outlines of zuni Creation Myths 11

outlines of zuni Creation Myths 11

And although the People of the Middle way were called the Macaw

father-people, yet with them went Bear and Crane people of the north,

nevertheless, (a few) and Seed people of the south, also (a few) those

of the White Corn.

 

And although the people of the southern way were called the All-seed

father-people, yet with them went a few of both the northern and the

middle ways. And this was well! That even though any one of these

bands might hap to be divided through wildness of the way or stress

of war, they nathless might retain, each of them, the seed of all the

kin-lines. Moreover, this of itself speedily came to be, through the

mingling of the clans from one to another in the strands of marriage.

 

And although thus apart the peoples journeyed, descending from the

westward the valleys toward north and toward south, like gathering

streams from a wide rain-storm, yet also like rain-streams gathering

in some great river or lagoon, so they came together and thus abode in

seasons of rest. Strong and impetuous, the Bear kindred on the one hand

were the first to move and farthest to journey; on the other hand the

Seed kindred led the way; whereas, the heart of them all of the Macaw

kindred, deliberately (as was their custom) pursued the middle course

of the Sun-father.

 

In such order, then, they came, in time, within sight of the great

divided mountain of the Kâ´yemäshi. Seeing smoke and mist rising

therefrom, they all, one after another, hastened thither. The Bear

peoples were first to approach, and great was their dismay when, on

descending into the plain, they beheld a broad river, flowing, not as

other waters were wont to flow in that land, from east to west, but

straight across their pathway, from toward the south, northward. And

lo! on the farther side were the mysterious mountains they sought, but

between them rolled swiftly these wide turbid waters, red with the soil

of those plains.

 

 

THE ORIGIN OF DEATH BY DYING, AND THE ABODE OF SOULS AND THE K´KÂ.

 

Not for long did the impetuous fathers of the Bear and Crane

deliberate. Nay! Straightway they strode into the stream and feeling

forth with their feet that it e'en might be forded--for so red were

its waters that no footing could be seen through them,--they led the

way across; yet great was their fearfulness withal; for, full soon, as

they watched the water moving under their very eyes, strange chills

did pervade them, as though they were themselves changing in being

to creatures moving and having being in the waters; even as still

may be felt in the giddiness which besets those who, in the midst of

troubled or passing waters, gaze long into them. Nathless, they won

their way steadfastly to the farther shore. But the poor women who,

following closely with the little children on their backs, were more

_áyaᵘwe_ (tender, susceptible), became witlessly crazed with these

dread fear-feelings of the waters, wherefore, the little ones to whom

they clung but the more closely, being _k‘yaíyuna_ and all unripe, were

instantly changed by the terror. They turned cold, then colder; they

grew scaly, fuller webbed and sharp clawed of hands and feet, longer of

tail too, as if for swimming and guidance in unquiet waters. Lo! They

felt of a sudden to the mothers that bore them, as the feel of dead

things; and, wriggling, scratched their bare shoulders until, shrieking

wildly, these mothers let go all hold on them and were even fain to

shake them off--fleeing from them in terror. Thus, multitudes of them

fell into the swift waters, wailing shrilly and plaintively, as even

still it may be said they are heard to cry at night time in those lone

waters. For, no sooner did they fall below the surges than they floated

and swam away, still crying--changed verily, now, even in bodily form;

for, according to their several totems, some became like to the lizard

(_mík‘yaiya‘hli_), chameleon (_sémaiyak‘ya_), and newt (_téwashi_);

others like to the frog (_ták‘aiyuna_), toad (_ták‘ya_), and turtle

(_étâwa_). But their souls (_top‘hâ´ina_, 'other-being or in-being'),

what with the sense of falling, still falling, sank down through the

waters, as water itself, being started, sinks down through the sands

into the depths below. There, under the lagoon of the hollow mountain

where it was erstwhile cleft in twain by the angry maiden-sister

Síwiluhsitsa as before told, dwelt, in their seasons, the soul-beings

of ancient men of war and violent death. There were the towns for the

'finished' or dead, Hápanawan or the Abode of Ghosts; there also, the

great pueblo (city) of the Kâ´kâ, Kâ´‘hluëlawan, the town of many towns

wherein stood forever the great assembly house of ghosts, Áhapaáwa

Kíwitsinan‘hlana, the kiva which contains the six great chambers in the

midst of which sit, at times of gathering in council, the god-priests

of all the Kâ´kâ exercising the newly dead in the Kâ´k’okshi or dance

of good, and receiving from them the offerings and messages of mortal

men to the immortal ones.

