Kotharian Lightning

From Zuni Folklore

There came a time when the people for whom Siweluhsiwa and Siwiluhsitsa had gone to seek the way, could tarry no longer awaiting them; for, hearing the earth rumble, the Twain Beloved and their warrior-leaders of the Knife summoned the tribes forth to journey again. Now in these days the people had grown so vast of number that no longer could they journey together; but in great companies they traveled, like herds of bison severed when too numerous for the grass of a single plain. The Bearers of the Ice-wands and the Ancient Brotherhood of the Knife led the clans of the Bear, the Crane, the Grouse and others of the People of Winter (yea and in small part others too), through the northernmost valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious muetone. The Fathers of the People, Keepers of the seed, and the Ancient Brotherhood of Priests led the clans of the Macaw and other Summer people (and in part others still) through the middle valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious k’aetone. They, being deliberate and wise, sought rather in the pathway between the northward and the southward for the place of the Middle.

The Seed-fathers of the Seed-kin, the Keepers of Fire, and the Ancient Brotherhood of Paiyatyma (Newe-kwe) led the All-seed clans, the Sun, Badger and other Summer people (not of the Midmost), through the southern valleys, carrying ever in their midst the precious chuetone.

Leading them all, whether through the northern ways, through the middle ways, or through the southern ways, now here, now there, were the Two Beloved ones, and with them their Warriors of the Knife.

Now although those who went by the northern way were called the Bear and Crane father-people, yet with them went some of all the clans, as the Parrot-macaws of the Middle, and the Yellow-corn ones of the Southern-people.

And although the People of the Middle way were called the Macaw father-people, yet with them went Bear and Crane people of the north, nevertheless, (a few) and Seed people of the south, also (a few) those of the White Corn.

And although the people of the southern way were called the All-seed father-people, yet with them went a few of both the northern and the middle ways. And this was well that even though any one of these bands might hap to be divided through wildness of the way or stress of war, they nathless might retain, each of them, the seed of all the kin lines. Moreover, this of itself speedily came to be, through the mingling of the clans from one to another in the strands of marriage.

And although thus apart the peoples journeyed, descending from the westward the valleys toward north and toward south, like gathering streams from a wide rain-storm, yet also like rain-streams gathering in some great river or lagoon, so they came together and thus abode in seasons of rest. Strong and impetuous, the Bear kindred on the one hand were the first to move and farthest to journey; on the other hand the Seed kindred led the way; whereas, the heart of them all of the Macaw kindred, deliberately (as was their custom) pursued the middle course of the Sun-father.

In such order, then, they came, in time, within sight of the great divided mountain of the Ka’yemashi. Seeing smoke and mist rising therefrom, they all, one after another, hastened thither. The Bear peoples were first to approach, and great was their dismay when, on descending into the plain, they beheld a broad river, flowing, not as other waters were wont to flow in that land, from east to west, but straight across their pathway, from toward the south, northward. And lo! On the farther side were the mysterious mountains they sought, but between them rolled swiftly these wide turbid waters, red with the soil of those plains.

Not for long did the impetuous fathers of the Bear and Crane deliberate. Nay! Straightway they strode into the stream and feeling forth with their feet that it e’en might be forded – for so red were its waters that no footing could be seen through them, – they led the way across; yet great was their fearfulness withal; for, full soon, as they watched the water moving under their very eyes, strange chills did pervade them, as though they were themselves changing in being to creatures moving and having being in the waters; even as still may be felt in the giddiness which besets those who, in the midst of troubled or passing waters, gaze long into them. Nathless, they won their way steadfastly to the farther shore. But the poor women who, following closely with the little children on their backs, were more aya’we (tender, susceptible), became witlessly crazed with these dread fear-feelings of the waters, wherefore, the little ones to whom they clung but the more closely, being k’yaiyuna and all unripe, were instantly changed by the terror. They turned cold, then colder; they grew scaly, fuller webbed and sharp clawed of hands and feet, longer of tail too, as if for swimming and guidance in unquiet waters. Lo! They felt of a sudden to the mothers that bore them, as the feel of dead things; and wriggling, scratched their bare shoulders until, shrieking wildly, these mothers let go all hold on them and were even fain to shake them off – fleeing from their in terror. Thus, multitudes of them fell into the swift waters, wailing shrilly and plaintively, as even still it may be said they are heard to cry at night time in those long waters. For, no sooner did they fall below the surges than they floated and swam away, still crying – changed verily, now, even in bodily form; for, according to their several totems, some became like to the lizard (mik’yaiya’hli), chameleon (semaiyak’ya), and newt (tewashi); others like to the frog (tak’aiyuna), toad (tak’ya), and turtle (etawa).

