The cave I found very small, and, contrary to the exaggerated reports of the Indians, it contained only three skeletons. According to the custom prevailing throughout part of the country of the Tarahumares, these remains had not been buried. The skeletons were simply lying on their backs, from east to west, as if looking toward the setting sun. A few crudely made clay vessels of the ordinary Tarahumare type were found alongside of them. On gathering the three skulls I was at once struck by a circular hole in the right parietal bone of one of them. As they undoubtedly belonged to the Tarahumares, the question at once occurred to me: Can it be possible that this barbaric tribe, not particularly advanced in the arts, was capable of trepanning? The remoteness of the place entirely negatives the suggestion that a civilised surgeon could have had anything to do with it.

The skull, the lower jaw of which is missing, is that of a Tarahumare woman over fifty years of age. The age of the specimen itself is impossible to arrive at, on account of the peculiar circumstances in which it was preserved. However, the cranial walls still contained some animal matter, were still somewhat fatty to the touch, and retained some odour. A spindle provided with a whorl made from a piece of pine-bark, which was lying among the bones in the cave, indicates that the body of this female had not been put there in recent times. This variety of whorl, so far as I can ascertain, has not been observed among the Tarahumares of the present day. It is, indeed, possible that the skeleton may be pre-Columbian.

The skull does not present any deformities or fractures, and the singular aperture is almost exactly round, measuring two centimetres in diameter. A careful examination shows that the cut was made a long time, several years in fact, before death. The regularity of the hole indicates beyond doubt that it is artificial.

Another skull taken from a burial-cave near Nararachic is also that of a female, and the opening here, too, is in the parietal bone, and in almost the same place as the opening in the first skull described. In this second specimen the cavity is almost filled in with new bone, and as in this instance the edges are very regular and uniform, and distinctly beveled, they show that the operation was performed by scraping. This cannot be said of the first specimen found; the almost circular form of the opening, and its perpendicular walls, prove conclusively that in this instance the surgeon did not employ the simple method of scraping the bone. I have never found among the Tarahumares any implement with which such an operation could have been performed. Possibly it was done with a kind of flint wimble with three teeth, much like the instrument used to-day in trepanning by the Berbers in L'Aures, who cure even headaches by this method. It is, of course, impossible to say now whether the ancients performed the operation simply to relieve the patient of bone splinters, pus, blood, etc., pressing on the brain, or whether it was done to let out an evil spirit. It is the first time that cases of trepanning have been found in Mexico.



Chapter XVIII

Relation of Man to Nature—Dancing as a Form of Worship Learned from the Animals—Tarahumare Sacrifices—The Rutuburi Dance Taught by the Turkey—The Yumari Learned from the Deer—Tarahumare Rain Songs—Greeting the Sun—Tarahumare Oratory—The Flowing Bowl—The National Importance of Tesvino—Homeward Bound.

Since the people obtain their subsistence from the products of the soil, they naturally are deeply concerned in the weather upon which their crops depend. Rain, therefore, is the focal point from which all their thoughts radiate. Even the plough is dipped into water before it is put to use, in order that it may draw rain. The people may try to force the moon and the sun to give them rain. In times of drought they reproach especially the moon for making the people live on the leaves of the ash-tree and what other poor stuff they can find; on her account they are getting so thin that they can no longer recognise themselves. They scold her, and threaten to denounce her to the sun. The sun himself may be rebuked for lack of rain. At other times they may throw up water to heaven with many ceremonies, that Tata Dios may replenish his supply. Generally, however, their relations with the gods, as with men, are based on the business principle of give and take.

Sacrifices of food, the meat of domestic animals or of game, and of tesvino, are needed to induce Father Sun and Mother Moon to let it rain. The favour of the gods may be won by what for want of a better term may be called dancing, but what in reality is a series of monotonous movements, a kind of rhythmical exercise, kept up sometimes for two nights. By dint of such hard work they think to prevail upon the gods to grant their prayers. The dancing is accompanied by the song of the shaman, in which he communicates his wishes to the unseen world, describing the beautiful effect of the rain, the fog, and the mist on the vegetable world. He invokes the aid of all the animals, mentioning each by name and also calls on them, especially the deer and the rabbit, to multiply that the people may have plenty to eat.

As a matter of fact, the Tarahumares assert that the dances have been taught them by the animals. Like all primitive people, they are close observers of nature. To them the animals are by no means inferior creatures; they understand magic and are possessed of much knowledge, and may assist the Tarahumares in making rain. In spring, the singing of the birds, the cooing of the dove, the croaking of the frog, the chirping of the cricket, all the sounds uttered by the denizens of the greensward, are to the Indian appeals to the deities for rain. For what other reason should they sing or call? For the strange behaviour of many animals in the early spring the Tarahumares can find no other explanation but that these creatures, too, are interested in rain. And as the gods grant the prayers of the deer expressed in its antics and dances, and of the turkey in its curious playing, by sending the rain, they easily infer that to please the gods they, too, must dance as the deer and play as the turkey.

From this it will be understood that dance with these people is a very serious and ceremonious matter, a kind of worship and incantation rather than amusement. Never do man and woman dance together, as in the waltz and polka of civilised people. The very word for dancing, "nolavoa," means literally "to work." The wise old man may reproach laggard, inexperienced younger ones, saying, "Why do you not go to work?" meaning that they should go to the dance and not stand idly about while the feast is going on. If the Tarahumares did not comply with the commands of Father Sun and dance, the latter would come down and burn up the whole world.

The Indian never asks his god to forgive whatever sin he may have committed; all he asks for is rain, which to him means something to eat, and to be free of evil. The only wrong toward the gods of which he may consider himself guilty is that he does not dance enough. For this offence he asks pardon. Whatever bad thoughts or actions toward man he may have on his conscience are settled between himself and the person offended. I once asked a prominent heathen shaman why the people were not baptised, and he said: "Because Tata Dios made us as we are. We have always been as you see us. People do not need to be baptised, because there is no devil here. Tara Dios is not angry with us; why should he be? Only when people do bad things does he get angry. We make much beer and dance much, in order that he may remain content; but when people talk much, and go around fighting, then he gets angry and does not give us rain."

Dancing not only expresses prayers for rain and life, but also petitions the gods to ward off evil in any shape, as diseases of man, beast, or crops. The people may dance also in case too much rain is falling, or for luck in field work, hunting, despatching the dead, etc.; and in this way they also give thanks for the harvest. By dancing and with tesvino they express all their wants to the gods, or, as a Tarahumare told me, "We pray by dancing and the gourd."

With the dances is always connected the sacrifice of an animal; the greater portion of the meat is eaten by the people themselves, who, beside, bring forth all kinds of nice food, the best they have. Such dancing festivals, as a matter of course, are given either by individuals or by the community. It is thought that Tara Dios himself comes down each time to make his demands on the Tarahumares for dancing and sacrificing. He communicates his wishes in a dream to someone, not necessarily a shaman; and in the dry season, when the Indians begin to prepare their fields, most of these notices come and are generally made known to all at a race, where many people always come together. During all these months hardly a day passes without a messenger being sent out from some place in the country to advise one or the other of the principal shamans that God has come down and demanded a feast. Sometimes Tata Dios asks for an ox to be killed; at other times he wants only a sheep. Frequently he indicates that the animal must be white; on other occasions he is not particular about the colour. The threat is added that if the sacrifice is not forthcoming, and the people do not dance soon, all the corn will be burned up, and they will have to die of hunger. Or, if there has been too much rain, the notice may say that, unless they sacrifice and dance at once, all will be drowned, because it is going to rain tremendously. Occasionally it is directed that they dance only a little while, then rest, then dance again; or else they have to keep on dancing for a night and a day, or two nights in succession. When a great many sacrifices have been made and animals begin to be scarce, Tara Dios may have to content himself with iskiate and tortillas. The people may continue to make feasts and to dance, and yet get no other results but fresh messages, ordering still more sacrifices. Then the Indians begin to argue with Tata Dios that he must not be so greedy; he has filled himself up with oxen and sheep and tesvino, and they cannot give him any more. When such revolt seems imminent the shaman may throw out an ominous hint that the sacrifices have to be made; for what would the Tarahumares say if Tata Dios wanted one of them to be killed?

Among the reasons given by the Christian Tarahumares for continued dry weather are the following. The Devil has made Tara Dios sick and has tied him up; or the Moon (Virgin Mary) is sick; or the people have not given Tara Dios enough food and he is very hungry; or the railroad engines of the Americans are making so much smoke that Tara Dios is angry; or, finally, someone at a feast has infringed upon the law of decorum, and thereby annulled its value.

At present domestic animals are considered more valuable at sacrifices than the beasts of the field and the forest; yet squirrels (chipawiki), turkeys, deer, rabbits, and fish are still used to some extent, especially by those who do not possess domestic animals. Twenty men may go out to hunt a deer, or from six to ten men try to bring in four or five squirrels for a communal feast, to which all contribute the corn necessary for the tesvino, say, half an almud, more or less, according to the means of each householder. Never does any one man give all the corn required for a tribal feast, though he may donate all the meat, in the shape of an ox, a cow, or a sheep. Goats are sacrificed only at burial functions. If the people do not give the best they have for the sacrifice, they will obtain only poor results.

