Post by blackcrowheart on Jan 21, 2008 10:29:04 GMT -5
Flint Boy [1] - Yana
I shall commence my myth.
The Flint people were living at Djô'djanu.[2] The Flint people quarreled
with the Grizzly Bear people. All the Flint people dwelling together had a
sweat-house. They used to go to hunt deer, but four were always missing when
they returned home. The Grizzly Bears lay in wait for the Flint people, the
Grizzly
Bears killed the Flint people. All the Flint people living together were
very numerous and had a sweat-house. Some were, missing when they returned
home, until the Grizzly Bears had, killed all the Flint people. There was
just one that returned home. An old woman was sitting inside the
sweat-house, Rock Woman, and all the Flint people living together, it is
said, were her children. They did not come home from the deer hunt; indeed,
they were all killed, the Grizzly Bears killed them all.
Now the old woman was weeping. "Hehe'?! Where can they all have gone?" wept
that old woman, waiting for them to come back home. The Grizzly Bears had
killed all the Flint people. The old woman, weeping, stayed home by herself,
all alone, all her children having been killed. She had quivers hanging,
many were the quivers hanging close together, with bows and arrows. Now the
old woman was all alone, weeping, being the only Flint, person.
"I shall not die," had said (one of the Flint people), leaving' word behind
to her. He hung up a bow, a coarse-sinewed bow up yonder on the south side,
while she cried, continuing to weep, sitting inside the sweat-house. The
Grizzly Bears were looking into the sweat-house. "I spit out spittle on the
ground, on the south side. If I die, pray look at it, grandmother! I shall
come to life again from my spittle. Pray look at it! Pray look at it!", She
did so in the middle of the night, looking at it. There were no men in the
sweat-house, all having been eaten up, the Grizzly Bears having eaten them
up. The old woman put pitch on herself as sign of mourning. Suddenly the
spittle bawled out. A person came to life again in the middle of the night.
"Where is it?" she said. "Who is the child?" "Una'! una'!" it said. It was
indeed the spittle that had already come to life again. The old woman arose,
took the boy up in her arms, and wrapped him up in a blanket. The old woman
washed him, carrying him about in her arms. She washed him in the night.
"Grand-mother!" "Keep quiet! There are Grizzly Bears outside."
When it was daylight he who had come back to life was crawling about; when
the sun was overhead he was already grown up. "Give me a bow," he said,
being already grown up. He looked to the south side, looking at the bow.
"Grandmother! I shall go outside to play, grandmother." "No," she said,
speaking to Flint Boy, "danger lies outside." "What is it, grandmother?"
"All of our people were eaten up," she said, speaking to the young man. She
would not let him go outside, saying, "Do not go outside! Outside lies
danger." "What is it, grandmother?" "Do you not see that our people are not
here in the sweat-house?" "I am not afraid, grandmother." He put out his
hand for the bow and said, "I shall go outside. Whose bow is this?" he
asked. He took down the quiver hanging on the south side. the bow was so
long, short, a coarse-sinewed bow, an ugly bow. "I shall shoot arrows in
play. I shall not go far off." "Yes, yes, yes," she said. She believed him.
He pulled out a bow from the quiver. He stretched it, and his bow broke.
"Hê!" he said, "that was no man," for he had broken his bow. He took out
another bow and stretched it also. He stretched and broke another bow, in
this way breaking all the bows. "They were no men. I have broken all their
bows." Now he put out his hand for the coarse-sinewed bow. He bent it to
himself, it was strong. Again he bent it to himself, it was strong. It did
not break, for it was strong. He laughed. "Grandmother, truly it is strong."
He laughed, and bent it to himself again, put his feet down on it, pulling
at it, so as to break the bow. He put the coarse-sinewed bow down on a rock.
"It is strong, grandmother," he said, while the old woman kept on weeping,
crying. "This one was a man. Hêhê! Why did he die? Grandmother, I am not
able to break it." He put the bow on a rock, and lifted up a big rock; he
tried to break the bow by throwing the rock down on it. The coarse-sinewed
bow bounced up. "Grandmother, I shall go outside. I shall go around to shoot
small game outside. I shall take the bow along, grandmother. I shall not go
far off." "Yes! Do not start to go far away. Danger lies outside. Grizzly
Bears are waiting for you outside." Now he was the only one. "Yes,
grandmother, give me three arrows. Look up the smoke-hole of the sweat-house
at the jack-rabbit!" He went outside. Now he shot his arrows, went about
shooting at jack-rabbits. (When he returned inside he said,) "Grandmother!
