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Shamans of Old
In a modest sized Indian village, known as Zuñi in the western part of
what was to eventually become the Territory of New Mexico in the late fall
of what could be best estimated only by the timing of later events, it was
the year of our Lord 1774. The
proud people of this tightly knit village could hear the awful wailings of
one of its grown men that had just lost his most beloved and cherished hom
Citta (his wife/woman in the Zuni language) to a strange and foreign
fever over which he was so hopelessly rendered powerless to cure.
This great Zuni Medicine Man, that was so highly revered throughout
this indigenously inhabited and ancient territory, was well known by the
name of Naiyutchi. Many of
the Zuni simply referred to him as “the Great One.”
He was totally and emotionally decimated by this sudden and
certainly untimely death and his heart was heavily burdened with the
gruesome thoughts that he now had to live the rest of his existence
without the love of his life and the mother to his three grown daughters.
Mulakáe, as Naiyutchi’s beloved hom
Citta (wife), had become in the lengthy time of their matrimonial
union the eldest woman of their long-established households, and as such,
naturally left a tremendous emptiness that affected the entire extended
family. At that crucial
moment in his otherwise charmed and flourishing life of some forty-seven
years, Naiyutchi possessed but one nagging regret and that was the
involuntary absence of a son (hom ·akcek·i)
to whom he could pass on his immense skills and acquired knowledge as
perhaps one of the most accomplished of all Zuni Medicine Men.
These persistent feelings of real regret were certainly something
of a very personal and spiritual nature, but for Naiyutchi, who had
dedicated his entire life to the service of his Zuni nation, there was far
more to this picture. Naiyutchi
was most concerned that for the generations of Zunis to follow, there just
might not be a Medicine Man
available that could satisfy the deeper spiritual needs of the Zuni in the
same passionate and loving manner that he had come to expect of himself.
Even after the birth of his three daughters and his profound
realization that he wasn’t apt to ever have a son, he never had cause or
the opportunity to ever recruit another qualified candidate to whom he
could have imparted his vastly acquired knowledge of the Zuni healing
arts. Naiyutchi had simply never happened upon another Zuni
brother that possessed what he felt were the necessary qualities required
to live the life of a gifted Medicine Man and serve his Zuni people
unselfishly. Naiyutchi was
initially uncontrollably fixated with these troublesome thoughts, but the
continuing demands for his unique skills soon displaced this obsession and
he continued dedicating his time to the needs of others.
With
Naiyutchi having no longer the usual obligations of a home life, would
often avoid returning home in the evenings.
If he had been visiting one of the nearby farming villages and
found the company pleasant, he would often remain days beyond his expected
stay and being of the great reputation that he had acquired, he was always
welcomed and well cared for in all of his earthly needs.
What was always closest to his desires was that in spending some
time with some of the younger boys of the families that he visited, he
just might encounter that special child that he could take under his wing
and teach the ways of a Zuni Medicine man.
It just seemed to have never happened, but the possibility and hope
that it just might occur during one of those extended visits kept
Naiyutchi very focused and content to be away from his own surrounding.
Being home was sometimes painful as it brought to mind all the good
times that he had shared with Mulakáe whom he had never regretted for not
bearing him a hom ·akcek·i with whom he could share all that he had learned.
In all of these visits it was never disclosed to a single soul any
of his most inner turmoil. Naiyutchi’s
heart remained true to its first passion and devotion to loving his own
people beyond the call of any duty as repeatedly demonstrated by his
always being there for any of them in their greatest times of need.
In a strange way, this was the great Medicine Man’s own salvation
not to abandon his first call and in time, this greater resolve rewarded
Naiyutchi far beyond his greatest expectations.