The dances are always held in the open air, that Father Sun and Mother Moon may look upon the efforts of their children to please them. They dance on the level space in front of the dwelling, preferably each danced on its own patio. Some people have as many as three such dancing-places, but most of them have to content themselves with one. If a Tarahumare could afford it, he would have ten patios to accommodate more people and dances near his house.

To my knowledge there are six different dances, but of these I will describe only two, the rutuburi and the yumari, as these are the most important and the two almost exclusively used in the central part of the country. The other four I saw only among the southern Tarahumares.

The rutuburi was taught to the people by the turkey. Generally three crosses are put up, and there are three shamans, the principal one being in the middle; his assistants need not be shamans, but the master of the house and his son, or some trusted friend, may officiate. When the dancing is about to begin, these men take a position in a line before the crosses, facing east, and shake their rattles continuously for two or three minutes from side to side, holding the instruments high up in the air, as the rattling is meant to attract the attention of the gods. Then, with the singing and shaking of the rattles—now down and up—they move forward in a manner similar to that of a schoolgirl skipping over a rope, passing the crosses to a point as far east as the starting-point was to the west, altogether about eighteen yards. They then turn around and move back to the starting-point. In this way they keep on dancing forward and back three times, always in an easterly and westerly direction, swinging their rattles down and up, while passing from one point to the other, and from side to side whenever they reach it. The down-and-up movement of the rattle is not a simple down and up, but the down stroke is always followed by a short after-clap before the arm rises for the new swing, producing thus a three-part rhythm. They sing the following stanza, repeating it over and over again:

Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na Ru-tu-bu-ri vae-ye-na Rutuburi, from one side to the other moving! Rutuburi, from one side to, etc.

O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si. O-ma wae-ka xa-ru-si. All! many! Arms crossed! All! many! Arms crossed!

This is the introduction and prelude to the whole dance. After this formal opening the men take their places in line to the right of the shamans, and the women to the left. They stand for a few minutes while the shamans sing and swing their rattles, the men silently holding their arms folded over their breasts, as described in the song. This crossing of the arms I take to mean a salutation to the gods. While the Tarahumares of to-day never salute each other by shaking hands, neither is there any trace at present of their ever having saluted each other by crossing arms over the breast, which form was probably never used except with the gods, at ceremonies.

All the people are closely wrapped in their blankets, which they wear throughout the dance. In its general traits, the dance is performed in the same way as the opening ceremony. The shamans, or sometimes only the leader, jumps along as described, but the men just walk to and fro, and have to take long steps in order to keep abreast with the leaders. The women follow the men after the latter have gone several yards ahead, skipping in the same way as the shamans, though less pronounced. They stamp the, hard ground with the right foot and run without regard to time, so that the pattering of their naked feet reminds one of a drove of mules stampeding. They overtake the men, so as to turn around simultaneously with them and wait again for a few seconds for the men to get ahead of them. Thus the dance is continued without interruption for hours and hours. This may sound as if the spectacle was monotonous; but such is not the case. On the contrary, there is a certain fascination in the regular, rhythmical movement from side to side—like the double pendulum of some gigantic, unseen clock. The shaman specially captivates the attention of the observer, being the very incarnation of enthusiasm. He swings his rattle with energy and conviction, as if bent on rousing the gods out of their indifference, while he stamps his right foot on the ground to add weight to the words, which he pours forth in a loud, resonant voice from his wide-open mouth. Although the Tarahumare, as a rule, has a harsh and not very powerful singing voice, still there are some noteworthy exceptions, and the airs of the rutuburi songs are quite pleasing to the ear. These, as all their dancing-songs, are of great antiquity and strangely enchanting.

Rutuburi Dance.

Va-sa-ma du-hu(-hu-ru)-si Sae-va-ga wi-li In flowers (is) jaltomate, [7] in flow-ers stands up,

Sae-va-ga wi-li wu-ka wu-ka. In flowers stands up getting ripe, getting ripe.

Rutuburi Dance.

Ra-ya-bo va-mi va-mi-(ru) ra-ya-bo (On the) ridge yon-der, yon-der (On the) ridge

be-mo-ko ra-ya-bo be-mo-ko. fog (on the) ridge fog.

The water is near; Fog is resting on the mountain and on the mesa. The Bluebird sings and whirs in the trees, and The Male Woodpecker is calling on the llano, Where the fog is rising. The large Swift is making his dashes through the evening air; The rains are close at hand. When the Swift is darting through the air he makes his whizzing, humming noise. The Blue Squirrel ascends the tree and whistles, The plants will be growing and the fruit will be ripening, And when it is ripe it falls to the ground. It falls because it is so ripe. The flowers are standing up, waving in the wind. The Turkey is playing, and the Eagle is calling; Therefore, the time of rains will soon set in.

In the wet season, when the rabbits are about, the shamans sing of the rabbit. In winter time they sing of the giant woodpecker, and in harvest time, when the people begin to make merry, they sing of the blackbird.

The yumari was learned from the deer. According to tradition it is the oldest dance. At the hour appointed, the shaman, facing the cross and the east, here, too, opens the proceedings by shaking his rattle to both sides to notify the gods. Then he begins to walk around the cross, humming a song and marching in time to the rattle, which he now swings down and up. He makes the ceremonial circuit, stopping at each cardinal point for a few seconds. After this he begins his dance, and the rest of the assemblage gradually join in. The dance consists in short walks, forward and backward, with lock-step, the men being arrayed in line on both sides of the shaman, their eyes fixed on the ground, their elbows touching. In this way they swing to and fro, generally describing a curve around the cross, or, sometimes, forming a circle against the apparent movement of the sun. The women dance in a similar way, in a course of their own behind the men; but they frequently break ranks, jumping forward and backward with movements wholly devoid of grace. When the dance goes in a circle, the women move with the sun.

The tones marked with the accent > in each of the following yumari songs are grunts.

The yumari songs tell that the Cricket wants to dance; the Frog wants to dance and jump; and the Blue Heron wants to fish; the Goatsucker is dancing, so is the Turtle, and the Grey Fox is whistling. But it is characteristic of the yumari songs that they generally consist only of an unintelligible jargon, or, rather, of a mere succession of vocables, which the dancers murmur.

Unlike the rutuburi, the yumari soon becomes tiresome, in spite of its greater animation. Yet the spectacle has something weird in it, especially when seen by the fitful flicker of the fire, which throws a fantastic light upon the grotesque figures, like goblins moving about on the same space. Many mothers carry their sleeping infants on their backs. Sometimes, the blanket which supports the baby loosens, and the little thing hangs half out of it, following every movement of the parent.

At most feasts both these dances are performed, and the Indians themselves consider them to have the same general purpose. It is, therefore, not easy to see the relation of the two dances to each other. Rutuburi is the more serious dance, and is more efficacious than yumari, though the latter, of course, has its own special value; for instance, it expresses a prayer that the shaman may have strength to cure. In yumari, all sing and dance, and very frequently all the performers are drunk, while during the former dance absolute decorum is observed. Both dances are for the sun and the moon—rutuburi, in order to call them down; yumari, to despatch them. Therefore, the usual dancing-feasts commence with rutuburi. When the function is about to be concluded, an hour or two before sunrise, yumari is commenced, and leads over to the second part of the festival, the eating and drinking. After this, yumari may be continued throughout the day, while the Indians get drunk. Rutuburi is also danced at thanksgiving for the harvest, while on such occasions yumari asks for a good year to come. Then, again, rutuburi may be danced throughout the day, and yumari at night; but generally the former dance commences soon after sunset. On one occasion, while I was waiting for the performance to begin, the son of the house, in answer to my query, pointed to the sky, and told me that the dance would not commence until the Pleiades reached a certain spot in the heavens, which I calculated to mean about eleven o'clock. This indicated that the stars have some connection with the dancing.

At the break of dawn busy hands begin to get everything ready for the great ceremony of the sacrifice. For several days the women of the household and their friends have been making tortillas and boiling beans and tamales (small quantities of unsalted ground corn, wrapped and boiled in corn-husks). An animal was killed on the preceding day, and the meat has been boiling (without salt) in large jars all day and all night. Tata Dios does not like bones, therefore no bones are cooked with this meat. Several of the women have been dividing their time between dancing and watching the food-supply, to guard it against mishap from any source: A blanket is spread underneath, just to the west of the cross, or the three crosses, as the case may be, and on it in a line they place the jars of tesvino; behind these are set three small earthenware bowls filled with the stringy mass of the meat; then come three baskets of tortillas; and finally three little jars with wooden spoons in each are brought on and put in their proper places, behind the rest of the food. The latter vessels contain medicines to be taken, for the welfare of the people is looked after from every point of view.

In the meantime the dancing goes on with undiminished force. Nearly every night during the dry season, for nobody knows how many centuries, the Morning Star has been looking down upon his sons, the Tarahumares, as they dance in the heart of the sierra, casting his last rays upon the weird scene around their dying fires before he flees from the approaching keeper of the day. Just before the first beam of the rosy light announces the coming of Father Sun, the dancing ceases, and the rattles are added to the sacrificial offerings on the blanket. Everybody now is ready to do homage to the deity about to appear above the horizon. The shaman greets him with the words, "Behold, Nonorugami is coming!" and then solemnly proceeds toward the cross, while the people form a line behind him and preserve a respectful silence throughout the ensuing ceremony. He fills a large drinking-gourd with tesvino, and, holding it in his left hand, throws a small dipperful of the liquor with his right hand into the air, three times to each cardinal point, making the ceremonial circuit. Then the meat and the tortillas are sacrificed in the following way: The shaman takes up from the ground the vessel in front of him, and lifts it three times toward heaven. Then with his fingers he takes up a little meat, offers it to the cross with the word "Koa!" (Eat), and throws it up into the air. Next he breaks off a small piece of tortilla, and repeats the same ceremony. Thus he sacrifices to all the cardinal points. The two assistants of the shaman follow their principal in every act he performs.

