Corn Dance

When the white man was subduing and settling the western part of the United States they needed grass and water to sustain livestock and to raise crops. Country that couldn't or didn't supply one or both of these natural resources was considered only fit for Indians to live on. Monument Valley, Mexican Hat country, and other places of like nature were made into reservations when they corralled all the Indians that they didn't shoot. Seventy-five to a hundred years later oil was discovered on this type country that had been considered worthless by the white man. Ironically, it made the Indian far richer than his white man neighbor who was trying to eek out a living in a depressed agricultural economy. While the old stockman drove his beat up, 10 to 20 year old pickup, his Indian neighbors purchased a brand new one every year or so. An example of retribution and poetic justice in action, and the majestic beauty of Monument Valley will yet bring other sources of wealth to its Navajo residents.

I worked at Kayenta one winter in the northern part of the reservation. The federal government had contracted the building of a housing complex and school so the children of the far flung families could have a place to live during the schooling months. Trading post franchises were allotted by Indian Agencies to preferred merchants who set up mercantile stores that had no competition. Consequently the prices were high but the government supplied a liberal allowance to each family so they didn't mind. (Easy come, easy go), Everybody had plenty money at the expense of the taxpayer. The Navajo Indian has the idea in his head that since the white man stole his country anything he steals from the white man without getting caught is small compensation for what was taken from him. Consequently any tarp or plastic cover on the job site didn't stay around very long.

The elevation there is probably 5000 feet and the winters are cold. During the month of November they held a dance festival in honor of the young maidens. It was called the Corn Dance since the women folk were the gardeners of the tribe and tended to the corn, squash and beans that made up an important part of their food supply. The colored corn was planted deep in the blow-sand where moisture was maintained and would make a crop without much rain. Some of us fellows from the construction crew drove out to where the dance was held at the foot of one of those lofty buttes from which the area derives its name. The Indians had constructed a large hogan made from Cedar logs (posts) the roof being covered with dirt. many pickup trucks and wagons were parked round about next to the camping places of the various families. The good smell of sagebrush smoke filled the air from numerous small campfires. Horses grazed on the sparse grass some distance from the camp.

The Corn Dance took place in a cleared area of perhaps 1 /2 acre. A large fire of cedar logs burned briskly in the center and the Indian people were standing, sitting and lounging along the perimeter of this open space. Here and there along that line burned small fires which provided warmth to some, but many of them seemed impervious to the biting cold temperature, which must have been about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. I was warmly dressed but wished for a nice fire to toast my britches by.

When things got underway a group of young men danced around an around that center fire, mostly naked but with some adornments. There was one feller who didn't stay in line or in rhythm to the drum beat but went wherever he wanted, doing dumb foolish things. The Navajo feller who worked for the general contractor told us that he was a clown and brought humor to the dance festivities, but I could see little humor to his antics. As the group danced they cay-eyed in a sing-song fashion, performing various contortions of body. Maybe the were singing a love song to the Indian maids. After about 30 minutes of this cow vowing the entire troupe trotted into the hogan with the dumb clown bringing up the rear. I think to myself now we'll be entertained by the maids in their corn husk dancing skirts, but instead an old buck gets up from the sideline and gives us a 40 minute lecture in Navajo which I thoroughly enjoy as I shiver up a sweat. Finally he shuts up and sits down and I look back over toward the hogan.

Then comes the sound of another old buck from down at t' other end extolling the virtues of Navajo-ism in the same lingo. Seems like he goes on for at least an hour before running out of wind. My interest in dancing Indian maids is waning fast as I think of that warm bed back at camp. Then comes a war-hoop from over toward the hogan and I looks over and see the clown buck is running toward the fire, followed by that same troupe of dancers cow yeowing like a pack of coyotes. I guess they been over in the hogan all this time, still naked and a wee bit cool with their teeth a rattling, waiting for them old windys to get through so the show could go on. Don't blame them for being anxious to get back over by the fire.

They go through the same routine as before only seems like now they have got their second wind and could go on till daylight. Glancing up into the cold clear sky I can see the big dipper sloping down toward the eastern ridge. Must be getting along toward 2 AM. I started dancing too, sorta keeping time with the drums, really trying to bring back some feeling into my frozen feet. After a bit I start getting into the swing of things and feels some better when I notice some of the spectators is watching me instead of the professionals. Being bashful and self-conscious I kicked the ground and act like I been standing in an ant nest but they sees through my pretense cause they know them ants ain't going to be out on a cold night like this.

The old clown trots around yeowling like a tomcat, sometimes going the wrong direction and getting in the way of the regular dancers and pulling some of the dumbest things. He gets a grunt or chuckle from some of the audience, but not very often. I'm thinking they must have borrowed this "clown bit" from the western rodeos as the Navajos are great fans and participants at such occasions. Round and round they dance, going clockwise with the singers voices quavering up and down the scale, ayee - ayyee. Probably means something, but I never did ask for an interpretation. Seems like it's an endurance contest. My endurance has about reached its limit, I know that. Finally they all trot back over into the hogan again. My hope is at a low ebb and sure enough another one of them old patriarchs gets up and starts his sermon. I'm so cold and stiff I can hardly move but do stagger over to the driver of our truck and ask if he ain't had about as much fun as he can stand for one night. He agrees so we gather up the rest of the crew and head back to camp. The return trip stretches out a lot longer than the going and by the time I get the bed warm enough to quit shaking it's time to get up and cook breakfast for the crew. Somehow I got appointed head cook and bottle washer, but I don't mind. Washing dishes is a lot more pleasant than trying to spread mud that' freezing on the board.

Never did find out if they had a maiden dance, but if they did it probably took place the next day because them old bucks took up all the time letting off wind, er ... telling windies.