With
what seemed like the rapid passing of two rather harsh winters, Naiyutchi
was finally emerging from his great loss and the accompanying depression
when he encountered a beautiful and slightly younger woman that had
recently lost her hom tačču
(her husband) unexpectedly. This
exceptional Zuni woman for reasons unknown had born no children to her
union and was thus left very much alone with the loss of her hom
tačču. It was at a spring
ceremony that this Zuni woman’s sister had insisted that she attend
because one of it leading participants, the great Naiyutchi, might
just take notice of her and be sympathetic to her loss since he was also
recently widowed. This
encouraged but certainly welcomed relationship was as though they both had
found in each other a passionate love that they had both once experienced
and then so tragically lost. Poškake
(golden eagle), the name of this recently widowed Zuni woman, was part of
the Zuni Piččike Clan (Dogwood) and it didn’t require the
usual courtship for the two of them to decide that they could enjoy their
remaining years together in a joyous manner that neither of them ever
expected following their losses. Before
the summer had passed the two joined forces and even though it wasn’t
the usual way of the Zuni for the woman to move into the household of her hom
tačču, Poškake tactfully and in a very gracious manner
assumed the position of Citta cašši (oldest woman/sibling) that had been left so
noticeably unoccupied with that sudden death of Mulakáe.
The new couple was happy in their newfound union and with only the
passing of only a full year of seasons they found themselves the parents
of a healthy and rather precocious son that Naiyutchi insisted on naming
Popé in honor of a great leader of the Pueblo revolt.
Poškake, being one of the few remaining Zunis that was still
tentatively faithful to the Roman Catholic Church had insisted that their
newborn son be taken to a nearby Catholic priest for what was considered
proper and necessary christening. It
had always been the practice of the Catholic Church in those days, in
their concerted and evangelistic effort to fully convert the Pueblo
Indians to Christianity, to assign Spanish Christian names and thus Popé
was given the name of Antonio. Beyond
that day of his christening the name Antonio was never uttered.
Naiyutchi
was extremely happy with the birth of a hom
·akcek·i (son) that he had always desired; it was truly a gift far
beyond his greatest expectations and he felt that perhaps this was a fate
that was always in the making, but just not ever fully revealed for
whatever the reason. Naiyutchi
trusted that this was as it should be in its own time and as soon as the
child was able to walk and have any command of his first words of the Zuni
language, Naiyutchi began his dedicated and tedious instruction that would
later qualify Popé for his initiation as a Zuni Medicine Man.
Naiyutchi was an initiated member of ·anše·kwe,
the Bear Clan and as that infamous Medicine Man, his family was held in
the highest regard. Any child
was naturally made a member of the clans to which he was born—more often
than not, the mother’s clan, as was usually the case.
Nearly every resident of the Zuñi village as well as other
Medicine Men in other nearby villages shared in the intensive and
wholesome training of Popé, knowing that he would likely become the chief
Medicine Man for all of the Zuni. The Zuni were in many ways, particularly in the matters of
the home life, matriarchal and Poškake’s family clan, the Piččike
took particular pride and care to see that Popé was well cared for and
nourished. Popé was
naturally blessed with every advantage that could have been made possible
in those days of countless hardships.
Popé, from the very beginning became the greatest pride and joy of
both Naiyutchi’s and Poškake’s clans particularly as his developing
skills as a potential spiritual healer began to manifest themselves in his
early teens. This was none too soon, as Naiyutchi’s health and stamina
was beginning to fail and he was, after all, approaching his sixtieth
year, an age that many Zunis never achieved in those early days. It was as though the ailing Naiyutchi had intentionally
invested all his remaining life energies into the sole care and training
of Popé, leaving none for himself to go on living.
This last singular mission and great passion of Naiyutchi’s
already full and fruitful life was to imbue his gifted son with every bit
of wisdom that he had accumulated during his own life; a life of giving to
others through, amongst his other gifts, his understanding and powerful
use of the natural medicines that this ·awitelin
citta, Mother
Earth had so miraculously provided the Zuni people.
