Culture

GROWING UP APACHE

The outside temperature was already sizzling when I stepped cautiously into the dark sweat lodge. It hit me almost at once, a cloud of steam and flying ash from burning brush. I couldn't even see the faces of the Apache squatting inside. No sooner was I through the opening than medicine man Ryan Burnette pulled the layers of coverings over the entryway behind me.

"Keep your eyes shut," came a voice out of the darkness. I did, but they were already tearing. That was nothing compared to the heat. It was brutal in the confined space of the lodge, a simple makeshift affair of blankets and tarps tied over a wooden frame. After stumbling about for a second or two, I found an open spot on the floor and dropped into it. I sat crosslegged, and perspiration rained off the end of my nose and dribbled onto my bare chest.

"This is what it must have been like a hundred years ago," I thought. "I'm really living among the Apache on the San Carlos Indian Reservation. I can't believe I'm doing this."

To produce the intense heat and steam in the sweat lodge, rocks were heated on an open mesquite fire and then shoveled into a pile near the door where one man sprinkled them with water from a bucket.

I had to remain inside the lodge for four songs, Burnette had said, adding simply that this was "the Apache way."

The four songs droned on for just 15 minutes, but it seemed to me like a year. I remember thinking after the first song, "This isn't so bad," which, after the second, became, "Please hurry and sing. Please, faster."

I wanted to endure this "purification of the soul," as the Apache refer to it, to participate in a Sunrise Ceremony and to meet the men who would sing and play the drums during the puberty rite for the two girls.

In addition to housing the cleansing process, the lodge is where men and boys socialize and memorize the holy songs sung during Apache ceremonies. During a puberty ceremonial, for instance, there are hundreds of songs hours of text and melody that must be remembered and performed in a precise order.

I learned later that Dusty, one of the few singers who talked openly to me during my five-day stay on the reservation and one of Burnette's 15 pupils, was the owner of the voice that had called out to me in the dark sweat lodge. He simply wanted to warn me to protect my eyes from the steam, smoke, and flying ash.

His job now was to lead the others in the ancient songs. In between the singsong chants, the men spoke in Apache, laughing often whether at jokes or me I couldn't imagine.

Earlier, my intention had been to come to this place and watch a Crown Dance that was to be performed on the fourth night and fifth day of the Sunrise Ceremony. But as I listened and watched the hundreds of men, women, and children who had arrived for the sacred ritual, I felt the need toexperience everything I could, including eating fry bread, tortillas, bitter acorn stew — and sitting in the ovenlike sweat lodge.

All this had started with an invitation from Sandra Rambler, an Apache acquaintance. It was she who organized the ceremony for her daughter Tanayia and her niece Lola Kitcheyan.

Normally, a puberty ceremonial lasts just four days, but since two girls were involved, it was to be five days of feast-ing, socializing, singing, dancing, and praying. It was to be an unforgettable experience.

Burnette and his acolytes had set up their camp along the San Carlos River, isolated from the other camps at Gopher Springs. A ramada was constructed and topped with branches, so the medicine man and others would have shade when they prayed and fashioned the curved staffs, drinking reeds, and scratching sticks, all trappings for the Sunrise Ceremony.

Four wickiup frames also were erected along the river, each roomy enough to hold about eight men. They would be used for sweat lodges every afternoon.

Three other camps were constructed to house more than 200 people for the week of the ceremony: one for the two girls and their immediate families, another for Tanayia's godparents and their families and friends, and a third for Lola's.

Each was equipped with a brush-covered wickiup for sleeping, a cooking area, a single faucet for water, and a branch-covered ramada, called a "squaw cooler," under which was placed all the food that would be cooked on an open fire, from breads to freshly slaughtered beef to cakes and sweets.

Each day begins about 5:00 A.M., with the women squatting at their camp-fires, baking tortillas and other fra-grant food, the smells wafting over the camps.

Before the sun climbs over the eastern mountains, Tanayia and Lola, attired in traditional camp dresses and buckskin moccasins, walk from the wickiup they share to a large open area ringed by the camps of their relations. (As the Sunrise Ceremony progresses, each girl will add to her dress a handmade deerskin top, richly adorned with beadwork.) The girls and the medicine man face east to honor White Painted Woman, a deity also known as First Woman, Chang-ing Woman, or Shell Woman. With that, the singers and drummers begin another day of ritual designed to give the youngsters strength, durability, long life, prosperity, generosity, and a good disposition.

On the last day of the ceremonial, the girls' faces and bodies will be painted with a paste made of ground-up white corn and water, symbolizing that they are playing the role of White Painted Woman.

On another morning, Tanayia is massaged by her godmother while Lola dances and watches. First, Tanayia kneels on buckskins and blankets, swaying from side to side in time with the singing and drumming. She stares into the sun, symbolizing the impregnation of White Painted Woman by The Sun Father. Next, she lies on her stomach while her god-mother kneads her, first with hands and then with feet, to mold her into perfect womanhood.

Next morning it is Lola's turn.

After the morning ceremonies, the women, old men, and small children return to their camps to rest and prepare food for the afternoon feasting while the younger men repair to the sweat lodges.

While the rocks heat on a mesquite fire, a group of women and children from Tanayia and Lola's camp, accompanied by three singers, carry tortillas, fry bread, and salads to Burnette's camp. It is a daily rit-ual and the only time women are allowed in the medicine man's immediate area. Lola walks in front of the group, a burden basket filled with hot tortillas hanging from her back.

