Navaho Folk Tales by
Franc Johnson Newcomb
“Now the First People became quite
discouraged and began thinking of the high mountains, the peaked rocks, and the
pleasant hills of the country in which they had lived before coming to this
flat land. They knew they could not go back because those places were now all
under the ocean, but oh, how they wished this new country was not so flat! If
only there were something they could do about it!” (p. 68)
It is a fact that cultures tell stories about themselves.
Whether these take the form of sagas or epic poems or mythologies or communal
chants and songs, in an age before writing, these stories follow formulas that
are surprisingly standard. They commonly are based on oral traditions, because
they antecede written traditions, and instead hark back to the past and to the
origins of all cultures. They refer back frequently to foundational times and
to the stories of origins, but also, they attempt to encapsulate the
contemporary wishes of their community members, wishes for a certain
explanatory power that helps to explain the order and hierarchy that currently
exists. One notable form taken by these stories are folk tales.
We are all familiar with the stories that are told from the
European perspective, ones that were in existence for thousands of years before
being compiled by people such as the brothers Grimm. These take familiar guise,
such as Cinderella, the Little Mermaid, Snow White, many of them appropriated
by commercial culture to produce products for mass consumption. These stories
have familiar elements such as the peasant families with mistreated or
overlooked younger sons or daughters, outsiders, magical elements, speaking and
thinking animals and an ultimate tale of redemption that serves to reinforce
order by providing a mechanism for the poor to aspire to win a kingdom. These
are invariable tales of wish fulfillment but also a way to reestablish
legitimacy in the face of threats to survival, told frequently from the point
of view of the most vulnerable. This story of legitimacy is also present in a
collection published under the name of “Navaho Folk Tales”.
This collection was compiled by Franc Johnson Newcomb when
she served in a trading post among the indigenous communities of the Southwest.
This collection gives a series of sequential stories that seek to explain the
origin of the Navaho peoples. It is based on the idea of migration and
expulsion, processes that are thus subject to metaphorical interpretation but
that undoubtedly hark back to a phenomenon that must have affected this
community from the very beginning. Migration, after all, constitutes a mainstay
for all cultures, and it was undoubtedly so for the Navaho as well.
What we notice from the very beginning is the fact that this
community of first peoples seemed to live in harmony with a community of other
beings with whom they could communicate, interact and collaborate. These are
not other communities of people, but instead insects, animals and other living
organisms, including as well monsters such as the “Water Monster” that expels
them from one of the worlds that they inhabit. In this conception, the harmony
of these communities allows them to overcome challenges and survive, even when
they have characters such as Hosteen Coyote who are not bound by this community
ethos, with ensuing conflict.
This character of the Coyote seems one of the most
sympathetic and charming characters, even though he puts the others at risk. He
is the trickster, a crafty entity who prefers to live by his wits and to avoid
any work. He is selfish but also charming, and he captures one of the
archetypes of Navaho culture. The others consist, of course, of the paternal
First Man and Woman, the married pair that serve as leaders and whose magic is
particularly powerful (aren’t all authority figures invested with magic?), and
entities such as Hosteen Badger, the hard worker who never shirks from duty.
It is precisely in the presentation of these types that we
see elements that must have been recognizable to people within the Navaho
community. It is also true that these beings are actually more universal, for
don’t other communities have their trickster figures, to cite the example
provided by the Coyote? Don’t we have the figure of crafty Odysseus in Greek
mythology, and Loki in Norse mythology? Thus, we have familiar personality
types that are incorporated into these stories, and they provide as well
comedic figures as well as those that assume the contours of frightful
monsters. They appeal, then, to a world of basic emotions, although that is not
to say that these folk tales are lacking in subtlety.
With regards to frightful figures, those that are parallels
to the Baba Yaga of Russian folklore or the Cyclops of Greek myth or the evil
stepmother of the Germanic tradition, we have figures that see to evoke basic
environmental hazards that must have been anthropomorphized by Navaho
storytellers. Thus, we have the Water Monster mentioned above, the one who
flooded one of the lower worlds in a pique of anger over the absence of his
babies who had been stolen by Hosteen Coyote, or the Fire Man who seeks to
prevent the Navahos or anyone from outside his mountain community from stealing
fire. We also have the figure of Deer Farmer, another character who is an
outsider because he does not belong to the community, although he holds
something that the Navaho might find useful. Outsiders frequently conform to
the contours of threats that must be neutralized.
