YOU ARE
HERE

Contents

Preface                                                                    vi

Prologue                                                                  ix

  01  Awakening                                                        01

 02  Groundwork                                                      23

 03  Enter the Bear                                                   36

 04  Dream Worlds                                                   67

 05  Shamans of Old                                                  72

 06  The Apprentice                                                   92

 07  Discoveries                                                        103

 08  The Arrival of Spring                                        118

 09  Šipa·puli·ma Found                                           131

 10  Sacred Offerings                                                153

 11  The Messenger                                                   171

 12  Zuńi Bound                                                       189

 13  Commemorations                                              209

 14  Encounters                                                         225

15  The Pilgrimage                                                   246

16  Powerful Medicine                                             270

17  After the Fact                                                     290

18  Synopsis of the Age of Reality                          302

 Shamans' Genealogy                                              309

"Dancing With Sunsets"

       Shamans of Old

          In a modest sized Indian village known as Zuńi, in the western part of what was to eventually become the Territory of New Mexico, in the late fall of what could best be 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 a man that had just lost his most beloved and cherished hom Citta (wife) to a strange and foreign fever over which he was hopelessly rendered powerless to cure.  This great Zuni Medicine Man was highly revered throughout this indigenously inhabited and ancient territory, and was known by the name of Naiyutchi.  Many of the Zuni simply referred to him as “the Great One.”  But 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, 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 47 years, Naiyutchi, besides the great sorrow for the loss of his loved one, possessed but one nagging regret, and that was the involuntary absence of a son (hom ·akcek·i) to whom he could have passed on his immense skills and acquired knowledge as perhaps one of the most accomplished of all Zuni Medicine Men.  These persistent feelings of regret were certainly something of a personal and spiritual nature, but for Naiyutchi, who had dedicated his entire life to the service of his Zuni nation, he was most concerned that for the generations of Zunis to follow, there just might not be a Medicine Man.  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 opportunity to ever recruit another qualified candidate; 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 fixated on these troublesome thoughts, but the continuing demands for his unique skills soon displaced this obsession, and he eventually returned to dedicating his time to the needs of others.

          With Naiyutchi having no longer the usual obligations of a home life, he 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; because of his great reputation, he was always welcomed and well cared for in all of his earthly needs.  What was always closest to his desires was to spend some time with the younger boys of the families that he visited, hoping that 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 never seemed to happen, but the possibility and hope that it might occur during one of those extended visits kept Naiyutchi very focused and content to be away from his own surrounding.  Besides, being home was sometimes painful, as it brought to mind all the good times that he had shared with Mulakáe.  In all of these visits, he never disclosed to a single soul any of his most inner turmoil.  Naiyutchi’s heart remained true to its first passion and devotion of loving his own people beyond the call of any duty.  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 expectations.

          After 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 (husband) unexpectedly.  This Zuni woman had dedicated herself to the care of the elderly of her village and had earned the respect that is usually reserved for a Zuni man.  This woman of exceptional stature for reasons unknown had born no children to her union and was thus left very much alone with the loss of her hom tačču.  This Zuni woman’s sister had insisted that she attend a spring ceremony 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. 

          The ensuing relationship was as though they both had recovered 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 couple was happy in their newfound union, and with only the passing of one 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, 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 to newborn babies, and thus Popé was also given the name of Antonio.  But beyond that day of his christening, the name Antonio was never uttered.

          Naiyutchi was extremely happy with the birth of the hom ·akcek·i that he had always desired; he felt that perhaps this was a fate that had always been in the making, but just not ever fully revealed.  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 towards initiation as a Zuni Medicine Man. 

          Naiyutchi was an initiated member of ·anše·kwe, the Bear Clan, and as the infamous Medicine Man, his family was held in the highest regard.  Nearly every resident of the Zuńi village, as well as other Medicine Men in 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 be made possible in those days of countless hardships. 

          Popé 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 as he approached 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 and an 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 body and spirit finally returned to the earth.  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 Zuńi.  Even though Popé was very much a part of Poškake’s clan, the pičči·kwe, when Naiyutchi died Popé withdrew from the pičči·kwe altogether and sought entrance into and gained full acceptance as a member 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. 

          It was less than the passing of two harvests that Popé 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 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 her mother’s home and be faithfully gone undetected before the sun rose the next morning.  These intentionally and accepted secret encounters all began in the days following the harvest, so the nights were considerably longer, 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.   Soon thereafter, 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 returns to the bride’s home where the man then leaves the bride’s house the next day after sunrise, so that the conjugal visits are no longer secret and it becomes apparent who the woman has accepted as her own hom tačču.  The new husband would return later that same day to what was then considered his new home near the evening mealtime and share 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 a 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 in the same familiar dwelling that 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 Zuńi had ever questioned the apparent reasoning for this otherwise unconventional change in Popé and Tekkâke’s residence, and Popé’s now widowed mother, Poškake, was more than grateful to have her hom ·ulani (daughter-in-law) living in her home to help with the extensive daily chores required of Zuni women.

          Popé and Tekkâke settled into their new home without any of the usual personal and familial adjustments.  Tekkâke and her family, being members of the tonaši·kwe, the Badger Clan, were equally helpful to Popé and his new role of the Zuni’s most important Medicine Man, 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, their trips 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 Zuńi was built on the site of an earlier Zuni settlement previously known as Halona.  Halona was just one of some six known Zuni settlements that had existed when Spanish conquistadors and their accompanying Franciscan priests first discovered arrived in 1536.  Halona, which later became known as Zuńi, 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. 

          The first summer after Popé had taken Tekkâke back to his ancestral home, he followed this little tributary east on one very hot and sultry summer day to a familiar wide bend, which was thickly covered in underbrush and hidden by some old, towering cottonwood trees.   Believing he was well out of sight of any other Zunis, 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 river.  It was just around this familiar bend in the Zuni River that the water had 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 to splash 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 bend in the river.  They had apparently 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.  The other Zuni was a young maiden who herself had recently accepted into her mother’s home her own hom tačču, a member of the lesser known k·ak·ali·kwe, Eagle Clan.  This young, exposed 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 far 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, wet bodies.  As the very nature of this quintessential situation would have had it, they in due time became quite passionate, and were finally intimately entwined in each other’s arms to the point of pleasurable physical exhaustion. All of this was no doubt accompanied by the desired-imagined knowledge that their 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, 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 exciting and more than joyously welcomed by 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 gave 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 she would never 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 who the child’s father might have actually been.  This is similar to the 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.

          But Šumahanni had been partially schooled in the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church by one of the local Franciscan priests, and in her own naďve 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 Zuńi 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, 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 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 bad which 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 not given to Šumahanni’s potentially costly yearning to make a dangerous trudge to the east, so it was eventually Šumahanni’s older brother, Koškáti, who willingly and in some intuitive manner joined his sister in the 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-- foreign to 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 were not at all familiar with their Zuni language.  Šumahanni noticed a mild resistance from some of these priests, as they were noticeably irritated at a stranger making unintelligible requests.

          There was certainly an atmosphere of unspoken tension 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 “Santa Fe.”  When it finally became apparent to some of the priests as to why Šumahanni and her brother had made this treacherous journey with such a young infant from afar, a kindly Father Antonio de Gaza eventually christened her infant daughter Šumačale, and assigned to her the Christian name of Raquel.  Father Antonio then wrote out a little baptismal certificate in his own hand bearing the 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 and infant child then spent that night just along 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, 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 brought her to this strange and enchanted distant land and had generously gifted her with this intense sense of serenity.  Šumahanni and Koškáti 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, located just east of Zuńi on a tributary of the Zuni river--a small river that would never henceforth seem as magnificent as this newly-discovered Rio Grande.

