The Grand Canyon of Arizona [67]
this desert, where his corn would grow. And grow it does, most wonderfully. Sometimes water is scarce; then the crop decreases, but generally a good crop may be relied upon. To hoe his cornfield, a Hopi will often run over the desert forty, fifty, sixty, and even eighty miles in a day. Sometimes, when the field is near by, the Hopi will ride on his burro. These cunning creatures are almost a necessity of Indian life. The streets would seem lonely without them. It will be noticed occasionally that one of these animals has lost part of his left ear. This is proof that he is possessed of kleptomaniac proclivities. If a burro is found stealing corn, he is sentenced to have part of his ear cut off.
Oraibi. On one of these burros we ride up the steep trail that brings us to the westernmost village of the Hopi, Oraibi. It is perched high on the mesa top, several hundred feet above the valley, and the various trails are steep and rugged. Some of them are sheer climbs, up which no animal other than man can go. There are six other villages, three of them ten miles, and the other three about twenty miles, to the east of Oraibi. They, also, are perched upon high mesas, which thrust themselves, like long fingers, into the sandy desert. On the middle mesa are Shungopavi, Mashongnovi and Shipaulovi, while on the eastern mesa are Walpi, Sichomovi and Hano.
Sandstone Houses. All the houses are built of rude pieces of sandstone, cemented with mud. Steps are made of larger slabs of stone, and often the only means of access is by long ladders, the poles of which tower high above the buildings, and give a singularly picturesque aspect to the village. In the olden days, there were neither doors nor windows in the first story of the houses. They were built so purposely, since they must serve for fortresses as well as homes.
Hopi Wafer. Bread. One is often likely to find a woman engaged in making piki. Piki is a wafer bread, peculiar to the Hopis. It is finer than the finest tortilla of the Mexican, or oatcake of the Scotch. No biscuit maker in America or England can make a cracker one-half so thin. The thinnest cracker is thick compared with piki, and yet the Hopi make it with marvelous dexterity. Cornmeal batter in a crude earthenware bowl, is the material; a smooth, flat stone, under which a brisk fire is kept burning, is the instrument; and the woman's quick fingers, spreading a thin layer of the batter over the stone, perform the operation. It looks so easy. A lady of one of my parties tried it once, and failed. My cook, a stalwart Kansas City man, knew he would not fail. And he didn't. He had four of the best-blistered fingers I have seen in a long time. But the Hopi woman merely greases the stone, dips her fingers into the batter, carries them lightly and carelessly over the heated surfaces, and, in a moment, strips the already baked sheet from the stone. When several are baked, she folds them over and over until they are about the size of an elongated shredded wheat biscuit.
Hopi Women as Builders. It is a reversal of our conception of things to see the "gentler sex " engaged in building a house, as is often the case in Hopiland. Yet to the Hopi there is nothing strange in this scene, for the woman, and not the man, is the owner of the house. Hence, the Hopi reasons, why should she not build it? It is hers, so let her make it; and she does. She uses no spirit-level, no plumb line, no square, no saw, and yet she makes a creditable house, fairly square and plumb, warm and cosy in winter, and cool and comfortable in summer. The mud of the winter's watercourses is used as mortar, and the pieces of disintegrated sandstone, that abound on the mesa tops, form the building material.
Men Who Weave and Knit. In accordance with Hopi logic, the antithesis of the woman house-builders is to be seen daily in the men who are engaged in weaving the women's garments; men, also, knit the stockings, and follow other so-called feminine occupations. There is nothing incongruous in these things to them. They are part of "the way of the old," handed
Oraibi. On one of these burros we ride up the steep trail that brings us to the westernmost village of the Hopi, Oraibi. It is perched high on the mesa top, several hundred feet above the valley, and the various trails are steep and rugged. Some of them are sheer climbs, up which no animal other than man can go. There are six other villages, three of them ten miles, and the other three about twenty miles, to the east of Oraibi. They, also, are perched upon high mesas, which thrust themselves, like long fingers, into the sandy desert. On the middle mesa are Shungopavi, Mashongnovi and Shipaulovi, while on the eastern mesa are Walpi, Sichomovi and Hano.
Sandstone Houses. All the houses are built of rude pieces of sandstone, cemented with mud. Steps are made of larger slabs of stone, and often the only means of access is by long ladders, the poles of which tower high above the buildings, and give a singularly picturesque aspect to the village. In the olden days, there were neither doors nor windows in the first story of the houses. They were built so purposely, since they must serve for fortresses as well as homes.
Hopi Wafer. Bread. One is often likely to find a woman engaged in making piki. Piki is a wafer bread, peculiar to the Hopis. It is finer than the finest tortilla of the Mexican, or oatcake of the Scotch. No biscuit maker in America or England can make a cracker one-half so thin. The thinnest cracker is thick compared with piki, and yet the Hopi make it with marvelous dexterity. Cornmeal batter in a crude earthenware bowl, is the material; a smooth, flat stone, under which a brisk fire is kept burning, is the instrument; and the woman's quick fingers, spreading a thin layer of the batter over the stone, perform the operation. It looks so easy. A lady of one of my parties tried it once, and failed. My cook, a stalwart Kansas City man, knew he would not fail. And he didn't. He had four of the best-blistered fingers I have seen in a long time. But the Hopi woman merely greases the stone, dips her fingers into the batter, carries them lightly and carelessly over the heated surfaces, and, in a moment, strips the already baked sheet from the stone. When several are baked, she folds them over and over until they are about the size of an elongated shredded wheat biscuit.
Hopi Women as Builders. It is a reversal of our conception of things to see the "gentler sex " engaged in building a house, as is often the case in Hopiland. Yet to the Hopi there is nothing strange in this scene, for the woman, and not the man, is the owner of the house. Hence, the Hopi reasons, why should she not build it? It is hers, so let her make it; and she does. She uses no spirit-level, no plumb line, no square, no saw, and yet she makes a creditable house, fairly square and plumb, warm and cosy in winter, and cool and comfortable in summer. The mud of the winter's watercourses is used as mortar, and the pieces of disintegrated sandstone, that abound on the mesa tops, form the building material.
Men Who Weave and Knit. In accordance with Hopi logic, the antithesis of the woman house-builders is to be seen daily in the men who are engaged in weaving the women's garments; men, also, knit the stockings, and follow other so-called feminine occupations. There is nothing incongruous in these things to them. They are part of "the way of the old," handed