Popé
had reached and was well into his eighteenth year in this Garden of Eden
when his father’s spirit had finally returned to the earth from which it
was known to have originated. Popé had been prepared for this eventual day for a number of
years, so his brief experience with grief didn’t prevent him from taking
up his inherited healing duties as the foremost Medicine Man in Zuñi at
the very point and just where his father’s life and spiritual vocation
had ended. Even though Popé
was very much a part of Poškake’s clan, the pičči·kwe,
the Dogwood Clan for much of his earlier life, when Naiyutchi died Popé
withdrew from the pičči·kwe
altogether
and sought entrance into and gained full acceptance as a part of
the ancestral clan of his departed father, the ·anše·kwe, the Bear Clan. Popé
had been so welcomed and respected as Zuni’s new Medicine Man at even
this tender age that he soon became one of its more revered brothers and
was always offered a seat in the position of some recognized prominence. Popé very easily and quickly became a respected and valued
leader of the Zuni.
It
was less than the passing of two harvests that Popé had met his own hom
Citta. Tekkâke and her
family were prominent members of the tonaši·kwe, the Badger Clan, which was fortunate for Popé, since it was
usually obligatory by custom to marry outside of one’s own clan.
As was the more common matrimonial convention of the Zuni, Popé
would often sneak into the bed of Tekkâke in Tekkâke’s mother’s home
and be faithfully gone undetected before the sun should rise the next
morning. These intentionally
and accepted secret encounters
all began in the days following the harvest, so the nights were
considerably longer in this season of time and this nocturnal matrimonial
ritual lasted throughout the cold winter months. It was in the earliest time of that ensuing spring that Popé’s
hom Citta, Tekkâke, in the Zuni
tradition, ground some corn to be given as a gift to her future
mother-in-law, Poškake. It
was rather soon thereafter following the presentation of this gifted corn
of romantic nourishment that Popé presented Tekkâke to his mother, who
returned a gift of corn in the same manner as a show of acceptance.
It is usual in the Zuni tradition that the couple then returns to
the bride’s home where the man then leaves the bride’s house the next
day after sunrise so that those conjugal visits are no longer a secret
and it becomes apparent to all as to whom the woman has ultimately
accepted as her own hom tačču. The
new husband would then return later that same day to what was then
considered his new home near the evening mealtime and shares the evening
meal with the rest of the bride’s family for the first time.
With all of this having taken place, the marriage is considered
confirmed.
Popé
and Tekkâke followed the usual tradition of living with the wife’s
family following the Zuni courtship and union, but only did so for only a
rather short period of time. The
couple soon returned to Popé’s home mostly because it had become
well-known to the Zuni as the “Home of the Medicine Man” and Popé was
rather anxious to continue in his father’s footsteps as closely as
possible, and most importantly, in that same familiar dwelling that was
built upon what he knew had become commonly recognized as sacred ground
over the many years of its occupancy by several Medicine Men.
Many of the Zuni Indians had affectionately referred to the rather
modest dwelling as a place of
healing. No one in the
village of Zuñi had ever questioned the rather apparent reasoning for
this otherwise unconventional change in Popé and Tekkâke’s residence,
and of some importance to the healing household itself; Popé’s now
widowed mother, Poškake was more than grateful to have living in her
home, hom ·ulani (her
daughter-in-law) to help with the extensive daily chores required of Zuni
women in maintaining the household.
Popé
and Tekkâke settled into their new home without any of the usual
personal/familial adjustments since everyone in the household was more
than a welcomed participant of all the many and various activities,
particularly those centered on Popé’s enthusiastic continuation of
being the Zuni’s most important Medicine Man.
Tekkâke and her family being members of the tonaši·kwe,
the Badger Clan, was equally helpful to Popé because that particular clan
was more involved with the tika·we,
the curing societies than most of the other active Zuni clans.