          Šumahanni and her devoted brother returned to an obviously subdued atmosphere in the home.  Tonašike was not at all pleased with his wife having made the 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 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, who perceived very early on that this special child must possess some quite unusual spiritual powers.  Because Šumačale’s name was so closely related to her mother’s name, the child was eventually called by her Christian name, Raquel. 

          Raquel had an unusually healthy childhood, having been carefully reared as part of one of the more productive farming communities.   While most of the other families would return to the safety of the larger village of Zuńi for the winter, Raquel’s entire family would often remain even in the winter months.  Her mother and grandmother taught Raquel all of the usual skills of maintaining a traditional Zuni household.  Raquel, being the bright child that she was, 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 (unbeknownst to them) 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 that he was born into.  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 result of Koškáti’s enthusiastic participation in this particular tikanne that he had acquired such extensive knowledge and understanding of the many natural remedies that came from the abundant and generous ·awitelin citta, Earth Mother.   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 as Nutria.  This most affectionate kaka, Koškáti, was quite aware that his brother-in-law was not very attentive to his daughter, Raquel, and willingly, even enthusiastically, stepped in and substituted for his brother-in-law’s failings.  When Kaka (uncle), the name that Raquel would affectionately use to address Koškáti, had time, he would 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 lofty aspirations for his son from the day he was born.  Even his name, Popékâke, was a hybrid of “Popé,” that young and up and coming Medicine Man of Zuńi, 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 the eastern mountains and share with them what he had learned from the Medicine Men about the various herbs that grew in the moist, 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 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.  But her interests in the eastern skies weren’t limited to the evening hours.  Whenever she awoke 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 edge.  It was fortunate for Raquel that she grew up in a land that had such clear skies.  That rising sun would magically signal to her the start of a new day, and she marveled at the idea that the sun had 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 explore these unusually creative flights of fantasy of Raquel’s, 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 his own son, Popékâke, but this was only part of his resolve to insure that Raquel would not suffer the lack of her own father’s attentions. 

          Because of her fascination with the skies, Raquel was particularly drawn to the Zuni myth that explain that there are four great oceans that lie in the four directions and surround the land of the Zuni, inter-connected beneath the earth in an enormous labyrinth of subterranean waterways.  These underground rivers are the sources for our earth’s rivers and springs that are enjoyed by the “day people” who occupy the space above the ground.  Koškáti also told Raquel that there were sacred, mystical lands that exist somewhere to the far east, and this is where it is told that the spirits of the Zuni priests and Medicine Men 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.  But so much of what was conveyed in these orally transmitted Zuni myths wasn’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. They were more perceived as only a destination for departed souls; much likened to 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, but there wasn’t any serious rivalry. 

          It was customary for most of Zuni woman to take their own hom tačču not much later than their sixteenth or seventeenth year, and even though Raquel was attractive like her mother, she was so exceptionally bright and gifted that she didn’t have any of the local Zuni men seeking her intimate company.  In fact, it was suggested by her mother that Raquel possibly came across to many of the young Zuni men as having a “superior attitude” in place of a 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.  But if any young Zuni woman had ever achieved a more prominent reputation in the Zuni community, it was Raquel, and when she would visit Zuńi, which she would often do throughout the year, she was always warmly and respectfully greeted by all, particularly the women that were or would soon 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 fact 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 learning from their more broad experiences and customary knowledge that wasn’t always shared with Zuni women.  She was often taken and accepted as “just one of the boys,” but never with the loss of any of her more feminine qualities.

          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 were likely the reasons that her favorite household to visit in Zuńi was the dwelling of the great Zuni Medicine Men, that sacred place of healing.  Raquel became very close with both Popé and Tekkâke.  Tekkâke was impressed that this young, vibrant woman was so talented and resourceful as well as possessing a radiant outward beauty that most certainly reflected a well-grounded spirituality. 

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, his brief yet intense sexual encounter with a young Zuni woman at that familiar bend in the Zuni River.  On that auspicious day, Popé and Šumahanni 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 and the well-known and popular personage of Popé.

 The Apprentice

 

Popé’s own great pride and joy, his first son, hom ·akcek·i, was born in the same year (1798) as Raquel, and Popé promptly named his son Kiasiwa, which was the name of Popé’s paternal grandfather--a great Zuni Medicine Man that Kiasiwa would never have the benefit of knowing personally.  Tekkâke was not at all unlike Šumahanni in that she had wanted her child to be christened by a Catholic priest, and this was promptly accomplished with far less effort and sacrifice and certainly with a lesser amount of resistance on the part of the child’s farther than the hardship-christening of Šumahanni’s Raquel.  The presence of the Franciscan priests and their struggling efforts at maintaining an effective mission was beginning to diminish somewhat in Zuńi, as the Zuni people themselves were never as easily taken with the Roman Catholic faith as many of the Pueblo Indians along the Rio Grande River.  Popé, being the exceedingly spiritual man that he had become, didn’t demonstrate any overt signs of resistance to his son’s proposed christening, and within just a couple of days of Kiasiwa’s birth, he was duly christened José.

There was little doubt from the very beginning that Kiasiwa was destined to become a Zuni Medicine Man, and just as his father before him, Popé commenced with Kiasiwa’s training as soon as the child started talking.  Popé and Tekkâke in time had two additional children, but it was only their daughter, who was born a little over three years following the birth of Kiasiwa, that survived infancy to become an adult.  Because Popé was so determined to have his son become a respected Medicine Man, Popé took almost the entire responsibility for rearing his most beloved hom ·akcek·i, while Tekkâke concentrated on their daughter and prepared her for the day when she might become the head of their household. 

Popé kept Kiasiwa at his side starting from the age of six and even took him on many of his curing missions and visitations to the surrounding farming settlements, except when there were threats of raids by either the marauding Apache or the looting common to the Navajo.  During these frequent trips, Popé would take his time and carefully teach Kiasiwa all about their unique environment as they traveled mostly on foot.  Popé would point out the more employable and available herbs that were indigenous to the area, and he showed his son the particular conditions under which some of these herbs best thrived.  Popé was constantly making reference to what time in the various seasons certain herbs were to be carefully harvested, and most importantly, Popé taught Kiasiwa respect for all of nature, beasts and plants equally. He repeatedly suggested that Kiasiwa should offer his helping hand to Mother Nature by harvesting and then sowing some of her more delicate seeds in other more suitable locales where they were more likely to successfully germinate.

The most important lesson, though, was the wisdom that had been imparted by Naiyutchi, perhaps the greatest of all Zuni Medicine Men.  Naiyutchi had always proclaimed that unless the heart of the Medicine Man was pure and full of love, the curing powers of ·awitelin citta, Earth Mother’s medicinal herbs and the Medicine Man’s spiritual chants, would be greatly weakened if not absent all together.  Popé had been taught that he had to show as much respect for the recipient of his powers as he showed for himself and other members of his own family and clan.  All were to be treated justly and equally.  This essential self-respect could only be fully realized from having the confidence and knowledge that he had actually learned a great deal during his apprenticeship and that he was willing to perform to his very maximum with every individual equally.  Popé was repeatedly reminded that he was to administer his medicine without making any discriminating or superfluous judgments.  In other words, the success of his most powerful medicine was the result of his ability to treat even the least of his neighbors with the same spiritual dignity as he would treat his own family.

These deeper understandings of one’s inner nature and intent were in many ways difficult to impart, because the Zuni language didn’t always possess the exact words to fully express or represent some of these more reflective spiritual and ideological concepts.  Popé, like his father before him, had imparted to Kiasiwa his greatest lessons in the simplest of Zuni terms, but most profoundly and more importantly he imparted this vast store of wisdom with the benefit of his often-exceptionally good show of loving actions and demonstrated example; one’s actions should speak so loudly, that no one should be able to hear your words.

In the absence of just the right word, there was always a loving act that more than justly communicated more than any word could have ever represented.

