CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE BY D. B. SHIMKIN ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS Vol. 5, No. 5 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS EDITORS: A. L. KROEBER, E. W, GIFFORD, R. H. LOWIE, R. L. OLSON Volume 5, No. 5, pp. 289-326, 2 figures in text Submitted by editors July 3', 1942 Issued November 2o, 1947 Price, 75 cents UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS BERKELEY AND LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, ENGLAND MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS face troduction. ciety and the child ....... Fomalized relations . . . . . . . . The uncrystallized aspects. ividual development ....... . . Pregnancy and birth . . . . .... Childhood . . . . . . . . . . . . Adolescence . . . . . . . . . . . cesses of socialization ....... Educational principles ....... Educational techniques ....... Incentives to education ...... The development of the'social sphere personalities and life histories . . Pivo Brown ............. John McAdams ............ Polly Shoyo ............ Pandora Pogue ........... pendix. The Wind River Shoshone kinship bliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I terminology * * *a 00 [iii] Page v 289 290 290 293 299 299 301 305 309 309 310 310 311 314 314 316 317 321 323 325 a 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 : 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 : : 0 0 0 0 00 00 60 00 . . : : : : : : : 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 : 0 0 00 00 00 0 : 00 00 00 00 O' 00 0 0 :0000*0:*000o aa:00::0:00 so:: PREFACE The present paper is part of a series dealing with the psychology and culture of the Wind River Shoshone of Wyoming.* It is based on researches by the author in 1937, 1938, and 1939 which were financed by the Board of Research of the University of California through the Department of Anthropology and the Insti- tute of Child Welfare. I am indebted to personnel of the National Youth Administration, particularly Miss Eleanor Eng, for clerical assistance. Assistance in the preparation of these materials was furnished by the personnel of Work Projects Admin- istration Official Project No. 665-08-3-30, Unit A-15. *See also Shimkin, 1947a. [v] CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE BY D. B. SHIMKIN INTRODUCTION be present discussion of childhood and development among-the Wind River Shoshone deals with ab- inal conditions as they existed especially in 1825-L875.' This discussion parallels a much more ical and comprehensive study of modern Wind River Shoshone children.2 e scope of the present work is rather greater than that of the sections on the life cycle in ethnographies. It includes descriptions, not merely of the course of normal development--preg- y and birth, childhood and adolescence--but also a discussion of the formal and uncrystallized ions between society and the child, and some typical life histories. Furthermore, I have at- ed to picture the general interplay of social and psychological factors, to interpret the char- ological significance of Shoshone life and education. This interpretation is, of course, etely tentative. e factual data that form the basis of this work are of various sorts. They include (1) the gen- izations of aged informants, (2) mythology, largely taken in texts, (3) autobiographical and dotal statements, (4) the direct observations of historical sources, (5) censuses and genealo- , and (6) several projective test records. ?8ee also Shimkin, 1942 and 1947a. Shimkin, MS. [289] K' I 1, r V t IiI k Ii h11 i I SOCIETY AND THE CHILD FORMAI,TZED REIATIONS The formal relations of society to the child among the Shoshone may be categorized into four main groups: laws ("A given social norm or rule is Legal if it is enforced by a direct, organ- ized, and definite social sanction"),3 taboos and religious prescriptions (norms enforced by fear of an impersonal supernatural sanction), ceremonial observances, and mythological and di- dactic teachings. Among the Shoshone, in comparison with many other tribes, these relations were very feebly developed. The number of activities regulated was small, the controls were often quite inef- fective, the sanctions limited. Because of this, the roles of barely perceived uncrystallized attitudes, gossip and daily examples, idiosyn- cracies and individual tastes were predominant in Shoshone education. Law.--The concept of law can be applied in this tribe only in its broadest meaning, the in- tercession of a third party in deciding the rights of two contestants. In no case did the community as a whole act against given persons. There was no collective re.ponsibility in either sense of the term: others were not held liable to be punished for the deeds of a miscreant, nor were members of the community expected to punish such deeds themselves. There were no legal offi- cers; chiefs were influential solely through personal prestige. Lastly, the fluidity of popu- lation and constant nomadism attenuated all in- cipient legal control.4 All that existed was a weak system of civil, or interpersonal, actions. In situations involving children, the only in- terventions of outside persons of which I have record are mothers' championings of their off- spring in fights and killings. I have two ex- amples of such rudimentary law. One time, a starving father killed his child son, and ate some of his flesh. The mother promptly killed her spouse when she learned of this murder. For another occasion, one may read Wilson's5 vivid account of women's attacks upon children whom they believed were abusing their youngsters. ..a girl a little larger than I wanted to take my tackle and fish in my hole. i let her have it, and she caught several fish. Then I heard mother call me and I asked the girl to give me back my pole so I could go home, but she would not do it. I tried to take it from her, but she jerked it away and hit me over the head with it, knocking me to my knees. I jumped up and gave her a whack that knocked her down. ..the girl's 3Malinowski, 15. 