Tekkâke’s initial involvement with and interest in Popé was in
large part due to her own family’s history with their going to that very
special place of healing on a number of occasions and having become so familiar with both
of Popé’s parents, Naiyutchi and Poškake.
The
village of Zuñi was built on the site of an earlier Zuni settlement
previously known as Halona. Halona was just one of some six known Zuni
settlements/villages that had existed when Spanish conquistadors and their
accompanying Franciscan priests had first discovered these peaceful-living
Indians in 1536. Halona,
which later became known as Zuñi, was situated on a small tributary that
emptied its refreshing waters into what is now known as the Little
Colorado River. The locals
appropriately acknowledged this small tributary as the Zuni River since it
flowed right through their village. Popé followed this little tributary eastwardly on one very
hot and sultry summer day to a familiar wide bend, which was thickly
covered in underbrush and hovered over by some towering old and thriving
cottonwood trees. It was that
first summer when Popé had just taken his hom
Citta, Tekkâke, back to his own ancestral home.
Being well out of sight of any other Zunis and believing that he
had absolute solitude, Popé decided to wash his clothing at the river’s
rocky edge and then cool his naked body off with a refreshing dip in the
deeper portions of the rather small river, which he more than quickly
accomplished after laying out his clothes to dry in the hot sun.
It was just around this familiar bend in the Zuni River that the
water had over a long period of time washed out an even-deeper section,
and this young and vigorous Popé deciding he would take advantage of this
rather private moment on this
hot day, splashed around like a child and join the River’s resident fish
at their deepest point.
Popé
was pleasantly astonished to fine another naked body just around that
blinded bend in the river. That other bathing body had apparently not taken any notice
of his presence as they had been equally confident that they were both
alone in their private adventure and this other bathing Zuni was equally
startled to have discovered another naked body in those cool waters.
It was a young maiden who herself had recently accepted into her
mother’s home her own hom tačču who was a member of the lesser know k·ak·ali·kwe,
the Eagle Clan. This young,
exposed and bathing maiden was known as Šumahanni and her hom
tačču went by the name of Tonašike.
They were from the Zuni village of Pescado, which was not too
distant to the east from this bend in the river.
Both
of these young Zunis initially blushed at their surprised encounter, and
in such an unaffected and perhaps even coy manner that appeared as natural
as their mutual nakedness, they began talking as though they had know each
other for some time. They
both tactfully ignored each other’s nakedness as well as the exchange of
names as though they didn’t actually exist, but in the course of their
light conversation they couldn’t help but to begin exchanging rather
friendly and inquisitive glances at each other’s youthful, fully exposed
and rather seductively wet bodies. As
the very nature of this quintessential situation would have had it, they
in due time became quite passionate and intimately entwined in each
others’ arms to the point of a pleasurable physical exhaustion, and all
of this was no doubt accompanied by the desired-imagined knowledge that
their rather exciting, innocent and certainly unprompted and most intimate
encounter would likely be somehow ceremonially washed away by the very
cleansing nature of these cool waters of the Zuni River.
They both soon departed this instantaneous and surely pleasurable
encounter without any backward glances and totally void of any feelings of
culpability or remorse, as was the nature of most Zuni individuals in
these matters, and returned to their own committed spouses as though this
delightful and amorous event had never even taken place.
Šumahanni
soon found herself with child and since she had recently taken Tonašike
as hom tačču, there
was no need for any suspicion that the child she was carrying within her
womb was anyone else’s except that of her hom tačču. In
fact the anticipated pregnancy was more than joyously welcomed and
certainly exciting for everyone in Šumahanni’s family as was the
expectation of any Zuni child. It
was roughly five days following the second full moon of spring of the
following year that Šumahanni had given birth to a healthy girl, hom
kacik·i (my female
child), that she had promptly named Šumačale.