Food is brought first to the medicine man's camp for his blessing. Once this is done, people from the other camps ex-change baskets and pans of meat, breads, beans, corn, stew, salads, and sweets, while around them others chant, sing, pray, and dance.

While his pupils partake, Burnette works on the crooked wooden staffs that will be used by the girls during the Sunrise Ceremony and then saved to serve as walking sticks in their old age. He adorns the sticks with feathers and bells and carves designs into them with a pocketknife. Nearby, another man mixes water and a rust-colored powder that he uses to paint the deerskin on which the girls will kneel at a point in the ritual. Still another man works on the drinking reeds and scratching sticks each girl must use because it is taboo for her to touch herself during the ceremony.

Several yards away, two Apache men prepare a sweat lodge, throwing blankets and tarps over a wooden frame and tying them down.

Rocks well heated, eight of Burnette's men walk into the sweat lodge, wearing an assortment of cut-off jeans and shorts. They laugh and joke with the strange white man who is about to join them for a second time and who is relieved to hear the man called Bulldog say, grinning: "You were in for the longest series of songs yesterday. Today's will be shorter."

Again, the rocks are shoveled in and the door tied shut. Dusty, sitting in the middle of the group, leads the men in songs, while outside two other men beat the ancient rythyms on drums made from the bottoms of five-gallon propane tanks and covered with deer hide.

After the prescribed four songs, we all rise and rush out of the lodge to throw ourselves into the chilly waters of the San Carlos River, a wonderful relief from the searing heat.

The nightime ritual of feasting, singing, and dancing starts each day at dusk, led by the medicine man who begins the songs with his hand cupped about three inches from his mouth.

Throughout the evening, people spill in from the other camps, drawn by the noise. They are joined by families from the reservation townsSan Carlos, Peridot, Bylas-who park their cars and pickups in a circle around a mesquite bonfire at the center of an open area.

Tanayia and Lola dance for about two hours this and every night to songs performed by Burnette and his singers and drummers. The dance is simple: the girls lift one foot at a time while standing in place. Other women soon join in, linking arms and shuffling to and fro to the tempo of the drums. Only occasionally does one of the men participate.

On the fourth day, Burnette and his singers are joined by another medicine man and a group of Crown Dancers, also called Mountain Spirit Dancers or gahns. These are to the Apache what kachinas Followed by other members of the clan (LEFT), Tanayia helps carry food to the medicine man's camp. (OPPOSITE PAGE, ABOVE) The sweat lodge in which the men sing the ritual songs is constructed of blankets and tarps tied around a wooden frame.

(OPPOSITE PAGE, BELOW) A dip in the San Carlos River cools off the men after they leave the sweat lodge.

(BELOW) One of medicine man Ryan Burnette's responsibilities during the puberty ceremonial is the preparation of the girls' clothing.

These are to the Hopi. When they dance, they are believed to have supernatural powers. They bless the girls to protect them from evil.

The four Crown Dancers are young, probably in their teens. They may come to the camp talking English and wearing sneakers, jeans, and designer-label shirts, but, before long, they are speaking Apache and dressing in traditional clothing.

During the ceremony, they wear buck-skin skirts decorated with tin tinklers tied to the ends of fringes. The skirts cover their knees and nearly meet the tops of their high moccasins. There also are two clowns in the group, dressed in cut-off jeans. All wear hoods and wooden head-dresses the medicine man has made. The lead dancer has the largest headdress, resembling an upside-down pyramid.

Once costumed, they cover their naked chests, arms, and legs with a white mixture. Then the medicine man paints designs in black on them, using his thumb to draw deer antlers, a bear, the sun, the moon, lightning, arrows, and other symbols.

GROWING UP APACHE

Silhouetted in the truck headlights, the young men make their entrance into the ceremonial grounds. Bells attached to their waists and ankles tinkle rhythmically. None of them speaks, but occasionally each makes a hooting, cooing, or howling sound. They tip their headdresses as they jump, sidestep, and turn, their movements in perfect rhythm with the singers and drummers. On the final day of the ceremony, they appear once again, dancing around the girls, who stand quietly inside a four-post tepee. To honor White Painted Woman, the Crown Dancers paint the girls with the corn-and-water paste that becomes claylike A medicine man (LEFT) blesses Lola Kitcheyan. (BELOW) Tanayia's godmother performs the ritual massage to mold the young girl into perfect womanhood. (RIGHT) Covered with a corn-andwater paste for her portrayal of White Painted Woman, Tanayia follows her godfather in a procession through the camp. when it dries. Then they bless the girls once again and sprinkle them with sacred cornmeal and pollen.

By noon the ceremony has ended, and the participants return to their respective camps for an afternoon of good food, talk, and gift giving. There are many 20th-century realities that go with a Sunrise Ceremony today. It has become extremely expensive, costing $5,000 or more to hire medicine men, feed hundreds of people three meals a day for nearly a week, purchase blankets and baskets, and make the ceremonial dresses and jewelry.

Afterword

Sponsors also have to deal with insistent video-camera operators, traffic, and non-Indians who come to watch the ceremony. But none of this invades the sanctity of the medicine man's camp. Here the timeless rituals are performed in much the same fashion as they were in pre-reservation days, many years ago.

Photo Tour: In August, 1993, join Jerry Jacka and the Friends of Arizona Highways auxiliary on a trip to the White Mountain Apache reservation in the cool White Mountains, where spectacular scenery and the panorama of Indian life offer unlimited photo opportunities. Jacka, a longtime contributor to the magazine, is an expert on contemporary Southwestern Native American art. To inquire about or to make reservations, call the Friends Travel Desk at (602) 271-5904.