The solemnity of the scene is by no means impaired by the numerous dogs, which are gathering to see what they can snatch up. Of course, the people drive them away, but in the end they always get Nonorugami's share of the food, while the god is supposed to eat only the nourishing substance.

What is left in the jars or bowls after the sacrifice is placed back on the blanket under the cross. The broth of the meat, too, is sacrificed, and so is the blood of the animal that has been killed for the feast.

Whenever the shaman returns to the people after performing the sacrifice, he says, "This was done on behalf of Nonorugami," and all the people respond: "Matetrava! Matetrava! Kalahupo!" (Thank you! Thank you! It is all right!)

When the gods have had their share of the tesvino and the food, the curing begins. The medicines are cold infusions of different medicinal plants. The shaman standing directly in front of the middle cross, takes up the jar containing the chief medicine, palo hediondo; his assistant to the north takes up the bowl containing a root called ohnoa; and the one on the south maguey water. After having duly sacrificed to the gods, the great shaman himself takes three spoonfuls of the medicine, and gives the same quantity to his assistant to the north, who in turn first takes his remedy and then gives some to the shaman. In the same way the latter exchanges with his assistant to the south, and then the two assistants exchange remedies. The bowls are then handed by the shaman to the owner of the house, who in turn passes them on to the first man in the row, and from him they go from hand to hand to the last man in the line, each man taking three spoonfuls out of each bowl, while each of the women gets four. The man who drinks last gives the bowls back to the owner of the house, who in turn hands them to the shaman, who puts them back on the blanket underneath the cross. Meanwhile the incense-burners have been filled with hot coals, on which the shaman now throws some copal, the smoke of which he waves over all the people. He, as well as the other men, open their blankets a little to get the smoke on their bodies. This finishes the curing act, and now a speech is made. At private festivals the shaman is the orator of the occasion, but at communal or tribal festivals the gobernador is expected to, and generally does, perform this part of the proceedings. Rhetoric is one of the accomplishments of the Tarahumares, though it is not to be judged in accordance with the white man's standard. Here is a speech made by the gobernador at the end of one of the feasts I witnessed:

Listen to me! Stand up in a row and listen to what I have to tell you. All of you stand up in line, men, women, and children, because I am going to give you my words, to present to you the words which the One Above bids me to tell you. Now all is over! We have done something good to Tara Dios, and he has given you life to dance; and now he is giving you life for another year. All of you will have to make feasts like this. You have no experience; therefore listen to me and hear what I have to tell you. If you do not believe what I am telling you, the Devil will carry you off. You all are inexperienced, all of you who are standing here in a row around. Be quiet, and do all your business quietly. Drink quietly, talk quietly, sing quietly. And do not fight, because if in the fight you kill somebody, what will you have afterward? Nothing but sorrow and sadness! The One who is above us bids me to tell you, to say to all of you, men, women, and children, that this water, this tesvino that we are drinking is what makes us lose our heads. You know it all, and the One Above knows that this is the truth that I am telling you. Don't fight, don't pull each other's hair, don't beat anyone in the face until he bleeds. For the blood and the hair belong to Tata Dios, and you pull his hair and shed his blood. Drink tesvino to your hearts' content, get much drunk, but then lie down and sleep, and in the morning you return to your homes without coming to blows with anyone.

All the time the speech is punctuated with expressions of approval, and at the end they all say: "Matetrava! Matetrava! Kalahupo!" (Thank you! Thank your It is all right!)

A speech is also often made in the beginning of the feast, when much the same sentiments are expressed. The orator tells the people to follow the good example of the host, that sacrificing and dancing may go on here, there, and everywhere, so that the gods will get plenty to eat and grant the prayers of the Tarahumares. He strongly admonishes them to keep away from women, as otherwise the value of the feast would be lost. This day belongs to Tara Dios, and nothing else is to be thought of. If anyone transgresses this command, he will have to give an ox or a sheep and tesvino, to make the feast all over again.

While the dancing and singing, sacrificing and speechmaking, are going on, the people behave with decorous solemnity and formality. The ceremonies are never interrupted by unseemly conduct; everybody deports himself with grave sobriety, and refrains from loud talking and laughing and from making any disrespectful noise. But after the gods have been given their share, the people go in, no less energetically, for enjoying themselves.

Food and tesvino are never distributed by the same man, nor are men and women waited on by the same functionary; in other words, one man is appointed for each sex, to dispense the tesvino, and two others to serve the food.

They eat but little of the solids, as it is customary for the guests to take home their portions, the women bringing jars and baskets along for the purpose. Little or nothing of the tesvino is spared, and it is the avowed intention and aim of everybody to get "a beautiful intoxication." They all like to get drunk. An Indian explained to me that the drunken people weep with delight, because they are so perfectly happy. Every Tarahumare has in his heart a cross which Tata Dios placed there long, long ago, and this cross they respect. When drunk they remember Tata Dios better. At their feasts they sit alongside of him and drink with him. The women sit alongside of the Moon and remember ancient times.

But unfortunately this blissful stage of their intoxication does not last long, and then the animal nature in them manifests itself. Under the influence of the liquor, men and women rapidly lose that bashfulness and modesty which in ordinary life are such characteristic traits of their deportment. Furthermore, whatever grudge one man may' have against another now crops out, and very likely a fight will ensue, in which the two opponents recklessly pull each other's hair and punch each other's faces. Sometimes in such an outbreak of unreasoning animalism one of the combatants will seize a stone and batter the other one's head to crush it. Afterward, when sober again, the murderer may deeply deplore his deed—if he remembers it at all.

Mothers, when overcome by the spirit of the feast, may unawares allow their babies to fall out of the blankets and into the fire. Children may frequently be seen with bruises and scars which they carry as mementoes of some tesvino feast. I know one man who had no hair on one side of his head, having when a child been a victim of such an accident. But seldom, if ever, is a child allowed to become fatally injured.

Taking it all in all, it is a good-natured, jolly, silly crowd, out for a good time and enjoying themselves. All are good friends, and familiarity becomes unlimited. Late in the afternoon those still able to walk start on their way home. Rarely, however, can they reach their domiciles, if these are any distance off, before nature enforces her rights; and the track is strewn with men and women, who, overcome with the effects of their spree, have lain down wherever they happened to be, to sleep themselves sober. Tarahumare society has not yet advanced far enough to see anything disgraceful in debauches of this kind, which, if viewed from their standpoint, are pro bono publico; and we ourselves need go back only to our grandfathers' and great-grandfathers' time to find that inebriety was not at all inconsistent with good morals and high standing. Moreover, no matter how often the Tarahumares indulge in such saturnalia, as soon as they recover their senses they are as decorous and solemn as ever. Their native stimulant does not seem to affect either their physical or their mental faculties, and, all scientific theories to the contrary, their children are strong, healthy, and bright.

Aside from social and religious considerations, the drinking of tesvino is a vital factor in the national life of the tribe. Incredible as it may sound, yet, after prolonged and careful research into this interesting psychological problem, I do not hesitate to state that in the ordinary course of his existence the uncivilised Tarahumare is too bashful and modest to enforce his matrimonial rights and privileges; and that by means of tesvino chiefly the race is kept alive and increasing. It is especially at the feasts connected with the agricultural work that sexual promiscuity takes place.

A large gathering is not necessary in order to pray to the gods by dancing. Sometimes the family dances alone, the father teaching the boys. While doing agricultural work, the Indians often depute one man to dance yumari near the house, while the others attend to the work in the fields. It is a curious sight to see a lone man taking his devotional exercise to the tune of his rattle in front of an apparently deserted dwelling. The lonely worshipper is doing his share of the general work by bringing down the fructifying rain and by warding off disaster, while the rest of the family and their friends plant, hoe, weed, or harvest. In the evening, when they return from the field, they may join him for a little while; but often he goes on alone, dancing all night, and singing himself hoarse, and the Indians told me that this is the very hardest kind of work, and exhausting even to them.

Solitary worship is also observed by men who go out hunting deer or squirrels for a communal feast. Every one of them dances yumari alone in front of his house for two hours to insure success on the hunt; and when putting corn to sprout for the making of tesvino the owner of the house dances for a while, that the corn may sprout well.

In certain parts of the country, near Aboreachic, for instance, a dance called valixiwami is in vogue. Here the line of the women faces that of the men, and the two rows dance backward and forward, following each other all the time.

In a dance called cuvali, which is found still further south, the movements are the same as in the dance just mentioned, but the steps are different. It is danced for the same reason as rutuburi is, and it makes the grass and the fungi grow and the deer and the rabbits multiply. This is the only dance known to the Tepehuanes.

In the winter they dance for snow, a dance called yohe; and finally there is a dance called ayena, which calls the clouds from the north and south that they may clash and produce rain.

I was present at feasts in which four of these dances were performed, and the order in which they followed each other was: Rutuburi, yumari, valixiwami, cuvali.

According to one version of the tradition, both yumari and rutuburi were once men who taught the Tarahumares to dance and sing. They live with Father Sun. Valixiwami and cuvali were also men and companions of the former, but much younger.