Šumahanni knew without any doubt that this unusually beautiful and
healthy child was the sole creation of her chance sexual encounter at that
bend in the Zuni River, and even though she experienced no actual feelings
of guilt, Šumahanni still wanted her newly-born daughter to have any
possible benefit that might insure that hom
kacik·i, Šumačale, would not ever have to pay for her
mother’s youthful and innocent indiscretion.
Be aware that in the Zuni tradition there simply doesn’t exists
that ignominious concept of an “illegitimate child” since any child is
initially welcomed and taken into the ceremonial clan of the mother
without any questions as to whom the child’s father might have actually
been. This is not very unlike
the same lack of paternal consideration given to Hebrew children in that
older society; there’s never any doubt in either of these matriarchal
cultures as to who bore the child! In
any case, Šumahanni’s clan, the towa·kwe, the Corn Clan welcomed this beautiful child with the usual
promise of gifts from that year’s fall harvest.
Šumahanni
had been partially schooled in the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church
by one of the local Franciscan priests and in her own naïve understanding
of the Christian concept of original sin, she imagined that christening
her innocent daughter would somehow protect her from any unforeseen
ill-fate. Šumahanni had
heard from other Zuni villagers that the Catholic Diocese to the east of
Zuñi was just finishing the addition of a one-story convento (monastery)
for the Friars of one of their larger churches.
This church was located in a small village known as Albuquerque
that was situated on the Rio Grande River.
This church had been initially established and a sanctuary built
somewhere around the year of 1706. Later
during a rather rainy summer in 1772 its roof had finally succumbed to age
and simply collapsed under the weight, requiring the reconstruction of a
new sanctuary the following year. This
very latest addition was receiving a great deal of attention throughout
the Diocese and there had been talk of plans for a grand celebration at
the new convento’s dedication, which was to take place that very spring.
Even though the distance to this village by the ‘great river’
was then considered rather excessive and certainly treacherous in those
days, Šumahanni had stubbornly insisted that she and hom
kacik·i (her daughter) be taken there for that ceremonially cleansing christening. The Zuni had within their own religious beliefs system the
distinct impression that washing in one of ·awitelin
citta, Mother Earth’s rivers or other known sources of water
from the earth, like that of a spring, was the ritualistic way of
‘washing away’ anything considered bad which may have needed to be
eliminated from one’s life. Tonašike,
the child’s perceived father, on the other hand was amongst those many
Zunis that had maintained absolutely no love or respect for the unwanted
presence of the Roman Catholic Church and particularly some of the
heavy-handed antics of its more aggressive priests, and he was most
definitely not given to Šumahanni’s rather potentially costly yearning
to make that dangerous trudge to the east; so it was eventually Šumahanni’s
older brother, Koškáti who willingly and in some intuitively knowing
manner joined his sister in this rather untimely pilgrimage to the village
of Albuquerque. This was an adventure to a distant part of the country far
beyond the commonly known bounds of Zuni that was also quite foreign to
the both of them except in legend.
The
two departed within a month of the birth of hom
kacik·i and arrived in Albuquerque at high noon in the middle of the
week, after having experienced some difficulty crossing the Rio Grand
River. They arrived only to
find that the local priests did not understand their strange Zuni
language. Šumahanni
experienced sort of a mild resistance on the parts of some of these
priests, as they were obviously a little taken and noticeably irritated at
a stranger making some unintelligible request.
There was certainly an atmosphere of unspoken tensions surrounding
the newly completed convento at the Iglesia (church) of San Felipe de
Neri. A goodly portion of the
tension was no doubt due to the fact that the priests and their newly
constructed building were being inspected that very day by the
Spanish Governor, Fernando de la Concha, who had just recently arrived
from La Ciudad de Santa Fe de San Francisco; better known as simply
“Santa Fe.” It finally
became apparent to some of the priests as to just why Šumahanni and her
brother had made this treacherous journey with such a young infant from
afar, and a kindly Father Antonio de Gaza eventually christened her infant
daughter, Šumačale, and assigned to her the Christian name, Raquel.
