The Delight Makers. Adolph Francis Alphonse Bandelier
corn belonging to a witch are said to speak in the absence of their owner, and to tell of her whereabouts and doings. Shotaye knew this, and herself but indifferently versed in the black art, concluded that the black corn would also reveal, if properly handled, the agent whose manipulations caused Say Koitza's sufferings. She hoped also that by combining the dreaded grain with another more powerful implement of sorcery, owl's plumage, she would succeed in eliciting from the former all the information desired. The woman was quite ignorant of the evil ways in which she was about to wander; but she was bold and daring, and the hope of injuring her enemies was a greater inducement than the desire to relieve her friend. The proposed manipulation was directed in fact much more against her former husband than against the disease.
But how to obtain the necessary objects! How to secure black corn, and how and where to get the feathers of an owl! Both were so well known and so generally tabooed that inquiry after them would forthwith arouse suspicion. Black maize might be procured on the sly; but the other could be found by chance only—by meeting with the body of a dead owl on the heights surrounding the Tyuonyi.
Shotaye was in the habit of strolling alone all around the Rito, over the timbered mesa as well as through the gorges which descend from the mountains. On such excursions the woman observed the most minute precautions, for there was danger—danger from roaming Indians of the Navajo or Dinne tribe, and danger from spies of her own tribe. Frequently people had followed stealthily in the hope of surprising her at some illicit practice, but she had been lucky enough to notice them in time. Of what is called to-day the mesa del Rito, the high table-land bordering the Tyuonyi on the south, Shotaye knew every inch of ground, every tree and shrub.
On a clear, cool November day she strolled again in that direction, climbing the heights and penetrating into the scrubby timber, interspersed with tall pines, which covers the plateau for miles. To her delight she discovered the remains of an owl at no great distance from the declivity of the Rito beneath a rotten pine. Instead of picking up the carcass she kicked it aside disdainfully, but took good care to notice whither so as to remember the place. It landed on a juniper-bush and remained suspended from its branches. Shotaye went onward carelessly. She looked for herbs and plants, picking up a handful here, pulling out a root there, until she had made a long circuit, which however brought her back to the place where the dead owl was. Here she stopped, listening, all the while looking out for plants. As if by accident she neared the bush on which the carcass was still hanging, and after assuring herself that the body had not been disturbed, she brushed past so as to cause it to drop to the ground. She hastily plucked a few feathers, put them with the herbs and roots already gathered, and turned homeward. Everything was quiet and still around her, only at a short distance two crows flew up croaking.
Say Koitza was not strong enough to walk up to the cliffs; therefore Shotaye, when she came to announce to her friend that the necessary material was at last secured, suggested that the incantation be performed at the home of the invalid. A certain evening when Zashue was sure to be absent, owing to a gathering of the Koshare, was appointed for the purpose. On that evening the two women sat alone in the kitchen. Okoya was away in the estufa of Tanyi hanutsh. The two younger children were fast asleep in the outer room. It was a cold night, but the fire on the hearth had almost completely subsided, only a few embers remaining. Through the loophole in the wall an occasional draught of chilly air entered. Say Koitza clung to her friend's shoulder, shivering and trembling from fear as well as from cold.
In the centre of the dark room Shotaye had placed a few ears of black corn, and on them two bundles of owl's feathers, each tied to a chip of obsidian. She had also brought along some bark of the red willow; this she pulverized in the hand, and made into two cigarettes with corn husks. At that time tobacco was unknown to the Pueblos, and red willow-bark was the only thing used for smoking, while smoking itself was not a relish but exclusively a sacrifice.
Handing one of the cigarettes to her friend, Shotaye directed her to light it and then puff the smoke successively to the six mythical regions. After this she was to cast the glowing stub on the pile of corn and feathers. With a shudder Say Koitza obeyed these instructions; her teeth chattered while the cave-woman recited an invocation. Then both huddled together to listen. Even Shotaye felt afraid of the consequences. For a long time everything was silent; the cold draught from the outside had stopped; the women sat in breathless silence; they listened and listened. Nothing moved. Not a sound was heard.
Shotaye overcame her first anxiety and repeated the dread formula. All was silent. Suddenly a cold blast pervaded the room again. It fanned the embers to renewed life; they shed a faint glimmer over the chamber. The women started; there was a crackling heard; the feathers moved; the ears of corn seemed to change position. One of the feather bunches rolled on the floor. They nearly screamed in terror, for their excited imagination caused them to hear ghostly sounds—disconnected, uncomprehended words. It was clear that the black corn had spoken. What it said neither could tell; but the fact of having heard the noise was sufficient to convince them that Say was under the influence of an evil charm, and Shotaye took care to add that that charm was exercised by the Koshare or by some one belonging to their society.
So powerful was the effect of this incantation scene upon Say that she fainted. After a while she recovered and Shotaye led her back to the outer room, where, after some time, she began to slumber from sheer exhaustion. Then the medicine-woman returned to the caves, taking with her every vestige of the conjuration.
It was wise on her part, for as soon as Say awoke from feverish and anxious dreams, her first thought was about the dismal objects. Everything was quiet. Zashue had returned, and was quietly asleep by her side. She arose and glided into the kitchen, noiselessly, stealthily. The floor was clean. She felt around; not a trace of the objectionable pile could be noticed. Unspeakable was the feeling of relief with which she returned to her husband's side and extended herself on the hides again; sound sleep came to her, and when she awoke it was daylight. She felt stronger, brighter. Yet thereafter, as often as Zashue approached her in his harmless, bantering manner, she experienced a strange, sudden pang. She was reminded of having done wrong in not having been open with him. The Indian's conscience is hemmed in by bonds arising from his social and religious organization; why, for instance, should she have told her spouse? He was neither of her clan nor of her party. He belonged to the summer people, she to those of winter. She stood outside of all secret associations, whereas he was a Koshare.
The winter following proved to be mild and dry. Say recovered slowly. Shotaye kept aloof after the conjuration, for a long time at least. All of a sudden she made her appearance at the home of her convalescent friend. It was in order to remind her that the first step was only a preliminary, and that it could not effect a radical cure. All that had been achieved was to prove that an evil charm existed, and that the Koshare were the wrongdoers. It remained now to remove the spell by breaking the charm. This, she represented, had to be attempted when the Koshare were in their greatest power, and could only be effected by means of the owl's feathers. By burying these feathers near the place where the Delight Makers used to assemble, Shotaye asserted that not only would the disease be eliminated forever, but the guilty one be punished according to the measure of his crime.
Say would not listen to any such proposals. She saw no necessity for going any further in forbidden tracks. Now that her health was restored, why should she attempt to harm a cluster of men to which her husband belonged, and thus perhaps imperil his life? Shotaye met this objection with the assurance that the remedy was directed against the guilty ones only, and that she herself did not for a moment think that Zashue had participated in the evil manipulations against his wife; that consequently he was in no manner exposed to danger. Say finally told her visitor that she would wait and see, and then decide.
Winter went and spring came. Warm summer followed with a dark-blue sky and sporadic thunderclouds. All the crops were planted, irrigated, and scantily weeded. Now they awaited the rains in order to complete growth and prepare for maturity. The great chayani had gone through their official fasts, they had made their sacrificial offerings in the sacred bowls dedicated to rain-medicine. Every day clouds loomed up in the west, distant thunder rumbled, but not a drop of rain fell in the Rito and the people began to look gloomy. The Koshare were therefore required to go to work earlier than usual. They were to fast four consecutive days between two full moons.
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