Stone Face Mask
LONG AGO OUR ancestors explored new lands, faced adventures and achieved victories over both men and spirits. After the flood and after the age of the Thunderbirds, when the Kaw-Seth still lived in the Old Village and the last of the mighty men had died and their bones were forgotten, the Spirit of Black Raven alighted upon our mountain. He looked this way and that way and ruffled his feathers and shook.
As he shook he called with a gurgling croak -- klauk-klauk! Klauk-klauk!
With each croak he grew bigger and bigger until he filled the whole sky. With his beak he took hold of the eastern horizon, and with his claws he grabbed the western skyline and with his wings he drew together the north and the south to cover himself with a blanket of clouds.
Raven's Blanket shut out the deep lights of the heavens at night. It blotted out the sun's warmth and turned the day into a constant twilight that dulled the perceptions of both animals and humans. Finding the way to the sacred places became difficult. Even old women devoted to much chanting hesitated to say when Wonderful Doer moved near our lodges.
In those days doe and fawn failed to show themselves in spring. The coming-of-age songs of youth were unheard in winter. And it is said that the Changer stopped visiting summer feasts. Every day and night, season after season, the cloud settled in tree tops blowing waves of fog upon the people, birds and animals who came to accept the dampness as normal as breathing.
It was in the beginning of the Raven Darkness that our ancestors were attacked. The Stony Chiefs of the Tsonox came down from the norther islands to destroy our houses. The warriors nearly succeeded in wiping out the memory of our tribe.
Tonight we gather to give testimony to our victory. I, Keeper of the Kaw-Seth Stories, will tell you again how we defeated those hard faced monsters and, with the help of the Changer, smashed the stone mask to pieces.
Listen. In those days the people lived with barely enough food from year to year. Yet we prevailed to sing tonight. In the end I think it is because the Stone Faced People revered the lesser bird and animal spirits unable to help them in ways that matter.
Our grandfathers say that the Tsonox were rich from years of hunting gray whales.
The Stony Chiefs were the first to come to the coastal waters to found whaling villages along the mouth of the Frog Tongue Inlet and each summer harvested two and sometimes three whales. Rich as they were, they had no real need for the spoils taken from weaker people the warriors raided up and down the coast -- other than to prove superiority in war.
In the same way, Tsonox noblemen sought status by adorning their houses with carvings and paintings of sacred animals to show off rank in the tribe. Tsonox craftsman worked all year to fill lodges with art. Magnificent totem poles honoring spirit-helpers lined the beaches in front of all the houses.
Besides Old Killer Whale and Crooked Beak, the face of a grinning giant was painted above doorways and carved on plaques and placed atop roof beams of prominent houses so that the red eyes of the giant constantly watched. The totems reminded the people that they lived surrounded by supernatural beings.
The Tsonox men and women were careful to perform rituals to please the shadow-protectors who dwelt in their forests and waterways. By eating and washing in the proper ways, they hoped to bring good fortune to warriors and hunters. When the spirit-guides noticed their devotion, prayers were answered. Wolf Spirit sometimes came to a lone deer hunter to speak secrets in his ear. Blue Jay Spirit flew near a woman out picking berries to reveal the future.
The Tsonox Clans remained devoted to the shadows year after year. Shaman warned that failure to honor the supernatural beings would result in misfortune. In spite of the cutting rituals and dances given at the appropriate seasons, the spirits still caused harm. Shaman saw invisible spears stuck in the sick, which could not be pulled out. The sick died and their souls descended into the blackness of the underworld.
Whalers and elk hunters came home empty-handed when food stores had run out. Brothers and families fought each other. Children stole from their parents. Men and women gave themselves over to desires which can never be satisfied. Strife flourished because the people listened to those rebellious spirits which to this day go back and forth looking with eyes that delight in trouble.
In those days Babakawquit of the Mountain, chief deceiver of all the Frog Tongue Inlet, assumed authority over the lesser guides and monsters. When in bodily form, Babakawquit stood as hard as stone. Arrows or spears were useless against him. No one could withstand his wrath. He prowled the silent forests of the high places, baring teeth like obsidian knives.
As he shook he called with a gurgling croak -- klauk-klauk! Klauk-klauk!
With each croak he grew bigger and bigger until he filled the whole sky. With his beak he took hold of the eastern horizon, and with his claws he grabbed the western skyline and with his wings he drew together the north and the south to cover himself with a blanket of clouds.