What might that be looking in from above?" "What does he look like? What do
his eyes look like?" "His eyes are small; he is small-eyed." "So!" she said.
"Perhaps that one is dangerous. Indeed, perhaps that one is a Grizzly Bear,
a small-eyed Grizzly Bear." "Grandmother! What is that above?" "What is he
like?" "His eyes are big." "So! Perhaps that one is a jack-rabbit, it is
jack-rabbits that have big eyes.
Now Flint Boy went out. "Grandmother, I shall go to the south," he said. "I
shall go about." "Yes, go about!" "Grandmother, have you any acorn bread?"
"Yes." Then she gave him her acorn bread in one round lump. He put his acorn
bread [3] inside his blanket, and held it wrapped up here. Now he went off,
far away to the south. He came to a halt, looking down hill to the south.
There was smoke and many Grizzly Bear women were building a fire, while it
was raining, as it is now. [4] The Grizzly Bear women were twenty in number
and were digging up earth-worms. Flint Boy went to the fire, built by the
Grizzly Bear women. There was nobody at the fire now, as the Grizzly Bear
women were occupied in digging up earth-worms. The Grizzly Bear women had
stuck their teeth in the ground in a circle about the fire. [5] Flint Boy
laughed and said, as he stood near the fire, "Hê!" The Grizzly Bear women
thereupon turned around to look. "Who is it?" they said. "Well! Come on, all
of you." Flint Boy seized all the Grizzly Bear teeth that had been stuck out
to dry, so that they were deprived of their teeth. Now they came back
together. "Well! Give me something to eat. I am hungry," said he, lying. The
Grizzly Bear women were afraid, for they did not have their teeth. They
whispered among themselves: "Who is it? (aloud:) We have no food. We would
give you something to eat, but we have no food." "Yes," Flint Boy said, "you
are afraid, are you not?" "We are not afraid." "Are you not hungry? I carry
ground acorn bread with me." "Yes," said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint Boy
intended to kill the Grizzly Bear women; they did not have their teeth. "I
have some acorn bread." "Where is it?" said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint
Boy put his hand inside the blanket, and drew forth his acorn bread. He gave
each one of them to eat, and they ate of it. "I shall go back home," said
Flint Boy. Thus he spoke to the Grizzly Bear women, bidding them adieu.
Flint Boy went off back home and came back to his grandmother. "Grandmother!
I have seen many women." The Grizzly Bear women were all sick now at the
fire, for the acorn bread had made them sick. The women fell back and all
died, as they had really eaten flint.
"I shall go to get ma'ls*unna roots, I shall go to dig up roots with a
stick." She told Flint Boy, "Stay at home!" "Yes," said Flint Boy. Now she
went off to dig roots with a stick. It was spring, and the ma'ls*unna roots
were sprouting up out of the ground. Now the old woman dug up roots with her
stick, while she carried a pack-basket on her back. Flint Boy, now all
alone, stayed at home and looked all around inside. The ma'ls*unna roots
were sprouting up out of the ground. The old woman saw them and dug them up.
"Una'! una'! una'!" said something which was sprouting up. Indeed it was
anew-born babe. The old woman was frightened and dug the child up with a
stick. "Heh!" said the old woman, looking at it. "Hehe'! What am I going to
do with it?" She took it up in her arms and put the child that she had found
down into her pack-basket. The old woman went off home. "Grandmother! Have
you come back home already?" "Yes." "Una'! una'! una'!" it said outside.
"Grandmother, what is that that is coming?" "I found that one." "Where was
it?" "I was digging up roots, when suddenly it cried." "Indeed, grandmother,
wash it, maybe that one is a person." She did so, washing him. He also did
not grow as people generally do; he grew up quickly.