 

Now, when the little ones sank, still sank, seeing naught, the lights

of the spirit dancers began to break upon them, and they became, as be

the ancients, _‘hlímna_, and were numbered with them. And so, being

received into the midst of the undying ancients, lo! these little ones

thus made the way of dying and the path of the dead; for whither they

led, in that olden time, others, fain to seek them (insomuch that they

died), followed; and yet others followed these; and so it has continued

to be even unto this day.

 

But the mothers, still crying, knew not this--knew not that their

children had returned unharmed into the world whence even themselves

had come and whither they too needs now must go, constrained thither

by the yearnings of their own hearts in the time of mourning. Loudly,

still, they wailed, on the farther shore of the river.

 

 

THE LOSS OF THE GREAT SOUTHERN CLANS.

 

The Seed clans arrived, and strove to cross the waters, but as it had

chanced to the others so befel it all dismally with them, until loud

became the commotion and multitudes of those behind, nearing--even many

of the Midmost clans--turned and fled afar southward along the bank,

seeking a better crossing; fled so far that they were lost to sight

speedily and strayed never to return!

 

Nay, they became the fathers and mothers of our Lost Others--lost ever

since that time.

 

 

THE SAVING OF THE FATHER-CLANS.

 

Lo! as the people were crying aloud and tossing their hands aloft and

the many--so many!--were fleeing away, came the Beloved Twain, and

with voices strong-sounding and sure, bade them cease from their clamor

and terror, saying--

 

Look now, ye faithless and witless!

The mothers who love not their offspring

And cherish them not through all danger,

Must lose them anon, as the woodbird,

Who sits not her nest, doth her broodlings!

Fear not, but cleave fast to your children

Though they strange-turn and frightful of seeming!

'Tis the magic of water, and wildness

Of heart, and will pass (as men's laughter

Doth pass when the joy-thought is sobered),

As ye win your way forth from the waters.

 

Thus spake they, and continued speaking; whereupon the people who

were yet left, took heart, even the women, and stayed their thoughts,

clinging stoutly to their little ones as they fared through the

waters, what though the terror and hurt was sore. Thus passed they all

safely over, and--even as had been said--as they won their way up from

the waters and sat them down to rest on the farther shore below the

mountains, lo! the little ones grew warm and right again. But never

were the thoughts of womenkind beguiled wholly from that harrowing

journey. Wherefore they be timid of deep places, startled (as is the

voice of a vessel by any shrillness of sound) and witless-driven by

the sight of reptile-creatures. Lo! and so their anxieties are like to

press themselves on the unripe and forming children of their bowels.

Wherefore, also, we guard their eyes from all weird-seeming things when

they be with child.

 

 

THE AWAITING OF THE LOST CLANS.

 

Now, when the people were rested and the children righted, they arose

and journeyed into the plain to the east of the two mountains and the

great water between them. Thence they turned them northward to the

sunrise slopes of the uppermost of the mountains. There they encamped,

mourning for their lost children and awaiting the coming, perchance, of

those who had fled away.

 

 

THE STRAYING OF K‘YÄK´LU, AND HIS PLAINT TO THE WATER-FOWL.

 

_Ataht!_ And all this time K‘yäk´lu, the all-hearing and wise of

speech, all alone had been journeying afar in the north land of cold

and white desolateness. Lost was he, for lo! all the world he wandered

in now was disguised in the snow that lies spread forth there forever.