4Cf. Hoebel, 1940. 5Wilson, 36-37. mother came rushing up with a big knife in her hand... She started for me, but mother stopped her, and shoved her back out of the tepee... The squaw hit mother over the head with a knife and when I saw the blood fly, I grabbed a stick and struck the squaw over the head, knocking her' down.....More Indians rushed up, and stopped the fight....That night Washakie came home and held a big council. I don't know what they said, but the next day two or three families left our camp and went to join another band. Taboos and religious prescriptions.--The rel gious regulations important to the developing dividual and to the family may be grouped as t connected with the woman's sexual cycle, those dealing with incest, and individual rules. Vio tion of the observances generally had its effec both upon the transgressor and on the comimunity large. For example, if a menstruating woman were to eat meat, she ran the danger of turning blac Even more, such breaches are believed to have caused the Shoshones' affliction by tuberculosia in modern times. Similarly, a menstruating woman was obliged to avoid all medicine bundles or ot supernaturally potent objects or persons. For m strual blood, even if it were one's own, would enrage the supernatural power; the consequences were unforeseeable. At the very least, all super natural power would disappear. At worst, death would come to the entire family. The danger inh ent in pregnant women was much the same, altho more specialized. Other restrictions had less stringent effects Young mothers and girls at first menstruation we supposed to haul wood. Otherwise they would bec lazy. The functional aspects of these taboos are qu significant. They forced a sharp cleavage of soc' ety into the men s group (sacred) and the women'sI (profane). They bolstered the independence of t women, not only by a periodic release from male surveillance, but also through the women's neces-' sity of procuring their own vegetable foods. Fin nally, they must have seriously affected the women's and the young children's health, through malnutrition and the cold of the menstrual hut. The subject of incest is elusive. No one of my informants admitted knowing of such relations be-K tween parents and children, or between siblings. At best, there was a vague generalization that it might be fatal: Coyote's intercourse with his mother-in-law caused the old woman to swell up wi pus and die. But in actual fact, violations of th last restriction have taken place in recent years In both cases admitted the effect was an intense strife between mother and daughter for the man's affections, but no supernatural penalty. Personal taboos were many, and were dictated l [ 2901 U CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE 'a guardian spirit. For example, the famous an, Yellow Hand, died because two pack. s collided, bursting a paunch of blood which as carrying. The blood splashed upon the s' tipi. Soon after, he sat down during a [dance, and died without suffering. In an- instance the penalty for transgression d upon the ill-doer rather than on the med- man. Bagana6i was told by his spirit that mber of the tribe was supposed to attack anus with finger or hand (an extremely com- Shoshone male pleasantry). If anyone did it was bound to storm. Tassitsie actually rthe proof of this power twice. ce, in the early fall, when it was still n here and there, Bagana6i and his friends having a card party just north of Wind r. It was toward morning when I came in. e was not a cloud in the sky at the time. uis Tyler (Narukuci) told me to play with and beat them. But Baganaci kept on win- Every time he won he would stoop over to up his winnings. At last, when he stooped too often, Louis Tyler rumped him. Baganaci up pained, and said "Narukuci better all he wood you can. Tell your wife to get ty of wood." He told the others to do the Then Louis Tyler stayed around a little, went home. stayed there. Soon I noticed something ng or the tipi. I was wondering what it was. t out: it was cloudy all over, and snowing It snowed all day and all night. Next morn- t was quiet. The snow was a foot deep. e practical effect of such taboos was to t individual foibles and idiosyncracies, low minor aberrancy without public repres- eremonial observances.--Ceremonial recogni- Wof the various stages or exceptional events ivelopment was very slight amorg the Sho- ie. That is, there were few rites performed ipt under supernatural sanction. A number of 'vities were connected with birth: the father n not hunt, he had to fast, he took a bath the baby first did. In short, he counter- nced in this way his loss of participation he birth because of his necessary absence the menstrual hut. addition, the attendant or the mother ed the navel cord on an anthill. Later a I deposited its first discarded deciduous by a wild-rose bush. In both practices the tion was to make the child thrive and be trious. Girls had a final performance of nature at menarche, when a strong woman who but little washed them. th one exception, children played no organ- role in any public ceremony. 