The story began with a question.

    "How do you build a Hogán?

Then comes the startling and bald faced lie..
    "First you look around for Indians who want to work.
    "When you realize there aren't any then you look around for Indians who will work anyway."

    That article angered a lot of Navajo, and anyone else who knew them.   It angered me that an Arizona paper would publish an article by a writer who by his own words didn't even know a male hogán from a female hogán. It angered me even more that I saw the article pasted to a prominent wall at a nationally famous trading post/museum on the Navajo reservation where thousands of tourists could read it -- and feel superior.

But, let me tell you, a hogán only LOOKS like it is simply thrown together.  Actually, anyone who has ever been invited to help erect a hogán immediately realizes that even the simplest hogán is an intricate affair worthy of an engineer's toughest training. 

Click on the little fuzzy picture and you will see a much larger picture with each timber for the little (female) Yébĭtcai house is named, and if you are still thinking it doesn't matter if a timber faces east or south, don't use this as a blueprint for building your own shelter. 

1. tcíŋĕçin¢e naaí, tcíŋĕçin bĭnĭnĭ´li— As in the larger hogán.
2. tcíŋĕçin sĭlái—
3. tcíŋĕçin sĭlái nanaái, or ¢asĭçă´ni—
4. tcíŋĕçin biká¢e nanaái—
5. tcíŋĕçin boġán¢e nanĭjóji—
6. tcíŋĕçin biyá¢e bĭnĭjóji—
7. qaá‘adje nanaái—east horizontal timber.
ca¢aádje nanaái—south horizontal timber.
iŋiŋádje nanaái—west horizontal timber.
8. náqokosdje nanaái—north horizontal timber.
qaá‘adje iái (1)3—east post.
ca¢aádje iái (2)—south post.
iŋiŋádje iái (3)—west post.
These posts are further distinguished as follows:
9. náqokosdje iái (4)—north post.
ca¢aá qaá‘adje iái (1).
ca¢aá iŋiŋádje iái (2).
náqokos iŋiŋádje iái (3).
náqokos qaá‘dje iái (4).
10. biyá¢e bĭnĭjóji—the walls; also distinguished as north, south, east, and west walls.
11. boġán¢e nanijóji—uppermost roof; the main roof.
12. tcíŋĕçin—doorway.
13. tcĭlégi—smoke-hole.
14. tcĭlégi nanaái—smoke-hole timber. You probably noticed that the same term is applied to the timber marked 7 in the figure.

The floors are bare earth, you say?  Actually each part of the floor plan is dedicated for a special purpose long before the hogán is ever raised.

Any time someone launches into self righteous judgment of another people you can bet most of the facts are not straight. At best, they are only superficial.  In this case the writer was at least a year off the mark, as well as building a hogán of the wrong gender.

    It is true that you can just just jump in to lash poles together and erect an edifice the way that writer described.  But they usually fall in a year or so, as did the Community Building built at Window Rock.

The sightless, soul-less skyscrapers made by Euromericans testify that their gleaming edifices can be built higher than an eagle's nest, but occupants are transient; they could care less about the building or the land it is on.  Worse yet, when Euromericans build any edifice only a few important factors are even considered.

View is a very important sales point, even though buyers seldom look at the view once they move in -- unless they are showing it to the next prospective buyers.  Therefore, if there be trees in the way, they hew them down, and even more insulting -- they are heaped in a pile and burned, helping nobody.

If the ground is not solid,
they add rocks.

If a stream comes too close,
they move it.

If the site is not level,
they fill it, quite often covering the ground before the cow patties are dry.

All this is natural to Euromericans because Mother Earth is not sacred to them; trees are not alive, and of course, the new owners are more important than all the birds and animals around, too.

***

    For the Navajo the first step of building any edifice begins at least a year, sometimes even two or three years before the first tree is asked to give up its life for the building.

    Common wisdom says: "In many parts of the Navajo reservation if you walk in the same tracks twice, when you come again, it will be a gully.  Mother Earth is sacred here, and must be protected."

    When hogáns are built the old way you study it out in your mind.

"If I build here what trees will we lose? If I build here what trails will I make? If I build here where will the rain run? If I build here, what of the wind? What of the snow? Will the fox that lives just yonder have to move? How much water must I bring in? If I elect to have electricity, what will erecting the lines destroy? Where will my garbage go? What will the birds do when I move here?"

