outlines of zuni Creation Myths 10

outlines of zuni Creation Myths 10

"Yea," replied these other Seed people, "eating thereof, ye shall

become in very truth our younger brothers! For even as the father hath

said, these be the product of our hands joined with thine in labor,

and of our hearts joined with thine in sacred thought." Then the

ancient of the People of Dew stood in place of Paíyatuma, and spake:

 

Behold the fulfilment of work ye began!

Ears fully gifted with fruitage of kernels

By the warmth of our maidens

In embrace with your Rain youth;

The seed of their persons

All wrapped in soft garments

And draped with the hair

Of their full generation;

All proportioned and formed

By the touch of the Dew God;

Made complete and mature

By the touch of the Time God;

Ripened fully, as food,

By the touch of the Fire God!

First, yet last of them all

Is the plant of the Middle--

With its seven-fold kernels

And hues of the embers--

Is the corn of all regions,

The Í-to-pa-nah-na-kwe!

Yet the earliest quickened

By the eldest Corn maiden,

Is the corn of the North land;

Made yellow by flame-light,--

The hue of the North sky

Seen in winter or gloaming,--

Is the strong ‘Hlúp-tsi-kwa-kwe!

Then the corn of the West land

By the next sister quickened,--

Made blue by the smoke-light,--

Is hued like the ocean

Or shadows of evening,--

The rich ‘Hlí-a-kwa-kwe!

Next, the corn of the South land,

By the third sister quickened,

Is red, like the flowers

And fruitage of summer--

Made so by the brand-light--

Is the sweet Shí-k‘ya-na-kwe!

Next the corn of the East land

The fourth sister quickened,

Is white, like the milk

Which we drink in the morning

Of life; like the light

Of the dawning each morning--

Made so by full fire-light--

Is the pure K’ó-ha-kwa-kwe!

Next, the corn of the Zenith,

The fifth sister quickened,

Is streaked like the sky

With the clouds and the rainbow--

Made so by the spark-light--

Is the hard K’ú-chu-a-kwe!

And next is the corn of

The dark Lower regions

The sixth sister quickened;

Is black like the depth of

The earth it emerged from--

Made so by the heat-light--

Is the soft Kwí-ni-kwa-kwe!

Last, as first, is the Mid-most,

Quickened first by the seventh

Of all the Corn maidens;

Bearing grains of each color--

Made so by the embers--

And seed of them all,

Hence, the Tém-‘hla-nah-na-k‘ya,

Í-to-pa-nah-na-kwe!

 

"Thus, of the substance of all flesh is the seed of seeds, Corn! And

suited to all peoples and places; yet we, brothers younger are with

ye, favored in the light, in that together we are its priests and

keepers. Let us therefore love it and cherish it, as we cherish and

love our women; and it shall be the giver of milk to the youthful and

of flesh to the aged, as our women folk are the givers of life to our

youth and the sustainers of life in our age; for of the mother-milk of

the Beloved Maidens it is filled, and of their flesh the substance.

Eating thereof, thy youth shall grow strong and handsome, thy maidens

beautiful and fruitful, even as are themselves, the Beloved Maidens,

our mothers and thine!"

 

"Be it well!" said the fathers. "Brothers younger to ye, let us indeed

be, and let us, therefore, clasp the warm hands of brothers elder and

brothers younger, making the words of the Father of Dawn true, in

truth!"

 

Then the ancient of the People of the Dew replied:

 

It is well, brothers younger!

Dwell in peace by our firesides.

Guard the seed of our maidens,

Each kind as ye see it,

Apart from the others.

And by lovingly toiling,

As by toiling and loving,

Men win the full favor

And hearts of their maidens,

So, from year unto year

Shall ye win by your watching,

And power of beseeching,

And care for the corn-flesh,

The favor and plenish

Of our seven Corn maidens.

They shall dance for the increase

And strength of the corn-seed,

Of each grain, making many--

Each grain that ye nourish

With new soil and water!

For long, ere ye found us,

We afar sought for water,

Drinking dew from our father,

Like deer, on the mountains!

And for long ere ye found us

Ye wandered in hunger,

Seeking seed of the grasses,

Like birds on the mesas.

Thus, 'tis well, brothers younger,

That ye dwell by our firesides!

 

Thus, happily were our fathers joined to the People of the Dew, and

the many houses on the hills were now builded together in the plain

where first grew the corn plants abundantly; being prepared year after

year by the beautiful custom of the ever young maidens, and attended

faithfully by the labors of the people and the vigils of their fathers.

 

 

THE RENEWAL OF THE SEARCH FOR THE MIDDLE.