'The Sun Dance d the special instance.6 In this ritual boys would rush up when the center-pole had been felled, and attempt to wrench off imin., 1947&. the largest possible branches. Again, boys would be painted and placed under the charge of several old men on the last day. They would, at a given signal, try to steal the tongues gathered for the feast concluding the dance. Here also, success prognosticated achievement in combat in later life. Finally, the shaman directing the dance often gathered the young women and children to brush dis- ease away from them. Besides the instances noted above, all obser- vances of development were optional. If a young man dancing in the Sun Dance or Big Horse Dance happened to drop some paraphernalia, a distinguished warrior might pick them up. Then the elder would relate how he had gained a battle honor under similar circum- stances. Finally, he would give away a horse to anyone who wished it. A powerful shaman could trans- fer a supernatural blessing to a deserving young man, usually a son or other relative whom he liked. A promising youth would be asked to join the dash- ing Yellow Bangs warrior society. If he refused, he joined (they talked backward). The killer of an enemy would blacken his face on the ceremonial re- turn to camp. A successful horse thief would place horseshoe-shaped black marks on his blanket to gain public recognition. Those who wished to do so celebrated marriages with a small ritual. Most persons simply consum- mated them. Thus it is clear that public ceremonies con- nected with development concerned themselves almost exclusively with military values. Mythological and didactic teachings.--The over- whelming part of the oral transmission of tribal lore came through the medium of mythology, told by old people on winter evenings.7 These tales were moralistic or openly educational only to a minor degree. They were, however, largely adapted to children's tastes: child heroes played important roles, explanatory elements in regard to the ori- gins of different phenomena occurred repeatedly, etc. Beyond this, and most importantly, the mythol- ogy, constantly reiterated as it was, placed before the child certain modes of behavior as customary and expectable. Briefly, we may summarize the patterns of be- havior as expounded in mythology as follows: Marriage is depicted as a lustful, bitter rela- tion, ever with the possibility of murder by either spouse. Sex relationships are crude, without court- ship, often sadistically painful or even dangerous to the woman. At times, weird fantasies occur: a cannibal shoots an arrow into his wife (arrow and penis are puns). True enough, in one tale a man avenges the murder of his wife and child. But elsewhere, as in the story of Owl's Widow, a man is murdered by his wife because he has been stingy about food for her and their child. Before he dies, he tells her to go marry his younger brother, who will take care of her, but to avoid his older brothers since their children are rough and might kill his son. Nevertheless, she 7See also Shimkin, 1947b. I ?o 291 a ANTHROPbLOGICAL RECORDS goes to one older brother, but her child's fa- ther's mother warns her away. Fleeing, she is killed by this older brother, angered because she jilted him. Another older brother revives her, and copulates with her as his reward, tell- ing her not to marry him, however, as his chil- dren are rough. Finally she marries the younger brother, who is slandered by another, yet older, brother. But when the latter believes his younger brother is in danger he goes to the rescue. In another tale, a Water-Ghost-Woman steals Mourning Dove's baby son and turns him into a young man and her husband by stretching his penis. When, informed of the true facts by his mother's brother, the youth flees with his mother, he is pursued by Water-Ghost-Woman, who wishes to kill both. In succession various of the mother's brothers help the two as much as they can. At last, when the monster sees Uncle Bat's enormous penis, she forgets all about her former husband and wishes only to copulate with Bat, and thus is killed. Desertion is frequent. Thus, a dying man is pitied by a female bear, and lives with her all winter. In the spring he escapes and allows her to be killed even though she is pregnant by him. Again, ilind Coyote marries two sisters who, disgusted at his loathsomeness, desert him. Finally, a woman 'e'lopes with a Buffalo Bull. Her husband searches for her and finally rescues her. He forgives until he learns that she allowed "cunnilinctus";- then, angered, he kills her. Incest is the theme of the well-known tale of Coyote's Daughters First, Coyote has relations (deemed incestuous) with his mother-in-law, which kill her. Then, pretending himself to die, he induces his daughters to accept him as a husband. His son, suspicious, finds out his father's lechery. The mother aborts her daughters of their children by pounding on their bellies. In striking contrast to such lust and strife is the emphasis the Shoshone place upon the ten- derness of love between brothers. The older guides, directs, and takes care of the younger, who in turn looks up to him and does his bidding. Within this relation there may be a certain secondary ambivalence. The older may take the younger's possessions as his prerogative; the younger may disobey sometimes wish evil for his brother, or be unwilling to restore him to life. Thus Mink and his younger brother Weasel pre- pare to hunt the "Water-buffalo." First they make their weapons (a process always described in great and specific detail- these descriptions were educationally important). As they go on their way, young Weasel asks his brother's per- mission to investigate curious paternal grand- fathers on the way. On these he disobediently plays tricks which anger them so that they fight him and are killed. Similarly, he kills his paternal aunts. Having killed his antagonists, Weasel repeat- edly uses the hides to fright'en his older brother, who thinks each time that the youngster has been killed and wishes to avenge