Father Antonio then wrote out a little certificate in his own hand,
bearing that Christian name of Raquel, made some reference to the Gospel
of San Mateo (Matthew) as the source of Šumačale’s given Christian
name, recorded the date of the christening (1798),
placed it in a crude little envelope and gave it to Šumahanni.
The two very exhausted Zunis with the infant child in arms then
spent that night just outside of the small village along side the Rio
Grande River, which Šumahanni found to be visibly larger than anything
ever imaginable. The night
was cool, the stars seem to be much brighter than they had even been
perceived before and along with the soothing sounds of the river’s
movement and some rather noisy cicadas, and Šumahanni experienced an
inner peace that she had never known was possible.
She felt that she owed all of this grand wonderment to the exciting
birth of her first child and daughter, Šumačale, who had so
mysteriously brought her to this strange and enchanted distance-land and
had generously gifted her with this intense sense of serenity.
Šumahanni and Koškáti had awakened to the melodic sound of birds
very early the next morning and then immediately departed on their
beleaguering journey home to their own modest farming community, Pescado,
that was located just east of Zuñi on that same tributary, the Zuni
river; a small river that would never henceforth seem as magnificent as
this newly-discovered Rio Grande.
Šumahanni
and her devotedly loving brother returned to an obviously subdued
atmosphere in the home. Tonašike
was not at all pleased at his wife having made this certainly treacherous
journey against his better judgment, and as a result, he never really
participated in the rearing of Šumačale to the degree that he later
showed to his two other children. Besides
Tonašike’s great displeasure with the Roman Catholic Church and its
strange and foreign teachings, Šumahanni and her brother had taken a
great physical risk in that there were regular raids on the Zuni villages
and often random attacks on most any travelers by marauding Indians like
that of the Apache and Navajo. It
just wasn’t a safe time to be too far from the protection of the
family’s clan and other Zunis. In
any case, Šumačale was still enthusiastically accepted by her
mother’s clan, whom in very short order perceived that this special
child as very possibly possessing some quite unusual spiritual powers.
Šumačale’s name was so closely related to her mother’s
name that in order to avoid any confusion it wasn’t too long before the
child was being more affectionately addressed with the use of her
Christian name of Raquel. This
suggested change in the name from Šumačale to Raquel was mostly due
to the loving encouragement of Šumahanni’s own towa·kwe
(Corn Clan) members.
Raquel
had an unusually healthy childhood having been carefully reared as part of
one of the more productive farming communities where her entire family
would often remain even in the winter months.
Most of the other families would return to the safety of the larger
village of Zuñi for the winter. Her mother and grandmother shared in the teaching of Raquel
about all of the usual skills of maintaining a traditional Zuni household.
Raquel, being the bright child that she was, more often than not,
learned to perform nearly everything even better than either of her
maternal teachers. One of the
best parts of Raquel’s rather extensive education was from kaka
(mother’s brother), the oldest brother of Tonašike and the same loving
brother that had so willingly accompanied Raquel and her mother to that
unknowingly fortuitous christening in the village of Albuquerque.
This unusually strong-minded Zuni man because of his strong respect
for and attraction to the Zuni healing arts had changed his Kiva group and
clan from the one to which he was born.
It was in Koškáti’s new clan, the tonaši·kwe, the Badger Clan that he had also become quite active with a tikanne,
a curing society known as šiwana·kwe.
It was the direct result of Koškáti’s enthusiastic
participation in this particular tikanne that he had acquired such an extensive knowledge and
understanding of the many natural remedies that came from the abundant and
generous ·awitelin citta, Earth
Mother. Coincidentally, this
was the very same clan as Tekkâke’s, Popé’s loving hom
citta. There were a rather large variety of useful indigenous
herbs in that particular region of Zuni and most specifically in the
mountains that lay just to the east and slightly north of another Zuni
farming community known to some as Nutria.