Now Flint Boy went off, went outside. "Grandmother, I should like to take
him along." "Yes," said the old woman, "Please do not go far away. Take
care! Stay right around here, a little ways to the east." "What is your
name?" Flint Boy asked the child. "My name is Little Gray Squirrel," [6]
"Grandmother, what do you say to it? I shall take him along." "Go off to a
great distance." "Grandmother, I wish to make a dog. We have no dog. What do
you say to that!" "Do so! Make it, make it, make it!" "I shall go to hunt
deer," said Flint Boy, asking her. She assented. Now they went off to a
great distance to the east, going to hunt deer. Flint Boy sat down on a
mountain. "You! What would you do?" he asked the boy. "I want to make a dog
of you. What, pray, would you say if you should bark?" He did not talk. "Oh,
I should talk in any way at all." "I want to hear it," said Flint Boy.
"Bark!" "Hu', hu! hu!" Flint Boy was frightened as the dog barked. The earth
shook while the dog barked. The sound went from there to the north, it went
from there to the south, it went from there to the east, it went from there
to the west. [7] Flint Boy looked at him and said, "It is good now."
Now Flint Boy went off with his dog as far as up on the mountain here to the
west. [8] "I want a woman," said Flint Boy, talking within his heart; so he
took a wife. When it was daybreak he went up on the mountain to the west,
taking the woman and his dog with him. The dog lay curled up beside the
house. "Listen," he said to his wife, "I shall go out to hunt deer. I think
this is a good place, here on the south, is it not?" "Yes," she answered. "I
shall not take the dog along with me. Tie him down to the ground, for he
might run off after me.
"Pray do not play with the dog," she said to the people there, tying the dog
down to the ground. "He might run off after him," said his wife, speaking to
his people. "Yes, yes, we shall not play with the dog." (Before he went off)
Flint. Boy played with him. "Bark!" he said, and the dog barked "Hu', hu',
hu', hu'!" The earth shook; the people were afraid while the dog barked.
They in the north heard the dog barking, they in the east heard the dog
barking, the south people heard it, they to the west over the mountains
heard it.
Now Flint Boy went off to hunt deer to the south. He went off leaving two
women behind him in the house. (When he had gone) they whispered to one
another, "What do you think? Let us turn the dog loose." They did so and
began to play with him. One of the women spoke to the dog, saying, "Bark!"
While Flint Boy was away, the dog barked as he had done before, and his
speech was like thunder. Flint Boy heard his dog barking. Now the dog ran
away, looking for Flint Boy's footsteps. The women called to the dog to come
back, but he kept on barking after Flint Boy. "Hu', hu'!" said the dog,
crying. All at once there appeared a fog. It did not rain, but the fog just
moved about. "Hu', hu'!" he kept on saying, while he ran off. The two women
cried, but the dog kept on barking, "Hu', hu'!" up above; he was now heard
to bark, running off up to the sky. The dog melted away into the fog, rising
up; indeed he was now flying up to the sky. People hear the dog barking in
the sky.[9]
Footnotes:
[1] The nine gat'a'?i myths here given were obtained in December, 1907, just
north of and across the Sacramento river from Redding, Shasta County. The
informant was Sam Bat'wi, one of the four or five Indians still left that
have a speaking knowledge of this dialect and probably the only one that is
at all acquainted with the mythology. His original dialect was the now
extinct Southern Yana, spoken south of Battle creek, but having early in
life moved north to the Cow creek country in the neighborhood of the present
hamlet of Millville, he learned to use the Central or gat'a'?i dialect
(called gat'a'?a by the Northern Yana of Montgomery creek and Round
Mountain) and seems now unable to make fluent use of his former dialect.
The Central and Northern Yana texts not only supplement each other in regard
to dialect, but also serve to illustrate the differences between the men's
and women's forms of the language (except that of course in conversational
passages the use of sex forms depends upon the circumstances of the
case--women under all circumstances and men in speaking to women use the
female, men in speaking to men use the male forms). However, Sam had a
tendency to slip into the use of female forms, probably owing to the fact
that he had been for a long time accustomed to use his language chiefly in
talking to his wife, who had died but a short time before these texts were
dictated. When his attention was called to these lapses, he admitted the
charge, and jocosely explained them as due to a too frequent dreaming and
thinking about women.