At certain feasts for the benefit of the moon, three cigarettes are offered under the cross. The shaman takes one of them, gives a puff, raising the cigarette at the same time upward toward the moon and saying: "Sua" (rise) "vami" (yonder) "repa" (upward). This is repeated three times. The master of the house and his wife do the same. The ceremony is performed in order to help the moon to make clouds. Now all present may smoke. The Tarahumare never smokes in the middle of the day; he would offend the sun by so doing. He indulges in the "weed" mostly at feasts when drunk. When an Indian offers another man tobacco and a dry corn-leaf to roll his cigarette it is a sign that everything is well between them.

Every year between March and May a large performance takes place on a special patio in the woods. Its purpose is to cure or prevent disease, and much tesvino is consumed. A straw-man, about two feet high, dressed in cotton drawers, and with a handkerchief tied around its head is set up next to the cross. It represents Father Sun, and the cross is his wife, the Moon. Sometimes a stuffed recamuchi (cacomistle, bassariscus) is used either in the place of a straw-man or in addition to it. After the feast is over, the manikin is taken to the place from which the straw was obtained, in order to make the grass grow. The Christian Tarahumares keep it in the sacristy of their church.

The latter also celebrate Christmas, and on this occasion some of them, the so-called matachines, paint their faces and carry on their backs stuffed animals, such as the grey fox, squirrel, or opossum, while dancing to the music of the violin. They jokingly call the skins their muchachitos, and hold them as women carry their babies. At present the only object is to make the beholder laugh; but of course the play is a remnant of some ancient custom, the meaning of which is now forgotten through the new associations with which the missionaries of old imbued the ceremonies and rites found among the pagans.

A similar suggestion of antiquity is unmistakably embodied in the deer masks, as well as in the heads with antlers attached, which the same men also may wear.

During Easter week live rattlesnakes are carried about, but the heads of the reptiles are tied together so that they can do no harm. One man may have as many as four serpents with him.



Chapter XIX

Plant-worship—Hikuli—Internal and External Effects—Hikuli both Man and God—How the Tarahumares Obtain the Plant, and where They Keep It—The Tarahumare Hikuli Feast—Musical Instruments—Hikuli Likes Noise—The Dance—Hikuli's Departure in the Morning—Other Kinds of Cacti Worshipped—"Doctor" Rubio, the Great Hikuli Expert—The Age of Hikuli Worship.

To the Indian, everything in nature is alive. Plants, like human beings, have souls, otherwise they could not live and grow. Many are supposed to talk and sing and to feel joy and pain. For instance, when in winter the pine-trees are stiff with cold, they weep and pray to the sun to shine and make them warm. When angered or insulted, the plants take their revenge. Those that are supposed to possess curative powers are venerated. This fact, however, does not save them from being cut into pieces and steeped in water, which the people afterward drink or use in washing themselves. The mere fragrance of the lily is supposed to cure sickness and to drive off sorcery. In invoking the lily's help the shaman utters a prayer like this:

"Sumati okilivea saeva rako cheeneserova "Beautiful this morning in bloom lily thou guard me! waminamela ke usugituami cheeotsheloaya drive them away (those who) make sorcery! thou make me grow old! cheeliveva tesola chapimelava otsheloa thou give me walking-stick (to) take up (in) old age rimivelava Matetrava Sevaxoa (that I may) find! thanks exhale fragrance wilirova!" standing!"

("Beautiful lily, in bloom this morning, guard me! Drive away sorcery! Make me grow old! Let me reach the age at which I have to take up a walking-stick! I thank thee for exhaling thy fragrance there, where thou art standing!")

High mental qualities are ascribed especially to all species of Mammilaria and Echinocactus, small cacti, for which a regular cult is instituted. The Tarahumares designate several varieties as hikuli, though the name belongs properly only to the kind most commonly used by them. These plants live for months after they have been rooted up, and the eating of them causes a state of ecstasy. They are therefore considered demi-gods, who have to be treated with great reverence, and to whom sacrifices have to be offered.

The principal kinds thus distinguished are known to science as Lophophora Williamsii and Lophophora Williamsii, var. Lewinii. In the United States they are called mescal buttons, and in Mexico peyote. The Tarahumares speak of them as the superior hikuli (hikuli waname), or simply hikuli, they being the hikuli par excellence.

The Huichol Indians, who live many hundred miles south of the Tarahumares, also have a hikuli cult, and it is a curious and interesting fact that with them the plant has even the same name, although the two tribes are neither related to nor connected with each other. The cults, too, show many points of resemblance, though with the southern tribe the plant plays a far more important part in the tribal life, and its worship is much more elaborate. On the other hand, the Huichols use only the species and variety shown in the illustration, while the Tarahumares have several. Major J. B. Pond, of New York, informs me that in Texas, during the Civil War, the so-called Texas Rangers, when taken prisoners and deprived of all other stimulating drinks, used mescal buttons, or "white mule," as they called them. They soaked the plants in water and became intoxicated with the liquid.

The plant, when taken, exhilarates the human system, and allays all feeling of hunger and thirst. It also produces colour-visions. When fresh, it has a nauseating, slightly sour taste, but it is wonderfully refreshing when one has been exposed to great fatigue. Not only does it do away with all exhaustion, but one feels actually pushed on, as I can testify from personal experience. In this respect it resembles the Peruvian coca; but unlike the latter, it leaves a certain depression, as well as a headache. Although an Indian feels as if drunk after eating a quantity of hikuli, and the trees dance before his eyes, he maintains the balance of his body even better than under normal conditions, and he will walk along the edge of precipices without becoming dizzy. At their nocturnal feasts, when drinking heavily of both tesvino and hikuli, many persons may be seen to weep and laugh alternately. Another marked effect of the plant is to take away temporarily all sexual desire. This fact, no doubt, is the reason why the Indians, by a curious aboriginal mode of reasoning, impose abstinence from sexual intercourse as a necessary part of the hikuli cult.

The effect of the plant is so much enjoyed by the Tarahumares that they attribute to it power to give health and long life and to purify body and soul. The little cacti, either fresh or dried, are ground on the metate, while being mixed with water; and this liquor is the usual form in which hikuli is consumed.

Hikuli is also applied externally for snake-bites, burns, wounds, and rheumatism; for these purposes it is chewed, or merely moistened in the mouth, and applied to the afflicted part. Not only does it cure disease, causing it to run off, but it also so strengthens the body that it can resist illness, and is therefore much used in warding off sickness. Though not given to the dead, since the dead are no longer in need of remedies, hikuli is always partaken of at the feasts of the dead.

Moreover, hikuli is a powerful protector of its people under all circumstances, and it gives luck. If a man carries some hikuli in his belt, the bear cannot bite him and the deer cannot run away, but become quite tame and can easily be killed. Should he meet Apaches, hikuli would prevent them from firing off their guns at him. It gives luck in foot-races and all kinds of games, in climbing trees, etc. Hikuli is the great safeguard against witchcraft. It sees even better than the shamans, and it watches that nothing bad is put into the food. The Christian Tarahumares, when they partake of hikuli, think that the devil runs out of their stomachs. Hikuli purifies any man who is willing to sacrifice a sheep and to make native beer. There is, however, no remedy for a murderer; not even hikuli can cure him.

The Christian Tarahumares make the sign of the cross when coming into the presence of the plant, and I was told to lift my hat to it. It is always saluted in the same way as a man, and is supposed to make the customary responses to the salutations. Hikuli is not as great as Father Sun, but sits next to him. It is the brother of Tata Dios; and the greatest hikuli is his twin brother, and is therefore called uncle.

Sometimes these plants are dressed up in pieces of blankets, and cigarettes are placed before them. Boys must not touch hikuli, and women only when they act as the shaman's assistants and have to grind it. As a matter of fact, only shamans can handle it properly, and even they wash their hands carefully, and sometimes elect not to touch it at all, making use of little sticks instead of their fingers. Certain shamans washed their hands and rinsed their mouths immediately after eating from my vessels, because hikuli would be angry with them for eating strange food cooked by strange people.

Hikuli is not kept in the house, because it is extremely virtuous, and might become offended at the sight of anything immodest. It is placed in a special jar or basket, in a separate store-house, and is never taken out until tesvino and meat have been offered to it. If this were neglected, it would eat the Indian's soul. If anything happens to hikuli—for instance, if irreverent mice eat it—the owner fears that he may be made crazy as a punishment for his failure to guard it. If anyone should steal hikuli, he would be sure to go crazy, unless he returned the plant to its original owner. He must also kill an ox and make a big feast, in order to set himself right again with the mighty god and with the people.

After four years, hikuli grows old and mouldy, and loses its virtues. It is then buried in a corner of the cave or the house, or taken to the place where it came from, and fresh plants are obtained instead. According to tradition, when Tata Dios went to heaven in the beginning of the world, he left hikuli behind as the great remedy of the people, Hikuli has four faces and sees everything. Its power is well shown in the following myth:

The Bear in a cave said to Hikuli, "Let us fight and let us first smoke over there." They smoked and they fought, and Hikuli was stronger than the Bear. When Hikuli threw the Bear down, all the wind went out of the Bear; but the Bear said again, "Let us smoke and let us fight a few times more." And they did so, and Hikuli again threw down the Bear, and the Bear seated himself on a stone and wept, and went away, and never returned.

