Hopi Legends

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Hopi Legends By C. L. Christensen

[Elder C. L. Christensen, in transmitting this exceedingly interesting story to Elder Anthony W. Ivins, in his letter says, in part: "Enclosed find a brief story as told to me in many interviews with Elder Tuba, a faithful member of the Church. He was truly a good, clean man, and no doubt of royal descent, as he was always dignified in his bearing. He lived with my family for three [years] and a half, after his wife, Co-chee-ni-men, had left him for a younger man, as related in the story, which I have taken great pains to write as it was given to me." Mr. C. L. Christensen, is a life-long missionary among the Indians, and his labors cover a wide range of thrilling experiences. Editors.]

In the year 1880, Elder Tuba told me the following story: When the United States declared war on Old Mexico a fleet runner came from the east, carrying a white flag. He proved to be the bearer of good news, to the effect that there were "Mormon" soldiers at old Albuquerque and that the Mexicans had fled to their own country. The Mexicans who were infesting the remaining villages, and had done so for many years, were panicstricken when they heard the report, but they decided to make themselves, once more, as obnoxious as they could. There was no gold to take, so they confined themselves to turquois and coral beads, and they wasted all the corn they could find, until the Indians were brought to the verge of starvation. This was all the more easily accomplished, as farming had been interfered with for many years by the Mexicans. In the Oribe village there lived a beautiful girl whose name was Tellesh-inm-ki. She was a descendant of Caie West-tu-wa, an Aztec of royal lineage. The villain who was at the head of the Mexicans and whose name was Valdez wanted this girl for wife, but Tuba's father, Pal-la-kah, said: "Not as long as water flows and Aztec blood runs in our veins will you carry her away to the south country, as you have done with others. I challenge you to a duel here in the plaza, that the people may know that we are worthy of our mothers." This noble speech was received with hilarity by Valdez and his men, but the challenge was accepted, and the combatants stripped to the skin, except for a small sirapie about the loins. There was what remained of a cottonwood tree standing in the center of the plaza, which is still there and which is pointed out by the Hopis to strangers.

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The opponents met in the plaza, bowie-knife in hand, for mortal combat. The Mexican was large of stature, with a heavy mustache and many scars on his body, marks of former combats. The people feared for the fate of the Indian, but hope rose within their breasts when they became aware of the fact that the Mexican had imbibed freely of "fire-water," while Pal-la-kah, a boy of pure morals, was in full possession of both mental and physical vigor. Who can fully realize the emotions of the people who had gathered to witness this combat, where life, honor, and liberty were at stake! The fight was fierce from the beginning. The gladiators circled around the tree. Both were bleeding profusely from gaping wounds. The Indian evidently was gaining on his savage adversary. Then, all of a sudden, the Mexican withdrew, as if to run away. But he turned quickly and hurled his dagger into the heart of the Indian. The brave boy fell limp against the tree. Slowly he sank to the ground and expired. Then the Mexican walked up to the girl, folded his arms, and said, "I am the conqueror; yonder lies your beautiful knight." "You lie," the girl answered; "he is my hero. You are a coward and a traitor. Never would a Hopi throw a knife even at a beast like you; much less at a real man. I refuse to go with you." "Ha!" the Mexican retorted; "perhaps you have other heroes willing to give their lives to please your vanity?" "Yes," was the reply, "there is Tuba-wa, his brother, and though he is only eighteen years old, he will avenge this foul deed." "Yes," Tuba said, "and I shall live to see your people become a hiss and a byword among all people." "Yes," said Valdez, "and I pronounce a curse upon your race. You shall no longer be called Aztec or Hopi, but Moqui a dying race." At this juncture Tuba-wa hurled a wooden spear which struck Valdez between the ribs. That was the end of him. The Mexicans fled for the time being. A short time afterwards they chose one Rodrigues for their leader. He sent a man with a white flag to negotiate with the Indians. An agreement was entered into. The Indians were to resume all needful work in their various occupations. This they did. The workshops were again opened, and the men were spinning and weaving, and doing other kinds of work. One day Rodrigues and his men came upon the unsuspecting people and took the leaders out of the workshops and killed them. The village was left unprotected except for a few old

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men, who tried to take the places of those who had fallen in the general massacre. The people mourned. "The curse of Valdez," they said, "has come upon us. We are indeed Moqui a dying race" And thus they have borne the name to this day in American history. The Mexicans, at this time, abducted seventeen maidens. Among them was a beautiful girl who wore a mask so as to make Rodrigues believe that she was Tellesh-inm-ki. She was carried to the South land, and she is mourned by her people to this day. She is said to have been so much like her cousin that strangers could not tell them apart. Asked why she wanted Rodrigues to believe that she was Tellesh-inm-ki, she replied that it was because she desired to put an end to bloodshed. She was willing, she said, to sacrifice herself for her people with that end in view. Some of the Hopis believe that her descendants are still living among the Zunis. Finally, the Mexican ravished our women, slew our flocks and herds, poisoned our springs, and left us to mourn the loss of the large tribe that inhabited Mexico on the south as far as Casas Grandes, Colorado, Castle Valley, Utah, and down to the Muddy in Nevada. The Cliff dwellers are our people. Today we are a mixed race, for the remnants of many small bands joined us. We are the Hopis, a kind, charitable people but our name has been buried with our people. Our temples to the Sun show that we worshiped and offered sacrifices to the great Creator. In our hearts we still worship him. Death only brings to us a happy change. Thus ran his story. I am Tuba-wa. I won Tellesh-inm-ki, but she was never happy, because she did not have children. She called herself — Co-chee-ni-men "The Bereaved Queen." Her heart was buried in her youth, and I am only Tuba. Once I was the great Fletcher of our race, as indicated by my former name. When I first met Jacob Hamblin and Ira Hatch, I knew that they were our deliverers though they were called "Mor- — — mons." Hence I, Woo Pah my Hopi name give you this true story about what happened to me, my wife, and people. Agreat sorrow came to me in my old age, when Co-cheeni-men left me and married a younger man. Had she done this in her younger days, she might have raised children, to honor her forefathers and leave them a name on earth. We were married in St. George Temple, a great place somewhat similar to those my people used to build. I fear it reminded my wife of the tragic death of Pal-la-ka, and no man could fill his place in her heart, and thus we both go down to the grave mourning. Moab, Utah.