Cold was he--so cold that his face became wan, and white from the

frozen mists of his own breathing withal, white as become all creatures

who bide there. So cold at night and dreary of heart was he, so lost

by day and blinded by light was he, that he wept, continually wept

and cried aloud until the tears coursing down his cheeks stained them

with falling lines along the wrinkles thereof (as may be seen on his

face to this day when in due season he reappears), and he died of

heart and thence became transformed (_í‘hlimnakna_) lastingly as are

the gods. Yea, and his lips became splayed with continual calling,

and his voice grew shrill and dry-sounding, like to the voices of

far-flying water-fowl. As he cried, wandering all blindly hither and

thither, these, water-birds, hearing, flocked around him in numbers and

curiously peered at him, turning their heads from side to side and ever

approaching nearer, all the while calling one to another.

 

Behold! when he heard them calling, their meanings were plain to him,

wise as he was of all speeches! Yet still he lamented aloud, for none

told him the way to his country and people.

 

 

HOW THE DUCK, HEARING, WAS FAIN TO GUIDE K‘YÄK´LU.

 

Now, when the Duck heard his cry, lo! it was so like to her own that

she came closer by than any, answering loudly. And when they were thus

come near to each other, much related appeared they, strange as that

may seem. Forasmuch as he was of all times the listener and speaker,

and therein wisest of all men, so was she of all regions the traveler

and searcher, knowing all ways, whether above or below the waters,

whether in the north, the west, the south, or the east, and therein was

the most knowing of all creatures. Thus the wisdom (_yúyananak‘ya_) of

the one comprehended (_aíyuhetok‘ya_) the knowledge (_ánikwanak‘ya_)

of the other, and K‘yäk´lu in the midst of his lamentations besought

counsel and guidance, crying--

 

Ha-na-ha! ha-na-ha! a-hah-hua!

O, grandmother! Where am I straying

So far from my country and people?

All speeches I know, of my sitting

In councils of men and the beings,

Since first in the depths they had being!

But of far ways, alas! I am kenless!

Ha-na-ha! ha-na-ha! a-hah-hua!

The mountains are white, and the valleys;

All plains are like others in whiteness;

And even the light of our father

The Sun, as he rises and passes,

Makes all ways more hidden of whiteness!

For in brightness my eyes see but darkness--

And in darkness all ways are bewildered!

Ha-na-ha! ha-na-ha! a-hah-hua!

In the winds, lo! I hear the directions;

But the winds speak the ways of all regions,

Of the north and the west and the southward,

Of the east and of upward and downward,

They tell not the way to the Middle!

They tell not the way to my people!

Ha-na-ha! ha-na-ha! a-hah-hua!

 

"Hold, my child, my father," said the Duck. "Think no longer sad

thoughts. Though thou be blind, yet thou _hearest_ all as I _see_ all.

Give me, therefore, tinkling shells from thy girdle and place them

on my neck and in my beak. Thus may I guide thee with my seeing if so

be thou by thy hearing grasp and hold firmly my trail. For look, now!

Thy country and the way thither well I know, for I go that way each

year leading the wild goose and the crane, who flee thither as winter

follows."

 

And so the K‘yäk´lu placed his talking shells on the neck of the Duck,

and in her beak placed the singing shells, which ever in his speakings

and listenings K‘yäk´lu had been wont to wear at his girdle; and albeit

painfully and lamely, yet he did follow the sound she made with these

shells, perching lightly on his searching outstretched hand, and did

all too slowly follow her swift flight from place to place wherein she,

anon, going forth would await him and urge him, ducking her head that

the shells might call loudly, and dipping her beak that they might

summon his ears as the hand summons the eyes. By and by they came to

the country of thick rains and mists on the borders of the Snow World,

and passed from water to water, until at last, lo! wider waters lay in

their way. In vain the Duck called and jingled her shells from over the

midst of them, K‘yäk´lu could not follow. All maimed was he; nor could

he swim or fly as could the Duck.

 

 

HOW THE RAINBOW-WORM BORE K‘YÄK´LU TO THE PLAIN OF K´‘HLUËLANE.

 

Now the Rainbow-worm was near, in that land of mists and waters. And

when he heard the sacred sounds of the shells he listened. "Ha! these

be my grandchildren, and precious be they, for they call one to the

other with shells of the great world-encircling waters," said he;

and so, with one measure of his length, he placed himself nigh them,

saying--

 

Why mourn ye grandchildren, why mourn ye?