The greatest strength of these particular blood-related Zuni Medicine Men was the charitable love showed not only for their families but also for any of their Zuni neighbors.  And even more important was the equal care they gave to an injured or ailing stranger as well as to any wanton enemy, should the unseemly circumstances have ever presented themselves.  In the course of the 12 intensive years that Kiasiwa was constantly at his father’s side, just about every conceivable situation had manifested itself at least once. 

Most auspiciously, the very incident that no doubt had the greatest and most memorable impression on the young Kiasiwa occurred when he was only in his twelfth year.    It was late morning at the end of the hunting season, and Kiasiwa and his father were en route to the mountains just east of Zuńi to gather herbs and harvest some pińones (pine nuts) for the family.  It was on this particular occasion that Popé and Kiasiwa had come upon an Apache raiding party that had so unfortunately encountered a confusing and ill-fated situation.  Six members of this raiding party of some 10 or 12 Apache braves had instantaneously contracted some strange fever-like condition that was extremely painful to their bowels, and the entire party was rendered paralyzed by the inability of the stricken braves to make any physical moves at all, not even possessing the strength to return to their own safe settlement.  These Apaches had most probably even planned on raiding Zuńi later that day and taking stores of corn back to their own settlement until this strange sickness had seriously fraught their ill-begotten intentions.

Popé immediately recognized the rather serious predicament that these potentially hostile strangers to the Zuni land had inadvertently encountered.  These Apaches recognized Popé as a Medicine Man and knew that he was of no threat to their safe being, so they permitted these two Zuni Indians to approach their stricken party.  Popé observed some of the remnants of what they had obviously just eaten, and was aware that these Apaches were probably ignorant as to the adverse effects of some certain attractive and sometime tasty berries that grew wild in the immediate vicinity.  This stricken Apache raiding party was most fortunately not too far from a particular spring that Popé was most familiar with, and it would be the sour taste of this spring’s water that could easily induce vomiting without any further harm.  It was a simple fix for someone who was familiar with the problem, but to these unsuspecting Apaches, it was something of a needed miracle, a strange combination of timing and having encountered probably the only Zuni Medicine Man that was familiar with both the problem of eating forbidden berries and the rather simple solution of sour water.  And likewise, probably the only Zuni Medicine Man that had the unbiased compassion to actually aid these desperadoes in their time of need, despite the fact that others would have probably enjoyed their misery.  What made such an indelible impression on Kiasiwa was his father’s willingness to help even these desperate and potentially hostile Apaches that had so obviously harbored the ill intention to raid the Zuni, had they not been so inadvertently deterred by the forbidden golden berries.

The moral fiber and developing character of Kiasiwa was easily witnessed by anyone that might have had the chance to encounter him personally, and he was greatly appreciated for the benevolent yet modest manner in which he so often and routinely presented himself to anyone he ever encountered.  There was a compassionate confidence displayed not only through his physical stature itself but also in his soft-spoken but articulate manner.  Kiasiwa blossomed into a fine-looking man that stood a bit taller than even Popé; there was hardly one young women of the Zuńi village that didn’t show obvious signs of great admiration whenever Kiasiwa was present. 

Kiasiwa was so genuinely intent on following in the mystical ways of his father that he hardly took any real notice of the affectionate attention that was always being shown to him.  Even more amazing was the total lack of any reasonable recognition that this lovely Raquel, who had continued in her affectionate and attentive relationship with Kiasiwa’s parents, was equally enamored with Kiasiwa.  But of course Tekkâke was quite aware of Raquel’s growing affections for Kiasiwa, and in her own motherly manner even encouraged Raquel, hoping that she would one day become her most affectionate and loving ·ulani (daughter-in-law). 

On any number of Raquel’s rather increasingly frequent visits to the village of Zuńi from her own home in Pescado, Tekkâke would always relate the latest happenings in Kiasiwa’s life, and most particularly his continuing progress in becoming a Zuni Medicine Man.  And Raquel would make it a point to acquire additional knowledge to add to what her beloved Kaka had already taught her about the ways and herbs of the Zuni tika·we (curing societies).  All that Raquel actually lacked was that direct knowledge that could have only been gained by being at the very side of a Zuni Medicine Man like Popé, as was the good fortune of Kiasiwa. 

It was commonly understood and accepted that the Medicine Men of Zuni more often than not intuitively fulfilled an often unrecognizable but certainly irreplaceable function of a compassionate spiritual counselor, rather than that of some witch-doctor claiming to be in possession of metaphysical powers, having magical potions, and knowing just the right incantations to call forth those various departed spirits.  Popé’s very presence was an awe-inspiringly and purely fervent calming force that always seemed to emerge from somewhere hidden deep inside his compassionate soul.

         The wonderfully charismatic and ever-commanding presence of Popé repeatedly showed itself in his gifted and innate ability to empathize with almost anyone in any given and often very desperate situation.  This deeply spiritual nature that Popé often displayed could only be truly appreciated by personally witnessing his persona during one of his intense healing rituals.  By the time Popé was re-occupied with his own family and friends, following one of his more intensive sessions, he had already left far behind this engaging persona so as to be able to adequately replenish his often usurped spiritual strength.  It was only those most needy of Popé’s grateful beneficiaries, and the young Kiasiwa that was constantly at his side, that benefited the most from Popé’s compelling and repeated displays of love.

Popé, unlike his father, was still as vital a man as his son, so even though Kiasiwa had reached full manhood, Popé was in no way likely to ever pass on to his son the full responsibilities of being the Zuni’s principle Medicine Man while he was able to continue to demonstrate such good health and stamina.  Likewise, Kiasiwa wouldn’t have wanted to replace this exceptional man that he had come to respect with such great admiration and love, a love that was far more that just that love for one’s father.  As Kiasiwa was entering his eighteenth year, he and his father began that sometimes-painful weaning process where the young chick is forcefully encouraged to leave the safety and security of the nest and take to his own wing. 

It was during this trying year of weaning that Kiasiwa had finally taken some rightful notice of Raquel’s romantic attentions, and he was also surprisingly astonished to have discovered Raquel’s rather comprehensive knowledge of the healing arts.  Kiasiwa did not pursue Raquel in the more common manner of sneaking into her bed at her mother’s home, which could have presented a problem considering the distance between their two residences.  Instead he spent endless hours just talking with Raquel on her continued visits to his own ancestral home, and of course this was most welcomed by his proud and daunting mother, Tekkâke.  The romantic courtship of sorts continued for most of that remaining year, and it wasn’t until that following spring that Kiasiwa finally decided that he was deeply taken with the affections of Raquel and was prepared to make her his hom citta, if she would consider having him.

Kiasiwa elected to approach this inevitable and loving relationship with his most beautiful Raquel in an alternative Zuni fashion that wasn’t as often practiced.  The Zuni by nature are a gentle people, and this passive nature may account for the more common practice of sneaking into the bed of the prospective bride and departing before the sun rises.  Kiasiwa, being so terribly confident, chose the less practiced form of acquiring a hom citta called ipela.  Essentially, ipela means, “to make a request for the union of a man and woman without usual copulatory courtship.” 

In this ipela tradition, the first step of wooing a young maiden by sneaking into her bed at night is totally avoided.  Instead, when a young Zuni man has chosen his potential loved one, he will collect a gift to be presented to her.  Usually without the knowledge of his prospective bride, the young Zuni man will present himself and his gift(s) at the woman’s home early in some appointed evening.  His offerings are conspicuously placed in the center of the room, and he then joins the family for the evening meal.  After everyone has finished eating, the father will usually ask the young suitor to state the actual nature of his business.  The young man then asks the father of his prospective bride for the daughter’s hand in marriage, and the acceptable, expected, and certainly the more tradition reply from the father of the bride is usually, “It is up to the desires of my daughter.”  How totally progressive!

