The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 21, 1903, Page 12

e=HIS is the fourth article in a || remarkable series of papers by & George Wharton James, the famous traveler and explorer, who traversed the full length of the Col- orado River in a small boat for the especial purpose of probing its mys- teries thoroughly, and who, under eral title of “From Needles to n a Boat,” has written ex- for the Sunday Call this describing in his what strange and all-ab- ures befell him on the articles Mr. James 1 the grandeur and the danger of ‘the Colorado River as it has never been shown before. And becayse he has lived more than half his life among the Indians of Amer- ica for the especial purpose of learn- ing their habits, their traditions and their inner life as no one else has ever learned it, it is not difficult to realize that he speaks with authority and a fine comprehension of the peo- ple he visited along the course of this wondrous waterway. This series is therefore one of the most valuable contributions to the history of the great Southwest that hes ever been made. It is a scientific treatise of rare value. Next Sunday the fifth and last article will appear. hese THE MOHAVES OF THE COLORADO RIVER. £ I have before shown, in my first Jetter, the Mohaves have two re- gions on the Colorado River which they regard as peculiarly their own. One of these is above Nee- dles, at Fort Mohave, and the other is their reservation, which extends for fifty or more miles from Parker aimost to Ehrenberg 1f there are any more degraded Indians in the Bouthwest than the Moha 1 have not yet seen them, and yet their pame, as the pames of most Indians, is proof of their own high conceit as to themselves. They @re the Mok-ha-vi—the people, and from this has come their Anglicized name, Mohave. In the earlier davs, when the eenseless custom of following the Spanish spelling was deemed correct—as if we in't the gumption to spell the names of peoples we found in our own land in our own way—Mohave was written Mojave, &nd Westerners were constantly excited to laughbter by the not-to-be-wondered-at pronunciation Mo-jave. Onty those famil- fer with Spanish would De apt to pro- nounce it in three syllables and give the & its broad ah sound. Now, however, all sensible people spell it Mohave Tike a ther Western Indians the Mo- ves W very averse to being phota- graphed until the agent sent hs inter- preter with the announcement that it was at the wish of the “Ma-yor” I came The Mohave house seems to be some- what of a modification of the Mexican jaca It is bullt first of all as a kind of framework. Strong cottonwood poles are used at the corners and doorway, and also @s crosebeams to hold the uprights to- gether. This frame is then filled in with willow sticks, generally piaced horizon- tally to better hold the adobe or other mud. which is now put on &s plastering. In this way a perfectly comfortable and warm house is made, which, if plastered with reasonable care, is impervious to the er. The roof is covered with wil- lows and mud Some of the houses at Parker were clean and respectable, but the major por- tion were the reverse. The women were evidently not disposed to 4o too much work of the housecleaning kind, and yet they could not be called idle. They make 1 that of the Pueblo Indians of New Mex- ico, however—in which their water, mes- ink and other eatableg and drink- e kept are expert makers of beadwork. seem to have outstripped 2 >me of the finer kindssof work. The bead weaver, as she might be termed, takes a board and drives nails into it in two rows, standing parallel to one another at the distance she requires her warp strands to be long. She then twines her warp of cotton strings or linen thread back and forth across these nails and her warp is ready. Now, squatting down on the ground, with an assortment of beads on her lap or on a cloth spread out by her side, she takes a threaded needle and deftly transfers the beads of the desired colors to the thread. When enough for a row of “woof” are threaded she places them In the desired position on the warp, making her woof thread go over and under the warp threads, just as is done in ordinary weaving. Then an- other string is pricked up and the pro- cess is repeated. In this way the beads are kept in line with perfect evenness, and all kgpds of beautiful and geometric de- signs are worked out. Strange to say, they have few feminine names. Many women are named Hu-al- va, the moon: others Ni-org (the *“r given quite a continental roll), the eagle; Ma-ha, the mocking bird; Hi-pa, the fe- male coyote; Hel-po-ta, the frog; Cha- green corn. These were all the wom- en’s names 1 could find in the whole pop- ulation at Parker, and my interpreter, Peter Nels, sald there were no more. His name, by the way, was assumed by him in this way. He found a man's dead body on a raft and by its side was an empty valise with ‘this name on. Doubtless a poor unfortunate prospector, who had tried to come down the river on a raft agnd had been drowned. His native name was Mi-Chan-Nyai-a, which signi- fies crying all the day. Captain Jose, be- tause he once earned a piece of gold, was called “A-or-a.”” Another man was Shu-quav-nil-ya, the black rope, and a nice looking young fellow Sa-va-co-sa, or white underneath. As parents they are better than one might expect. When a child is born the mother is her own physician as a rule, and instead of washing the child covers it with ashes. The Mohave cradle is a wicker frame, across or down which smaller shoots of willow are woven to make a flexible back for the child to rest upon. This is easier upon the baby than a solid board, and until the advent of the white man with his lumber boards were not obtainable, so the Mohave woman re- tains to this day her primitive wicker cradle. Over this is spread a generous covering of shredded cedar or juniper bark and this is the baby’s blanket, for the child 1s placed upon it and the bark is then wrapped around its body, leaving the loins and legs exposed. In many cases, however, the mother takes calico or cotton cloth and uses that as a wrap in addition to the cedar bark. > Those who deem the. Mohave woman so degraded as to be without natural affec- tion should watch the mother or grand- mother cooing over the cradle of the lit- tle one.