[2] This myth corresponds to that of "The Hakas and the Tennas" (i.e., "The
Flints and the Grizzly Bears") in Curtin's Creation Myths of Primitive
America," pp. 297-310 (notes on p. 521). Curtin's Haka and Hakaya'mchiwi
correspond to ha'ga and hagaya'mtc!iwi; Tenna is t'en?na (t'e'nna in
gari'?i); Tsuwalkai is djuwa'lk!ai(na); Dari Jowa', probably incorrectly
translated as "eagle," is doubtless da'ridjuwa, "gray squirrel," in this
version Thunder's own name; Teptewi (p. 304) is t'e'p!diwi. Curtin's
explanation of the myth (p. 521) as a nature allegory representing the
struggle of fire or lightning, with which he identifies flint, and the
clouds, which for unknown reasons the grizzly bears are supposed to
represent, is altogether unwarranted. On the whole the two versions
correspond satisfactorily; the latter portion of both, pp. 309-10 of Curtin
and pp. 21-22 of this volume, is an apparently quite unconnected account of
the origin of thunder, a child dug up from the ground.
[3] A mountain east of Buzzard's Roost (or Round Mountain) near the
headwaters of Montgomery creek, at which Terry's sawmill is now situated.
[4] This "acorn bread" was really made of ground flint.
[5] It happened to be raining when this story was dictated. Sam Bat'wi was
fond of illustrating his narratives by gestures, references to which are to
be found here and there in the texts.
[6] In Curtin's version (p. 305) the teeth are hung up on a tree near the
fire.
[7] Sam Bat'wi found it at least curious that the newly-dug-up child should
have known its own name, though none had been bestowed upon it. He suggested
no explanation.
[8] This sort of emphasis on the cardinal points seems characteristic of
northern California. The Yana texts give numerous examples of the formulaic
rigmarole. In this passage there is the implied conclusion that the incident
explains why nowadays dogs are found to bark in every direction.
[9] The reference is to Bally Mountain, about 14 miles west of Redding,
where the myth was told. Bally Mountain is in Wintun territory.
[10] As thunder.
Yana Texts, by Edward Sapir. University of California Publications in
American Archaeology and Ethnology Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 1-235 [1910] and is
now in the public domain
I shall commence my myth.
The Flint people were living at Djô'djanu.[2] The Flint people quarreled
with the Grizzly Bear people. All the Flint people dwelling together had a
sweat-house. They used to go to hunt deer, but four were always missing when
they returned home. The Grizzly Bears lay in wait for the Flint people, the
Grizzly
Bears killed the Flint people. All the Flint people living together were
very numerous and had a sweat-house. Some were, missing when they returned
home, until the Grizzly Bears had, killed all the Flint people. There was
just one that returned home. An old woman was sitting inside the
sweat-house, Rock Woman, and all the Flint people living together, it is
said, were her children. They did not come home from the deer hunt; indeed,
they were all killed, the Grizzly Bears killed them all.
Now the old woman was weeping. "Hehe'?! Where can they all have gone?" wept
that old woman, waiting for them to come back home. The Grizzly Bears had
killed all the Flint people. The old woman, weeping, stayed home by herself,
all alone, all her children having been killed. She had quivers hanging,
many were the quivers hanging close together, with bows and arrows. Now the
old woman was all alone, weeping, being the only Flint, person.
"I shall not die," had said (one of the Flint people), leaving' word behind
to her. He hung up a bow, a coarse-sinewed bow up yonder on the south side,
while she cried, continuing to weep, sitting inside the sweat-house. The
Grizzly Bears were looking into the sweat-house. "I spit out spittle on the
ground, on the south side. If I die, pray look at it, grandmother! I shall
come to life again from my spittle. Pray look at it! Pray look at it!", She
did so in the middle of the night, looking at it. There were no men in the
sweat-house, all having been eaten up, the Grizzly Bears having eaten them
up. The old woman put pitch on herself as sign of mourning. Suddenly the
spittle bawled out. A person came to life again in the middle of the night.
"Where is it?" she said. "Who is the child?" "Una'! una'!" it said. It was
indeed the spittle that had already come to life again. The old woman arose,
took the boy up in her arms, and wrapped him up in a blanket. The old woman
washed him, carrying him about in her arms. She washed him in the night.