If the daughter accepts, even conditionally, it is not uncommon for the new couple to then retire together that very evening for the consummation of the marriage.  And after this presentation of the gift(s) and their usual acceptance, there is no need of any further nuptial ceremony.  Should the suitor’s initial offer of marriage have been serendipitously rejected by the prospective bride, which was certainly a viable option, the presented gifts would still be hers to keep.  In any case, Kiasiwa had taken the greatest care in choosing a very special and personal gift for Raquel.

Kiasiwa had carefully selected a piece of cottonwood root from which he had skillfully carved a small box.  On the lid of this precious labor of love, Kiasiwa had carved the image of a Hon, the White Bear Kachina, who wore an intricately carved image of a medicine bag placed precisely around its neck.  Kiasiwa had taken particular care in staining this little piece of selected cottonwood with the juice of some berries, which gave this fine piece of craftsmanship a distinctively bluish hue.  Of greater significance was the very special content of this decorative box.  Kiasiwa had acquired the scrotum from a buck that had been taken during the previous hunting season, and with it he had crafted a medicine bag especially for Raquel.  The one-piece buckskin twine that secured the bag was also used as the means for hanging the bag from around the neck and just over the heart, and was tied in such a manner that the joining knot was situated close to the bag on the left side of the chest, closest to the heart.  To Kiasiwa, this especially tied knot that would hang conspicuously over her heart was symbolic of the very special union that he had hoped to share with Raquel.  The only initial content of the medicine bag itself was a sweet-smelling herb that Kiasiwa had selected because it was Raquel’s favorite herb; it had no particular use as a curing agent, it was simply a thoughtful gift of love that would have only meant something special to Raquel.

There was little question that Raquel would accept the proposal of Kiasiwa, and she was exceptionally surprised and quite elated with the unusual gift that her own family had perceived to be a rather insignificant, strange, and perhaps even insultingly small offering for such a beautiful and gifted bride.  But of course every parent feels that his or her own child is exceptional. The usual matrimonial gifts would often be something that might contribute to the entire family, since it was traditional for the groom to move into the bride’s household.  This small, personal gift had no real meaning or usefulness for the household at large.  But since this unusual gift of love so obviously pleased Raquel, then the modest-appearing offering was readily accepted by all of Raquel’s family without any further questioning.  The deeply shared emotion was the great joy and pride that was shared by Raquel’s entire family for having taken for her hom tačču the perceived future Medicine Man of Zuńi and the Zuni nation at large.  This brilliant union of two so well matched individuals was particularly well-received by all, and Kiasiwa and Raquel did not retire immediately as they continued to celebrate with the entire family, which was in a very highly excited and festive mood.  This was truly a family-wide event, and Kiasiwa was instantly part of the very heart of this proud Zuni family.

Šumahanni had taken extra special care that a singular portion of the family dwelling had been most carefully and adequately partitioned off in such a manner as to give her daughter and her only talak·i (son-in-law) the greatest amount of privacy possible in such limited and close quarters.  After this rather special day and eventful evening had finally come to an appropriate conclusion, the couple entered their carefully prepared nuptial accommodations and initiated their discovery of each other’s bodies.

        Discoveries…     

 It wasn’t too long before Kiasiwa began to slowly and carefully disrobe in the most guarded anticipation. He then tenderly assisted Raquel, who had suddenly become rather shy, in removing her own matrimonial clothing.  It was in every manner a mutually spontaneous ritual performed by both Kiasiwa and Raquel with the greatest of caring and personal tenderness, and after they had both achieved total nakedness, they began to carefully explore each other’s naked bodies in a leisurely and tender fashion.  They explored with both the sensuous glances from their eyes as well as the loving and gentle touching of their fingertips.  They had both come to this first night of their matrimonial union as innocent as the day they were born.

What had been too innocently and casually dismissed from conscious memory by all that might have been possibly concerned, as well as the inevitable and numbing effects of the passage of time, was the overwhelming reality that both of these lovely souls had been the affectionate offspring of the same natural father, Popé.  Popé had been born with a most unusual birthmark that was on the rear of his right shoulder.  This unusually irregular and darkened blotch of skin on Popé’s shoulder was taken to be that of a bear claw (though it had little resemblance in reality), and since that most influential Zuni Medicine Man, Naiyutchi, and his entire family were all time-honored members of the great ·anše·kwe, the Bear Clan, this rather irregular and strangely colored marking on his son’s shoulder had always been most affectionately referred to as most simply, “the mark of the Bear.”  As fate and those sometimes mysteriously acting genes would have it, both Kiasiwa and Raquel had also inherited this rather strange marking attributed to the great Bear and curiously located in approximately the same location. 

They both discovered this unique marking on each other’s bare shoulders at almost the same instant in their tender exploration of each other’s naked bodies.  Following this discovery, there was a long, frozen moment of mutually shared silence. Both of them, lost somewhere buried deep within their own consciousness, had arrived at the same, obvious self-realization that they were likely related by the blood of the same great Zuni Medicine Man. Popé, the great Zuni Medicine Man of that day was the natural father to the both of these tender souls.

They remained in this fixated pensive state of silence for some lost portion of time that felt like an eternity, and without exchanging a single word, they remained steadfast to the purpose and meaning of that special night, only holding on so tenderly to each other in a manner that silently and affirmatively communicated that this unusually fateful night was, after all, a most inevitable occurrence that had probably been predetermined by some higher power for some specific and special destiny that was most likely related to the vary sacred art and practice of Zuni medicine.

Neither Kiasiwa nor Raquel experienced, in these most tender moments of utter discovery, any kind of feelings whatsoever that could in any sense be interpreted as negative; instead, with racing minds, they repeatedly explored the exciting and infinite number of possibilities why these two should have been “joined” together in a union that they both knew at that very instant would never be intimately consummated in the same manner as most united couples.  In the most loving and unselfish manner, they both had creative and inspiring thoughts of how they would aptly handle this unique situation without hurting the other’s personal sensitivities in any manner; they both naturally shared more concerns for the susceptible feelings of the other than either had for themselves.  They were joined by the same familiar blood--brother to sister and sister to brother--but more importantly they realized that they were now joined in a more mystical manner of spiritual brother and sister.  They shared the same blood, the blood of a great Medicine Man, and that common thread likely imbued both of them with a destiny unlike that of any normal Zuni child.  They both saw their newly discovered fate as sort of a spiritual union that was probably destined for a life of selfless servitude for the sole benefit of others: Kiasiwa most certainly as a Zuni Medicine Man in the time-honored tradition of his own family; and Kiasiwa’s most loving half-sister, Raquel, who had been so serendipitously prepared all her life in the arts and uses of herbs for this now compassionate role of a spiritual help-mate, or perhaps even more.  These two uniquely empowered souls were now preordained to a spiritual path that would likely lead them to a destination greater than either of them could have achieved individually.

Kiasiwa suddenly realized that his especially-crafted nuptial gift of that strangely curious Medicine Bag to his most beloved Raquel was, after all, not only rightfully perceived by Raquel’s family as something most unusual for a bride to have received, it was the prophetic and intuitive expression of a future of which Kiasiwa and Raquel had had no prior conscious awareness. 

In the midst of all this sudden bewilderment that could have easily unsettled the most stable of temperaments, these two lovely and truly spiritual souls still maintained and expressed a completely unshakable and purely unconditional love for each other.  In those unexpected circumstances, they committed themselves to each other with an even stronger bond of pure love that aptly transcended that epic moment and filled each of them with a feeling of total fulfillment that was probably greater than anything that they could have ever experienced by only having that customary physical intimacy that is usually expected and shared by most newlyweds.  The natural rush of adrenaline from this unexpectedly wonderful experience finally subsided, leaving them with the enjoyable feelings of having been physically and blissfully exhausted as though they might have endlessly engaged in the usual rampage of nuptial sex.  They both, in time, fell deeply asleep in each other’s reassuring arms, and the next morning they awoke with a refreshed look of total accomplishment on their blushed faces as though they had most successfully consummated a gifted match that had without any doubt been a union that was “made in heaven.”