    On top of that, All of the permutations arising from seasonal changes are taken into consideration, with special thought given to all the changes made with the seasons changing.

"Once it is studied out, then you ask the tribe if you can build the hogán in the site you have selected. The tribe then makes sure you haven't overlooked anything."

    Only after all this (and other things too) do you come to what the newspaper writer so innocently thought was the first step. "First you look around for Indians willing to work" and in spite of his ignorance, you will find them in number, not a few.

    Maybe they don't show up at 7, and maybe they are gone before 5 because some things are more important to them than your demands are, and if they see you are stupid to their ways they might walk off and leave you to the consequences. But, when they do come, they will be walking softly in respect for Mother Earth.

They bring sacred corn pollen
to bless the hogán so that it will be
a happy home that can last a lifetime.
They come with glad hearts and willing hands.

Among the Pueblo Indians there are certain rituals and ceremonial observances connected with the construction of the houses, but in the Navajo system nothing of a ceremonial nature is formally introduced until the conclusion of the manual labor (though each worker is expected to pay personal respects at each step.

Because they know well each phase of the work, and because usually there are enough volunteers to finish the work in one day, by evening everything is ready for the dedication. The wife sweeps out the house with a wisp of grass and she or her current husband makes a fire on the floor directly under the smoke hole.

She then goes to her bundles of household effects, which are still outside  of course, and pours a quantity of white cornmeal into a shallow saucer-shape basket. She hands this to the qasçíŋ, or head of the family, who enters the hogán and rubs a handful of the dry meal on the five principal timbers which form the tsá¢i or frame, beginning with the south doorway timber. He rubs the meal only on one place, as high up as he can reach easily, and then does the same successively on the south timber, the west timber, the north timber, and the north doorway timber. While making these gifts, as the proceeding is termed, the man preserves a strict silence, and then, as with a sweeping motion of his hand from left to right (cabĭkégo, as the sun travels) he sprinkles the meal in greeting around the outer circumference of the floor, he says in low measured tones—

505

He then flings a little of the meal into the fire, saying—

and tosses a handful or two up through the smoke hole, saying—

Then two or three handfuls of meal are sprinkled out of the doorway while he says—

The woman then makes greeting by an offering to the fire, by throwing a few small handfuls of meal upon it, and as she sprinkles it she says in a subdued voice—

When a hogán is built for a woman who has no husband, or if the husband is absent at the time, the wife performs all these greeting ceremonies herself. In the absence of white cornmeal, yellow cornmeal is sometimes used, but never the çqa¢ĭçíŋ ¢oçlĭ´j, the sacred blue pollen of certain flowers, which is reserved exclusively for the rites of the shaman.

By the time these forms have been observed, night will have fallen. During the day, while the house building was in progress, the women were cheerfully engaged in preparing food; all now gather inside the hogán, a blanket is suspended over the door frame, all the possessions of the family are bought in, sheepskins are spread on the floor, the fire 506 is brightened and the men all squat around it. The women bring in food in earthen cooking pots and basins, and, having set them down among the men, they huddle together by themselves to enjoy the occasion as spectators.

Every one helps himself from the pots by dipping in with his fingers, the meat is broken into pieces, and the bones are gnawed upon and sociably passed from hand to hand. When the feast is finished, tobacco and corn husks are produced, cigarettes are made, everyone smokes, and convivial gossipy talk prevails. This continues for two or three hours, when the people who live near by get up on their horses and ride home. Those from a long distance either find places to sleep in the hogán or wrap themselves in their blankets and sleep at the foot of a tree. This ceremony is known as the qoġán aiíla, yet another kind of salutation to the house.

But the qoġán bĭgĭ´n, the house devotions, have not yet been observed. Occasionally these take place as soon as the house is finished, but usually there is an interval of several days to permit the house builders to invite all their friends and to provide the necessary food for their entertainment.