"Grand-mother!" "Keep quiet! There are Grizzly Bears outside."
When it was daylight he who had come back to life was crawling about; when
the sun was overhead he was already grown up. "Give me a bow," he said,
being already grown up. He looked to the south side, looking at the bow.
"Grandmother! I shall go outside to play, grandmother." "No," she said,
speaking to Flint Boy, "danger lies outside." "What is it, grandmother?"
"All of our people were eaten up," she said, speaking to the young man. She
would not let him go outside, saying, "Do not go outside! Outside lies
danger." "What is it, grandmother?" "Do you not see that our people are not
here in the sweat-house?" "I am not afraid, grandmother." He put out his
hand for the bow and said, "I shall go outside. Whose bow is this?" he
asked. He took down the quiver hanging on the south side. the bow was so
long, short, a coarse-sinewed bow, an ugly bow. "I shall shoot arrows in
play. I shall not go far off." "Yes, yes, yes," she said. She believed him.
He pulled out a bow from the quiver. He stretched it, and his bow broke.
"Hê!" he said, "that was no man," for he had broken his bow. He took out
another bow and stretched it also. He stretched and broke another bow, in
this way breaking all the bows. "They were no men. I have broken all their
bows." Now he put out his hand for the coarse-sinewed bow. He bent it to
himself, it was strong. Again he bent it to himself, it was strong. It did
not break, for it was strong. He laughed. "Grandmother, truly it is strong."
He laughed, and bent it to himself again, put his feet down on it, pulling
at it, so as to break the bow. He put the coarse-sinewed bow down on a rock.
"It is strong, grandmother," he said, while the old woman kept on weeping,
crying. "This one was a man. Hêhê! Why did he die? Grandmother, I am not
able to break it." He put the bow on a rock, and lifted up a big rock; he
tried to break the bow by throwing the rock down on it. The coarse-sinewed
bow bounced up. "Grandmother, I shall go outside. I shall go around to shoot
small game outside. I shall take the bow along, grandmother. I shall not go
far off." "Yes! Do not start to go far away. Danger lies outside. Grizzly
Bears are waiting for you outside." Now he was the only one. "Yes,
grandmother, give me three arrows. Look up the smoke-hole of the sweat-house
at the jack-rabbit!" He went outside. Now he shot his arrows, went about
shooting at jack-rabbits. (When he returned inside he said,) "Grandmother!
What might that be looking in from above?" "What does he look like? What do
his eyes look like?" "His eyes are small; he is small-eyed." "So!" she said.
"Perhaps that one is dangerous. Indeed, perhaps that one is a Grizzly Bear,
a small-eyed Grizzly Bear." "Grandmother! What is that above?" "What is he
like?" "His eyes are big." "So! Perhaps that one is a jack-rabbit, it is
jack-rabbits that have big eyes.
Now Flint Boy went out. "Grandmother, I shall go to the south," he said. "I
shall go about." "Yes, go about!" "Grandmother, have you any acorn bread?"
"Yes." Then she gave him her acorn bread in one round lump. He put his acorn
bread [3] inside his blanket, and held it wrapped up here. Now he went off,
far away to the south. He came to a halt, looking down hill to the south.
There was smoke and many Grizzly Bear women were building a fire, while it
was raining, as it is now. [4] The Grizzly Bear women were twenty in number
and were digging up earth-worms. Flint Boy went to the fire, built by the
Grizzly Bear women. There was nobody at the fire now, as the Grizzly Bear
women were occupied in digging up earth-worms. The Grizzly Bear women had
stuck their teeth in the ground in a circle about the fire. [5] Flint Boy
laughed and said, as he stood near the fire, "Hê!" The Grizzly Bear women
thereupon turned around to look. "Who is it?" they said. "Well! Come on, all
of you." Flint Boy seized all the Grizzly Bear teeth that had been stuck out
to dry, so that they were deprived of their teeth. Now they came back
together. "Well! Give me something to eat. I am hungry," said he, lying. The
Grizzly Bear women were afraid, for they did not have their teeth. They
whispered among themselves: "Who is it? (aloud:) We have no food. We would
give you something to eat, but we have no food." "Yes," Flint Boy said, "you
are afraid, are you not?" "We are not afraid." "Are you not hungry? I carry
ground acorn bread with me." "Yes," said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint Boy
intended to kill the Grizzly Bear women; they did not have their teeth. "I
have some acorn bread." "Where is it?" said the Grizzly Bear women. Flint
Boy put his hand inside the blanket, and drew forth his acorn bread. He gave
each one of them to eat, and they ate of it. "I shall go back home," said
Flint Boy. Thus he spoke to the Grizzly Bear women, bidding them adieu.