This Deer Famer, as stated by the narrative, “was not a
Navaho, nor was he a Pueblo. His ancestors were the Yé’ii, who had lived in the
cliff houses for generations and were now few in number, and these few were not
friendly towards newcomers. It was said that Deer Farmer was a great magician
who could change himself into a coyote, or a snake, or a deer if he so wished.”
(p. 184). Thus, he was not someone who could be trusted, and like many another
head of a rival household (for he must be considered a rival to the First Man
and Woman), he represents a possible threat. What is worrying as well is that
he has the power to take many forms: does this represent then the idea of
sabotage and infiltration? This is not the first time that we see how disguise
serves as a powerful means to equalize odds and to achieve hidden ends.
Disguise has served a fundamental function in many folk
tales. Animals are frequently revealed both as friends as well as antagonists,
and it is also the case that people can be changed into animals. Such is the
case in the tale of the Frog King in European folk tales, but we also see it in
the way in which disguise is used characters who change their clothing and
their behavior. This is done because it points to the role of infiltration as a
way not only of overcoming the barriers that would otherwise seem to limit movement
within these social systems, but also the desire for transcendence, where the
poor classes will be lifted and the powerful will be revealed to have a hideous
form in keeping with their true characteristics. It is a political tool, and it
is frequently employed in an ironic fashion.
In this collection of Navaho folk tales, we see that the
Deer Farmer is not the only character who is able to change form. Others share
in this ability as well, although frequently, it is much more limited in scope.
Deer Hunter, for example, is a young man who belongs to the Navaho community,
and he is the one who is sent to infiltrate the Deer Farmer’s household by
assuming the guise of his small dog. He takes the skin of this animal, and is
adopted by the daughter of the Deer Farmer, where he is able to find out the
secret of where the Deer Hunter keeps his deer. And thus he is able to carry
out his theft, for when things are not acquired by trade or by purchase, theft
seems to be just as honorable an option.
There seems to be a constant in this collection of folk
tales. When the Stone House People (the Anasthazi?) people, who are presented as a more advanced
civilization that practices agriculture, refuse to trade fairly with the Navaho,
then they are subject to theft, if by theft, we can term appropriation of goods
without consent. Packrat is sent to try to salvage this deal, and by stealth he
manages to take all the seeds he wishes from the storehouses of the Stone House
people without their being aware of it, leaving instead items such as red
cactus apples, yucca and ground cherries. This creature would seemingly be an
adept trader, for “(a)ll summer long he had been trading bright colored stones,
feathers, bits of shell, and other objects for food that could be dried and eaten
during the winter” (p. 173). But he is also a figure in need of redemption, if
we recall what had been said in an earlier fairy tale from this collection:
“Packrat was not a trickster, but
he was a thief and, although he was frequently punished, he could never resist
stealing ears of corn from his neighbors’ cornpits, or carrying away long
strips of pumpkin and squash that were drying on the bushes. It is true that he
always left something to take the place of the things he had stolen, but the
burdock burrs and the empty milkweed pits he put in their place were of no use
to anyone.” (p. 25)
Both he as well as Coyote, two of the most disreputable
members of the community, are seemingly the most in need of redemption, and
they achieve it, one for stealing fire to keep the members warm during the
winter, and the other, as in the case of Packrat, for taking (stealing) the
seeds that had been denied to them when they had sent an offering for their
purchase.
It would thus seem that the art of trading involves seeing
what the other party might accept before that other party is even aware of wanting
the items you have to offer and, if they don’t willingly accede to the terms of
this trade, then taking what is necessary by craft. There is no justification for renouncing what
the community needs, for these needs are presented as eminently reasonable and
just. What could be more reasonable than the need to obtain seed to supplement
their diet with a variety of vegetables, or stealing deer from Deer Farmer in
order to be able to justify being able to enjoy meat and being able to develop
the art of hunting? Although, as with the episode where the young Navaho boy
wounds the rabbit who turns out to be a member of the community (the hunter
pursues his prey into the den, where he fails to acknowledge his role in
wounding this young rabbit), there is also a form of guilt that is never
exactly redeemed. It is presented as a necessity, after all, and fairy tales
always share in this element of necessity.