Within just a few days, Kiasiwa had completely moved all of his personal belongings into his new home in the farming community of Pescado.  This thriving and ever-expanding Zuni village, as well as other Zuni farming communities, was initially occupied only during the growing and harvesting seasons of the year.  During the colder winter months, the Zunis of these various outlying communities would more than likely return to the protection that was offered by the greater numbers in Zuńi. 

Kiasiwa and Raquel both took great care to maintain the cheerful outward appearance of a cohabitating couple.  Since Kiasiwa didn’t wish to intrude on his father’s practice of Zuni Medicine, he temporarily occupied his time with the usual chores of the other men of Raquel’s household, which consisted mostly of farming and harvesting.  These Zuni men would also engage in the hunting of wild game, but since Kiasiwa was a Medicine Man and probably destined to becoming a pošaya·nk·i, a bow priest who is chosen to head the “priests of the completed path,” Kiasiwa was most respectfully excused from what he considered to be a violent act of killing, especially of those animals that had never demonstrated any malicious behavior that would have brought harm to the Zuni.  There were no ill feelings associated with the necessity of harvesting of those animals for food amongst the Zuni themselves, it was just that Kiasiwa had developed such a kindred spirit in his relationship with ·awitelin citta, Earth Mother, that he simply chose not to take away the life of any animal, particularly those that were represented in the mythological beliefs and social organization of the Zuni.  Kiasiwa was even hesitant at times to eat the flesh of these animals, and where he had the opportunity of exercising his own choice, he never indulged his natural carnivorous inclinations.  Kiasiwa had developed the highest regard for all of nature as part of the spiritual training that he had received from his father, Popé, and this awe-inspiring respect for all of nature’s living things, including his fellow man, was to remain as the very focal point and essential source of all of his spiritual and healing powers.

Whenever the completion or lack of household chores and responsibilities would permit, Kiasiwa and Raquel would head off to the mountains east of Pescado and easily within a short day’s journey.  This special time together was often spent sharing their acquired knowledge of the medicinal herbs that were indigenous to that part of the Zuni territory.  It was on the earliest of these shared excursions that the two of them discussed their uncertain future together and the probable source of the fate that had brought them together.  Part of the traditional mythology and religious belief system of the Zuni suggested that somewhere far to the east of Zuńi, beyond the Zuni’s known ancestral lands, was an especially sacred place known to them as šipa·puli·ma.  It was thought that this was where one would find the ancestral and spiritual habitat of the departed spirits of the Zuni ·ona· ya·naka ·a·šiwani, who were considered to be the only legitimately initiated “priests of the completed path.”  These highly-respected priests were known to be in full possession of the healing herbs, and they had the necessary knowledge use them effectively. .  According to Zuni mythology, this most sacred of all places on earth was thought to be somewhere in the vicinity of what are now the Sandia Mountains.

Kiasiwa, ever since his final initiation into ·anše·kwe, the Bear Clan, had this strong intuitive feeling that he would one day become a pošaya·nk·i, a “bow priest” who was part of the spiritual and actual leadership of the “priests of the completed path.”  These revered and almost mythological priests were the spiritual leaders, and more often than not served as very special Medicine Men to the Zuni people.  And if this particular fate was not to ever befall Kiasiwa, he was still quite confidant that his final initiation into the clan of the Bear would at least destined him to become a wema· ·a·šiwani, one of the “beast priests.”  The six beasts, according to the Zuni, that are represented by these powerful priests are: the mountain lion of the north; the bear of the west; the badger of the south; the wolf of the east; the eagle of the zenith; and the mole of the nadir.  Certainly Kiasiwa would have had no difficulty becoming a wema· ·a·šiwani for the Bear of the west.  In either case, it had always been a deep and cherished desire of Kiasiwa that he would one day seek out this most spiritual, sacred, and mythological place known only as šipa·puli·ma, an unspoken desire that he was not ever aware that Raquel also harbored ever since she had learned of this sacred place from her beloved kaka, Koškáti.

It was rapidly becoming obvious to Raquel that her future with Kiasiwa would probably take the both of them to some distant land beyond the known ancestral boundaries of their Zuni people.  This would have possibly, even likely, been a strange feeling for any regular member of the Zuni nation because it was also part of their religious belief system that Zuni itself, known by their ancestors as ·itiwan·a, was “the middle place” that had been intentionally situated equidistant from the four great oceans that encompassed the world as it was then known.  This is no different from most members of our own earlier western culture that thought the world was a flattened plane of earth and there was nothing but oceans of water at its outer edges.  Kiasiwa and Raquel’s mutual contemplation to leave their homeland in search of this sacred šipa·puli·ma must have been very much like that initially imagined voyage of Christopher Columbus-- sailing off endlessly into the setting sun, in a westward direction, into those mysterious, dark and uncharted waters. 

Of course, it was well known to the Zuni that other natives inhabited many of the lands to the east, some of them even thought to be distantly related to the Zuni.  It was also known that some of these inhabitants could be quite hostile at times, as was evidenced by the frequent raids on the Zuni Pueblo for hundreds of years.  But the overall reputation of most of the Pueblo Indians was in large part one of peacefulness.  In addition to all of this was the observable fact that the Spaniards had successfully infiltrated most of the surrounding area, bringing with them a foreign and strange religion that supposedly postulated an improved form of civilized behavior.  It was the Zuni themselves that were considered the most suspicious of any of the Pueblo peoples, which accounts for their having preserved more of their own traditions in tact.  The Zuni people regularly and intuitively perceived that this aggressive Roman Catholic Church and their often overly pious priests were potentially and very probably a hostile threat to the ultimate well-being and peace of the Pueblos.  The Zuni were by far the most successful of the Pueblo peoples to resist the threat of ideological compromising or prostitution of their own traditional beliefs.

As it became more evident to Raquel that they would likely and perhaps sooner than later be departing from their matrimonial home, Raquel confided in her mother.  And in the natural course of Raquel’s sharing this bit of relevant information with her mother, she also disclosed the full nature of her mutually elected and consensually celibate but certainly love-filled relationship.  Raquel sensed that sharing this favorable apprehension particularly with her mother was important, mostly in the hopes of having Šumahanni not ever worry should she discover it for herself.  Like most mothers anywhere in the world, there would be natural inquiries as to why there were no children born to this otherwise healthy union.  In this intimate disclosure the two women became even closer, mostly because Šumahanni finally recalled and confessed to her daughter what had actually taken place at that fateful bend in the Zuni River some 20 years prior.  For the first time, Raquel fully understood the rather indifferent feelings that she had always experienced from her own perceived father.  And Raquel finally connected with the actual foundations upon which her rather close relationship with Kaka had been initially established, after learning that it was he who had willingly accompanied Šumahanni to the village of Albuquerque for her Christian christening.  Raquel had the strangest feelings invade her consciousness that she finally understood that her own destiny was probably cast immediately following her birth, when she had been first taken by her mother to the very land that she was now about to return to some 19 years later.  Raquel and Kiasiwa’s predestined pilgrimage to the east of Zuni suddenly seemed such a natural destination of fate: an incredible, mystical, and spiritual destination that would hold for the both of them the unique and rare opportunity to fulfill their mutually unspoken dreams.

It was nearing the beginning of the winter season and it was decided by the entire household, including Raquel’s now more-loving and caring father, that Raquel and Kiasiwa should not attempt their proposed journey until the more favorable and less hostile weather of the coming spring.  They both welcomed the invitation to remain in Pescado, and much of that winter was spent in the home and with the family.  There was weaving that hadn’t been previously pursued with such routine vigor, and this rather enthused Zuni family fired some special clay pots that would be very useful in the imagined new dwelling to be discovered somewhere to the east of Zuni. 