Hikuli is not indigenous to the Tarahumare country of to-day. To obtain it long and until recently perilous journeys have to be undertaken every year to the plateaus of eastern Chihuahua, in the Sierra del Almoloy, near the railroad station of Ximenez, and to the Sierra de Margoso, beyond Santa Rosalia de Camarga, crossing the tracks of the Mexican Central Railroad. From two or three to a dozen men start out to get the plants, first purifying themselves with copal incense. It takes a week or ten days to get to the Sierra de Margoso, where the plants are chiefly found, and about a month is consumed on the entire journey. Until they reach the hikuli country, the Tarahumares may eat anything; but once there, they must abstain from everything except pinole. Upon arriving at the spot, the pilgrims erect a cross, and near it they place the first plants taken up, that these may tell where others may be found in plenty. The second batch of plants gathered is eaten raw, and makes the men drunk. As speech is forbidden, they lie down in silence and sleep. The following day, when perfectly sober again, they begin early in the morning to collect the plants, taking them up with the utmost care, by means of sticks, so as not to touch or injure them, because hikuli would get angry and punish the offender. Two days are spent in gathering the plants, each kind being placed in a separate bag, because, if they were mixed together, they would fight. The bags are carefully carried on the backs of the men, as the Tarahumares generally have no horses.

In the field in which it grows, it sings beautifully, that the Tarahumare may find it. It says, "I want to go to your country, that you may sing your songs to me." It also sings in the bag while it is being carried home. One man, who wanted to use his bag as a pillow, could not sleep, he said, because the plants made so much noise.

When the hikuli-seekers arrive at their homes, the people turn out to welcome the plants with music, and a festival at which a sheep or a goat is sacrificed is held in their honour. On this occasion the shaman wears necklaces made of the seeds of Coix Lachryma-Jobi. In due time he takes them off, and places them in a bowl containing water in which the heart of the maguey has been soaked, and after a while everyone present gets a spoonful of this water. The shaman, too, takes some, and afterward wears the necklaces again. Both plants, the Coix Lachryma-Jobi as well as the maguey, are highly esteemed for their curative properties; and in his songs the shaman describes hikuli as standing on top of a gigantic seed of the Coix Lachryma-Jobi, as big as a mountain.

The night is passed in dancing hikuli and yumari. The pile of fresh plants, perhaps two bushels or more, is placed under the cross, and sprinkled with tesvino, for hikuli wants to drink beer, and if the people should not give it, it would go back to its own country. Food is also offered to the plants, and even money is placed before them, perhaps three silver dollars, which the owner, after the feast, takes back again.

During the year, feasts may be held especially in honour of hikuli, but generally the hikuli dance is performed simultaneously with, though apart from, the rutuburi or other dances. On such occasions some shamans devote themselves exclusively to the hikuli cult, in order that the health of the dancers may be preserved, and that they may have vigour for their work.

The hikuli feast consists mainly in dancing, which, of course, is followed by eating and drinking, after the customary offerings of food and tesvino have been made to the gods. It is not held on the general dancing-place, in front of the Tarahumare dwelling, but on a special patio. For the occasion a level piece of ground may be cleared of all stones and rubbish, and carefully swept with the Indian broom, which is made of a sheaf of straw tied in the middle.

Meanwhile some people go into the woods to gather fuel for the large fire which will be needed. The fire is an important feature of the hikuli-feast, a fact indicated by the name, which is napitshi nawliruga, literally, "moving (i.e. dancing) around (nawliruga) the fire (napitshi)." There seems to be a preference for fallen trees, pines or oaks, but this may be because they are found in plenty everywhere, are drier and burn better, and finally save the men the labour and time of cutting them down. Quite a number of such trunks are brought together, and placed parallel to each other in an easterly and westerly direction; but not until after sunset is the fire lighted.

The master of the house in which the feast is to be held gives some plants to two or three women appointed to the office of shaman's assistants. At an ordinary gathering, a dozen or two of the plants suffice. The women are called rokoro, which means the stamen of the flower, while the shaman is the pistil The women grind the plants with water on the metate, and then take part in the dance. They must wash their hands most carefully before touching them; and while they are grinding a man stands by with a gourd, to catch any stray drop of liquor that may drip from the metate, and to watch that nothing of the precious fluid is lost. Not one drop must be spilled, and even the water with which the metate is afterward washed, is added to the liquid. The drink thus produced is slightly thick and of a dirty brown colour.

The shaman (sometimes there are two) takes his seat on the ground to the west of the fire, about two yards off. On the opposite side of the dancing-place, toward the east, the cross is placed. The shaman's male assistants, at least two in number, seat themselves on either side of their principal, while the women helpers take a position to the north of the fire. On one occasion I observed that the men grouped themselves on one side of the shaman, the women on the other. Close by the shaman's seat a hole is dug, into which he or his assistants may spit, after having drunk or eaten hikuli, so that nothing may be lost. After this improvised cuspidor has been used, it is always carefully covered with a leaf.

As soon as the shaman has seated himself, he takes a round drinking-gourd, and by pressing its rim firmly into the soil and turning the vessel round, makes a circular mark. Lifting up the bowl again, he draws two diametrical lines at right angles in the circle, and thus produces a symbol of the world.

In the centre he puts a hikuli, right side up; or he may dig a hole in the centre, to the depth of five or six inches, and place the hikuli in this. He then covers it up with the gourd, bottom up, so that the plant stands within a hollow sphere. The gourd may be replaced by a wooden vessel of similar shape; but in any case it is firmly planted in the ground to serve as a resonator for the musical instrument,—the notched stick, which the shaman leans against the vessel, and on which with another stick he rasps an accompaniment to his songs. If he does not plant the gourd carefully in the ground, it will make a discordant sound, which will vex the demi-god, and he will cause someone in the house to die. The noise produced by the rasping is enjoyed by Hikuli; that is why he is placed beneath the bowl. He is powerful, and manifests his strength by the noise produced.

The notched stick, as well as the rasping-stick, is made from the heavy, hard Brazil-wood, brought from the vicinity of San Ignacio, the hikuli country. The shaman holds the notched stick in his left hand, a little away from himself, so that it touches the vessel at a point below the middle of its length, the part between the shaman's hand and the point of contact being a little longer than the portion from that point to the end of the stick.

The notched sticks which are shown in the illustration, from a Tarahumare burial-cave, are apparently of considerable age. The Indians to whom I showed them did not know them, but they all affirmed that they were rasping-sticks. On two sides of one of them are slanting lines, which symbolize the road of Tata Dios; on the intervening sides are transverse lines which represent falling rain. As the implements were found near Baborigame, they may possibly have belonged to the Tepehuanes, the northern members of whom also have the hikuli cult.

When the shaman begins to rasp, he starts from the farther end of the notched stick, though not quite at the point, and runs his rasping-stick quickly and evenly, about twenty-six times, toward himself, and away again; then he makes three long strokes down and outward, each time throwing out his arm at full length, and holding the stick for a second high up toward the east. This is repeated three times, and is the prelude to the ceremony. Now he begins to sing, accompanying himself with even strokes on the notched stick, playing regularly, one stroke as long and as fast as the other, always first toward himself, then down again. His songs are short, lasting only about five minutes.

Presently the shaman's assistants, men and women, rise. They carry censers filled with burning charcoals and copal, and emitting a heavy smoke, and proceed toward the cross, to which they offer the smoking incense, kneeling down, facing east, and crossing themselves. This feature, if not wholly due to Catholic influence, is at least strongly affected by it.

Having offered incense to the cross, they return to the shaman. The women now sit down again in their previous places. The men receive from the shaman rattles (sonajas) consisting of deer-hoofs tied with bits of reed to a strap of leather. They are either held in the right hand or slung over the shoulder. When there are not enough rattles for all assistants, a bell may be substituted.

Finally everything is ready for the dance to commence. The men wear white blankets, in which they keep themselves wrapped up to the chin throughout the night; but they have no sandals. The dance is performed by the shaman's assistants, and consists of a peculiar, quick, jumping march, with short steps, the dancers moving forward one after another, on their toes, and making sharp, jerky movements, without, however, turning around. They dance in the space between the fire and the cross, and move in a direction opposite to the sun's apparent movement. Nobody present is allowed to walk in contra-direction to the dancers. After six or eight rounds, they enlarge the circuit so as to include the fire; and whenever a dancer finds himself just between the shaman and the fire, he quickly turns around once, then, dancing as before, moves on to the dancing-place proper. Now and then the dancers give vent to what is supposed to be an imitation of the hikuli's talk, which reminded me of the crowing of a cock. Beating their mouths quickly three times with the hollow of their hands, they shout in a shrill, falsetto voice, "Hikuli vava!" which means, "Hikuli over yonder!"

The women take their turns separate from the men, though sometimes they dance simultaneously with them. They move around in silence, and their dance is slightly different from that of the other sex. Sometimes two and two may be seen dancing toward each other. They all wear freshly washed, clean white skirts and tunics, and the entire scene around the big fire is marvellously picturesque.

The dancing may sometimes lag, but the singing and the rhythmical rasping of the shaman are kept up through the night, interrupted only once or twice, when he sees fit. He politely excuses himself to Hikuli, and formal salutations are exchanged with the plant under the bowl both when he goes and when he returns. On such occasions he stops his singing and rasping, and notifies Hikuli by striking the notched stick several times quickly with the rasping-stick, and finishing off with three slow beats.