Nutria was about as far to the east and north of Pescado,
Raquel’s village, as Pescado was from Zuñi.
Raquel’s
most affectionate maternal uncle (in Zuni the word for uncle is kaka), Koškáti was quite aware that his brother-in-law was not as
attentive to his otherwise expected paternal care of his daughter, Raquel,
and sort of willingly, even enthusiastically, stepped in and substituted
for his brother-in-law’s failings.
When kaka (uncle in Zuni), the name that Raquel would affectionately use
to address Koškáti, had the additional time available, he would make it
a point to include Raquel when he was instructing his own hom ·akcek·i (son), Popékâke
all that he had been learning from the Medicine Men of his own Badger
Clan. Popékâke
was roughly two years older than Raquel
and this most favored son of kaka
became her best friend and playmate during most of her childhood.
Popékâke was
destined to become a Zuni Medicine Man and even though his own
father had not been raised in that tradition, Koškáti had these lofty
aspirations for his son from the day he was born, which accounts for the
name he had chosen. Popékâke
was sort a hybrid of “Popé,” that young and up and coming Medicine
Man of Zuñi and a variation of the latter portion of his own name, Koškáti.
When
Raquel was considered old enough, soon after she had turned ten, Koškáti
would often take her and Popékâke to those eastern mountains and share with them what he
had learned from the Medicine Men about the various herbs that were
growing in the more moist and higher elevations of what is now know as the
Zuni Mountains. Between
Raquel’s very first journey to the Rio Grande River when she was but an
infant and then her several trips to those eastern mountains with Koškáti
and his son, she must have developed some innate instinct that would
naturally draw her spiritual attentions towards the east.
Whether she was with her uncle in the mountains or at home, Raquel
would often spend the first part of the night just gazing towards the
eastern sky as though she was anxiously waiting for some sign from those
dark mysterious heavens. Her
interests in the eastern skis weren’t limited to the evening hours.
Whenever she had awakened before the sun had risen, Raquel was
nearly always facing towards the east so that she could ceremonially greet
the sun as soon as it had come from behind the earth’s eastern edge.
It was fortunate for Raquel that she grew up in a land that had
such clear skies for the most part. That
rising sun would magically signal to her the start of a new day and she
marveled at the idea that the sun had so miraculously survived that
night’s traveling far beneath the ground through so much water and then
was able to so miraculously come up through even more water, that great
ocean to the east, without having lost any of its fiery ‘light’ to the
darkness of the nadir.
It
was only Koškáti that would so often and willingly explore these
unusually creative flights of fantasy of Raquel’s rather all-embracing
and active imagination, as it was Koškáti who would likewise
enthusiastically share with her the numerous Zuni religious teachings and
tribal myths. It sometimes
appeared that Koškáti had even more concern for the education of Raquel than perhaps his own son, Popékâke, but this was only part of his resolve to insure that Raquel
would not suffer the partial lack of her own father’s absent attentions.
The particular Zuni
myth that probably best explains Raquel’s fascination with the suns mysterious disappearance
beneath the earth’s surface is the one in which the Zuni explain that
there are four great oceans that are in the four directions and surrounds
the land of the Zuni are all inter-connected beneath the earth in an
enormous labyrinth of subterranean waterways.
These under-ground rivers are considered the very sources for our
earth’s rivers and springs that are enjoyed by those “day people”
who occupy the space above the ground.
Koškáti would also mention on some occasions that there were
sacred/mystical lands that are known to lie somewhere to the far east and
this is where it is told that the spirits of the Zuni priests and Medicine
Men would reside after they had left their mortal bodies.
Raquel would sometimes ask Koškáti if they could ever venture to
this sacred place someday and actually make contact with some of those
departed spirits. This was one of those innocent requests that was so difficult
to actually respond to since so much of what was conveyed in these orally
transmitted Zuni myths weren’t always based on some individual’s
personal or actual experiences, nor were there ever any actual attempts
made to visit these mystical ‘places’ in the flesh as they were often
perceived as only a destination for departed souls; much liken to some of
us who so easily and faithfully believe in that mythological heaven that
has never actually been seen or experienced by any mortal man.
