Air View of Monument Valley

OPPOSITE PAGE

"AIR VIEW OF MONUMENT VALLEY" BY NAURICE KOONCE. Monument Valley, from the air, looks like something from a prehistoric world. Here you expect to see dinosaurs enjoying their ease in the sun. The monuments, spires and buttes, which give the Valley its character, form a magic carpet of color, floating away far below to the horizon. As one looks upon this weird, eroded landscape, one could hardly realize that many Navajo families live here, and that jeep trails weave their jaunty way everywhere. The area is becoming more and more popular for private plane operators. They have a spectacular view of the Valley offered them, and, if they want to set down, there's an adequate flying field for them near Goulding's Lodge, where they can make themselves at home.

The Ancients left much evidence of their erstwhile presence in the Monument Valley area such as Poncho House ruins on Chinlee wash, opposite page, and close up, above.

In green mud-mire. Then the land dried out and there came to the Valley tribes of prehistoric people. (You can conjure their ghosts in hundreds of prehistoric dwellings remaining in the Valley.) Then the Navajos, who live there today. The traders came to live and their address was just about a million miles from no place. And, lately, the folks at the Seventh Day Adventist Mission, with their penicillin and good deeds, came to make the Valley more habitable to the Navajos who live there. Movie companies have come and gone. A lot of us have come and gone and we'll go back again and again. The Valley gladly shares its 25,000,000 years of mystery and beauty and silence with us and that is why we go back again and again.... R.C.

Mystery Valley hides many dwellings left by early inhabitants who lived among the monuments as peaceful farmers and then disappeared several hundred years ago.

Ceremony in the Valley A NAVAJO GIRL BLOSSOMS INTO WOMANHOOD

It was morning in Monument Valley. A Navajo woman stepped from her hogan door and tossed a handful of chips and shredded juniper bark on to the cold remains of last night's campfire. She knelt down and blew in search of a live ember. A miniature cloud of fine ashes churned up to fleck her colorful velveteen blouse and sateen skirt. Two or three more times she blew before hidden embers Discovered the fresh fuel, unfurled a wisp of fragrant smoke and hungerly tasted the wood with eager orange tongues. As she added more wood, the fire quickly responded. Its dancing light filtered through the brush walls of the summer hogan to mischieviously pirouette with shadows across the eyes of a sleeping Navajo girl huddled under her blanket on a sheepskin, on the earthen floor. The flickering light disturbed her sleep. She opened her eyes. A sudden thought raced through her mind: Today was her day, and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. The next four days someone else would have to take her place with the sheep. She had something more important to do. She was about to leave childhood and spread her wings. She was, in the way and tradition of her people, about to become a woman. Her father had risen long before daylight. He quietly caught and saddled his horse and rode off in the chill, pale starlight. He had many miles to ride and two missions to accomplish: First, the scattered hogans of relatives and good friends must be visited so that they may be informed that a puberty ceremony was in order for his thirteen year old daughter; and, second, he needed corn for the ceremony. This had been a bad year for his field, and it had been necessary to use every available kernel to feed his children in the ever-present Navajo struggle with hunger. It would be long slow work, this primitive method of communication in a rugged and spacious land, borrowing or trading for what little could be spared at each camp he visited. He might be two days in the saddle, but when he headed his weary horse homeward, his heart would be singing for he would be steadying a burlap sack, full of varicolored Indian corn, on the saddle before him. As the day wore on there was much activity in camp. Pots of mutton and coffee simmered on the cookfire ready To feed the guests who would soon be drifting in on foot, on horseback, and by wagon. A medicine man was engaged to assist. The young lady of honor was dressed in her best clothes and decked in the family's choice turquoise and silver jewelry. Her hair was combed and allowed to hang loose. Most of her time was spent kneeling on a sheepskin outside the hogan door grinding corn for the ceremony by the ancient stone method still in common use among the Navajos. This grinding was frequently interrupted by visitors and members of her family who deliberately gave her orders sending her on small errands and having her do a variety of chores. During the four days of the ceremony, she was not permitted to eat food containing sugar or salt nor to drink much water. She was not to scratch herself and was to sleep only a little. All these practices were to help her to be beautiful and industrious. Each day of the ceremony she had to run east, south, west and north a hundred yards or so from the hogan and back to give her endurance. The fourth morning of the ceremony a shallow round pit, about four feet across was dug before the hogan. A fire was built in it and was kept burning all day. Inside the hogan, woman relatives were busy mixing the ground cornmeal with water to form a thick batter. Some of the Indian corn used had been dark in color and this gave the batter a drab gray cast. Toward sundown, the fire was scooped from the pit and it was lined with dampened corn husks. The batter was then poured in, covered with more husks and the fire was replaced on top. All night long the girl was obliged to stay awake as she sat in the hogan while the medicine man and his singers chanted traditional songs to bring her good luck and a bountiful future. In the early hours of the morning, her mother gave her a ceremonial basket with water and a yucca root for soap, and helped her wash her hair. At

daylight, she raced from the hogan door to the east and back with a group of Navajo children following her. They were sure to let her win for it is thought that any who passed her would grow old before she did.

Now it was time for the Navajo women to gather around the fire pit and remove the coals and ashes. As the first red rim of the morning sun appeared from behind the distant mesas, the girl cut heavy steaming wedges of corn cake and took each piece, on a flat ceremonial basket, to all those who had participated in the night-long sing. Then the small children present were led before her and in a quick upward motion she brushed her hands through each ones hair. This was to make them grow strong and tall. Meanwhile her mother had borrowed a blanket from each visitor and arranged them in a neat stack by the front of the hogan. The girl stretched out face down on the blankets while a model married woman, chosen by her mother, molded and pressed her head, arms, body and legs with a weaving stick and the flat of her hands. This was to bless her with beauty, growth, strength and a good disposition. Then the girl stood up and threw the blankets, one by one, to the persons standing about who owned them. Thus, the ceremony ended, and a little Navajo girl had blossomed into womanhood.