Well of Sacrifice

Well of

Here in the Papago reservation where the desert rolls away to nowhere and the greasewood bends with the wind whipping in over the flats; where a buzzard rides high on a current of the gale and a dust devil spins his column of tan smoke skyward; there, the granite slabs sparkle in the bright sun and the dead ocotillo stalks harden and whiten like old bones. It is the Shrine of Alihihiani, meaning “Cemetery of the Dead Child” and site of the Well of Sacrifice. Legend has it that in prehistoric times a hunter, trailing a badger, watched it dig into the earth and attempted to follow it. Suddenly a torrent of water gushed from the badger hole, flooded the ground, and increased in volume until four nearby villages were inundated. The terrified inhabitants then called a council of their chiefs, two from each village, to debate an emergency measure. After a solemn all-night conference, the chiefs decreed that human sacrifices were necessary to appease the angry gods. Accordingly, from each village one child was taken: two girls and two boys. They were robed in their finest ceremonial garments and told they were to go to a more beautiful land where all their wishes would be fulfilled. The children were then thrown alive into the well and earth and heavy stones were heaped upon them.

Sacrifice

Today there are still the eight stone seats where the chiefs sat during their night of council, and, close by, a mound of heavy granite slabs three feet high, surrounded by ocotillo stalks thrust into the ground, marks the site of the sacrificial well. Openings in each of the four sides of the fence allow the exit of the soul of each child when it wishes to escape.

The custom is to pull up the stalks, lay them aside, and form a new fence each year. The old branches are never destroyed and the stalks at the bottom of the pile are so withered as to seem to have been there hundreds of years. There are now two great piles of discarded branches, lying in a semi-circle, one on each side of the well, each pile being at least five feet high and twenty-five feet long.

Ocotillo branches when cut are known to either rot or sprout in time if stuck into the earth. Those at the Well of Sacrifice have neither rotted nor sprouted; they are wind and sand polished to a smooth, gray, spineless finish as hard as bone.

White people living on the reservation have persistently tried to pry from the Papago the date and time of the yearly ceremony, but to no avail. It is a secret and solemn occasion and no white man plumbs the depths of Indian sentiment.