Flint Boy went off back home and came back to his grandmother. "Grandmother!
I have seen many women." The Grizzly Bear women were all sick now at the
fire, for the acorn bread had made them sick. The women fell back and all
died, as they had really eaten flint.
"I shall go to get ma'ls*unna roots, I shall go to dig up roots with a
stick." She told Flint Boy, "Stay at home!" "Yes," said Flint Boy. Now she
went off to dig roots with a stick. It was spring, and the ma'ls*unna roots
were sprouting up out of the ground. Now the old woman dug up roots with her
stick, while she carried a pack-basket on her back. Flint Boy, now all
alone, stayed at home and looked all around inside. The ma'ls*unna roots
were sprouting up out of the ground. The old woman saw them and dug them up.
"Una'! una'! una'!" said something which was sprouting up. Indeed it was
anew-born babe. The old woman was frightened and dug the child up with a
stick. "Heh!" said the old woman, looking at it. "Hehe'! What am I going to
do with it?" She took it up in her arms and put the child that she had found
down into her pack-basket. The old woman went off home. "Grandmother! Have
you come back home already?" "Yes." "Una'! una'! una'!" it said outside.
"Grandmother, what is that that is coming?" "I found that one." "Where was
it?" "I was digging up roots, when suddenly it cried." "Indeed, grandmother,
wash it, maybe that one is a person." She did so, washing him. He also did
not grow as people generally do; he grew up quickly.
Now Flint Boy went off, went outside. "Grandmother, I should like to take
him along." "Yes," said the old woman, "Please do not go far away. Take
care! Stay right around here, a little ways to the east." "What is your
name?" Flint Boy asked the child. "My name is Little Gray Squirrel," [6]
"Grandmother, what do you say to it? I shall take him along." "Go off to a
great distance." "Grandmother, I wish to make a dog. We have no dog. What do
you say to that!" "Do so! Make it, make it, make it!" "I shall go to hunt
deer," said Flint Boy, asking her. She assented. Now they went off to a
great distance to the east, going to hunt deer. Flint Boy sat down on a
mountain. "You! What would you do?" he asked the boy. "I want to make a dog
of you. What, pray, would you say if you should bark?" He did not talk. "Oh,
I should talk in any way at all." "I want to hear it," said Flint Boy.
"Bark!" "Hu', hu! hu!" Flint Boy was frightened as the dog barked. The earth
shook while the dog barked. The sound went from there to the north, it went
from there to the south, it went from there to the east, it went from there
to the west. [7] Flint Boy looked at him and said, "It is good now."
Now Flint Boy went off with his dog as far as up on the mountain here to the
west. [8] "I want a woman," said Flint Boy, talking within his heart; so he
took a wife. When it was daybreak he went up on the mountain to the west,
taking the woman and his dog with him. The dog lay curled up beside the
house. "Listen," he said to his wife, "I shall go out to hunt deer. I think
this is a good place, here on the south, is it not?" "Yes," she answered. "I
shall not take the dog along with me. Tie him down to the ground, for he
might run off after me.
"Pray do not play with the dog," she said to the people there, tying the dog
down to the ground. "He might run off after him," said his wife, speaking to
his people. "Yes, yes, we shall not play with the dog." (Before he went off)
Flint. Boy played with him. "Bark!" he said, and the dog barked "Hu', hu',
hu', hu'!" The earth shook; the people were afraid while the dog barked.
They in the north heard the dog barking, they in the east heard the dog
barking, the south people heard it, they to the west over the mountains
heard it.
Now Flint Boy went off to hunt deer to the south. He went off leaving two
women behind him in the house. (When he had gone) they whispered to one
another, "What do you think? Let us turn the dog loose." They did so and
began to play with him. One of the women spoke to the dog, saying, "Bark!"
