NAVAJOS ARE WITTY PEOPLE.

BLOCK PRINTS BY THE AUTHOR I never knew a Navajo who didn't have a sense of humor. In the far reaches of the Painted Desert, where isolated and lonely Navajo hogans are miles apart, the social amenities are apt to be a trifle scarce. But even those who live in the most primitive surroundings do not lack humor in their makeup. The Navajo has many "joke words," funny expressions, and humorous situations in his everyday life. In Navajoland jokes are built with an idea of permanence, and the best of them wear well into the years. Humorous sayings and ideas spread out slowly from section to section, and over the months may grow until a more fitting climax is reached in a distant part of the country. A joke or humorous situation will assume additions and changes in form by the time it reaches the other end of the desert. Only the ancient or legendary jokes see little change throughout the years, and there are many of these. From the dim and distant past come many of the basic-type jokes. The "eternal triangle," mother-in-law jokes, and jokes about animals have their roots buried deep in legendary antiquity. It is the mother-in-law jokes which are the most numerous and prolific. In Navajo life she is a powerful and respected member of society, but she is also the subject of more jokes than any other individual. Religious custom and belief decrees that the motherin-law must not look upon her son-in-law's face, or shewill wither away and become blind. The son-in-law must not see his mother-in-law's face either, or he will suffer the same, or a worse, fate. Custom also dictates that the sonin-law must live with his wife's family, and that means he must live near his mother-in-law's hogan, or house. For years he often lives within fifty or a hundred feet of his mother-in-law, and in all that time the two must not actually see each other. Perhaps it is hard on the nerves and it takes a little humor to relieve the situation. One of the early legendary jokes tells of the "Mean Mother-in-law" who dealt her three sons-in-law all the misery she could. She would stay in their hogans so they would have to sleep out in the bitterest weather, appear at the beginning of feasts so that they would have to run into the woods to hide, and other such little idiosyncrasies which made their lives anything but pleasant. As a final coup de grace she put her eyes out so she could slip up on them at any time without having to announce her arrival in advance; since she was blind she could not be harmed by the sight of a son-in-law. They, of course, could still see her, and were therefore not immune. They finally got even with her by training a crow to imitate the voice of the one she particularly despised. She followed the crow one day in an effort to surprise him into looking at her face, believing the mocking crow to be her son-in-law. The crow had been trained well. He led her to a steep canyon wall, then flew across. The mean mother-inlaw fell into the canyon. She couldn't fly. A Navajo will often approach a Navajo woman quietly will wither away and become blind. The son-in-law must not see his mother-in-law's face either, or he will suffer the same, or a worse, fate. Custom also dictates that the sonin-law must live with his wife's family, and that means he must live near his mother-in-law's hogan, or house. For years he often lives within fifty or a hundred feet of his mother-in-law, and in all that time the two must not actually see each other. Perhaps it is hard on the nerves and it takes a little humor to relieve the situation. One of the early legendary jokes tells of the "Mean Mother-in-law" who dealt her three sons-in-law all the misery she could. She would stay in their hogans so they would have to sleep out in the bitterest weather, appear at the beginning of feasts so that they would have to run into the woods to hide, and other such little idiosyncrasies which made their lives anything but pleasant. As a final coup de grace she put her eyes out so she could slip up on them at any time without having to announce her arrival in advance; since she was blind she could not be harmed by the sight of a son-in-law. They, of course, could still see her, and were therefore not immune. They finally got even with her by training a crow to imitate the voice of the one she particularly despised. She followed the crow one day in an effort to surprise him into looking at her face, believing the mocking crow to be her son-in-law. The crow had been trained well. He led her to a steep canyon wall, then flew across. The mean mother-inlaw fell into the canyon. She couldn't fly. A Navajo will often approach a Navajo woman quietly

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from the rear and imitate the voice of her son-in-law, whereupon the poor woman will cover her head with her blanket and scream for someone to take her son-in-law outside. Everybody laughs except the mother-in-law. She makes a few caustic remarks about other people's degraded sense of humor.

Another favorite joke is to tell a Navajo that his motherin-law is in the hogan, or in the trading post, as he approaches from the outside. He will then repair to the nearest hiding place and ask the one who tells him she is there to let him know when she leaves. After an hour or two of patient waiting he becomes suspicious, waylays another Navajo and gets him to go inside and see if his mother-in-law is still there. In a few moments this Navajo comes back and shakes his head sadly.

"My friend," he says, "I really don't know if she is or not. You have never told me just who all your wives are!"

An example of one of the jokes that starts slowly from one section, builds up as it grows, and travels to nearly all parts of Navajoland is the one about the Navajo who had the ugly daughter. Details have been added to this one from time to time throughout the years, but it is still going strong is some sections today.

When or where this joke started no one seems to know, but from the parts that I have gathered here and there over the past twenty-five years, I believe that this version is perhaps the most basic.

It seems that this Navajo had only the one daughter left, and he had not been able to get her married. She was about the ugliest creature alive, nearly bald, no teeth, a face that would scare a varmint, and a figure that she and three other people could hide behind.

But her father never gave up trying to marry her off to some unsuspecting Navajo although she was well in her forties by now.

