The Hopi Tales

 

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?!

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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.”

 

 

Keith and Marnie Elliott’s “REMEDY” Site

 

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