His songs describe how Hikuli walks with his rattles and with his staff of authority; he comes to cure and to guard the people and to grant a "beautiful" intoxication. To bring about the latter result, the brownish liquor is dispensed from a jar standing under the cross. A man Serves it in small quantities from agourd, which he first carries around the fire on a rapid run, making three circuits for the shaman, and one for the rest of the assemblage. The spirits of the feasters rise in proportion to their potations. Sometimes only the shaman and his assistants indulge in the drinking; on other occasions all the people partake of the liquor.

Song to the Hikuli.

Hi-ku-li o-ku-li-va-va Ta-mi-sae-li-va re-ga Hikuli, uncle! Our authority thus!

A-go-na wi-li si-nae Na-na-ja re-ga we-la Yonder standing upright, see! The ancients thus placed him.



The secondary effect of the plant, depression and drowsiness, shows itself more plainly on the company when they sit down between the dancing, than on the well-trained shaman, who, besides, is kept awake by his occupation. As one or the other of his assistants succumbs to sleepiness, he has to ask permission of Hikuli, through the shaman, to go off and rest for a while, and must properly notify Hikuli of his leaving and returning to duty. Toward morning all the assistants are struggling hard to overcome somnolence, while the shaman sings and rasps as conscientiously and enthusiastically as ever.

But all rouse themselves for the important acts of curing the people by rasping and of despatching Hikuli. Just at daybreak, as the fire is dying out, the shaman gives the welcome signal that the dance is over, by the three final raps on his notched stick. Then the people gather at the eastern end of the dancing-place, near the cross. The shaman rises from his seat, carrying in his hands his rasping implements, and, followed by a boy who carries a gourd with water, he proceeds to confer upon everybody present the benediction. Stopping in front of each one, he solemnly dips the point of the rasping-stick into the water, and after touching the notched stick lightly with the wetted end, first in the middle, then on the lower end, and finally on the top, he daubs the head of the person three times with it. Then he rests the end of the notched stick against the man's head and rasps three long strokes from end to end, throwing out his hand far into the air after each stroke. The dust produced by the rasping, infinitesimal though it be, is powerful in giving health and life. Now he turns toward the rising Sun, holding out his implements to him; and, quickly rubbing up and down a few times at the lower end of the notched stick, he makes a long stroke from end to end, passing the hand far out from the stick toward the Sun. By this act, three times performed, he waves Hikuli home. In the early morning, Hikuli had come from San Ignacio and from Sara-polio, riding on beautiful green doves, to feast with the Tarahumares at the end of the dance, when the people sacrifice food, and eat and drink. The greatest Hikuli eats with the shaman, who alone is able to see him and his companions. If Hikuli should not come to the feasts, there would always be on the Tarahumares the breath or stain of sorcery.

Having bestowed his blessings, Hikuli forms himself into a ball, and flies home to his country, accompanied by the owl, who also flies to its shelter at that hour.

The dust produced by the rasping of the shaman in the course of the night is carefully gathered up and kept in a buckskin bag as a powerful remedy for future use.

After the feast everybody has to wash his face and hands, a duty esteemed most important.

Besides hikuli waname ordinarily used, the Tarahumares know and worship the following varieties:

1. Mulato (Mammilaria micromeris).—This is believed to make the eyes large and clear to see sorcerers, to prolong life and to give speed to the runners.

2. Rosapara.—This is only a more advanced vegetative stage of the preceding species—though it looks quite different, being white and spiny. This, too, must only be touched with very clean hands, in the moral sense, it would seem, as much as in the physical, for only people who are well baptised are allowed to handle it. It is a good Christian and keeps a sharp eye on the people around it; and when it sees anyone doing some wrong, it gets very angry, and either drives the offender mad or throws him down precipices. It is therefore very effective in frightening off bad people, especially robbers and Apaches.

3. Sunami (Mammilaria fissurata).—It is rare, but it is believed to be even more powerful than waname and is used in the same way as the latter; the drink produced from it is also strongly intoxicating. Robbers are powerless to steal anything where Sunami calls soldiers to its aid.

4. Hikuli walula saeliami.—This is the greatest of all, and the name means "hikuli great authority." It is extremely rare among the Tarahumares, and I have not seen any specimen of it, but it was described to me as growing in clusters of from eight to twelve inches in diameter, resembling waname with many young ones around it. All the other hikuli are his servants. The reason why so few of these plants are brought to the Tarahumare country is that he is very greedy, requiring oxen for food, not being satisfied with sheep, goats, or anything else. Therefore but few Tarahumares can afford to entertain him in their country. If an ox is not killed for him, he will eat the Indian. He always holds his head down, because he is listening to all the ceremonies that are being held in the Tarahumare land, and he is always full of thoughts of how he may cure his sons, the Tarahumares. He never dies. When a person is very ill, and there is no such hikuli in the country, the shaman in his thoughts flies to the hikuli country, where "the great authority" stands looking at his children, the people, and offers him the soul of an ox that has been sacrificed. Hikuli accepts the offering, and sends back his blessings by his servants, who are always well dressed and wear straw hats, "like regular Americans," as my shaman friend Rubio expressed it. Only the shamans, however, can see them come, to cure the hearts of the people and to clean their souls.

All these various species are considered good, as coming from Tata Dios, and well-disposed toward the people. But there are some kinds of hikuli believed to come from the Devil. One of these, with long white spines, is called ocoyome. It is very rarely used, and only for evil purposes. If anyone should happen to touch it with the foot, it would cause the offending leg to break. Once when I pushed one of these globular spiny cacti out of my way with a cane, my Indian attendant immediately warned me, "Leave it alone, or it will make you fall down precipices."

At one of the feasts which I witnessed I wished to taste hikuli, as it was new to me. A lively discussion arose between the shamans, and I was finally told that I might sit with them, as it was known that I had some of the sacred plants in my possession. The condition was made, however, that I should take off my sombrero. It happened to be a cold and windy December night, but I obeyed and put my handkerchief over my head, to which no objection was raised. The man who carried the gourd, first danced in front of the shaman, then around the fire, and finally brought it to me. The liquid tasted somewhat bitter, but not exactly disagreeable; and while I drank, the man looked at me with astonishment, as if he had expected that hikuli would refuse to be taken by me.

I drank only a small cupful, but felt the effect in a few minutes. First it made me wide awake, and acted as an excitant to the nerves, similar to coffee, but much more powerful. This sensation lasted for about ten minutes, when it was followed by a depression and a chill such as I have never experienced before. To get warm I almost threw myself into the fire, but not until morning was the feeling of cold conquered. Some Tarahumares told me that they are similarly affected, and for this reason they do not take it. When I told the shaman about the effect hikuli had on me, he asked whether I had rasped on the notched stick, because, he said, hikuli does not give chills to people who rasp. In other words, according to him, the effect might be warded off by physical exercise.

A shaman who agreed to sell me some hikuli took me with him to his house. Then he walked over to a store-house of pine boards, and with a long stick undid the lock from within, taking off a few boards from the roof to get at it. After some searching, he produced a small closed basket. Holding this in his hand, he rapidly ran around me in one ceremonious circuit, and said in a scarcely audible voice: "Thank you for the time you have been with me; now go with him; I will give you food before you go." The smoke of copal was blown over the plants in the basket, that they might eat; and I had to smell of the incense, so that hikuli might find pleasure in being with me. The shaman then opened the basket and asked me to select what I wanted. I picked out twelve plants, but, as he asked $10 for them, I contented myself with three.

On my way back to civilisation, I spent some time at Guajochic, near which place the great hikuli expert, Shaman Rubio, lives. He is a truly pious man, well-meaning and kind-hearted, living up to his principles, in which Christianity and Paganism are harmoniously blended. He is highly esteemed by all his countrymen, who consider him the greatest hikuli shaman in that part of the Tarahumare country. His profession brings him a very comfortable living, as his services are constantly in demand, and are paid for by fine pieces of the animals sacrificed. For curing the people he even gets money; and what with praying and singing, drinking tesvino and hikuli, fasting and curing the sick, he passes his days in the happy conviction that he keeps the world going. From him I obtained specimens of the various kinds of cacti which the Tarahumares worship,—a betrayal of the secrets of the tribe, for which the other shamans punished him by forbidding him ever to go again on a hikuli journey. Though in the first year he obeyed the sentence, he did not take it much to heart, feeling himself far superior to his judges, who, he knew, could not get along without him, and in the end would have to come to him; for he is the most virtuous of them all, and therefore knows the commands of Tata Dios better than anyone else.

It is to him that I owe a good deal of what I know about this plant-worship, as well as several songs used in the cult. He came often to see me, and one day told me in confidence that the hikuli in my possession would have to be fed before they started on their long journey to the United States; for it was a long time since they had had food, and they were getting angry. The next time he came he brought some copal tied up in a cotton cloth, and after heating the incense on a piece of crockery he waved the smoke over the plants, which he had placed in front of him. This, he said, would satisfy them; they would now go content with me, and no harm would come to me from sorcerers, robbers, or Apaches. This was a comfort, for to reach Chihuahua I had to pass through some disturbed country, and there were rumours of a revolution.

