Texts of the North American Indian

Writings of E.S. Curtis
Excerpts from "The North American Indian" Set #254, Vol. 8

THE CHINOOKAN TRIBES (cont'd)

If during the dance visitors from another village came to participate, they at once despatched one of their number as a messenger to the house while the others drew up the canoe, and the host bade him tell his companions that a place would be prepared for them. Such an event was not sufficient to interrupt the enthusiastic singing and dancing. The leader of the newly arrived party, who was necessarily a possessor of yúhlmah, beat on the door, and his followers shouted. After repeating this, they pushed aside the mat and entered. Those already present drew somewhat back from the fire to give them room, the person who had been singing and dancing on the platform brought his song to a close, and the leader of the newcomers went to the pole, singing one of his sacred songs, in which his party, as well as the others, joined. He repeated three of his songs in quick succession, consuming in all possibly twenty minutes, and was followed at once by another of the visitors with his medicine-songs, and so on until each of the newcomers had sung. After they had finished, the crier for the host announced that food was ready for them in a certain house, and they filed out. The other people ate in the house of ceremony, and at the conclusion of the meal singing and dancing were resumed, the visitors mixing with the others.

On the days following the first, the women might or might not perform as on the opening day. At dawn following the fifth night the crier stepped to the platform and announced that the dance was ended. The moment he ceased speaking, the men made a rush for the elk-skin, seized it, and endeavored to wrest it from one another. As they struggled and pulled, some one would throw a vessel of water over the skin, making it slippery and almost impossible to hold. When the fun had continued long enough, the crier called a halt, and whatever portion each contestant held was cut off and given to him. As elk-skin for moccasins was scarce, the efforts to get possession of the prize were real. The parents of the sick person now distributed presents among the people as far as what they had would go*. (* At times this ceremony was given by some person who wished to sing his sacred songs, and he then performed the part played by the sick person in the above description. In such a case two medicine-men of good repute sat in the front and watched the pole to see by its appearance whether any person who came forward to sing and dance was of evil power, and if any one was so adjudged by them, he was prevented from stepping on the elk-skin.)

Apart from their ceremonial spirit-association and singing, the people were greatly given to dreams, and to the every-day singing of songs. In every home could be heard the low beat of the drum and the droning of some rhythmic song.

In the treatment of diseases there was a distinct line of demarcation between such as were recognized as physical disorders due to no supernatural cause, and hence treated by natural remedies, and those in which the patients seemed to wither and droop without ascertainable reason. These were ascribed to the action of yúhlmah and consequently were treated only by supernatural methods. Those who held the secrets of curing ordinary disorders were not called healers or recognized as different from other men or women. Any person might possess one or more secrets relating to the healing property of roots and leaves, and might bequeath or sell such knowledge. If the ailment were one deemed to require supernatural aid, the father of the sick person went himself to a medicine-man, asked his help, and promised a certain amount of property in payment. The healer came to the house, asked for a board, or for two poles, and two short sticks with which to beat upon the board or the poles. The patient was placed beside one end of the poles, which lay parallel. Sitting by the patient, the healer began to sing, looking straight at the body, while assistants beat on the poles rhythmically. After a time the healer declared what he had seen, saying, for example, "This person is going to die; but if you will give me so much more" -- naming the amount -- "I will try to cure him. I may fail, but I will try hard if you give me that much." Of course the necessary amount was promised. The healer had the feathers of birds of prey in his hair, furs of different kinds on his head, and bands of fur across his shoulders. He now started a song, which the others carried on while beating the poles, and the medicine-man swung his arms and made a sound such as the creature represented by his guardian spirit makes. With a final downward motion of his arms, and crying, "Up!" he thus gave the signal to the others, who struck a last violent blow on the poles. Everybody was silent. The healer spoke: "Listen! There are the father and the mother. I wish you to say whether my words are right or wrong." Every one was all attention. The medicine-man roceeded to tell what the patient was doing, and where he was at the time he was made sick, and he appealed to the father to confirm the statements. The father might disclaim any knowledge of the facts, and it was then referred to the mother, who usually saw enough truth in the guess of the medicine-man to make her believe that the whole must be true. Now, knowing how and where the patient became ill, the medicine man knew how to proceed. "If I take this sickness out of him," he said, "you will see black clouds, rain, and wind coming." Again he began to sing, and the poles were beaten. One of the beaters tied a band of deerskin or other skin around the medicin-man's abdomen and chest. There was another assistant medicine-man or medicine-woman present, sitting close beside the patient's head. The chief healer said, "Whenever I get hold of this sickness and bring it out, the patient is going to die" (faint). He put his mouth to some part of the sick man's body and sucked, and suddenly he cried, "Now!" and the beaters seized the band of skin and pulled in order to help him raise his head against the power of the sickness. At this point the patient always fainted, and the assistant medicine-man sprayed a mouthful of water over his face to restore him. The medicine-man now spat into his hands whatever he had ostensibly extracted from the sick person's body, and three or four men grasped his wrists, and helped him, with much show of overcoming a mysterious resistance, to plunge his hands into a bowl of water set near by for that purpose. The touch of the water dispelled the power of the sickness. Now everybody was curious to see what was in the hands of the medicine-man, and usually it was seen to be a short, thin object, sometimes black, sometimes yellowish or white, probably a small stick. The medicine-man sang another song in slow tempo and arose, holding the "sickness." He said: "You have all seen this. It is good, and I will keep it." He was now going to send this sickness, which was in reality some yúhlmah, to the place whence he obtained his medicine-powe, and thus it would become his own and be that much added to his supernatural strength. "If my yúhlmah can agree with this and keep it there," he says, "I will send it." He ordered the beaters to strike the poles without rhythm, and, holding the object between his index fingers, he called long and loud, and with some preliminary motions pretended to hurl it from him. The preliminary motions where to test whether the new yúhlmah felt willing to go to the place to which he wished to send it. If it seemed to hang heavy and reluctant, the inference was that it wished to go back into the patient's body, and he called for more and louder beating.

Sickness of the kind treated by medicine-men was usually regarded as simply yúhlmah not possessed by anybody, ranging wild, as it were, and the exorciser merely added this to his own supernatural power. When a person was very ill, as many as three healers were summoned, and if the case proved hopeless, one of them declared that the patient was the victim of an evil medicine-man, and, if the parents wished, although the patient could not be saved, he would remove the yúhlmah and cut it, thus destroying it and causing the death of the possessor. Consent being given and payment promised, he sucked out the yúhlmah as above described, and held it over the fire, where the ashes had been brushed aside, while another medicine-man cut the small object with a knife, and the pieces were dropped into the fire. Usually in such cases it was believed that two yúhlmah had been put into the sick person, and the second was brought out and severed as was the first. It was believed also that the evil medicine-man invariably died.

In the old times the killing of a medicine-man for having brought sickness and death to some person was a frequent occurrence. Nearly every one, says Hlalákum, was a medicine-man or medicine-woman in those days. Any person who died under treatment was said by the healer in charge, as a measure of self-protection, to have been made incurably ill by some other magician. Then, with the permission of the chief, the family of the deceased sent one of its own members, or a slave, or an itóhiul, to kill the supposed cause of their troubles. Sometimes a dying person continually mentioned the name of a certain medicine-man. It was then assumed that this man had caused the death, and the relatives secretly killed him, or had him killed by an itóhiul. An instance of this kind occurred in 1905, but the case could not be legally proved against the murderer.

EDWARD S. CURTIS