- I have watched them a score of times. With looks of love, they pour forth a stream of babblings and bub- blings and cooings exactly the same as the fond white mother does to her off- spring, and 1 doubt not the purists of the Mohave language have the same difficul- 1y in restraining this flow of baby talk as have the purists who guard the sanctity of our own tongue. During these pour- ings forth of motherly ot grandmotherly affection the child is being vigorously but easily rocked to apd fro or up and down upon the knees of its entertainer, and generally shows its appreciation by looking into the eyes. or watching the lips, mouth, teeth, etc., of its adoring rel- ative and doing its best to reply. While some of the younger women of o— Photographs Copyrighted by George Wharton James. | o the tribe are by no means {ll-looking there are older ones whose faces would stop a grandfather's clock so that it could “never go again.” There was one par- ticular woman who seemed the incar- nation of ugliness both in appearance and manner. Her hair, and indeed, her general cos- tume looked, to quote from a sermon of Lorenzo Dow, ‘“‘as though she had been rammed through a bush fence into this world of wretchedness and woe.” When 1 sought to photograph her she made the most ugly grimaces and only yielded when Peter told her it was the mai-or-a's wish. Her nose seemed to have an extra protuberance or swelling on the end, and could she have had access to a whisky keg 1 should have vowed she was an old toper. But evidently that could not be, as strong drink of the white man's vari- ety is kept from them. Yet they have strong drink and strong medicines, of even worse effect than the white man’s bad whisky. They have a bush called mo-mump, from which they get the root, and which they call te-ve-ka-iv. This they pound, soak in water and drink. It ren- ders the drinker crazy and delirious. The Chemehuevis use it in very small doses as a medicine of last resort. If too much is taken it Induces death. The Mohaves, in common with all the Colorado River and nearby tribes, make a harmless drink from the mesquite bean. 1t is pounded in one of their wooden mor- tars until quite fine, then placed in a bowl and hot water poured over it. For a few hours it is stirred now and again, and then, when thoroughly soaked, the liquor is poured off and drunk. It is a peculiar, sweetish drink, which is not by any means palatable at first to the white man, but it is refreshing and cooling. Under the direction of the agency farm- er they are taught to cultlvate corn fields, which are irrigated, and grow other vege- tables. Many families are given meat and flour once a week and {t s most interest- ing from one standpoint, and exceedingly disheartening from another, to see the weekly distribution. On the appointed day men and women, with gunny and flour sacks, are seen wending their way to the agency yard. In the meathouse the sound THE SUNDAY or the ax ana saw can ve neard. The crowd grows larger, some standing near the meathouse, others lolling or stretched out at full length on the ground. When the signal is given they crowd around the door and the Indian helpers hand out the beef while the clerk keeps check upon each piece. When all are supplled a gen- tle rush is made to the opposite corner, where the flour and baking powder are kept. As soon as the proper cuota is given all wend their w: home and feast on the food that has deprived them of their self-dependence and therefore their independence, While what they have lasts they are very free and generous with it. There is no sense of mine and thine. Everything is everybody's. and the stranger is quite as welcome as tke neigh- bor and friend. Indeed, hospitality is so natural and spontaneous with them that it is neither a virtue nor a vice—it comes the same as breathing or any other nat- ural function. Their religious ideas are very crude: I asked Peter Nels to call together all the story ' tellers of the tribe and the chief medicine men that they might tell me of these things. Instead of this the bungler sent out his assistant, who gath- ered in every man, woman and child he could find. We met at the home of CALL. " i SR Y ”"“f o % i R " o Sethami, the chief. Tt was too cold to sit outside and no provision had been made for & bonfire. A large fire was burning on the hearth of the large room, and there must have been not léss than 150 to 200 people packed into the house. They stood against the walls and squat- ted close together on the floor. It was a most Rembrandtesque scene. The chief introduced to me a very old man, almost blind, with someyof his teeth gone, whom he told me was over a hundred years old. The old man squatted before the fire and began to talk in low and feeble tones. As he proceeded his voice grew stronger and clearer. He seemed to be very much in earnest and his gestures were em- phatic. The gist of his talk was to the effect that in the long, long ago there were no people of any kind upon the earth. The sky and the earth were the parents of all men, the sky being the father and the earth the mother. They united four times in the whirlwind, and thus the human race was born. They all came out of the earth in the moun- tains near Fort Mohave, and Me-tu-chi-pa (their supreme being), taught the how to build their houses of cottonwood, plas- tered with mud &nd roof them with ar- row-weed. For awhile the Mohaves lived there, then some moved north and others came south. And then the other were born—the Yumas, the Paiuti the Pimas, the Cocopal Chemehuevis and the Apaches. As they were born Me-tu-chi-pa taught them the things he wanted them to know and then moved them to the region they were to occupy. He made the white man last and taught him