him. The younger then unmasks himself and laughs at the elder. Is only punishment is a mild admonition, especially as the youngster lies about the true causes of the fights he has. Arriving at the Water-buffalo's lair, Mink hunts the animals while Weasel believing his brother lost, goes into hysterics and flees N the sand hills whence he is rescued by two I ternal grandfadhers sent by Mink. Their only ward at Weasel's hands is a severe face-scra However, when the boy returns to his brother'- is interrogated, he lies, saying .that he hasi harmed them. His lie is uncovered on the arr1 of his paternal grandfathers. Now Mink repr him and he feels very much ashamed. In the night they camp at a dangerous plao where no fires may be lit. Weasel is hungry." takes all his brother's food. Finally, his i satiable appetite forces him to cook more foa Thus he is kidnapped by Monster-Owl. Mink is less, and cannot aid him, but can only weep :i sorrow at the happening. Sadly the older brotj returns home. Weasel, in the meantime, goes through vari adventures in two of which he is rescued by' adopted paternal grandfathers. Finally, he c,< home. He sees Mink weeping, his back turned ward him. Unable to restrain himself, he calJ out. Gladly, the two embrace (lit., "copulate standing") and kiss each other. Again two brothers are living together. 1 younger disobeys the older, which causes the older to be killed. The younger, mourning, rej covers his brother's hide and restores him to life. But the older, alive once more, must 1e him forever. On the other hand, Bat tricks his older brc Coyote, and does not wish to restore him to 1 when killed in battle, until at last his peop3 force him. to. Brothers, both older and younger, help thei sisters and their children out of trouble. Sisters help and support a raped youngest a ter. Another instance implies disadvantages u sororal polygyny (to which the Shoshone actual were averse). Blind Coyote misled by the stiA ing of ants, says, "Ouch! tou girls ought to fighting. You haven't been married a long t'i Father and children love each other, but no as intensely as brothers. A father tells his a what to do. Father and sons go on a trip toget A father attempts to avenge his son's death, * son his father's. Yet in one story, when a or$ child attracts a monster's attention, the part hide in fear, deserting their son. In another, foolish man kills his children and eats them, thinking he can restore them to life once mor When he fails, his wife upbraids him, and weep He too feels sad, and originates mourning. Similarly, a mother goes to rescue her chil from a Water-Ghost-Woman. Another forced by a Cannibal to be his wife, plots with her two so: to aid in his destruction. All grandparents--paternal and maternal, gri fathers and grandmothers--are either loving al devoted to their grandchildren, rearing, educe rescuing them, or they are malevolent, plotti the children's deaths. So too are the grandohi in relation to the grandparents, affectionate spiteful. Two brothers-in-law are always hospitable ti another, in entertaining, gambling. Once a chw man who refused to give his kinsman food hadl i taken away by the other as his right. Clearly, Shoshone mythology focuses upon a 292 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE Lationships. Father and child, mother and child, Aher and sister, two sisters and, above all, brothers love one another. tThe relations be- e uncles and aunts and nephews and nieces are Ltions of those between siblings.) Grandparent grandchild either love or hate one another. hers-in-law are good friends. But marriage is ful, suspicious, hateful. All other relation- s are virtually ignored. few observations on children in general, common. Boys are mischievous, saucy; they lie, they hide from battle in cowardly fashion. Yet they also help people in distress. Older peo- ple adopt stray children. Yet grown-up women fre- quently abuse prepubescent boys in sexual play. Didactic teaching of the young by the old oc- curred on many informal occasions. In large part it consisted bf instruction in various skills: what wood was good for making clubs, etc. The virtues and etiquette were also explained, but that was about all. THE UNCRYSTALLIZED ASPECTS Beyond the formally defined aspects of adult- ld behavior were a great many delineated only specific examples and prevailing attitudes. convenience, we may examine these data from P viewpoints: the family and the child, the ety at large and the child, specific behav- , and prevailing attitudes. e Shoshone famil .--The component units of family must be defined before discussing the errelations of those units. Three types of hping seem most natural and significant: (1) linguistic (the kinship terminology); (2) the the limitations of mating and marriage); (3) the residential (the compositions of ehold groups). inguistically,8 the Shoshone group their fa- Is brothers with their father, calling all he same term. Their mother's brothers, how- they distinguish. Similarly, they group mother's sisters with their mother, dis- ishing only their father's sisters. On the rary, brothers and sisters, with whom all ins are identified, are carefully classed r as older or younger than oneself. man calls his brother's child "child," the s term being used by a woman for her sister's d. But the term for a man's sister's child for a woman's brother's child is self- iprocal. The four grandparental terms (fa- st father, mother's father, father's mother, mother's mother) are also self-rec iprocal. The terms for kin by marriage are secondary somewhat fluctuating. Thus a woman calls her er-in-law "brother's child's mother," or ly, "friend." A father-in-law, for example, be called among other terms, "mother's her" or "mother's