Although analogous to the Anglo-Saxon “house warming,” the qoġán bĭgĭ´n, besides being a merrymaking for the young people, has a much more solemn significance for the elders. If it be not observed soon after the house is built bad dreams will plague the dwellers therein, toothache (dreaded for mystic reasons) will torture them, and the evil influence from the north will cause them all kinds of bodily ill; the flocks will dwindle, ill luck will come, ghosts will haunt the place, and the house will become bátsĭç, tabooed.

A few days after the house is finished an arrangement is made with some shaman (qaçál‘i, devotional singer) to come and sing the ceremonial house songs. For this service he always receives a fee from those who engage him, perhaps a few sheep or their value, sometimes three or four horses or their equivalent, according to the financial circumstances of the house builders.

The social gathering at the qoġán bĭgĭ´n is much the same as that of the qoġán aiíla, when the house is built, except that more people are usually invited to the former. They feast and smoke, interchange scandal, and talk of other topics of interest, for some hours. Presently the qaçál‘i seats himself under the main west timber so as to face the east -- and the singing begins.

In this ceremony no rattle is used. The songs are begun by the shaman in a drawling tone and all the men join in. The qaçál‘i acts only as leader and director. Each one, and there are many of them in the tribe, has his own particular songs, fetiches, and accompanying ceremonies, and after he has pitched a song he listens closely to hear whether the correct words are sung. This is a matter of great importance, as it is believed that the omission of a part of the song or the incorrect rendering of any word would entail evil consequences to the house and its inmates. All the house songs of the numerous qaçál‘i are of similar import but differ in minor details.

507 The first song is addressed to the east, and is as follows:

House song to the East

Immediately following this song, but in a much livelier measure, the following benedictory chant is sung:

508 After a short interval the following is sung to the west:

House song to the West

The song to the west is also followed by the benedictory chant, as above, and after this the song which was sung to the east is repeated; but this time it is addressed to the south. The song to the west is then repeated, but addressed to the north, and the two songs are repeated alternately until each one has been sung three times to each cardinal point. The benedictory chant is sung between each repetition.  All the men that are present join in the singing, under the leadership of the shaman -- who does not himself sing, but only starts each song.

The women never sing at these gatherings, although on other occasions, when they get together by themselves, they sing very sweetly. It is quite common to hear a primitive kind of part singing, some piping in a curious falsetto, others droning a deep bass.

The songs are addressed to each of the cardinal points, because in the Navajo system different groups of deities are assigned to each of these points. The Navajo also makes a distinction between heavy rain and light rain. The heavy rain, such as accompanies thunderstorms, is regarded as the “male rain,” while the gentle showers or “young rains,” coming directly from the house of Estsánatlehi, are regarded as especially beneficent; but both are deemed necessary to fertilize. A distinction is also made between “hard possessions,” such as turquois and coral beads, shell ornaments, and all articles made from hard substances, and “soft possessions,” which comprise blankets and all textile substances, skins, etc. The Navajo prays that his house may cover many of both hard and soft possessions.

The songs given above are known as the twelve house-songs, although there are only two songs, each repeated twelve times. These are sung with many variations by the different qaçál‘i, and while the builders are preparing for this ceremony they discuss which qaçál‘i has the best and most beautiful words before they decide which one to engage. But the songs are invariably addressed to the deities named, Qastcéyalçi, the God of Dawn, and Qastcéqoġan, the God of Twilight; and they always have the same general significance.

After the “twelve songs” are finished many others are sung: to Estsánatlehi, a benignant Goddess of the West, and to Yol‘kaí Estsán, the complementary Goddess of the East; to the sun, the dawn, and the twilight; to the light and to the darkness; to the six sacred mountains, and to many other members of a very numerous theogony. Other song-prayers are chanted directly to malign influences, beseeching them to remain far off: to ĭntcóŋgi, evil in general; to dakús, coughs and lung evils, and to the bĭ¢akúji, sorcerers, praying them not to come near the dwelling. The singing of the songs is so timed that the last one is delivered just as the first gray streaks of dawn appear, when the visitors will joyfully round up their horses and ride home.

Lazy Indians?

Op-Skietch!
(No way, Jose)

The Navajo have been living here successfully since the Man in the Moon was just a little boy. Therefore, when you, Any Writer of Purple Prose, judge another people, be sure to use their measuring stick; it works better than yours.

As Tony Hillerman has discovered; it sells better too, in these latter days.