many more things than he had ever taught the Indians, and that was why the white man now came and “bossed” all the Indlans of the country. I imagine that latter is & recent relig- fous conception and possibly put into the story as g, subtle plece of flattery to the white man. They belleve that the moon dies every month and either comes to life again or another is born. Now, strange to say, Me-tu-chi-pa is dead. They have no living god. His ghost 18 what the white man calls the devil, and he lives at the Needles—not the town, al though he often visits here—but the mountains bearing that name. It must not be forgotten that they implicitly be- lieve in ghosts or spirits, and that every person who dies has a spirit which must go to report to the evil devil at Needles Mountains. It is {rgpossible to put into print their concepux%n of the Mohav devil. Suffice it to say “he” is both male and female, and horrible both In his mas- culinity and femininity. One of the Mohave boys who spent some years at the Fort Mohave school, unaided and alone and of his own voli- tion wrote the following acount of the customs and beliefs 'of the Mohaves. It is & most Interesting paper, as showing the ideas they themselves have of their bellet after they have absorbed someé of our notlons: “There are many practices among our people which T do not fully understand, therefore 1 will not attempt to give rea- sons for all our beliefs or why we follow certain customs. “I will confine myself to our medicine men, their treatment of the sick, how we dispose of our dead and what we be- lieve in regard to the future state. “The power of healing comes to the Mo- have doctors as a special gift from the Great Spirit; no training or instruction is necessary. They are born to do that work and are pecullarly fitted for it. It is a calling from which there is no es- cape. The certainty of it is established beyond a doubt even in childhood. In ad- dition to the power of healing the medi- cine men command the wind and the rain, with the assurance that their commands will be obeyed. They handle rattlesnakes in safety and make money out of leaves. “The Mohave doctor never visits the :‘l‘ck. The patients are always brought to m. ‘“He questions the patient in regard to his dreams and locates the disease from that. A dream of being in the water shows that the legs are affected; a dream of wishing to drink blood or commit mur- der indicates a diseased stomach. “He effects a cure by singing songs, blowing upon the naked body. Each dis- ease requires a different song. But little attention is paid to dlet. No medicines or herbs are used “We ask him to tell in the beginning whether he will lose or save his patient. As long a3 he tells the truth we honor and trust him. If he falls in this seven times we belleve he should be punished by death, though this practice has been discontinued out of respect to the opinioa of the superintendent of the sc L “He 1s pald from $5 to $10 for wices. “The Mohaves burn their dead. A hole about 4x2x3 feet is dug, over which the ser- fire 15 made ans In which the ashes are burfed after the burning. As the body burns the dead man’'s garments are thrown into the fire and his friends take off their own clothes and burn them as an expression of sorrow and for the spirit to wear in the next world. Horses are slain for his use in the spirit world. Th flesh of the horses is roasted and eaten by the tribe. “Burning the body liberates the spirit and it rises in the smoke. It does not &0 at once to the spirit land, but hovers near its old home and friends for about four days. It sees all without being seen; it cries with the friends without bel: heard. The sadness and grief of th friends finally drives or starts it away on its journey to the next world, which is toward the south. At the pass be- tween this and the other world it is met by the Great Spirit, who prepares it for the spirit land and conducts it to its new home. There it wears the clothes given by its friends, uses the horses killed on earth for its use, toils and struggles for a living the same here. The crops, however, are never planted but once, the Toots of which never dle. “After a certain time the spirit again dles and is burned and passes into an- other land. From this place it passes to another, etc,, until it has dled four tim then it returns to this earth again ar becomes a part of the soil on which first lived. “There is neither reward nor punish- ment for a good or bad life here. All go to the same place and are subject to the same trials.” The only two games I saw played whila on the reservation were hu-kan-ki or shinny, which is pretty much the sams game the world over, and another, hu- ta-ha, which is played by women as well as men. Four flattened sticks, s beveled at the edges, age u game. They are painted with strip dots on one side, so that they co to our dice. Ip fact, it is purely a th of dice, though the motions seem a li different. Qne of the sticks is th the other is the woman. The t holds the sticks in the left hand, rapid throws them to the right and then as she allows them to fall from her ha t other player strikes them upward. they fall the counts are made. There is a large boarding school at Par- ker for the Mohaves, but with the excep- tion of the girls’ dormitory the buildings are old, ramshackle adobes that should be rPlel’xl:d to destruction. The present agent, Jéyse C. Moore, is outspoken in his. disbelief that anything can be done to imorove the condition of his charge The children learn fairly well. but as the boys and girls grow older they give considerable trouble. Not long ago the matron discovered that fifteen or twenty of her flock of “gentle maldens” had taken flight through one of the windows of the dormitory, and they were found with an equal number of youths, who lkewise had escaped. At‘such times it is worse than useless to appeal to the parents to help In the administration of discipline. It is no more than could be expected. “Boys will be boys and girls will be girls.” As