father," although neither in-marriage nor marriage to a maternal aunt 8s. A husband and his wife, addressing each br, call one another "man" and "woman." inally, certain relatives may be grouped in rence by a curious collective form, analo- to the German "Geschwister" (brother-and- ter). Such grouping is restricted exclusively arents-and-children, husband-and-wife, older- -younger brother, older-and-younger sister. he sexual classification is less elaborate. tmor the kinship terminology, see the Appendix. Practically speaking, there was and is no mar- riage with any blood relative. Out of 239 mar- riages recorded in genealogical and census data,9 I found only 3 between kin. One was that of a man with his mother's half-sister's daughter; another, with his father's brother's son's daughter; the last, with his mother's brother's daughter. In two unions, two brothers married two sisters. There were also three cases of polygyny, men marrying two or three unrelated wives. Polyandry was lunknown. My data on marriage instability are necessarily inaccurate, for it is difficult to record all pre- vious matings. So, although I have noted that roughly 20 per cent of all married people had pre- viously been married to someone else, that there were two instances of the levirate (that is, the marriage of a man to his brother's widow) and one of the sororate (the marriage of a woman to her sister's widower), these figures are undoubtedly far below the actual nuimber. Besides, of those 20 per cent, many were married as many as five or six times. The direct data on coresidence in the past are mere approximations.10 The normal household con- sisted of a man, .his wife, and three or four im- mature children. Important secondary types of household were fdrmed by the addition to this nu- cleus of dependent grandparents (commonly maternal) or other relatives and by the grouping together of unrelated men or women in a nonmarital household. The average Shoshone woman had six full-term pregnancies, but less than three of the children lived to procreate. Twenty per cent of the adult women were childless. The ratio of men to women was 87 to 100, roughly. The total population was quite stable, about 1,500 souls, for natural increase was forestalled by epidemics.11 In addition to these facts, certain materials taken from present-day censuses12 seem to be fully applicable to the past. The population profile was 9The actual genealogies are available through the Department of Anthropology, University of California. 10 For data on present-day coresidence, see Shimkin, MS. A more extended demographical discussion is found in Shimkin, 1947a. 12Shimkin, MS. I V. F 293 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS dominated by the young; at least two-thirds were less than thirty years old; one-fourth, under ten. (However, because of heavy child mortality, there were fewer of the very young than today.) Mates were frequently of very disparate ages, either one being much older than the other, al- though husbands averaged some five years' sen- iority. Child-bearing normally began well before twenty years of age and continued to about forty, although the absolute limits were far greater. The intervals between births were small. Re- straints in connection with the menstrual hut, broken marriages, and physiological disabilities were the limiting factors, rather than contra- ception or abortion. The functional correlates of the structure of the Shoshone family in regard to the child may be briefly slummarized. The terminology indicates four important mechanisms. The use of self- reciprocal terms seems to be connected with psy- chological and social identification. The older members of a self-reciprocal couple are those upon whom the obligation for care of the younger falls in emergencies. They, on the other hand, also benefit from the successes of the younger. Thus, once when I was giving away lollipops to children, an old woman demanded one as her right. I had given one to her son's child, therefore she should get one too. The spectators agreed. The absence of true terms for affinal rela- tives (that is, the social recognition of rela- tionship) and the lack of marriage among blood relatives are factors tending to keep marital bonds weak and brittle. An opposing trend may be seen in certain nominally incestuous devices used by the Shoshone: the marriage of pseudo-cross- cousins, the naming of fathers-in-law as mother's fathers, of sons-in-law as nephews, etc. These seem to be deliberate attempts td create a posi- tive emotional transference in regard to affinal. relatives. Finally, the coupling terminology shows the bonds thought by the Shoshone to be most intimate. The small size of the average household (im- posed largely by the seasonal fluctuation of the economy and the political organization) restricted widespread kin obligations, particularly as it was accompanied by wide dispersion of the population seasonally. Virtually all child care was in the hands of parents, older siblings, or occasional attached grandparents. The paucity of men, cou- pled with other factors, had a very important in- fluence on the functioning of the family which will be discussed below. Kin behavior.