One day he approached a Navajo in a more distant sec-tion of the Painted Desert, thinking that he might trap an unwary subject. Said he, "My daughter is the most beautiful in Navajoland, and I am sure that only you can make her happy." He then proceeded to extol her many wonderful virtues, and was so carried away by his own enthusiastic recital that he so far forgot himself that he ended up by going into details of her great beauty. He dwelled at some length on her "golden-black tresses that hung to the ground, and her teeth so white that they shone like stars even at night."

tion of the Painted Desert, thinking that he might trap an unwary subject. Said he, "My daughter is the most beautiful in Navajoland, and I am sure that only you can make her happy." He then proceeded to extol her many wonderful virtues, and was so carried away by his own enthusiastic recital that he so far forgot himself that he ended up by going into details of her great beauty. He dwelled at some length on her "golden-black tresses that hung to the ground, and her teeth so white that they shone like stars even at night."

At the end his intended victim stared at him for a long, thoughtful moment. Then he said, "Well, I'll tell you what, I have heard of your daughter. You go back home, and tomorrow you bring me her hair and teeth and I will give you the best horse in my corral. You can keep the rest of her."

Variations usually include a change in the ending. Here are three different endings. "You have such a wonderful daughter that it grieves me not to be able to buy her from you, but I have already promised to buy three other females, a wild-cat, a hoot-owl, and a donkey. I will make you a present of the donkey and you can keep your daughter." And sometimes this one: "My friend, you are such a wonderful man, I know you would not lie even about your daughter. But I have one piece of advice. Don't let me take her from you because I am moving today over in Dead Goat Canyon where the buzzards are so bad they will carry off anything but a human being."

Another version of the ending is this: "I have nothing to give you for your wonderful daughter. All I have left is a fleabitten yellow dog and a goat. When you arrived the goat ran away, and that was my dog that just backed up to your horse and let him kick him over the horizon."

The Navajo likes to imitate animals, birds, and the voices and mannerisms of other Navajos. Some are very clever female impersonators. One of the earliest comedies is that of the female impersonator and her “husband” in one phase of the Yeibechai or Mountain Chant ceremony. While there are a number of variations, it is always done in pantomime.

The “husband” is returning late to a very belligerent and suspicious “wife.” He describes to her, with many gestures, how he has been out hunting just for her, and how hard he worked at it. After several minutes of this he seems to have convinced her that his excuse for being out so long and late is satisfactory. But when he struts away from her with a pleased smile on his face, she follows close behind him and plucks from his robe some article of female apparel, or even a few female hairs!

It is the old and ancient eternal triangle but never fails to please and amuse the audience, and they break in howls of laughter when the “wife” begins to scream with rage and to flail her “husband” with everything she can lay her hands on as the climax of the act.

The trading post is the center of Navajo social and economic life. In the more isolated sections social intercourse is entirely dependent upon the trading post and the few “Sings” and Squaw Dances that occur during the year. But it is at the trading post where they mingle more freely and often. It is here that jokes flourish and come into bloom. Some of these are merely “horse-play” types, but others are more lasting and bear repetition.

A tall “long-haired” Navajo told this one to a group of us sitting in the late afternoon shadows by the post.

“I dreamed I was riding a horse last night, but the horse was contrary. Every time he came to a hill he always went down and never up. After a while this became a little monotonous to me, so I spent the rest of the night trying to find a hill that went up and never went down.” At the end the others applauded with short, satisfied grunts of mirth. And then another Navajo told this one.

“I used to dream a lot at night, too, but I found a cure for it. I dreamed about all the gods in the blue night that flitted from one star to another, replenishing the light of each one. I got to counting the trips each one made between stars by watching the path of light from the torch that each god carried. This became monotonous, too, as all of you know how many thousands of times these gods have to go each night from star to star. They were stealing my sleep, and every morning I would get up with a 'white headache.' So, finally I borrowed some magic black paint from the Black God of Sleep and painted my mind black, and I have been asleep ever since.” “That, I can understand,” admitted an old man sitting at the edge of the group, in very solemn tones. “But I think you are going to be a very disappointed man when somebody wakes you up one of these days!” Another, older Navajo, took up the tale then. “One time, in the very distant past, a White God came down on top of Navajo Mountain, and brought some of the white fire with him. Through some carelessness on his part, he left a few pieces of it there when he went back up in the sky. The next day some Navajo children wandered by, picked it up and took it to their homes in the valley below. Of course, it being this white fire of the Gods, it did not burn anyone who handled it. All it did was to make a light.

“This was quite a boon to the Navajos, but it also had its drawbacks. Each little piece of it grew from day to day, and in a short while every hogan in the valley had quite a supply. It never died, nor could you put out even the smallest piece of it. In time this white fire covered almost the whole of the valley, and the Medicine Men had to call on the White God for help. He came down and agreed to take back all the white fire provided they would agree to let him dump all the white ashes from the heavens down on this valley during the time of winter each year. That is what we call snow now.” There was an appreciative minute of silence, and then a young Navajo demanded, “But, if that is true, why do they have snow every place else, too?” “My young friend,” answered the old Navajo, “I live here in this valley, let those who live elsewhere make up their own stories.” Quite a few jokes stem from contact with other tribes. In the early days the Navajos were a constant thorn in the side of the Hopis, due to their raiding parties. Although the Hopis lived up on their almost impregnable mesas, they had to till their fields in the valleys below. Raiding Navajos often came during the time when their fields were just ready to harvest, and what the Navajo didn't take he often destroyed. Melon patches, squash, beans, corn, and anything edible was fair game to steal or destroy. Any unwary Hopi caught while so employed usually was fair game. One of the many Hopi jokes has its lighter side. A Navajo cornered a Hopi near his field one day and was about to kill him and take his melons when the Hopi said,