But their souls (top’haina, other-being or in-being), what with the sense of falling, still falling, sank down through the waters, as water itself, being started, sinks down through the sands into the depths below. There, under the lagoon of the hollow mountain where it was erstwhile cleft in twain by the angry maiden-sister Siwiluhsitsa as before told, dwelt, in their seasons, the soul-beings of ancient men of war and violent death. There were the towns for the ‘finished’ or dead, Hapanawan or the Abode of Ghosts; there also, the great pueblo (city) of the Ka’ka, Ka’hluelawan, the town of many towns wherein stood forever the great assembly house of ghosts, Ahapaawa Kiwitsinan’hlana, the kiva which contains the six great chambers in the midst of which sit, at times of gathering in council, the god-priests of all the Ka’ka exercising the newly dead in the Kak’okshi or dance of good, and receiving from them the offerings and messages of mortal men to the immortal ones.

Now, when the little ones sank, still sank, seeing naught, the lights of the spirit dancers began to break upon them, and they became, as the ancients, ‘hlimna,’ and were numbered with them. And so, being received into the midst of the undying ancient, lo! These little ones thus made the way of dying and the path of the dead; for whither they led, in that olden time, others, fain to seek them (insomuch that they died), followed; and yet others followed these; and so it has continued to be even unto this day.

But the mothers, still crying, knew not this – knew not that their children had returned unharmed into the world whence even themselves had come and whither they too needs now must go, constrained thither by the yearnings of their own hearts in the time of mourning. Loudly, still, they wailed, on the farther shore of the river.

The Seed clans arrived, and strove to cross the waters, but as it had chanced to the others so befell it all dismally with them, until loud became the commotion and multitudes of those behind, nearing – even many of the Midmost clans – turned and fled afar southward along the bank, seeing a better crossing; fled so far that they were lost to sight speedily and strayed never to return!

Nay, they became the fathers and mothers of our Lost Others – lost ever since that time.

Lo! as the people were crying aloud and tossing their hands aloft and the many – so many – were fleeing away, came the Beloved Twain, and with voices strong-sounding and sure, bade them cease from their clamor and terror, saying:

Look now, ye faithless and witless!

The mothers who love not their offspring

And cherish them not through all danger,

Must lose them anon, as the woodbird,

Who sits not her nest, doth her broodlings!

Fear not, but cleave fast to your children

Though they strange-turn and frightful of seeming!

‘Tis the magic of water, and wildness

Of heart, and will pass (as men’s laughter

Doth pass when the joy-thought is sobered),

As ye win your way forth from the waters.

Thus spake they, and continued speaking; whereupon the people who were yet left, took heart, even the women, and stayed their thoughts, clinging stoutly to their little ones as they fared through the waters, what though the terror and hurt was sore. Thus passed they all safely over, and – even as had been said – as they won their way up from the waters and sat them down to rest on the farther shore below the mountains, lo! The little ones grew warm and right again. But never were the thoughts of womankind beguiled wholly from that harrowing journey. Wherefore they be timid of deep places, startled (as is the voice of a vessel by any shrillness of sound) and witless-driven by the sight of reptile-creatures. Lo! And so their anxieties are like to press themselves on the unripe and forming children of their bowels. Wherefore, also, we guard their eyes from all weird-seeming things when they be with child.

Now, when the people were rested and the children righted, they arose and journeyed into the plain to the east of the two mountains and the great water between them. Thence they turned them northward to the sunrise slopes of the uppermost of the mountains. There they encamped, mourning for their lost children and awaiting the coming, perchance, of those who had fled away.

Source:

Zuni Creation Myths, Frank Hamilton Cushing, 1896