--The most important behavior in respect to the child was its earliest bodily care, feeding, and discipline. This was the mother's function at the very fir.st. After the child was able to crawl, older sisters might help to carry it about, grandmothers, to tend and edu- cate it. A little later, the father's attention would become fixed upon the child, especially if it were a boy. Resting between his strenuous but brief labors, he would fondle the baby. In addi- tion, he would use his supernatural powers to keep the child in good health, or to cure it when, ill; or he would hire a shaman to perform such services. Children had negligible economic functions. Boys might be induced to watch horses (when they- didn't wear them out racing), and they supplied aI good part of their own food by rabbit and bird hunts. But they were independent entrepreneurs, not integral cogs like the ever-working Navaho shepherd boys.i3 Girls, at most, aided with youn children or did a little beadwork or, possibly, berrying. Their marriage at menarche and their matrilocal residence, however, made them definite assets for the future. Married couples formed the basic economic team, most of whose activities were complementary. The husband made his weapons: bow, arrows, lance, shield, etc.; also the fire drill. He broke the horses, and took most care of them, currying his indispensable buffalo horse, etc. He hunted buf- falo, elk, deer, and other game. The proceeds fui nished not only food and hides, but a cash value with white traders which could be exchanged for knives, awls, often rifles and ammunition, etc. Furthermore, he generally skinned, butchered, and brought in his game. Most types of fishing--with dam and basket-tra spear, scoop, bow and arrow, hook and line--were primarily his task. Men swam bull-boats with wome children, and household goods across rivers. Finally, men were leaders and protectors. Safe from enemies was achieved only by their constant vigilance, day and night; or, if need be, by bat- tle. Internal disaffection quieted under the wisen counsel of older men. And appeals to supernaturall power in the Sun Dance and Round Dance were masq' line prerogatives. The wife's tasks were as important as her mate. She gathered all the vegetable foods, from the 1l land seeds to the hillside berries and mountain pine nuts. She carried these in rawhide knapsackj which she made herself. Getting firewood was an- other continuous, arduous duty, especially diffi- cult and necessary in winter. She had to slash meat to smoke or dry, and po it with fat into a nonspoiling product stored and. carried in the parfleches which she made. Fish h to be treated similarly, except that baskets wer the needed containers. All hide work, from saddle to tipis, including robes, dresses, shirts, mocca sins, leggings, and many other articles, was her exclusive province. Then there were animals to be packed with hou8 hold belongings and to be watched carefully on th march. The woman too had to make and set up the tipi, or a humbler brush lodge, for the family a4 herself. But this was all above and beyond the normal household routine. She had to feed, clothe, bathe and mind her youngsters. Domestic cookery was her chore; she even had to make the family eating ute sils (except for the important stone boiling p Cf . Dyk. I 1 1 1 I 1 I I 294 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RiVE SHOSHONE Ihers were a good many intimate obligations, as carrying her husband's medicine bundle |cept when menstruating), delousing and comb- his hair, etc. Yet in her travail, she had female midwife aid; no man dared help her. certain amount of directly cooperative work en spouses existed, largely voluntarily. often guarded berrying women against attacks [enemies or wild beasts. Husband, wife, and times children, united to plait basket fish- s, and gather in the catch. A loyal spouse ed as an assistant to a male or female shaman. the quintessence of family harmony could be nstrated in tipi painting and in the Sun e. I the first instance, the wife would paint broad bottom band of solid color. Her husband would adorn the body of the tent with vig- s, naturalistic representations of his own deeds. She colored the door flap in parfleche gns. The Sun Dance allowed simpler but more ic expression. The leader's wife might come the dance floor, barefoot, with a leafy h in her hand, and sweep away his tracks. wever, both men and women were, to a limited t, capable of economic independence. Each d furnish food--animal or plant. Women, in nch, could even fish. Both were expert riders. construction of simple brush shelters and ery by broiling or boiling (stone boiling in s for men, pot boiling for women) were com- knowledge. With greater age, both sexes could tales well or instruct the young in tribal even to the making of weapons, etc. Finally, evement in shamanism or gambling (especially hand game) was in the reach of men and women e. t a number of factors tended to upset the omic balance and familial unity. The strenu- nature of the men's duties, together with initial scarcity, skewed the entire eco- c picture. As I figure it, but 57 physically men countered 100 like women.14 At the same the custom of giving young girls away to e men (as an old-age insurance, in the hope nducing matrilocal residence) created a e number of mature women eager for marriage, r as widows or through increasing psycho- maladjustments. These women tended either pset existing marriages or, more rarely, to very young boys. A final solution was for to remain with their daughters, a practice further lessened the economic importance e latter (in the Basin, but not here, men married mothers and daughters simultane- ).15 With younger mothers-in-law, sexual ions were added as disruptive forces. n later life, neverthless, if a man had a 4This calculation supposes that men could orm their tasks from 20 to 50 years of age; n, from 14 to 60, which, multiplied by the proportions, gives the ratio above. I t5roeber. good son-in-law, his wife and he lived happily, supported in their old age, helping with the grandchildren or other youngsters, further justi- fying their existence by acting as entertainers and learned teachers. Less often, a devoted son supported his aged parents thus. Also, a man