 

When men had almost forgotten the seeking of the Middle, the earth

trembled anew, and the shells sounded warning. Murmuring sore when the

Twain Beloved came and called them again, yet carrying whatsoever they

could with them (more preciously than all things else save their little

ones, the seed of corn!), they and the people they had dwelt with

journeyed on, seeking safety. For now, their kin were mingled; thus,

their children were one people. Wheresoever they rested, they builded

them great houses of stone, all together, as may still be seen. And in

the plains ever they built them bowers for the watching of the renewal

and growth of the seeds of the corn. Therefore, they never hungered

whether journeying anon or sitting still.

 

 

THE CHOOSING OF SEEKERS FOR SIGNS OF THE MIDDLE.

 

Now with much of journeying the people came to grow weary with ever

seeking for the Middle all together, along a single way, insomuch that

increasingly they murmured whenever they were summoned and must needs

be leaving their homes and accustomed ranging-places. And so they fell

to devising amongst themselves, until at last it seemed good to them to

be sending messengers forth in one direction and another, the sooner to

feel out the better way, and find signs of the Middle: as, by dividing,

a company of hunters the sooner find trace of their quarry.

 

Now there was a priest of the people named Kâ´wimosa (of the Kâ´kâ

master-maker or source), thus named because he it was who was to

establish, all unwittingly, the most potent and good sacred dance

(myth-drama or Kâ´kâ) as happened after this wise:

 

He had four sons (some say more) and a daughter. And his eldest son was

named K‘yäk´lu, which signifies, it is said, "Whensoever;" for he was

wiser of words and the understanding thereof than all others, having

listened to the councils of men with all beings, since ever the inner

beginning! So, when it was asked who of the precious ones (children of

priest-fathers and priest-mothers) should journey northward, seeking to

learn the distance thitherward to the great embracing waters, that the

Middle might be the better surmised; nor said the Twain aught, as we

say naught, to little children weary of a way that must, weary or nay,

be accomplished! When this was asked, Kâ´wimosa, the priest, bethought

himself of his wise eldest son and said, "Here is he!" Thus K‘yäk´lu

was summoned, and made ready with sacrifice presentations from all

the priests to all the surpassing-ones for the great journey; and he

departed.

 

Long the people waited. But at last it was said, "Lost is our K‘yäk´lu!

For wise of words was he, but not wise of ways!"

 

And the fathers, mourning, again called a council. Again, when it was

inquired, Kâ´wimosa the priest, bethought him, and cried, "Here!"

and again were made ready duly and sent forth messengers, this time

southward, the next younger brothers of K‘yäk´lu (Ánahohoátchi); for,

said the father, they will guide one another if ye send twain. And of

these, also, much is told in other talks of our ancient speech; but

then, they too, lingered by the way.

 

Once more a council was called, and again, when it was inquired,

Kâ´wimosa cried, "Here!" and this time the youngest son, who was named

Síweluhsiwa, because he was a long-haired youth of great beauty;

and the daughter, who was named Síwiluhsitsa, because she was a

long-tressed maiden of beautiful person; they also were summoned and

made ready duly and sent eastward.

 

 

THE CHANGE-MAKING SIN OF THE BROTHER AND SISTER.

 

Far they journeyed, and as the day quickened they saw before them a

distant high mountain.

 

Let us hasten, O, sister, my sister!

Thou art weary with travel, my sister;

We will rest in the shade of yon mountain.

I will build you a bower of cedar,

And seek in the cliffs for game-creatures;

And you shall rest happily, sister.

 

Thus spake he, for he loved his sister and her beauty. (Nay, but she

was soft and beautiful!)

 

And so, they hastened. When they reached the mountain, Síweluhsiwa

built a bower of cedar branches under the shade of a tree. Then he

went forth to seek game. When, having captured some, he returned, his

sister was sleeping in the bower; so he stepped softly, that he might

not disturb her--for he loved his sister, and gently he sat himself

down before her and leaned his chin on his hand to watch her. The wind

softly blew to and fro, and she slept on; her white cotton mantle and

garments were made light for the journey, and thus the wind played

with them as it listed over her prostrate form. As the brother gazed

at her, he became crazed with love of her, greater than that of a

brother's, greater than that of kin men for kin! * * *

 

Crazed was he, yea, and bideless of act; and the sister, thus awakened,

fled from him in loud affright, and then, in shame and hot anger

turning, upbraided him fiercely. Wondrous beings were they, more than

it is the lot of mere men in these days to be, for they were the

children of Kâ´wimosa the priest, and a priestess-mother in the times

of creation and newness. And so, like to the surpassing ones, they were

_‘hlímnawiho_, or changeable-by-will inclined; yea, and all things were

_k‘yaíyuna_ or formative, when the world was new! Lo, now! Therefore,

as she upbraided him, her eyes grew great and glaring and her face

spotted and drawn. And he, as he heard and saw her, grew dazed, and

stood senseless before her, his head bowed, his eyes red and swollen,

his brow bent and burning.