Raven's Blanket shut out the deep lights of the heavens at night. It blotted out the sun's warmth and turned the day into a constant twilight that dulled the perceptions of both animals and humans. Finding the way to the sacred places became difficult. Even old women devoted to much chanting hesitated to say when Wonderful Doer moved near our lodges.
In those days doe and fawn failed to show themselves in spring. The coming-of-age songs of youth were unheard in winter. And it is said that the Changer stopped visiting summer feasts. Every day and night, season after season, the cloud settled in tree tops blowing waves of fog upon the people, birds and animals who came to accept the dampness as normal as breathing.
It was in the beginning of the Raven Darkness that our ancestors were attacked. The Stony Chiefs of the Tsonox came down from the norther islands to destroy our houses. The warriors nearly succeeded in wiping out the memory of our tribe.
Tonight we gather to give testimony to our victory. I, Keeper of the Kaw-Seth Stories, will tell you again how we defeated those hard faced monsters and, with the help of the Changer, smashed the stone mask to pieces.
Listen. In those days the people lived with barely enough food from year to year. Yet we prevailed to sing tonight. In the end I think it is because the Stone Faced People revered the lesser bird and animal spirits unable to help them in ways that matter.
Our grandfathers say that the Tsonox were rich from years of hunting gray whales.
In the same way, Tsonox noblemen sought status by adorning their houses with carvings and paintings of sacred animals to show off rank in the tribe. Tsonox craftsman worked all year to fill lodges with art. Magnificent totem poles honoring spirit-helpers lined the beaches in front of all the houses.
Besides Old Killer Whale and Crooked Beak, the face of a grinning giant was painted above doorways and carved on plaques and placed atop roof beams of prominent houses so that the red eyes of the giant constantly watched. The totems reminded the people that they lived surrounded by supernatural beings.
The Tsonox men and women were careful to perform rituals to please the shadow-protectors who dwelt in their forests and waterways. By eating and washing in the proper ways, they hoped to bring good fortune to warriors and hunters. When the spirit-guides noticed their devotion, prayers were answered. Wolf Spirit sometimes came to a lone deer hunter to speak secrets in his ear. Blue Jay Spirit flew near a woman out picking berries to reveal the future.
Tsonox seers often spoke to their animal guides who granted answers to prayers that wives might be fertile with sons or that the sick might be healed. In the dim light of that age, the trickster animal spirits had learned how to appear more powerful than Wonderful Doer and sought to mimicked his ways to deceive the people and lure them to ruin for sport.
Even some of our chiefs who visited their potlatches came to believe.
Even some of our chiefs who visited their potlatches came to believe.
The Tsonox Clans remained devoted to the shadows year after year. Shaman warned that failure to honor the supernatural beings would result in misfortune. In spite of the cutting rituals and dances given at the appropriate seasons, the spirits still caused harm. Shaman saw invisible spears stuck in the sick, which could not be pulled out. The sick died and their souls descended into the blackness of the underworld.
Whalers and elk hunters came home empty-handed when food stores had run out. Brothers and families fought each other. Children stole from their parents. Men and women gave themselves over to desires which can never be satisfied. Strife flourished because the people listened to those rebellious spirits which to this day go back and forth looking with eyes that delight in trouble.
In those days Babakawquit of the Mountain, chief deceiver of all the Frog Tongue Inlet, assumed authority over the lesser guides and monsters. When in bodily form, Babakawquit stood as hard as stone. Arrows or spears were useless against him. No one could withstand his wrath. He prowled the silent forests of the high places, baring teeth like obsidian knives.
When taking the form of a shadow, he rode the winds that push clouds across the sky before storms. It was then that he made himself known to the people by speaking through crazed male and female shaman transfixed by the fire. His words fanned the flames of blood-lust, inspiring every kind of evil act against the innocent.
One night the voice of Babakawquit whispered in the ear of a young Tsonox chief named Namquaw Son of Sewid. Namquaw understood that he should mount a raid against our people to the south to destroy our tribe. He should kill the strongest braves and clan leaders, burn down the lodges and take the women and children as slaves. Instead of resisting the words that Babakawquit set buzzing in his head, Namquaw chose to listen. The young chief delighted in the possibility of new glory.
One night the voice of Babakawquit whispered in the ear of a young Tsonox chief named Namquaw Son of Sewid. Namquaw understood that he should mount a raid against our people to the south to destroy our tribe. He should kill the strongest braves and clan leaders, burn down the lodges and take the women and children as slaves. Instead of resisting the words that Babakawquit set buzzing in his head, Namquaw chose to listen. The young chief delighted in the possibility of new glory.
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