Читать книгу Waterless Mountain - Laura Adams Armer - Страница 13
ОглавлениеTHE FIRST SPINNER
HE GRAY tiger cat lay stretched in the sunshine on top of Mother’s hogan. He was asleep but he must have been dreaming about something, for every once in a while his whiskers would twitch or the black end of his striped tail would shake a little. Maybe he was dreaming about Baby Sister and the fork she tried to jab into him before he jumped on top of the hogan for safety.
Maybe he was dreaming about the big spider he had seen when he went hunting for field mice. That spider had a house in the ground with a hinged door. Tiger Cat had never seen such a big spider. Not being a Navaho, the cat didn’t know that the Spider Woman was very kindly toward the First People.
Uncle knew that. He had told Younger Brother a beautiful story about First Man and First Woman when they sat singing by their spring of water.
First Man sat on one side of the spring and First Woman faced him on the opposite side. They were singing because they were happy to have such good water.
One day First Man noticed what he thought was a beautiful piece of fruit in the middle of his spring. He wanted it but couldn’t reach it so he asked the Spider Woman, whom he knew, what she could do about getting it for him.
“I can spin a web across the spring,” she said.
“All right. Do it, Spider Woman,” said First Man.
So she spun a very beautiful, strong web over the water and walked out on it. When she reached the place where the supposed fruit lay, she found that it was a big shining, white shell. She took it to First Man and it made him happy to have it.
For the next three days the Spider Woman was asked to spin her web and walk to the middle of the spring.
On the second day she brought back a big piece of turquoise, on the third day she found an abalone shell, and on the fourth day, the black stone.
First Man was much pleased. First Woman said, “I wish I could spin and weave.”
So Spider Woman taught her how to do those two useful things. She taught her daughters and ever since then, Navaho women have known how.
Mother was weaving under the summer shelter while the gray tiger cat dreamed and twitched on the roof.
Lambs played about Mother’s loom and one of them tried to chew a ball of yarn. Baby Sister decided that, as she couldn’t reach the cat, she would try her fork on a lamb. Babies never think about hurting things. They just naturally kick and cry or laugh, without regard for grown-ups or pets.
Mother thought that whatever Baby Sister did was cute and she never scolded her. It had been the same way with Younger Brother when he was a baby, and with Elder Brother, too though that was so long ago Mother had forgotten.
Elder Brother was making a pair of new buckskin moccasins. Mother had colored the white skin with a mixture of alder bark, mountain mahogany and cedar ashes. She had dipped two corn-cobs in the liquid and beaten the leather with them for hours.
Elder Brother had cowhide soles all ready to sew on to the buckskin, and enough silver dimes with copper stems, to make a row right up the outside of each moccasin.
It was hard work to sew with rawhide. He had to make holes in the leather with a sharp awl. He was patient because he liked to dress well. He was very proud inside, about himself. Of course he didn’t know what he looked like as there were no mirrors in the land but he felt handsome, especially when he rode out on his pony to hunt for rabbits and prairie dogs.
Once he took Younger Brother hunting and they tried using an old-fashioned bow and arrow. Uncle had made them. Not many Navahos can do that.
While the family sat working in the shade of the cedar bough shelter, Younger Brother came home with the sheep. He was glad to have some corn bread. He said he had been far that day and had seen a rattlesnake sunning itself on a rock.
“What did you do when you saw him?” asked Elder Brother.
“Nothing but run away. What should I do? I wouldn’t bother him because Uncle says that snakes were Navahos at one time. Uncle says to be respectful to snakes always.”
“I have never killed one myself,” said Elder Brother.
“If you did, Uncle would have to sing the Lightning Chant for you. That drives away all the evil things that strike and sting.”
“I shall not kill a snake,” said the big brother. “I shall let him crawl as he pleases.”