 

"Thou shameless of men!" cried the maiden. "Know that thou shalt

return to thy people never; nay, nor will I! Lo! I will make by mine

the power a deep water dividing this mountain! Alone on one side shalt

thou dwell, alone on the other dwell I! I will draw a line, and make a

swift water between the day-land and the night-land, between all our

people and us!" She stamped with her sandal as she spake, and deep was

the mark thereof; for the mountain was hollow and resounding. Then

she ran headlong down to the westward end of the mountain and drew her

foot along the sands from the south to the northward, and deep was

the gully she made. And the brother, seeing her flee, ran after her

calling hoarsely. But now, as he neared her, he stopped and stared;

and forthwith grew crazed more than ever; but with anguish and fright

this time, at her rage and distortion. As she turned again back, he

threw his arms aloft, and beat his head and temples and tore away his

hair and garments and clutched his eyes and mouth wildly, until great

welts and knobs stood out on his head; his eyes puffed and goggled, his

lips blubbered and puckered; tears and sweat with wet blood bedrenched

his whole person, and he cast himself headlong and rolled in the dust,

until coated with the dun earth of that plain. And when he staggered to

his feet, the red soil adhered to him as skin cleaves to flesh, and his

ugliness hardened.

 

The maiden stared in wild terror at what she had wrought! And now she,

too, was filled with anguish and shrieked aloud, tossing her arms and

rushing hither and thither, and so great was her grief and despair that

her hair all whitened. Lo! now she lamented plaintively and pitied

her brother, for she thought--woman-like!--"But he loved me!" So, she

tenderly yearned for him now, and ran toward him. Again he looked at

her, for he was crazed, and when he saw her close at hand, so strange

looking and ugly, he laughed aloud, and coarsely, but anon stood still,

with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed before him,

dazed! When he laughed, she too laughed; when he was silent and bowed,

she cried and besought him. Thus it was with them ever after in those

days. They talked loudly to each other; they laughed or they cried.

Now they were like silly children, playing on the ground; anon they

were wise as the priests and high beings, and harangued as parents to

children and leaders to people.

 

The marks in the mountain and sands sank farther and farther; for

much the earth shuddered as was wont in those days. And thus the

mountain was sundered in twain and waters welled up in the midway.

The furrow in the sands ran deeper and deeper and swifter and swifter

with gathering water. Into the nether mountain the pair fled--not

apart--but together, distraught. Ceaselessly echoed their gibberish and

cries across the wide water and from one mountain side to the other.

Thenceforth, together they dwelt in the caves of the place they had

chosen, forgetful of the faces of men and recking naught of their own

ugly condition!

 

 

THE BIRTH OF THE OLD-ONES OR ANCIENTS OF THE K´KÂ.

 

In time there were born to these twain, twelve children. Nay, neither

man-children nor woman-children they! For look now! The first, was a

woman in fulness of contour, but a man in stature and brawn. From the

mingling of too much seed in one kind, comes the two-fold one kind,

_‘hláhmon_, being man and woman combined--even as from a kernel of

corn with two hearts, ripens an ear that is neither one kind nor the

other, but both! Yet not all ill was this first child, because she was

born of love--what though crazed!--ere her parents were changed; thus

she partook not of their distortions. Not so with her brothers; in

semblance of males, yet like boys, the fruit of sex was not in them!

For the fruit of mere lust comes to naught, even as corn, self-sown out

of season, ripens not. For their parents, being changed to hideousness,

abode together witlessly and consorted idly or in passion not quickened

of favor to the eye or the heart. And lo! like to their father were

his later children, but varied as his moods; for then, as now, what

the mother looked most on while withholding them, thus wise were they

formed as clay by the thought of the potter; wherefore we cherish our

matrons and reveal not to them the evil dramas neither the slaughtered

nor hamstrung game lest their children be weakly or go maimed. Thus

they were strapping louts, but dun-colored and marked with the welts of

their father. Silly were they, yet wise as the gods and high priests;

for as simpletons and the crazed speak from the things seen of the

instant, uttering belike wise words and prophecy, so spake they, and

became the attendants and fosterers, yet the sages and interpreters, of

the ancient of dance-dramas or the Kâ´kâ.

 

Named are they, not with the names of men, but with names of

mis-meaning, for there is Pékwina, Priest-speaker of the Sun.