It seems that at present only the districts around Nararachic and Baqueachic get hikuli from its native country, and that all the others procure it from these two. Until recently the people of Guachochic also went to fetch plants, and a few may yet undertake the journey. One old man showed me some hikuli which he had gathered thirty-five years ago. At Nararachic they use hikuli all the year round, that is, as long as they have corn, because "hikuli wants tesvino." The people in the barrancas are too timid to go on the expeditions, and they buy the plants at the price of a sheep apiece. The purchaser holds a feast, not only when he brings the demi-god to his home, but also a year after the event. In the eastern section of the country, and in the foothills around Rio Fuerte, hikuli is not used at all. It is very rarely planted by the Tarahumares; the only instance I saw of it was in Tierras Verdes.

A significant light is thrown on the antiquity of the cult, as well as on the age of the tribe itself, by a certain variation in the ceremonial which I observed in the southwestern part of the Tarahumare country. There it is the custom of the shaman to draw underneath his resonator-gourd a mystical human figure in the sand, and to place the hikuli in its centre. Regarding this mystical figure, my lamented friend, Frank Hamilton Cushing, informed me that similar or almost identical drawings are found depicted on the lava rocks of Arizona. In a letter dated October 30, 1893, he said:

The figure you sketch for me is closely allied, for example, to very ancient ritualistic petrographs in the lava regions of Arizona. You will see this at a glance by the figure of one of those petrographs, which I reproduce in juxtaposition with yours:

Others which I have recorded are even more strikingly similar. I have always supposed that these figures were designed for "medicine" ceremonials, but thought of them rather as pertaining to the medicines of the elements, wind, rain, water, etc., used in connection with sacrifices (with which ceremonial rites were terminated) than as connected with actual medicinal ceremonials. I was led to this belief by finding in connection with some of them little cup-shaped concavities pecked into the angles of the figures (as a, a, a). You will observe that a line is drawn from the middle and straight portion of my figure and coiled around the concavity at the right side, and that the terminations of the upper cross lines are bifurcated around similar though smaller concavities. This entire figure represents a water-animal god, one only of a number of semi-human mystic monsters. For convenience his heart is drawn out to one side, and within it is placed the cup of the "chief" medicine; while in his left hand is the cup of the "good" medicine, and in his right hand the cup of "bad" (i.e., strong) medicine. If in the light of this you re-examine your figure, you will see with me that it represents a man-god sitting, his legs doubled under him and his medicines distributed around and upon him according to his parts, and in accordance also, probably, to their importance and the case in hand. He must always have the chief of all medicines placed on his heart, as the renewer of life. Then, strictly with reference to the ailment to be treated, and its location in the body or limbs of the patient (I should say), the other medicines. I throw this out as a suggestion, yet with much confidence in its at least approximate correctness as indicated by my comparative studies. Probably a consultation of your notes and the remembrance of variations of the ceremony you have seen, will signify to you whether I am right or not. Remember that if these people have this ceremonial in connection with the treatment of disease, they will also have it in the treatment of the weather, etc., when "diseased," so to say. You have opened up a new significance of many outlines among the older lava-remains, and if my record of these in turn has helped to explain your diagram, etc., you can judge of my pleasure and appreciation."



Chapter XX

The Tarahumare's Firm Belief in a Future Life—Causes of Death—The Dead are Mischievous and Want Their Families to Join Them—Therefore the Dead Have to be Kept Away by Fair Means or Foul—Three Feasts and a Chase—Burial Customs—A Funeral Sermon.

The idea of immortality is so strong with the Tarahumares that death means to them only a change of form. They certainly believe in a future life, but they are afraid of the dead, and think that they want to harm the survivors. This fear is caused by the supposition that the dead are lonely, and long for the company of their relatives. The dead also make people ill, that they too may die and join the departed. When a man dies in spite of all efforts of the shamans to save his life, the people say that those who have gone before have called him or carried him off. The deceased are also supposed to retain their love for the good things they left behind in this world, and to be trying every way to get at them. So strong is the feeling that the departed still owns whatever property he once possessed, that he is thought to be jealous of his heirs who now enjoy its possession. He may not let them sleep at night, but makes them sit up by the fire and talk. To soothe his discontent, tesvino and all kinds of food are given him, because he needs the same things he needed here. In the course of the year several ceremonies are performed, by which he is actually chased off, and the survivors constantly take precautions against his return to bother them.

Sometimes the dead are sent by sorcerers to harm people and make them ill, but generally they come of their own accord. They enter the house at night and drink the tesvino and eat the food prepared for a feast, and what they cannot eat they spoil. To protect the beer against such mischief the people place bows and arrows next the jars, and cover the vessels with sprigs of the odorous artemisia. The dead will also kill cattle and sheep, and spit and blow in the faces of the people, to make them ill, and possibly cause their death. Sometimes the dead are viewed as spirits, and the shaman sees them flying through the air, like birds. If the spirit of a dead person takes up his abode in a house, the owner of the dwelling will feel a choking sensation, dry up, and die, unless the shaman gives to the dead plenty of tesvino, and drives him away with incantations.

The dead are supposed to be about at night; therefore the Tarahumares do not like to travel after dark, for fear of meeting the dead, who whistle when they pass the living. Only shamans can travel at night, although sometimes even they have to fight with the dead, who come running out of the caves on all fours. In the daytime the Tarahumares are not afraid of the dead, though even then they do not dare to visit burial-places, modern or ancient. I found it difficult to get Indians to carry bones of skeletons excavated from ancient burial-caves, and even the Mexicans would not allow their animals to carry burdens of that kind, for fear that the mules would get tired, that is to say, play out and die.

When a person dies, his eyes are closed, his hands crossed over his breast, and the relatives talk to him one by one, and bid him good-bye. The weeping widow tells her husband that, now that he has gone and does not want to stay with her any longer, he must not come back to frighten her or his sons or daughters or anyone else. She implores him not to carry any of them off, or do any mischief, but to leave them all alone.

A mother says to her dead infant: "Now go away! Don't come back any more, now that you are dead. Don't come at night to nurse at my breast. Go away, and do not come back!" And the father says to the child: "Don't come back to ask me to hold your hand, or to do things for you. I shall not know you any more. Don't come walking around here, but stay away."

The body is wrapped in a blanket almost before it is cold, to be buried later, but food is at once placed around it, and ashes are liberally strewn over and around the corpse, to enable the relatives to discover, by the tracks, into what kind of animal the dead has changed. At night some fox or coyote, polecat or rat, is sure to be attracted by the smell of the food; but the people believe that it was the departed who returned in the form of the animal to get his food. A shaman, without even looking at the tracks, may be able to tell what animal shape the dead assumes.

Within twenty-four hours the corpse is taken away to be buried. It is tied in three or four places to one or two poles and carried by two men. Women never go with them to the funeral. As soon as the undertakers have accomplished their task, they immediately wash their persons well. Upon their return, branches of the mountain cedar are burned inside of the house, to "cure" it.

The body is laid at rest in a shallow grave inside of a cave or just outside of it, with the head to the east and the feet to the west. In some caves, however, this rule is not adhered to, for I found corpses placed in accordance with the formation of the floor of the cave. The body is covered with an inch of earth, then with a row of pine or palm sticks put on lengthwise, and over this a layer of earth is spread five or six inches deep. On top of all, stones are thrown. The bodies of grown persons are stretched out to their full length, but with children the knees are generally drawn up.

This is one Way in which the pagan Tarahumares bury their dead. Another mode, equally common, is to place the body lying on its back, on the surface, without any earth to cover it; in this case the mouth of the cave is walled up with stones, or stones and mud, and several bodies may be found inside.

When exhuming skeletons I have frequently found bits of charcoal, which was explained by the fact that during the first night the mourners keep a fire near the grave, which to-day serves the same purpose as candles. This also accounts for the smokiness of the interior of the burial-caves, even of the ancient ones.

The dead keeps his buckskin pouch and three small gourds with beans. Three ears of corn are placed to the left of his head, as well as a small jar of tesvino. Another small jar of tesvino is placed near his feet, as well as his bow and arrows, the stone with which the arrows are stretched, reeds and sinews, his steel for striking fire, the small stick with which paint is put on the arrows, his sucking-tubes when the deceased has been a shaman, in fact all his light-weight belongings, besides balls of gum from the pine-tree, necklaces of Coix Lachryma-Jobi and a hikuli plant. Everything heavy, such as his axe, machete, beads, and money, he leaves, as it is thought that the weight would hinder him from rising to heaven. This is the practical view the Indians have taken since their contact with the whites, as valuables frequently attract marauders. The dead man's sandals, his violin, and the vessels from which he used to take his food, are kept in a separate place for a year, that is, until after the last function for the dead is over; then at night the shaman and other men take them away and bury them somewhere, but not with the dead. The skins on which he died are treated in the same way, and are never used again, lest a very ugly dog might be born of them. The house is always destroyed, and the me-tare and many jars and baskets are broken.

On the third day after the death, the relatives begin to prepare the first feast for the dead, which is held within a fortnight. One or two sheep or goats are killed, and the lungs, the heart, and the windpipe are hung from a stick outside the burial-cave.

As soon as the tesvino is ready the feast comes off, although comparatively little of the liquor is used at this first function. The relatives, men and women, visit the grave and leave a jar with pinole, a small jar with tesvino, three tortillas, and three cigarettes with the dead, if he was a man; with a woman, four tortillas, etc., are required. The size of the tortillas varies with the age of the person. For adults the ordinary tortilla is used; to young people over six years old, medium-sized ones are given; and children get small ones, about an inch and a half in diameter. I have seen medium-sized ones made into the shape of a cross.

