out of there in no time; so ya better be
real careful. I mean it! You’ll be going onto their turf without an invite -
and just one of you step outa line and you’ll both be whipped outa there ”.
Which
was kind of sobering. We took his directions, found an out of the way place to
camp overnight, and next morning very carefully approached the designated
mesa-top pueblo village. Several hundred natives were present, observing or
participating in the ritual dances being performed in the central village plaza
that was ringed with flattop single story adobe buildings. Many people were
sitting up between the extended poles of the roofs around the plaza, so as to
better see the ritual dances that were getting underway. The dancers –50 or so males
of all ages - were costumed in fantastic animal skins and feather regalia –
surely the costumes must have been family heirlooms passed through the
generations. Many of the dancers had noisy tortoise shell ‘clappers’ strapped
behind their knees – and the combination of clappers and rattles and animal and
bird calls and chanted songs while the dancers went through their performances
was most interesting.
Suddenly
directly in front of us appeared a masked but still mean looking, very
aggressively challenging warrior in full regalia, enthusiastically swinging and
popping an ominous 8’ long blacksnake whip. This was one of the “whippers”
which the old farmer had warned us about. In best ‘guest’ fashion we ignored
this 5’6” tall, 4’ wide menace, and continued to appreciatively watch the
dancers and nod to each other in apparent approval of their moves. POP! POP!
went the whip, CLAP! CLAP went the tortoise knee-clappers, the whipper making
every possible effort to fill our lines of sight and elicit some annoyed
reaction, but since we’re both tall, ‘twas not all that hard to benignly ignore
the challenge – after several moments he rolled up his eyes as if to say
“Stupid Palefaces”, turned his back on us and left us in peace.
After
an hour or so of intricate line dances and chanting, two dozen of the more
youthful dancers broke formation and ran from the plaza and out into the
surrounding arroyos – we could from time to time see them cresting nearby
mesas, and hear them calling back and forth with coyote and bird calls – after
half an hour or so they returned to the village and the leader led the ‘pack’
to a larger, off by itself one-story adobe building which had no doors nor
windows. A ladder was leaned against the flat-topped building, several men
climbed up the ladder, then pulled it up and dropped it down through a hole in
the building’s roof – all the men went inside, except for one man who pulled
the ladder back up and placed it against the outer side of the building to
allow the next batch to get inside. Finally, as last man, he himself went down
inside and the ladder was taken in. We waited for a couple of hours but
concluded when the other spectators dwindled away that the ‘show’ was over.
Periodically, animal and birdcalls emanated from inside the building, plus
sometimes wisps of a strange smelling ‘ritual’ tobacco were smelled.
When
we arrived back home and had the opportunity to do some library research, we
learned that:
1. The men would remain in the building (kiva) for a week
to 10 days, in an induced high humidity atmosphere similar to a sweat lodge.
The high humidity would help the stored beans sprout, after which they would be
ready for field planting before the spring rains came. Much ongoing ritual
would be performed during this period in the lodge – initiations and degree
advancement, and also communion with the ancestors via a ‘sipupu’ hole
connecting the human plane with the under-world. The lodge’s ‘ladies auxiliary’
periodically would bring prepared food to the kiva, of course leaving it respectfully
outside.
2. The importance of our attitude as ‘guests’ so as to be
able to observe the ritual unmolested?? In the Hopi religious cosmology (as in
many others), there is an intercessory plane between God and mankind – herein
reside the ‘Katchinas’. These entities from time to time - at God’s request -
take human form and ‘visit’ mankind to sort of check up on things. For example,
are the people properly humble, are they observing the proscribed worship
rituals so as to be worthy of their needed gifts from nature and to have good
fortune in their personal health and relationships? And the only way to tell a
Katchina is that he/she always comes to Earth as a respectful guest, and woe
betide the clan that is not a proper 'host' to the true 'guest'.
Ever since, we’ve tended to keep an eye out
for fellow travelers in apparent need – like that old farmer who appreciated a
battery jump and repaid the favor with fortuitous information.
One just never knows when a trickily disguised
Katchina may be present, and who doesn’t need all the ‘luck’ which can be
directed their way?!
- - - - - -
2) The Hopi
Snake Ritual
Another year we had been traveling
the central Sierras of Southern Mexico, and set up camp on a hill overlooking
the ancient city of Oaxaca. The campground was actually a small horse ranch but
it had good facilities and a great view of the Oaxaca valley and its city’s
lights at night. Not listed in the campground directories, we had learned of
the place through talking with a German couple several days previously. (That
is how the best ‘finds’ occur in Mexico)
A rather older expatriate American
named “Dave” lived full time at the place. He had worked out an arrangement
with the ranch owner whereby Dave would build a permanent steel shade palapa over
his rig, in exchange for a period of rent-free occupancy; at the end of the
term, or if at any time Dave vacated, the palapa would become the property of
the ranch owner – a good deal for both. Dave had the best view over the valley,
and liked to sit with newcomers and share stories. We told him our story of our
experience at the Hopi Bean Ritual – he thought for a moment, and said:
“A while ago I quit my job and traveled a
lot and saw a lot of places and things. Became quite friendly with an old Navaho
Chief who himself was highly respected and on good terms with his Hopi
neighbours; as you know, that in itself is unusual, as the two tribes don’t mix
hardly at all. Well, one day the old Chief informed me that he’d been invited
to observe a Hopi Snake Ritual, and he had cleared it for me to tag along – as
a “guest” of course – you folks already know what that means.
“The next day found us back in the hills
of the high desert, squatting well off to the side of a group of 30 Hopi
tribesmen -all in regalia - as they started swaying, dancing and softly
‘moaning’ low notes. After a while they started singing louder and at an
increasingly higher pitch – the ‘song’ itself being a sort of multi-tonal hum
as you’ve probably heard in filmed recordings of Buddhist monks. Up went the
hummed notes into higher registers, and folks, all of a sudden snakes started
to appear. From under rocks or whatever, they came from all directions toward
the dancers – like dozens of them, all colours and sizes – all seemingly entranced
by the Hopi’s ‘song’. Those snakes slithered right up to the dancers and looked
up at them expectantly; the dancers picked some up and swayed and danced with
them as they sang.
“This part of the ritual went on for say
15 minutes. Rattlers- you ask?? Well now, folks - I didn’t see any, but mind
you I wasn’t inclined to get that close. Like to keep my distance. After a bit
the dancers sang their ‘song’ at lower and lower registers; then they put their
snakes down and gradually the whole buncha snakes went back to their rocks or
wherever and the show was basically over.
“One other thing you might be interested
in; that old Navaho Chief loved riding his saddle horse but he also tooted
around in an old truck with a bum battery. Helped him get it going one day –
that’s when we first met.”
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