Meditative is he, even in the quick of day, after the fashion of his

father when shamed, saying little save rarely, and then as irrelevantly

as the veriest child or dotard.

 

Then there is Pí‘hlan Shíwani (Bow Priest-warrior). So cowardly he that

he dodges behind ladders, thinking them trees no doubt, and lags after

all the others, whenever frightened, even at a fluttering leaf or a

crippled spider, and looks in every direction but the straight one,

whenever danger threatens!

 

There is Éshotsi (the Bat) who can see better in the sunlight than any

of them, but would maim himself in a shadow, and will avoid a hole in

the ground as a woman would a dark place, even were it no bigger than a

beetle burrow.

 

Also there is Muíyapona (Wearer of the Eyelets of Invisibility). He

has horns like the catfish, and is knobbed like a bludgeon-squash. But

he never by any chance disappears, even when he hides his head behind

a ladder rung or turkey quill, yet thinks himself quite out of sight.

And he sports with his countenance as though it were as smooth as a

damsel's.

 

There is Pótsoki (the Pouter), who does little but laugh and look

bland, for grin he can not; and his younger brother, Ná‘hläshi (Aged

Buck), who is the biggest of them all, and what with having grieved and

nearly rubbed his eyes out (when his younger brother was captured and

carried off by the K‘yámak‘ya-kwe or Snail Kâ´kâ of the South), looks

as ancient as a horned toad; yet he is as frisky as a fawn, and giggles

like a girl; yea, and bawls as lustily as a small boy playing games.

 

The next brother, Ítseposa (the Glum or Aggrieved), mourned also for

his nearest brother, who was stolen by the Kâ´kâ, too, until his eyes

were dry utterly and his chin chapped to protrusion; but nathless he is

lively and cheerful and ever as ready indeed as the most complaisant of

beings.

 

K‘yä´lutsi (the Suckling) and Tsa‘hläshi (Old-youth), the youngest,

are the most wilfully important of the nine, always advising others

and strutting like a young priest in his first dance, or like unto the

youthful warrior made too aged-thinking and self-notioned with early

honoring.

 

And while the father stands dazed, with his head bowed and his hands

clasped before him or like to broken bows hanging by his sides,

these children romp and play (as he and his sister did when turned

childish), and verily are like to idiots, or to dotards and crones

turned young again, inconstant as laughter, startled to new thought by

every flitting thing around them; but, in the presence of the Kâ´kâ of

old, they are grave what though so uncouth. And they are the oracles

of all olden sayings of deep meanings; wherefore they are called the

Kâ´yemashi (Husbandmen of the Kâ´kâ or sacred drama-dance); and they

are spoken of, even by the Fathers of the People, as the Á‘hläshi

Tséwashi (Sages of the Ancients). And most precious in the sight of the

beings and of men are they! But for their birth and the manner thereof,

it is said that all had been different; for from it many things came

to be as they are, alike for men and gods and even the souls of the

dead!

 

 

THE RENEWAL OF THE GREAT JOURNEY, AND THE SUNDERING OF THE TRIBES OF

MEN.

 

There came a time when the people for whom Síweluhsiwa and Síwiluhsitsa

had gone to seek the way, could tarry no longer awaiting them; for,

hearing the earth rumble, the Twain Beloved and their Warrior-leaders

of the Knife summoned the tribes forth to journey again. Now in these

days the people had grown so vast of number that no longer could they

journey together; but in great companies they traveled, like herds of

bison severed when too numerous for the grass of a single plain. The

Bearers of the Ice-wands and the Ancient Brotherhood of the Knife led

the clans of the Bear, the Crane, the Grouse and others of the People

of Winter (yea and in small part others too), through the northernmost

valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious _múetone_. The

Fathers of the People, Keepers of the seed, and the Ancient Brotherhood

of Priests led the clans of the Macaw and other Summer people (and in

part others still) through the middle valleys, carrying ever in their

midst the precious _k‘yáetone_. They, being deliberate and wise, sought

rather in the pathway between the northward and the southward for the

place of the Middle.

 

The Seed-fathers of the Seed-kin, the Keepers of Fire, and the Ancient

Brotherhood of Paíyatuma (Néwe-kwe) led the All-seed clans, the Sun,

Badger and other Summer people (not of the Midmost), through the

southern valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious _chúetone_.

 

Leading them all, whether through the northern ways, through the middle

ways, or through the southern ways, now here, now there, were the Two

Beloved ones, and with them their Warriors of the Knife.

 

Now although those who went by the northern way were called the Bear

and Crane father-people, yet with them went some of all the clans,

as the Parrot-macaws of the Middle, and the Yellow-corn ones of the

Southern people.