While Flint Boy was away, the dog barked as he had done before, and his
speech was like thunder. Flint Boy heard his dog barking. Now the dog ran
away, looking for Flint Boy's footsteps. The women called to the dog to come
back, but he kept on barking after Flint Boy. "Hu', hu'!" said the dog,
crying. All at once there appeared a fog. It did not rain, but the fog just
moved about. "Hu', hu'!" he kept on saying, while he ran off. The two women
cried, but the dog kept on barking, "Hu', hu'!" up above; he was now heard
to bark, running off up to the sky. The dog melted away into the fog, rising
up; indeed he was now flying up to the sky. People hear the dog barking in
the sky.[9]
Footnotes:
[1] The nine gat'a'?i myths here given were obtained in December, 1907, just
north of and across the Sacramento river from Redding, Shasta County. The
informant was Sam Bat'wi, one of the four or five Indians still left that
have a speaking knowledge of this dialect and probably the only one that is
at all acquainted with the mythology. His original dialect was the now
extinct Southern Yana, spoken south of Battle creek, but having early in
life moved north to the Cow creek country in the neighborhood of the present
hamlet of Millville, he learned to use the Central or gat'a'?i dialect
(called gat'a'?a by the Northern Yana of Montgomery creek and Round
Mountain) and seems now unable to make fluent use of his former dialect.
The Central and Northern Yana texts not only supplement each other in regard
to dialect, but also serve to illustrate the differences between the men's
and women's forms of the language (except that of course in conversational
passages the use of sex forms depends upon the circumstances of the
case--women under all circumstances and men in speaking to women use the
female, men in speaking to men use the male forms). However, Sam had a
tendency to slip into the use of female forms, probably owing to the fact
that he had been for a long time accustomed to use his language chiefly in
talking to his wife, who had died but a short time before these texts were
dictated. When his attention was called to these lapses, he admitted the
charge, and jocosely explained them as due to a too frequent dreaming and
thinking about women.
[2] This myth corresponds to that of "The Hakas and the Tennas" (i.e., "The
Flints and the Grizzly Bears") in Curtin's Creation Myths of Primitive
America," pp. 297-310 (notes on p. 521). Curtin's Haka and Hakaya'mchiwi
correspond to ha'ga and hagaya'mtc!iwi; Tenna is t'en?na (t'e'nna in
gari'?i); Tsuwalkai is djuwa'lk!ai(na); Dari Jowa', probably incorrectly
translated as "eagle," is doubtless da'ridjuwa, "gray squirrel," in this
version Thunder's own name; Teptewi (p. 304) is t'e'p!diwi. Curtin's
explanation of the myth (p. 521) as a nature allegory representing the
struggle of fire or lightning, with which he identifies flint, and the
clouds, which for unknown reasons the grizzly bears are supposed to
represent, is altogether unwarranted. On the whole the two versions
correspond satisfactorily; the latter portion of both, pp. 309-10 of Curtin
and pp. 21-22 of this volume, is an apparently quite unconnected account of
the origin of thunder, a child dug up from the ground.
[3] A mountain east of Buzzard's Roost (or Round Mountain) near the
headwaters of Montgomery creek, at which Terry's sawmill is now situated.
[4] This "acorn bread" was really made of ground flint.
[5] It happened to be raining when this story was dictated. Sam Bat'wi was
fond of illustrating his narratives by gestures, references to which are to
be found here and there in the texts.
[6] In Curtin's version (p. 305) the teeth are hung up on a tree near the
fire.
[7] Sam Bat'wi found it at least curious that the newly-dug-up child should
have known its own name, though none had been bestowed upon it. He suggested
no explanation.
[8] This sort of emphasis on the cardinal points seems characteristic of
northern California. The Yana texts give numerous examples of the formulaic
rigmarole. In this passage there is the implied conclusion that the incident
explains why nowadays dogs are found to bark in every direction.
[9] The reference is to Bally Mountain, about 14 miles west of Redding,
where the myth was told. Bally Mountain is in Wintun territory.
[10] As thunder.
Yana Texts, by Edward Sapir. University of California Publications in
American Archaeology and Ethnology Vol. 9, No. 1, pp. 1-235 [1910] and is
now in the public domain