might bring his widowed father to live with his mother- in-law, so that he might more easily support both. Beyond these normal adjustments of family life were the emergency obligations. What happened to the children when, through death, quarrel, or acci- dent, the primary unit broke down? Children rarely had conflicts with their true fathers or mothers. If this happened, however, refuge would be avail- able to them at any uncle's place, or with the grandparents. If the father died or deserted his family, the children generally stayed with the mother. But she could rarely take care of them herself. Not only did she inherit little, if anything (most of a man's property was destroyed at his death or given away to friends or his brothers and sisters), but her economic powers alone were insufficient to supply enough food for a family. As a result, if her parents were still strong, she would take ref- uge with them. Otherwise, her brother, or even her mother's brother, sheltered them. Yet, the widow's only permanent salvation lay in remarriage. In the most fortunate instances, this was to her dead husband's true or ceremonial brother. The number of such remarriages was small, however, for in nearly every death there was the suspicion that the widow had committed murder by witchcraft. (When several brothers who succes- sively married one woman or, conversely, several sisters who inherited one man, died one after the other, murder was assumed as proved.) Consequently, a widow usually wed a stranger. The effects upon the children were unfortunate, for stepparent and stepchild rarely got along. Commonly, the children stayed with their emergency helpers. Sometimes they accompanied the mother, only to be thrust away quite soon. If the mother died or deserted the children, they were generally given away. For instance, the father's older brother and the mother's brother might each take a child. In no instance known to me did the father's sister help out thus.16 Or the mother's parents, more rarely the father's, would take care of some of the children. A loving father would often try to get a wet nurse for an infant and sometimes, if the children were nearly grown, the household could maintain itself. If the man remarried, he very rarely kept the children, even in cases of the sororate. Secondary and ceremonial obligations were largely assumed by the parents. However, the father's older brother and his wife often advised children, and I believe this failure to be real, the joint result of the impaired economic role of women (which gave greater authority to the men) and the weakness of marital bonds (which made fathers' sisters' husbands suspicious of their affinal kin). I 295 ANTEROPOLOGICAL RECORDS mediated in occasional disputes. Cousins of op- posite sex--both parallel and cross--were often instrumental in romantic negotiations. Other cer- emonial duties, as well as loyalty, were incum- bent upon the blood-brothers and blood-sisters with whom men and women formed an alliance in maturity. Even today, John McAdams, for instance, keeps on exchanging presents of blankets, fish, etc., with his blood-brother in Idaho. Kin attitudes.--The attitudes to children within one's family as seen from case histories and early observations reveal only partial corre- lations with mythological precepts. The love be- tween mother and child and between father and child was strong, and impressed all observers. Grandparents and grandchildren were always close. No evidence of ambivalent emotions between them is in my possession. Sisters, and brothers and sisters, were closely united. But extreme ten- derness between brothers was not conspicuous: the development of ceremonial friendships argues the contrary. Most marriages were stable, life- long unions, but a sizable minority were brittle, adulterous, and ended in separation, or even in murder or suicide. Direct evidence on incest tensions was unobtainable. A quotation from Comstock17 relates the fon- dling and attention given boys by their fathers. Hamilton concurred in this view: "The domestic habits of the Shoshone are commendable for In- dians. They are clean, inclined to be proud, and think a great deal of their women and chil- dren. They like to see them well dressed as In- dian dress goes.1i8 Russel noted the women's love for their young- sters. "They are cheerful and affectionate to their husbands and remarkably fond and careful of their children."i9 Wilsoeo gives two poign- ant accounts of one woman's maternal devotion. On one occasion, when a boy died, Wilson pitied his mother. "She was really grief-stricken, she cut off her hair close to her head. I asked mother why she did that. She said that all moth- ers did it when their oldest boy died. After our mourning was over, she would still weep bitterly and sometimes scream out her sorrow." So it was with Wilson's own adopted mother: Often she would tell me about her troubles. Her husband had been shot a few years before in the knee with a poisoned arrow by the Crow In- dians. He lived a little over a-year after the battle, but he suffered greatly before he died. Soon after his death her two boys named Piubi and Yaibi went out hunting mountain sheep. While they were climbing a steep hill, a snowslide crashed down and buried them in the deep gorge at the bottom of the canyon. Here they lay until iComstock, 272. iaHamilton, 82. 