All the mourners talk to the departed, the shaman first. He tells him that he had better take away everything they have given him, and not come and disturb the people he has left behind. He should leave them alone, and some day they, too, will have to go where he is. He should not kill any of the animals belonging to the family, as they have killed a sheep for him and given him the best part, the lungs, that he may eat and be satisfied and not take what now is theirs.

At the first feast I have seen worn in the hair by both men and Women a peculiar kind of artificial flower. It is made from a short bit of reed in one end of which four incisions are made, with the parts turned outward to stand out like the corolla of a flower. It is stuck under the hair-ribbon at one side of the head. The mourners also make crosses on their foreheads with charcoal.

The second feast is given half a year later, and again animals are killed and a large quantity of tesvino is made. Three men and three women carry food and tesvino to the grave, the relatives remaining at home. On their return they stop at a distance from the house and throw ashes over each other's heads before entering.

For the third function, which is the largest, an animal is selected from among those last acquired by the deceased, and quantities of food and beer are prepared. This feast is the final effort to despatch the dead. A large earthen bowl is made especially for the purpose. It is about two feet in diameter and six inches deep. It is filled with water, and a drinking-gourd placed inside of it, upside down. The shaman beats this gourd with a corn-cob fastened to the end of a little stick. His assistants help him, one by swinging the rattle, the other by singing. After a while the shaman lifts the bowl up and after carrying it about in three ceremonial circuits throws it into the air. It falls to the ground and breaks into many pieces, and the people dance and trample on the shreds and on the drinking-gourd.

The young people conclude the function by running a race of some hundred yards. The men have their ball, and as they run they scatter ashes to the four cardinal points to cover the tracks of the dead. They return rejoicing, manifesting their delight by throwing up their blankets, tunics, and hats, because now the dead is at last chased off. If the deceased be a woman, the women run a race with rings and sticks.

A very elaborate third function, given by a widow, was described to me as follows: There were five patios. On one, for the dead, was erected one large cross and two small ones, and three gourds with tesvino and a basket with uncooked meat were placed near by. A fire was lighted, and one man had to watch here. On another patio one cross was raised, and a branch from a pine-tree placed next to it. Here, too, a jar with tesvino and a basket with uncooked meat were deposited, and one man and two women kept watch, but no ceremonies were performed. A third patio was for the hikuli cult, where the shaman rasped and sang. On the fourth patio, yumari was danced, and one large cross and two smaller ones had been erected. Finally, on the fifth patio four torches of resinous pinewood, each a yard high, were placed at the four cardinal points. A peculiar feature was that one man alone danced here between these four torches, cutting with his knife three times through each flame as he danced. This he did in reprises.

According to the names which the Tarahumares apply to the three functions for the dead, the main idea of the first is to give food; of the second, to replenish the first supply; and of the third to give drink. The three feasts are on an increasing scale of elaborateness, the first being comparatively insignificant. Each generally lasts one day and one night, and begins at the hour at which the dead breathed his last. There is always a special patio prepared for the dead, and another one for the hikuli cult, besides the ordinary dancing-place, and much howling and singing goes on, especially at the last.

At the feasts, the shaman steeps herbs in water and Sprinkles this medicine over the people. Hikuli dancing and singing always play a prominent part at all the festivities, for the plant is thought to be very powerful in running off the dead, chasing them to the end of the world, where they join the other dead. Yumari is danced at intervals and much tesvino is used, and at all feasts the survivors drink with the dead.

There are three feasts for a mall, and four for a woman. She cannot run so fast, and it is therefore harder to chase her off. Not until the last function has been made will a widower or a widow marry again, being more afraid of the dead than are other relatives.

After the death of a person, anyone who rendered him any service, as, for instance, watching his cattle for a week, claims something of what the dead left. He is satisfied, however, with a girdle or the like.

Once I was present at the burial-feast for a man who had hanged himself a fortnight before, while under the influence of liquor and angry over some property out of which he considered himself cheated. He had changed into a lion. Two men and two women carried food and tesvino; the wife did not go with them, as the deceased had died alone, and she was afraid of being carried off by him. His father-in-law led the procession, carrying a goat-skin with its four feet remaining. The animal had belonged to the deceased and had been sacrificed for him, and the skin was to be given to him that in his new life he might rest on it. The suicide had been buried in a little cave with his feet toward the entrance. Having deposited the food near the dead man's head, the women sat down on a stone inside, while the men stood up near the mouth of the cave, all faces turned toward the grave. The father-in-law seated himself on a stone near the feet of the dead. It was a dreary winter evening in the Sierra and the scene was singularly impressive. The old man was a strong personality, powerfully built, and a shaman of great reputation, who in his entire bearing showed his determination to keep the dead at bay. He seemed to exercise a reassuring influence over the whole assembly.

I shall not easily forget the solemn and convincing way in which he upbraided the dead for his rash act. Taking the reed flower from his hair and holding it in his right hand, he waved it down and up, as if swayed by the force of his own thoughts, in accentuating his points, and he talked and argued with the dead for a quarter of an hour. The man was a great orator, and spoke so earnestly that my interpreter Nabor was affected almost to tears. The speech was a kind of dialogue with the dead, the speaker supplying the responses himself, and this is the gist of it:

Why are you there?—Because I am dead.—Why are you dead?—Because I died.—Why did you die?—Because I chose to.—That is not right. You have no shame. Did your mother, who gave you birth, tell you to do this? You are bad. Tell me, why did you kill yourself?—Because I chose to do it.—Now what did you get for it, lying there, as you are, with stones on top of you? Were you not just playing the violin in the house with us? Why did you hang yourself in the tree?

Here I leave this tesvino and food for you, the meat and tortillas, that you may eat and not come back. We do not want you any more. You are a fool. Now I am going to leave you here. You are not going to drink tesvino in the house with us any more. Remain here! Do not come to the house, for it would do you no good; we would burn you. Good-bye, go now; we do not want you any more!

All present then said good-bye to him, and all the women added, "Fool!" and then they all ran quickly into a deep water-hole, splashing into it clothes and all, that nothing from the dead might attach itself to them. They changed their wet attire after their arrival at the house. Later in the evening a magnificent hikuli feast was held. The Indians sat around the big fire, which cast a magical light over the tall old pine-trees around the patio, while the dancers moved about in their fantastic way through the red glow. Such a scene makes a deeper impression than any that could be produced on the stage.

The Christian Tarahumares believe that the shaman has to watch the dead throughout the year, or the deceased would be carried away by the Devil. If the feasts were not given, the departed would continue to wander about in animal shape. This is the direful fate meted out to people who are too poor to pay the shaman. Sometimes, if the dead person has not complied in life with the customary requirements in regard to feasts and sacrifices, the shamans have a hard time in lifting him to heaven. It may take hours of incantations and much tesvino to get his head up, and as much more to redeem his body. Sometimes the head falls back, and the shamans have to call for more tesvino to gain strength to lift him up again.

The Tarahumares had no great scruples about my removing the bodies of their dead, if the latter had died some years before and were supposed to have been properly despatched from this world. Where a body had been buried, the bones that were not taken away had to be covered up again. One Tarahumare sold me the skeleton of his mother-in-law for one dollar.



Chapter XXI

Three Weeks on Foot Through the Barranca—Rio Fuerte—I Get My Camera Wet—Ancient Cave-dwellings Ascribed to the Tubar Indians—The Effect of a Compliment—Various Devices for Catching Fish—Poisoning the Water—A Blanket Seine.

On a cold day in the end of October I started from Guachochic bound for the upper part of the great Barranca de San Carlos and the country southward as far as there were Tarahumares. Everything seemed bleak and dreary. The corn was harvested, the grass looked grey, and there was a wintry feeling in the air. The sere and withered leaves rustled like paper, and as I made camp near an Indian ranch I saw loose stubble and dead leaves carried up in a whirlwind, two or three hundred feet up toward a sky as grey and sober as that of northern latitudes at that time of the year. We travelled to the southeast from Guachochic over pine-clad hills, coming now and then to a lonely ranch.

About seven miles before reaching the barranca I arrived at a point 8,600 feet high, from which I could look over this vast expanse of woodland, extending all the way up to the deep gorge and diminishing in breadth toward the northwest. At San Carlos, a ranch but recently established in this wilderness, I left my animals, and immediately prepared for an extended excursion on foot into the barranca and its neighbourhood.

Nearly the whole country of the Tarahumares is drained by the river Fuerte, which, with its many tributaries, waters as many barrancas. The main one, namely Barranca de San Carlos, is from 4,000 to 4,500 feet deep, and sinuous in its course. If there were a passable road along its bottom, the distance from the source of the river to a point a little below the village of Santa Ana, where Rio Fuerte emerges from the Sierra, could be easily covered in two days; but as it is, a man requires at least a week to travel this distance, so much is he impeded by the roughness of the country.

Having descended into the barranca, which now felt almost uncomfortably warm, after the piercing winds of the highlands, I first visited the plateaus on the southern side, where the Indians have still kept themselves tolerably free from the white man's evil influence and are very jealous of their land. One night, while camping in a deep arroyo with very steep sides frowning down on us, one of the Indian carriers woke us with the startling news: "Get up! A stone is falling and will strike us!" I heard a noise, and instantly a stone, half the size of a child's head, hit the informant himself, as he sleepily rose. He lost his breath, but soon recovered, and no further damage was done.