While all of this excited activity was taking place in the home, Kiasiwa and Koškáti had the added opportunity to become even more closely associated. Because of Koškáti’s love and fondness for his kyasse (sister’s child-cousin), and because he had been so terribly influential to Raquel,  teaching her everything she had learned about the healing arts of the Zuni as well as Kiasiwa was more than willing and even enthusiastic to share with Koškáti his own extraordinary knowledge and experience gained under the loving guidance of his father, Popé.  But they were members of different Zuni clans as well as different Medicine Societies.  Kiasiwa was naturally initiated as a member of ·anše·kwe, the Bear Clan, and had become the head of a tikanne, a Medicine Society known as makk·e lanai·kwe.  Koškáti was a member of tonaši·kwe, the Badger Clan, and his tikanne was known as makk·e c·anai·kwe.  There were naturally many similarities between these two men’s affiliations as should be expected, but it was clear that Kiasiwa had acquired the greater knowledge required to be eventually counted as one of the greatest of all Medicine Men.  But despite the differences between these two men’s backgrounds, there still remained the greatest amount of mutual respect; they actually considered themselves more like real brothers than anything else, and they both certainly shared in the love they each held for this very special Zuni woman, Raquel. 

In this short period of time during these cold winter months, Kiasiwa had gained so much respect and love for Koškáti that he offered to initiate him into his own Medicine Society and forever consider him as a spiritual member of his Bear Clan.  It was during the last days of that unusually cold winter that this private and heart-felt initiation actually took place late one evening just after the sun had set.  Kiasiwa asked Raquel to be present.  Koškáti still had no full understanding of the actual nature of his sister’s relationship with Kiasiwa; there remained only the greatest show of love between the couple, and for the outside world, they were viewed as those most fortunate of all lovers to have found each other and to be able to share so much of the identical passion for the spiritual and physical well-being of the Zuni nation and its people.

The winter passed with such a pace of meaningful accomplishment, that there was just no time to even consider the possibility that this proposed journey to the East was anything but a most joyous undertaking.  It seemed such a forgone conclusion that these two Zunis were to make this extraordinary journey in search of an illusive destination, that even the mothers had restrained from any of those usual offerings of maternal concerns.

Kiasiwa was also most fortunate to have spent some valuable time with his own family in Zuńi, and his proud father eagerly gave Kiasiwa, several of Naiyutchi’s religious and sacred objects that had been preserved for just such an unexpected occasion.  These gifts from that greatest of all Zuni Medicine Men were most particularly meaningful to the young Kiasiwa, since he had never had the opportunity to know his grandfather except by his rather infamous reputation.  Popé felt that he had already shared with Kiasiwa everything he could during the 12 years that he had concentrated on Kiasiwa’s education, but just to be sure, Popé repeated several of the more important lessons and made it a specific point to review the Medicine Man’s basic inventory of the most important medicinal herbs and how they were best employed.  It was apparent, and for good reason, that Popé knew that his son really didn’t have need of these reviews; it was more likely that Popé was just taking every opportunity to spend as much meaningful time as possible with his most beloved son before that inevitable day of departure to the East.

Because no Zuni was ever quite sure exactly where this mythological šipa·puli·ma was actually located, or whether it really existed, there were no assurances that Kiasiwa would ever be returning to Zuńi.  This made many of the parting comments and the usual statements of well-wishing bear the very sobering feelings of finality.  Popé certainly stated his own personal concerns that should Kiasiwa and Raquel never come back to occupy this sanctified place of healing, than the Zuni people would likely be without an empowered Medicine Man, particularly that one that rightfully represents the Bear.  Kiasiwa assured his father that he would be returning on a regular basis, that the distance wasn’t really all that great, and that he was confident that the ·akw·a mossi, Medicine Chief of the societies of šipa·puli·ma, would never willing abandon their sacred responsibilities to the Zuni people.  Little did Kiasiwa ever suspect that he himself might have become that very revered ·akw·a mossi?

With all the added activities in Raquel’s home and the continual expressions of farewell, the winter passed all too rapidly for everyone.  The young couple received all kinds of thoughtful gifts from many Zuni well-wishers from both Zuńi and Pescado.  The mounting gifts would have been a burden except that many of the more perishables were received with great appreciation and would certainly go a long way at keeping Kiasiwa and Raquel from going hungry, at least in the short term.  They were also given a number of Zuni hand-made crafts that could be useful in trade, since there were no forms of money common to the Zuni as we know it today.  Fortunately for this Zuni couple, some of the handcrafted silver jewelry in particular would sustain them until they could establish some alternative means of adequate survival.  Raquel’s family, being farmers, sent along various seeds that could be possibly planted as soon as they had arrived at their final destination, which was estimated to not be too many days away. 

Raquel’s most beloved kaka, Koškáti, and his own hom ·akcek·i (son), Popékâke, possessed and readily displayed perhaps the most confidence in this couple’s lofty plans.  Koškáti had previously made that same pilgrimage to the village of Albuquerque some 20 years prior, and he alone truly believed that that trip and those great mountains that he had once observed from the western mesa above the Rio Grande River intuitively assured him that their final destination would bring them to that most sacred place described only in the mythology of the Zuni nation.  Of course, Koškáti’s most hope-filled desire was the couple's success in what ever adventure they might undertake.

On the very day that Kiasiwa and Raquel had elected to depart there was a great rain in the morning, which was not usual for that particular time in the season.  Kiasiwa had expressed to Raquel that this was a good sign since it would wash away all the unforeseen hardships that they might have otherwise encountered.  The young Medicine Man said that this was the direct blessings of ·a·šiwani, the Rain Priest, and a welcomed sign that the ·ona· ya·naka ·a·šiwani, Priests of the Completed Path, who alone possessed the healing herbs, most definitely approved of their ensuing journey in search of šipa·puli·ma, that sacred place of the gods that lies somewhere east of Zuni.  They left Pescado freshened and rejuvenated by this unexpected rainfall, and that great sun that Raquel had always admired from afar came forth after the great rain and quickly dried their trail leading to the east.

The journey was made considerably easier by one exceptionally suitable gift of a wagon from the collective efforts of several Zuńi villagers.  Fortunately, this gifted wagon came with a strong mule to pull it, and as long as there weren’t to be any particularly steep inclines on the trip, this friendly beast of burden could probably handle the modest-sized wagon even with its unusually large load.  As it turned out there were some questionable obstacles along they way, and on several trying occasions, Kiasiwa and Raquel both had to give a sturdy shoulder-push to the wagon in order to give their poor, burdened animal a little added help.  The journey just to the Rio Grande River took some eight full days, and it was greatly aided by a well-packed wagon trail left by some of the earlier traders, gringos, and Spaniards, as well as other native inhabitants.  Large portions of this trail had already been previously established by the trading that had always taken place amongst a rather significant number of Pueblos for hundreds of years.  This Rio Grande River basin was naturally fertile from the annual spring flow of mineral-rich waters from the snowmelts to the north.  This richness of the earth naturally attracted and maintained a significant number of Pueblos that had been long established for many kilometers along this river, both south and north of the little village of Albuquerque.