Give me plumes of the spaces, grandchildren,

That related I be to the regions,

That uplifted I be to the cloud-heights,

That my footsteps be countries and countries;

So I bear ye full swift on my shoulders

To the place of thy people and country.

 

K‘yäk´lu took of his plume-wands the lightest and choicest; and the

Duck gave to him her two strong pinion-feathers that he might pendant

them therewith, making them far reaching and far-seeing. And the

Rainbow arched himself and stooped nigh to them whilst K‘yäk´lu,

breathing on the plumes, approached him and fastened them to his heart

side. And while with bent head, all white and glistening wet, K‘yäk´lu

said the sacred words, not turning to one side nor to the other,

behold! the Rainbow shadow gleamed full brightly on his forehead like a

little rainbow, (even as the great sky itself gleams little in a tiny

dew-drop) and became painted thereon, and _í‘hlimna_.

 

"Thanks this day!" said the Rainbow. "Mount, now, on my shoulders,

grandson!"

 

The Rainbow unbent himself lower that K‘yäk´lu might mount; then

he arched himself high amidst the clouds, bearing K‘yäk´lu upward

as in the breath a mote is borne, and the Duck spread her wings in

flight toward the south. Thitherward, like an arrow, the Rainbow-worm

straightened himself forward and followed until his face looked into

the Lake of the Ancients, the mists whereof were to him breath and

substance.

 

And there in the plain to the north of Kâ´‘hluëlane, K‘yäk´lu descended

even ere the sun was fully entered, and while yet it was light, the

Rainbow betook himself swiftly back.

 

But alas! K‘yäk´lu was weary and lame. He could not journey farther,

but sat himself down to rest and ponder the way.

 

 

THE TARRYING OF K‘YÄK´LU IN THE PLAIN, AND HIS DISMAY.

 

Now, as he sat there, all silent, came across the plains the shouts

and harangues of the Kâ´yemäshi as they called loudly to one another,

telling, like children, of the people who had but then forded the wide

river, and passed on to the eastward "with such great ado," said they.

 

For the children of the Twain knew not yet the people of their parents,

nor did their parents tell them aught, save to bid them hide in the

mountains; for they willed not that their shame be made known whilst

the hearts of their erstwhile people were so sore with anguish.

 

And as K‘yäk´lu, the wonderful hearer, lifted his head and signed

to the Duck, forthwith knowing from the talk of the Kâ´yemäshi who

they were and what had chanced to their parents, his own brother and

sister, and all the evils that had befallen his people by the sin and

change-makings of these two. Lo! the strength of his heart wasted as he

bowed him down again in the plain, alone, blinded of sight, wearied and

lamed, and now from very sadness blinded even of thought withal, now

that he learned of the woes which the two, his own brother and sister,

had wrought upon all of the people. The Duck, long waiting, at last

shook her shells and called to him. He heard not, or hearing gave no

heed, but sat, like one bereft of all thinking, lamenting the deeds of

his brother and sister and the woes of his people.

 

 

HOW THE DUCK FOUND THE LAKE OF THE DEAD AND THE GODS OF THE K´KÂ.

 

The Duck thereupon fled away toward the mountain whence issued the

garrulous talking, and thence beyond, spying water, to the lake in its

hollow. There she swam to and fro, this way and that, up and down,

loudly quacking and calling. Lo! the lights of the Kíwitsin of the

Kâ´kâ began to gleam in the waters, and as she gazed she beheld, rising

from them, snout foremost, like one of her own kind, the Sálamopia

of the north, whom the gods of the Kâ´kâ, the noble and surpassing

Páutiwa and the ancient K‘yáu‘hliwa, had dispatched to bid the Duck

dive down and lay before them whatsoever message she might bear. The

Duck followed down, down, into the great assembly halls. There she

told of the far journeys she had made, of her finding and leading the

K‘yäk´lu, and how now K‘yäk´lu sat blind of eyes, maimed and hearing

naught of her calling, in the plain beyond the mountains.

 

 

HOW THE GODS OF THE K´K COUNSELLED THE DUCK.