Membership in
the curing societies was usually open to both the men and women, but it
wasn’t known that any of the Zuni women ever assumed that often and more
revered role of a Medicine Man. In
any case, Raquel became quite familiar with the happenings of her
uncle’s tikanne
(curing society), and when she had become a young woman she also
joined the same tikanne as that of kaka,
her uncle Koškáti. This
coincided with Popékâke’s own
entrance into the society; it often appeared that Raquel wanted
to more than equal every accomplishment that her papa (mother’s
brother’s son) might possibly achieve, not that there was even any
really serious rivalry. It
was customary for most of Zuni woman to take their own hom tačču, usually not much later than their sixteenth or
seventeenth year, but as for Raquel, being so exceptionally bright and
gifted, she didn’t have any of the local Zuni men seeking her intimate
company even though she was quite attractive like her mother. In fact, it was suggested by her mother that Raquel
just possibly came across to many of the young Zuni men as having a
“superior attitude” in place of that more traditional and acceptable
posture of a submissive woman. Although
Raquel wasn’t the oldest woman in her own household, her exuberant
presence quickly became the dominant maternal force and many of the
home’s activities were conducted under her caring, loving yet tactful
guidance. Šumahanni had no
objections to her favored daughter assuming this lead in the house since
it relieved her of so many of the usual weighty responsibilities of the
Zuni’s heavily-burdened matriarchal system.
Raquel had always been more than just a daughter to Šumahanni, and
as such, never attempted to displace her mother in the most essential
parts of her traditional matriarchal privileges.
If any young Zuni woman had ever achieved a more prominent
reputation in the Zuni community, it was Raquel, and when she would visit
Zuñi, which she would quite often do throughout the year, she was always
warmly and respectfully greeted by all that she would encounter,
particularly the women that were or would soon to become the heads of
their own households. Raquel
had become a sort of cherished role model with the other young Zuni women
who respected the independent manner in which Raquel
would present herself, especially the appearance that she was not confined
to that usual domestic role in even her own household.
And, Raquel would
just as likely be in the company of other young men as she would with the
young women, not seeking any romance, but usually sharing in their more
broad experiences and customary knowledge that weren’t always shared
with Zuni women. She was
often taken and accepted as “just one of the boys” and never with the
loss of any of her more feminine qualities particularly since she was so
unusually striking.
Raquel’s continued fascination with the Zuni healing arts, her
extremely active participation in the tikanne
and her acquired and extensive knowledge of indigenous herbs from her
uncle was likely the reasons that her most popular household to visit in
Zuñi was the dwelling of the great Zuni Medicine Men; that sacred place
of healing. Raquel became
very closely acquainted with both Popé and Tekkâke.
Tekkâke was most particularly impressed that this young vibrant
woman was so broadly talented and resourceful as well as possessing a
most-radiant outward beauty that most certainly reflected a more than
well-grounded spirituality that observably permeated the very deepest
portions of Raquel’s entire being.
Neither Popé nor Tekkâke had any clue as to the blood
relationship of Raquel to his or her own family.
Popé had completely dismissed and forgotten, probably from that
very instant on very fateful day, of his fairly brief yet intensely sexual
encounter with a young Zuni woman at that most familiar bend in the Zuni
River. Popé and Šumahanni
were certainly intimate on that auspicious day, but they had both failed
to utter even their own names or relinquish any other revealing
information that would have later identified either of them.
The fact that Šumahanni had persistently remained at the farming
community much of her married life accounts for the fact that the two of
them never had encountered the other (at least with clothes on☺)
despite the otherwise closeness of the Zuni people in general and most
particularly the well-known and popular personage of Popé. |
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