Kotharian Lightning

From Zuni Folklore

When men had almost forgotten the seeking of the Middle, the earth trembled anew, and the shells sounded warning. Murmuring sore when the Twain Beloved came and called them again, yet carrying whatsoever they could with them (more preciously than all things else save their little ones, the seed of corn!), they and the people they had dwelt with journeyed on, seeking safety. For now, their kin were mingled; thus their children were one people. Wheresoever they rested, they builded them great houses of stone, all together, as may still be seen. And in the plains ever they built them bowers for the watching of the renewal and growth of the seeds of the corn. Therefore, they never hungered whether journeying anon or sitting still.

Now with much of journeying the people came to grow weary with ever seeking for the Middle all together, along a single way, insomuch that increasingly they murmured whenever they were summoned and must needs be leaving their homes and accustomed ranging-places. And so they fell to devising amongst themselves, until at last it seemed good to them to be sending messengers forth in one direction and another, the sooner to feel out the better way, and find signs of the Middle: as, by dividing, a company of hunters the sooner find trace of their quarry.

Now there was a priest of the people named Ka’wimosa (of the Ka’ja master-maker or source), thus named because he it was who was to establish, all unwittingly, the most potent and good sacred dance (myth-drama of Ka’ka) as happened after this wise:

He had four sons (some say more) and a daughter. And his eldest son was named K’yak’lu, which signifies, it is said, “Whensoever;” for he was wiser of words and the understanding thereof than all others, having listened to the councils of men with all beings, since ever the inner beginning! So, when it was asked who of the precious ones (children of priest-fathers and priest-mothers) should journey northward, seeking to learn the distance thitherward to the great embracing waters, that the Middle might be the better surmised; nor said the Twain aught, as we say naught, to little children weary of a way that must, weary or nay, be accomplished! When this was asked, Ka’wimosa, the priest, bethought himself of his wise eldest son and said, “Here is he!” Thus K’yak’lu was summoned, and made ready with sacrifice presentations from all the priests to all the surpassing ones for the great journey; and he departed.

Long the people waited. But at last it was said, “Lost is our K’yak’lu! For wise of words was he, but not wise of ways!”

And the fathers, mourning, again called a council. Again, when it was inquired, Ka’wimosa the priest, bethought him, and cried, “Here!” and again were made ready duly and sent forth messengers, this time southward, the next younger brothers of K’yak’lu (Anahohoatchi); for, said the father, they will guide one another if ye send twain. And of these, also, much is told in other talks of our ancient speech; but then, they too, lingered by the way.

Once more a council was called, and again, when it was inquired, Ka’wimosa cried, “Here!” and this time the youngest son, who was named Siweluhsiwa, because he was a long-haired youth of great beauty; and the daughter, who was named Siwiluhsitsa, because she was a long-tressed maiden of beautiful person; they also were summoned and made ready duly and sent eastward.

Far they journeyed, and as the day quickened they saw before them a distant high mountain

Let us hasten, O sister, my sister!

Thou art weary with travel, my sister;

We will rest in the shade of yon mountain.

I will build you a bower of cedar,

And seek in the cliffs for game-creatures;

And you shall rest happily, sister.

Thus spake he, for he loved his sister and her beauty.

And so, they hastened. When they reached the mountain, Siweluhsiwa built a bower of cedar branches under the shade of a tree. Then he went forth to seek game. When, having captured some, he returned, his sister was sleeping in the bower; so he stepped softly, that he might not disturb her – for he loved his sister, and gently he sat himself down before her and leaned his chin on his hand to watch her. The wind softly blew to and fro, and she slept on; her white cotton mantle and garments were made light for the journey, and thus the wind played with them as it listed over her prostrate form. As the brother gazed at her, he became crazed with love of her, greater than that of a brother’s, greater than that of kin men for kin.

Crazed was he, yea, and bideless of act; and the sister, thus awakened, fled from him in loud affright, and then, in shame and hot anger turning, upbraided him fiercely. Wondrous beings were they, more than it is the lot of mere men in these days to be, for they were the children of Ka’wimosa the priest, and a priestess-mother in the times of creation and newness. And so, like to the surpassing ones, they were ‘hlimnawiho, or changeable-by-will inclined; yea, and all things were k’yaiyuna or formative, when the world was new! Lo, now! Therefore, as she upbraided him, her eyes grew great and glaring and her face spotted and drawn. And he, as he heard and saw her, grew dazed, and stood senseless before her, his head bowed, his eyes red and swollen, his brow bent and burning.

“Thou shameless of men!” cried the maiden. “Know that thou shalt return to thy people never; nay, nor will I! Lo! I will make by mine the power a deep water dividing this mountain! Alone on one side shalt thou dwell, alone of the other dwell I! I will draw a line, and make a swift water between the day-land and the night-land, between all our people and us!” She stamped with her sandal as she spake, and deep was the mark thereof; for the mountain was hollow and resounding. Then she ran headlong down to the westward end of the mountain and drew her foot along the sands from the south to the northward, and deep was the gully she made. And the brother, seeing her flee, ran after her calling hoarsely. But now, as he neared her, he stopped and stared; and forth with grew crazed more than ever; but with anguish and fright this time, at her rage and distortion. As she turned again back, he threw his arms aloft, and beat his head and temples and tore away his hair and garments and clutched his eyes and mouth wildly, until great welts and knobs stood out on his head; hi eyes puffed and goggled, his lips blubbered and puckered; tears and sweat with wet blood bedrenched his whole person, and he cast himself headlong and rolled in the dust, until coated with the dun earth of that plain. And when he staggered to his feet, the red soil adhered to him as skin cleaves to flesh, and his ugliness hardened.