 

"Yea, him know we well!" replied the gods. "Of our sacred breath

breathed his father and his mother when days were new and of us shall

be numbered they, when time is full. Lo! therefore because changed

violently of his grief and sore hardships whilst yet but _k‘yaíyuna_,

he hath become _‘hlímna_, and yet unchanging, since finished so; yea,

and unceasing, as one of ourselves, thus shall he remain. True also is

this, of his brother and sister who dwell with their uncouth offspring

in the mountain hard by. Go upward, now, and with thy tinkling shells

entice these children to the lake shore. Loudly will they talk of

the marvel as in their wilder moments they ever talk of anything new

to hap. And they will give no peace to the old ones until these come

down also to see thee! Thou wearest the sacred shells and strands of

K‘yäk´lu wherewith he was ever wont to count his talks in other days

when days were new to men. When these they see, lo! instant grave will

become they and listen to thy words, for they will know the things they

watched him wear and coveted when they were still little, all in the

days that were new to men. Bid them make forthwith of poles and reeds,

a litter, and bear it away, the father of them all with his children

(nay not the sister-mother, to sore hurt the love of a brother eldest

for a sister youngest, wherefore so pitiably he mourneth even now) to

where, in the far plain, K‘yäk´lu sits so mourning. Bid them greet him,

and bring him hence. They may not enter, but they may point the way and

tell him how, fearlessly, to win into our presence, for as one even

of ourselves is he become; yea, and they also, save that they stayed

themselves for the ages, midway betwixt the living and the dead, by

their own rash acts did they stay themselves so, wherefore it is become

their office to point the way of the again living to the newly dead,

for aye. Tell the grandchild, thy father withal, K‘yäk´lu, to mourn not

any longer, neither tarry, but to get him straightway hither, that he

may learn from us of his people of the meanings of past times, and of

how it shall be in times to come."

 

 

HOW BY BEHEST OF THE DUCK THE K´YEMÄSHI SOUGHT K‘YÄK´LU TO CONVEY HIM

TO THE LAKE OF THE DEAD.

 

Even so did the Duck, as bidden, even so did the Kâ´yemäshi, one and

all, as it had been said they would do as the Duck bade them, and

ere the morning came, they with a litter went, singing a quaint and

pleasant song, adown the northern plain, bearing their litter. And

when they found the K‘yäk´lu, lo! he looked upon them in the starlight

and wept; but their father, he who had been the glorious Síweluhsiwa,

his youngest brother, stood over him and chanted the soothing yet sad

dirge-rite, and he, too, wept and bowed his head; but presently he

lifted his face and, as a gleeful child, his children joining, cajoled

the silent K‘yäk´lu to sit him down in the great soft litter they did

bear for him.

 

 

HOW THE K´YEMÄSHI BORE K‘YÄK´LU TO THE COUNCIL OF THE GODS.

 

Then lifting it on their shoulders, they bore it lightly, singing

loudly as they went, to the shores of the deep black lake, where

gleamed from the middle the lights of the dead.

 

Uprose at this point, the Sálamopia Tém‘hlanahna or of all the six

regions, led by the leader of them all and taking K‘yäk´lu on their

shoulders, they in turn bore him out over the water to the magic ladder

of rushes and canes which reared itself high out of the water; and

K‘yäk´lu, scattering sacred prayer-meal before him, stepped down the

way, slowly, like a blind man, descending a skyhole. No sooner had he

taken four steps than the ladder lowered into the deep; and lo! his

light was instant darkened.

 

But when the Sálamopia of the regions entered the central sitting place

of the Kâ´kâ with K‘yäk´lu, Shúlawitsi lifted his brand on high and

swinging it, lighted the fires anew, so that K‘yäk´lu saw again with

fulness of sight and so that they shone on all the gods and soul-beings

therein assembled, revealing them. Yea, and through the windows and

doorways of all the six chambers encircling, and at each portal, the

Sálamopia of the region it pertained and led unto took his station.

And Páutiwa, and his warriors the bluehorned Saía‘hliawe, and the tall

Sháalako-kwe, yea, and all the god-priests of the regions six, those

who are told of without omission in the speech of K‘yäk´lu and in other

speeches of our ancient talk, bade K‘yäk´lu welcome, saying, "Comest thou, son?" "Yea," he replied. "Verily then," said Páutiwa--