With regards to the economy, there is one other element that
seems to crop up so frequently as well. When the Navaho need to pay for an item
or for information (in the final fairy tale, after all, the First Man and Woman
will visit the homes of many members of their community in an effort to
discover what is the best form of house they should construct for themselves),
they give either praise and in
injunction to respect the boundaries of the territory of these creatures, such
as the marshes for water fowl, but also shells.
This is the case with Eagle (white shell beads, p. 194), Oriole (yellow
beads for her throat decoration, p. 195), Woodpecker (red beads to wear in his
headdress, p. 196), Cliff Swallow (black jet beads to decorate his coat , p.
196), etc. Payment seems to have a decorative value and takes the form of
shells that constitute markers, for it is suggested that the distinctive
coloring of all these creatures represents a gift from the Navaho patriarchs.
It is thus a ritual of branding, so to speak, for otherwise what use could all
these creatures make of shells in exchange for the knowledge that they give to
the patriarchs? And why would the Stone House people, who have human form just
like the patriarchs do, and would otherwise seem to belong to a technologically
more advanced civilization on the eastern edge of their boundaries, want shells
after all in exchange for seeds? Does this constitute another way to lay claim
to their neighbors, by asserting the primacy of exchange as a way to elevate
their respective communities and bring them to a similar level?
And thus we are given a series of connected and sequential
stories that narrate the way in which the Navaho build up their world,
migrating as they do through several lower abodes and always having to escape
through a crack in the sky until they end up in this world, one that is shaped
and formed by their conscious intervention (and with the use of magic) until it
has mountains, mesas, vegetation, clouds and fresh water. Although one can’t
help but notice the elements of discontinuity that are not reconciled with
previous narratives, for if Hosteen Turkey had brought all the seeds of corn,
beans, etc. that they might need from the flooded world, and was hailed as an
honored creature because of this, why were they lacking in seeds in a
succeeding narrative, forcing them to send Packrat to take them from the Stone
House peoples?
There are thus absences and discontinuities in this series
of folk tales, but that is understandable, for each one is in reality meant to
stand on its own. In oral storytelling these stories need to be reworked to fit
the needs of their audience, and these audiences cannot expect to be the same
from night to night. These stories deal so frequently with the exchange of
valuables, and thus, economic factors figure prominently in the same way that
European fairy tales tend to have humble peasant characters who struggle to
survive (for example, in the story of Hansel and Gretel who are abandoned in
the forest because their family can no longer afford to feed them) and who wish
to achieve economic self-sufficiency. Such is the case for the Navaho who
confront one danger after another, who are forced to migrate to escape the
world-destruction and the expulsion that they wittingly or unwittingly provoke,
and who finally end up in a virgin territory that they construct and shape and
form, even when it becomes evident that there are other groups present on their
boundaries, such as the Hopi, the Pueblo, etc.
In these fairy tales the world is a negociated construct,
one the community seems much more organic and whole, working together in an age
before they had discovered hunting, one in which the turkey is an esteemed
member of the community that is not subject to consumption, and ducks can
coexist with insects. Of course, it is a fantastic construct that points to
harmony and to times that hark back to origins, but in which conflict becomes
ever more prevalent, and in which the final catastrophe (the destruction by
Fire Man after Coyote has stolen fire) is narrowly averted by the seeding of
clouds (Hosteen Frog who has a membrane that soaks up what would appear to be
millions of liters of water from his pond, and who is flown to the mountainside
where he douses the flames). These episodes, as with all fairy tales, are
wonderfully visual, and because of this, more memorable as stories that would
appeal especially to a young audience, but also conserve a poetic quality that
is evident to older audience members as well.
These fairy tales tell stories about these communities and,
in this case, about the Navajo, that seems to demonstrate on a fundamental
level that this spiritual and topographic terrain belongs to them, because they
were the pioneers, because they helped to shape it, and because they formed a
community and helped to demarcate boundaries with the surrounding peoples such
as the Hopi, the Pueblo, the Apache, etc.
These fairy tales represent the creation of a shared history, one populated
by memorable characters (the mischievous Coyote, the preening but slothful
Turkey, etc.) and memorable episodes whereby the highlighted culture constructs
its cultural authority. It is the kingdom that is so commonly desired and
obtained by the protagonists of fairy tales.
Eternal Observer -- ORomero (c) 2013
Copyrights ORomero 2013
Copyrights ORomero 2013
