Don't Know Much About Mythology - Kenneth C. Davis [190]
Apart from this shared destiny of destruction and decimation, however, there are other fascinating parallels between the people of these “new worlds.”
First, most of their myths reflect a nonliterate or oral tradition that was not recorded until fairly recently, in most cases. The very survival of these myths is a testament to the deep human desire and ability to hold on to what is sacred. When these mythic accounts were recorded, it was after the introduction of Christianity—as was true in the Celtic and Norse worlds. That does not mean we can’t “know” these myths, but we must take into account the prejudices that may have been involved in preserving them, as well as a native desire to conceal and protect their most sacred stories and rituals.*
A second feature often found in many African, Native American, and Pacific Creation stories is a deity who gives shape to the cosmos and then retreats to the background. The African, American, and Pacific-island stories also share a fascination with mischievous animal “tricksters,” and animals often play a larger role in these myths than in many other traditions. All of these cultures have many stories involving twins. And, in worlds filled with spirits, the shaman or “medicine man” is often highly revered as the most significant person in the society.
But finally, we come back to the most important parallel of all. Running through the history of all these cultures is the common theme of destruction. The “discovery” of Africa, the Americas, and the world of the Pacific is pervaded by an overwhelming central tragedy—the concerted effort to replace ancient ideas and languages with the conquerors’ version of god, truth, and civilization. That effort largely—although not completely—succeeded.
In spite of that dark history, the myths of these places and people are not lost, dead stories. As elsewhere, ancient folkways and faiths die hard. And there are vivid reminders of these mythic traditions alive today. One example can be seen in the religions that grew up in the Americas. Both voodoo and Santeria, for instance, remain powerful vestiges of the arrival of ancient African myths and deities in the Caribbean and the Americas, brought by millions of Africans who carried their gods, if nothing else, when they were forced into the holds of slave ships. In Latin America, the sacred remains of ancient myths and beliefs poke their heads through “official” Christianity, like some relentless rain-forest flower breaking through the concrete of a modern street.
Museums around the world are also helping to keep ancient myths alive, increasingly recognizing the rich artistic traditions of all these places and people, as well as their impact on art during the past century. Among others, Picasso and Mexican painter Frida Kahlo were profoundly influenced by the imagery of ancient myths. Hollywood, which is often content to ignore such traditions, has also opened eyes with the infrequent big-budget success, such as Kevin Costner’s paean to the Sioux, Dances With Wolves, while smaller, independent foreign filmmakers have contributed The Gods Must Be Crazy, set among the San of the Kalahari, and The Whale Rider, which lyrically captured a sense of the disappearing traditions of the Maori. A generation of scholars in the United States, Mexico, Guatemala, and Brazil, among many countries, has also expanded an ambitious effort to recognize and revitalize the study of Native American, African, and other indigenous traditions, expressed in such forms as the increasingly popular celebration of the African harvest festival known by its Swahili name “Kwanzaa,” which means “first fruits.”
The fact is that myths—like the human soul they often reflect—can be enduring, tenacious, and transcendent. Myths never die. That basic truth is nowhere clearer than in the very ancient places called the “new worlds.”