The maiden stared in wild terror at what she had wrought! And now she, too, was filled with anguish and shrieked aloud, tossing her arms and rushing hither and thither, and so great was her grief despair that her hair all whitened. Lo! Now she lamented plaintively and pitied her brother, for she thought – woman like – “But he loved me!” So, she tenderly yearned for him now, and ran toward him. Again he looked at her, for he was crazed, and when he saw her close at hand, so strange looking and ugly, he laughed aloud, and coarsely, but anon stood still, with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed before him, dazed! When he laughed, she too laughed; when he was silent and bowed, she cried and besought him. Thus it was with them ever after in those days. They talked loudly to each other; they laughed or they cried. Now they were like silly children, playing on the ground; anon they were wise as the priests and high beings, and harangued as parents to children and leaders to people.

The marks in the mountain and sands sank farther and farther; for much the earth shuddered as was wont in those days. And thus the mountain was sundered in twain and waters welled up in the midway. The furrow in the sands ran deeper and deeper and swifter and swifter with gathering water. Into the nether mountain the pair fled – not apart – but together, distraught. Ceaselessly echoed their gibberish and cries across the wide water and from one mountain side to the other. Thenceforth, together they dwelt in the saves of the place they had chosen, forgetful of the faces of men and recking naught of their own ugly condition!

In time there were born to these twain, twelve children. Nay, neither man-children nor woman-children they! For look now! The first, was a woman in fullness of contour, but a man in stature and brawn. From the mingling of too much seed in one kind, comes the two-fold one kind, ‘hlahmon, being man and woman combined – even as from a kernel of corn with two hearts, ripens an ear that is neither one kind nor the other, but both! Yet not all ill was this first child, because she was born of love – what though crazed – ere her parents were changed; thus she partook not of their distortions.*

[Editor’s note: In other words, the daughter is considered to have been a fertile woman. Her brothers, by contrast, had intersex/hermaphroditic characteristics and were thus infertile, but had other unique religious characteristics. Thus the origin of the ritualistic function of intersex people in Zuni culture.]

Not so with her brothers; in semblance of males, yet like boys, the fruit of sex was not in them! For the fruit of mere lust comes to naught, even as corn, self-sown out of season, ripens not. For their parents, being changed to hideousness, abode together witlessly and consorted idly or in passion not quickened of favor to the eye or the heart. And lo! Like to their father were his later children, but varied as his moods; for then, as now, what the mother looked most on while withholding them, thus wise were they formed as clay by the thought of the potter; wherefore we cherish our matrons and reveal not to them the evil dramas neither the slaughtered nor hamstrung game lest their children be weakly or go maimed. Thus they were strapping lonts, but dun-colored and marked with the welts of their father. Silly were they, yet wise as the gods and high priests; for as simpletons and the crazed speak from the things seen of the instant, uttering belike wise words and prophecy, so spake they, and became the attendants and fosterers, yet the sages and interpreters, of the ancient of dance-dramas or the Ka’ka.

Named are they, not with the names of men, but with the names of mis-meaning, for there is Pekwina, Priest-speaker of the Sun. Meditative is he, even in the quick of day, after the fashion of his father when shamed, saying little save rarely, and then as irrelevantly as the veriest child or dotard.

Then there is Pi’hlan Shiwani (Bow Priest-warrior). So cowardly is he that he dodges behind ladders, thinking them trees no doubt, and lags after all the others, whenever frightened, even at a fluttering leaf or a crippled spider, and looks in every direction but the straight one, whenever danger threatens!

There is Eshotsi (the Bat) who can see better in the sunlight than any of them, but would maim himself in a shadow, and will avoid a hole in the ground as a woman would a dark place, even were it no bigger than a beetle burrow.

Also there is Muiyapona (Wearer of the Eyelets of Invisibility). He has horns like the catfish, and is knobbed like a bludgeon-squash. But he never by any change disappears, even when he hides his head behind a ladder rung or turkey quill, yet thinks himself quite out of sight. And he sports with his countenance as though it were as smooth as a damsel’s.

There is Potsoki (the Pouter), who does little but laugh and look bland, for grin he can not; and his younger brother, Na’hlashi (Aged Buck), who is the biggest of them all, and what with having grieved and nearly rubbed his eyes out (when his younger brother was captured and carried off by the K’yamak’ya-kwe or Snail Ka’ka of the South), looks as ancient as a horned toad; yet he is as frisky as a fawn, and giggles like a girl; yea and bawls as lustily as a small boy playing games.

The next brother, Itseposa (the Glum or Aggrieved), mourned also for his nearest brother, who was stolen by the Ka’ka, too, until his eyes were dry utterly and his chin chapped to protrusion; but nathless he is lively and cheerful and ever as ready indeed as the most complaisant of beings.

K’ya’lutsi (the Suckling) and Tsa-hlashi (Old-youth), the youngest, are the most wilfully important of the nine, always advising others and strutting like a young priest in his first dance, or like unto the youthful warrior made too aged-thinking and self-notioned with early honoring.

And while the father stands dazed, with his head bowed and his hands clasped before him or like to broken bows hanging by his sides, these children romp and play (as he and his sister did when turned childish), and verily are like to idiots, or to dotards and crones turned young again, inconstant as laughter, startled to new thought by every flitting thing around them; but, in the presence of the Ka’ka of old, they are grave. And they are the oracles of all olden sayings of deep meanings; wherefore they are called the Ka’yemashi (Husbandmen of the Ka’ka or sacred drama-dance); and they are spoken of, even by the Fathers of the People, as the A’hlashi Tsewashi (Sages of the Ancients). And most precious in the sight of the beings and of men are they! But for their birth and the manner thereof, it is said that all had been different; for from it many things came to be as they are, alike for men and gods and even the souls of the dead!

Source:

Zuni Creation Myths, Frank Hamilton Cushing, 1896