           
The Arrival of Spring

The priests could easily observe that these weary Zunis had been traveling from afar and were probably in the process of migrating.  They graciously and warmly invited the two Zunis to join them for the noonday meal.  It was during that meal that one of the more-attentive priests, who had managed to master some of the other Pueblo Indian dialects, offered to teach these two Zunis the Spanish language as well as some needed English, were they to be remaining in or near the little village of Albuquerque.  Since there was already an increasing number of English-speaking migrates coming to this strangely populated and diverse land, it may have been just as logical to perhaps learn English instead of Spanish.  In either case, their Zuni language just wouldn’t have sufficed in their ultimate survival in these new surroundings.  The two Zunis indicated that they were more than enthusiastically interested in learning anything they could about the Spanish as well as the English inhabitants and their cultures, and they had their first introduction to these new tongues before they had even finished their lunch.  The two Zunis offered to teach this loving and caring priest their own Zuni language; a language that was strictly verbal in nature and had no form of a written vocabulary except the limited use of symbols that were often incorporated into their arts and crafts.  At the encouragement of these friendly Franciscan priests, they decided to park their little wagon on the church grounds and spend that first night right there at the Iglesia de San Felipe de Neri.

Raquel’s rather crude christening certificate, that hand-written note by Father Antonio, sort of acted much like a mystical passport to kind and generous offers that neither Kiasiwa nor Raquel could have expected.  Before the two could depart the next morning, that same priest that spoke a rather impressive bit of some of the other Pueblo languages approached them and made an offer for the two of them to come work for the sanctuary.  Apparently the resident priests had discussed this matter the night before after the two Zunis had retired, and this particularly kind priest, whose name was Padre Manuel Ortiz or “Father” Manuel in English, had encouraged his brothers to retain the Zuni couple as a show of good faith to the other Pueblo Indians that were, after all, truly and sincerely served by this Catholic Church.    Apparently the domestic couple that had been previously engaged to perform many of the menial chores around the sanctuary had just unexpectedly departed, and this left these priests without a cook and a handyman to perform some of the heavier work, including keeping the modest grounds and a small garden.  The two Zunis felt that the unexpected offer was probably just another of those strange happenings that had been somehow predetermined by some higher power, and they most readily and enthusiastically accepted the offer as though it was an anointed appointment with their own destiny. They were naturally excited and pleased to discover that the rather unexpected and timely employment also included some small living quarters that would serve the couple’s temporary basic domestic needs until their future was made manifest to them. They unloaded what they needed from their modest wagon and then stored the wagon behind the church. 

What was also beneficial to these two was that the priest had so willingly offered to teach them some Spanish and English.  The welcomed language lessons progressed rather rapidly, and it was within just a couple of months that both of them were able to converse more than sufficiently to make their basic needs known.  José (as the priests came to call him, since it was easier for them to pronounce) was even beginning to demonstrate quite an instinctive skill at reading English, and as a means of practice asked to borrow some of the books that Manuél had acquired during his Catholic seminary education in St. Louis.  The Ortiz family was not amongst the wealthiest in the area, but they had insisted that their precocious son acquire as many books as were available in those early days of settling this enchanting territory. 

The other bit of unanticipated intrigue of that initial period of time was the ever-increasing intensity of the close, developing relationships between Father Manuél and his newly acquired and attentive protégés, Kiasiwa and Raquel.  It seemed from the very beginning that whatever Kiasiwa became involved with, Raquel wanted to be right there at his side and participate in an equal fashion, and in many ways these two Zunis were equally endowed both intellectually and spiritually.

Even though Kiasiwa had stubbornly maintained his Zuni-based intuitive objections to the authority of the Roman Catholic Church, he and Father Manuél had engaged in more and more interesting dialogues about each of their religious beliefs, and most interestingly the vast similarities that existed when only the most fundamental essentials were postulated.  They discovered that when you remove all the pomp and ceremony of either of their traditions, the bare-naked basics were pretty much the same, particularly when it came to the idea of caring for one’s brother.  Of course, the other common thread was that each discipline deeply believed that their own take on this fabulous universe was the only true and correct approach for all of mankind.

          Father Manuél was a Jesuit educated Brother, unlike most of the other priests who were educated in the Spanish Franciscan tradition.  Manuél had been a rather gifted child and showed early on obvious signs of great intelligence.  His rather proud family, who fortunately valued education beyond the norm of those rough and wild times, encouraged Manuél to become a Jesuit priest.  The Jesuits had the popular reputation of being more broadly educated in a number of academic fields beyond just the usual seminarian studies of liturgy and church law.  The Jesuits were often known to be a bit more liberal-minded even in their religious beliefs, particularly those Jesuits that weren’t of a Spanish tradition; Manuél’s training had been under a French-influenced seminary in St. Louis and this probably accounted for Manuél’s unrestrained interests in the intriguingly mystical beliefs of the Pueblo religions.  And now Manuél’s already more than charmed life was further blessed with these informative, marvelous, and certainly exciting intellectual exchanges with a duly initiated Zuni Medicine Man and his helpmate. 

 Both José and Manuél were continually fascinated and intrigued by the deep spirituality of the other, and in time they developed an abiding respect and understanding.  In what was a rather short period of time they mutually discovered that at some deeper spiritual level there were little differences in the way that they each viewed what Kiasiwa had come to know in the words of Manuél as this “Garden of Eden,” and those commonly-held spiritual needs of its otherwise quite diverse inhabitants.  Padre Manuél had unusually strong feelings that were well grounded in those explicit teachings attributed specifically to Jesus to love our neighbors as we are to love ourselves.  And Manuél neither maintained nor respected any of those traditionally held preconceived notions and prejudices that regarded many of those outside “the faith” as unworthy of such loving consideration.  All of mankind, in Manuél’s view, had the same loving and concerned creator.  It was just part of what he had so fortuitously learned from his close association with those St. Louis Jesuits.  Padre Manuél, in his own natural way, simply did not recognize or pay any undue homage to the commonly purported differences that most Christians believed to exist between his traditional Spanish heritage and these peace-loving Pueblo Indians, who in one strange fashion or another never actually departed from that mythological Garden of Eden.  In fact, Manuél had expressed on more than one occasion his great distain for so many Spanish priests having apparently accepted without any reservation the total annihilation of the beliefs as well as the actual genocide of so many indigenous peoples of the New World.  It was the awfully dreaded bit of Christian theological justification for these awful acts of genocide and the resultant dreadful history thereof, accompanied with his liberal Jesuit education, that was probably the very underlying foundation for this priest’s uncompromising motivation to learn some of the native languages of these indigenous people.  Manuél actually came to respect and love these Pueblo Indians so much that he would often choose to converse in their own tongue rather than encourage their adoption of Spanish, contrary to the usual practices of many of the other Spanish Franciscan priests. 

These powerfully universal and altruistic feelings that each of these sensitive, spiritual men possessed and shared with one another were a contributing factor in the reinforcement of both Kiasiwa and Padre Manuél’s fervent resolve to achieve their own personal missions in life--a mission that was centered on their passion of serving others.  And although Raquel wasn’t always in their midst, she was always considered to be an integral part of this profoundly spiritual relationship.

During those few exceptional days that Kiasiwa and Raquel were able to get away from their routine domestic duties at the sanctuary, they would be able to sufficiently survey the surrounding countryside in search of that special place for which they had originally made this pilgrimage to the east.  Of course they were inevitably limited by the fact that they never had more than just one full day at a time to venture out and still be able to return to the sanctuary before it got too dark.  The mule that had so faithfully pulled their modest wagon all the way from Zuńi now served them even better in these brief outings from Albuquerque, as they were both able to mount and ride together.  When they had reached a certain destination they would dismount and go afoot, relieving their mule of its human burden.  (Kiasiwa had affectionately named this friendly and cooperative beast of burden, Poncho; this mule was warmly treated like so many of us treat our household pets today.)  Fortunately those hot summer days were much longer, and this blessed these two Zuni seekers with more hours of daylight in which they could venture a bit further. 

It was in the early fall of that first year that they were intuitively drawn back in that mystical eastern direction.  There was a rather imposing geographic limitation to their prospective journeying immediately to the east.  This small village of Albuquerque was roughly located just west of a canyon that separated two mountain ranges, and this particular canyon was the only reasonably short and direct means of traveling east out of Albuquerque.  The mountains to the north of this canyon were called Sandia for the Spanish word “watermelon.”  They had acquired this name because the reddish, rugged slopes of these mountains often displayed a distinctively pinkish-watermelon hue at sunset.  The mountains to the south of this canyon would also appeared reddish, and subsequently got the name of Manzana, the Spanish word for “apple,” but the word eventually got slightly changed from the feminine “a” to the masculine “o,” and the Spanish word manzano actually means “apple tree.”  As one might suspect, both of these fruits were successfully grown in the area.

The canyon that separated these two mountain ranges was rugged in some areas by the occasional presence of rather steep and sharp angles of the canyon walls, which might just account for its unusual name of Tijeras.  The Spanish word tijeras actual refers to “shears” or “scissors,” and I would guess that the canyon appeared from some angles like that of open shears; in any case it was as sharp as shears in some places, particularly where the flow of water over time had carved its path deeper into the canyon floor.  It was along and through the bottom of this particular canyon that a small tributary flowed down to the Rio Grande River and there had developed a natural trail that followed the sandy, rocky bed of this small creek as it meandered westerly through the canyon. 

At the eastern edge of Tijeras Canyon, one of the tributaries to this creek flowed from a northerly direction.  This northern branch flowed from a point that was about 7 kilometers north, where it was fed from a westerly source that apparently had its original source somewhere in the upper Sandia Mountains.  This northern tributary was obviously fed from spring-like waters flowing down the eastern slopes of the mountains.  It was this supply of fresh water that had kept the attentions of both Kiasiwa and Raquel focused on this particular area of the eastern slopes of the Sandia Mountains.  Kiasiwa and Raquel would have naturally required this steady supply of fresh water to more easily survive under these rural and somewhat primitive conditions, and Kiasiwa and Raquel agreed that their beloved šipa·puli·ma was somewhere close to this alluring location.

The winter wasn’t that far off, and Kiasiwa made the timely decision that the two of them would remain within the security of the sanctuary in the village of Albuquerque for at least the duration of the ensuing winter months.  That winter wasn’t too severe, so the two Zunis were able to make a couple of additional trips to the east side of the Sandia Mountains in order to have a better idea on what it would be like to be actually living there throughout an entire winter.  It was during this particular time of further exploration that both Kiasiwa and Raquel finally decided that they would move somewhere along the upper portion of that northern tributary, probably somewhere just before the waters made their westerly turn upwards to their original source.

There other option was to head south from the eastern end of this Tijeras Canyon somewhere into the Manzano Mountains, but every time they would start in that southerly direction, some strange event would promptly occur that caused them to take pause and retreat. 

Perhaps the most dramatic of these wonderfully serendipitous deterrents occurred when they had an encounter with a large brown bear that had surprisingly greeted them with raised paws and a rather loud snarling roar before they had gone even a single kilometer to the south.  Kiasiwa had taken this impressive display on part of the bear as a positive sign from the wema· ·a·šiwani (beast priests) that they were to head in the opposite direction.  And if this unexpected sign wasn’t enough to convince them, they had one last confirming sign of a less threatening nature that very same day.  That particular day was fraught with overcast skies, and just before the sun was entering its final phase and beginning to finally set for the day, the two Zunis saw a brilliant, double rainbow in the eastern sky.  This double rainbow was only half complete and the halves that appeared were the northern portions, as though pointing to and colorfully confirming the bear’s perceived encouragement to settle north of this Tijeras Canyon.

It was just about where that tributary had made its western turn and began heading upwards to the crest that there was a level and reasonably large piece of what appeared to be fertile ground.  This bit of unoccupied land might be able to support some small crops grown from those seeds that had been given to them by Raquel’s family.  This modest area was the only inhabitable piece of land that had any potential for water that wasn’t already occupied by one of the  courageous settlers who had already ventured to those eastern slopes.  So much of the land in this area was extremely rocky, and there existed very little topsoil that would support even a modest crop of corn or squash.  But this particular piece of land, since it was situated at the very bottom of this canyon-like formation, had accumulated at least a modest portion of rich topsoil over a period of time.  They were fortunate that it hadn’t been previously claimed, and it seemed to be just the location that could meet their modest needs.

It was just about mid spring when Kiasiwa solicited the aid of Padre Manuél to help him build a small adobe shelter for himself and Raquel. The job was accomplished in rather short order, as some of the other priests also took great pleasure in occasionally performing bits of manual labor.  Manuél had a younger brother and a brother-in-law that likewise participated in the construction of this small adobe home. 

While the men were building Raquel prepared some of the ground for planting, and she was able to successfully encourage some of those seeds to actually germinate despite the fact that they were a year beyond their expected viability.  Raquel would lovingly labor at her garden, which she had intentionally cultivated adjacent to that little tributary so that she could more easily supplement the garden’s watering needs.  On some of the drier days in the summer, and they were certainly plentiful, she would spend much of her waking hours carrying earthen jugs of water from the tiny tributary to each plant.  It was at the time that Raquel so affectionately named the stream, co·ya payatamu.  The Zuni word co·ya simply means beautiful, and payatamu was the name given to one of the two sons of yatokka tačču, the Sun Father.  Unlike payatamu’s twin called ·ahayu·ta, who was more war-like, payatamu was known to carry a flute and was responsible for the production of butterflies as well as flowers.  This mythological payatamu isn’t usually referred as “beautiful” by the Zuni; it was just on this special occasion that Raquel had wanted to flatter payatamu into keeping those precious waters constantly flowing and the plants blossoming so that they might produce their desired fruits before winter was to set in; and of course, the butterflies would be useful for pollination.

The relationship between Kiasiwa and Padre Manuél continued to grow.  Kiasiwa, in order to obtain some of their needed supplies for survival that they could not otherwise come by naturally, would still enthusiastically work at the sanctuary in trade.  When Kiasiwa would go to the village of Albuquerque and spend the day working, he would often stay the night with Padre Manuél, and they would continue their intense dialogues about their respective beliefs and the reasoning usually given for such beliefs. 

One of their more interesting and certainly thought-provoking exchanges had to do with what some Christians had come to refer to as salvation.  Manuél explained that Christians see children as having been born into that awful state of original sin, a concept that José had some difficulty ever fully understanding.  It was and still is assumed by many Catholics that only through conscious acts, usually initiated by the parents and necessarily performed by a priest of the Church, is the child able to be actually “saved” from damnation.  The first of these Christian acts is of course christening at infancy. 

José explained to Manuél that the Zuni simply do not have this idea that a child is somehow born lacking something, as do the Christians, but that all Zuni “boys” are expected to eventually be initiated into the kotikanne, “Kachina Society,” in order to “save them” or perhaps better understood as to “make them valuable.”  The idea actually meant to “keep them from living without contributing to their community; make them and their lives something of value.”  It should be noted that this requirement was intended for the male child only, and didn’t necessarily refer to anything akin to the survival of the soul or spirit after life.  In a strange natural way, the Zuni women essentially “initiated” their daughters by instructing them in the various ways of maintaining a Zuni household; a household that they would naturally and eventually inherit. 

The two men realized that the similarity in both cases is the idea that one is mysteriously “saved” by some ritualistic act that isn’t necessarily understood by the child; probably something that is more likely and simply accepted as a rite of passage.  Kiasiwa and Padre Manuél agreed that if there were to be any reality to this concept of salvation per se, it would have to be the individual, and not their parents, who would have to make the conscious effort to seek spiritual deliverance from this perceived state of lacking something.

It took the better part of two years for Kiasiwa and Raquel to finally establish a workable routine that would insure their success at survival in their new adobe home.  It was only then that they were able to once again redirect their attentions to the original goal of discovering šipa·puli·ma, that sacred terra firma where their own holy men and various Zuni priests resided after departure from this life.