19'Russel, 145. "0Wilson, 40-41. late in the following spring. The Indians tried to find their bodies by pushing long eticks int the snow, but they could not locate them. But their mother would not give up the seara She told me how she would go out every day and in the snow with a stick in the hope of findin her boys, until Washakie and some other Indian brought her home, where she lay for two months very near death from sorrow and exposure. As soon as she could walk she went up to the6 snowslide again. The warmer weather by this ti had melted some of the snow and she found the , body of one of her boys parfly uncovered. The wolves had eaten off one of his feet. She quick dug the body out of the snow, and nearby she fI the other boy. She was too weak to carry them b to the tepee and she couldn't leave them thet be eaten by the wolves, so she stayed all night watching over them. The next morning Washakie found her lying on the snow beside the bodies of her children. He took them up tenderly and carried them back to'. the village. The poor old mother was very sick after that. Such bereavement often led to the adoption strange children who were believed to be the re born deceased, or at least to resemble them. Wilson continues: During this sickness and delirium of grief, dreamed that her youngest boy came back to her1 and he was white. This dream put into her the ; strange notion that she wanted a white papoose, So they set to work, as I have told, and succe, in tempting me to go away with them. On the other hand, if an enemy had killed oD child, quite different attitudes prevailed. The was no idea of adopting a captive boy in place one's own. As Dick Washakie says: "If your son4 killed, they might give you an enemy child to r place him. You would still be mad. You don't we to keep him. You might kill this child in reven for your son's death." Grandparents were always attempting to help their grandchildren. They would always be makin things, buffalo-horn cups, bows, etc., for the-. youngsters. Grandsons could take anything they wished. In all, the emotional tie was almost asf close as in parenthood. For example, Polly Shoy told the following incident: Once, they fought with the enemy, and the e killed a young Shoshone, the grandson of an old, woman. Then they followed the murderers, and ell gaged them. One of the enemy was killed, and tW warriors took his body home to the camp, for th enemy had fled. Because the old woman was still crying, they gave the body to her. Still mad with grieft shel took a knife, slashed the body, butchered it li a buffalo. She took the slabs of meat and dried them on a frame. But the meat was left untouche and, when they left camp, they just left it. ItJ be still there. Because of prevalent matrilocal residence aa, I i I 41 1 296 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE rareness of sororal polygyny, grown-up sib- gs had little to do with the younger ones ept in crises, when they helped them and shel- ed them or their children. Yet this did not vent attachment. Even in old age a brother's hority was great. But clear instances showing strength of sibling attachment are few. One ,the best, contrasting the ties between sisters [the brittleness of marriage, relates to the u'yu family of the Mountain Shoshone subgroup. The husband had two sisters as wives. One win- he went to kill game. There was none. He led several times, and the family starved. One t the sisters grabbed him cut his head off, ate him. [Nothing happeneA to cannibals. They ly saved themselves that way.] Intense emotional ties in marriage seemed to absent. Usually, informants' accounts ran thus: -...my uncle told me that a young man wanted to r me. "It would be bbtter to marry him. He take care of you." 9 said, "Yes." I didn't like that man, but the ,fellow told me to marry him. Finally, I got to the man... [Polly Shoyo.] tories of marital conflicts occur repeatedly. well-known tale was that in which a man named usi abandoned his wife to run off with the of White Horse, a shaman. The scoundrel was ed in Utah by lightning a little later. e Horse proclaimed this as a great personal ph, since he claimed supernatural power over tning. The erring wife later returned to Wind r and married a third man. White Horse neither d to harm her nor attempted to get her back. larocque, in his travels with tife Crow and shone in 1805, made similar observations: Since we are close to the mountain many women deserted with their lovers to their fine s that are across the mountain, there are no le in the mountain nor on the other side, so they are loth to go that way, while the de- ion of their wives strongly call them there. es were twice made to raise the Camp, and ter orders were given before the tents were wn down. The reason of this is that the wife he Spotted Crow who regulates our mo(ve)ments deserted he is for going one way while the f(s) of the other bands are for following our course. Horses have been killed and women ded since I am with them on the score of jeal- Today a Snake Indian shot his wife dead but eems not without reason for it is said it was third time he found her and the Gallant to- er.21 ain, Polly Shoyo related: etime ago, a man, his wife and child were ving. She went out to look for roots. In the El 3 1Burpee, 37. meantime he killed the child and ate some of its flesh. The woman returned and saw her child's head in the bushes near the doorway. When she came in, her husband told her, "Look, here is some meat for you to eat!" But she cried, "Why did you do that? Why did you kill my child? I had such a hard time raising him." And she lifted her digging stick, and struck him a fatal blow. Attitudes toward children.--Generally, most adults treated children with consideration. A stray child, for example, would be sure of a bed and food almost anywhere. Children were desired in all circumstances, and abortion and infanticide were both rare and abnormal. Children's property rights were respected. What a child owned could not be disposed of without his consent; and on its disposal he received any profits accruing from the transaction. But the approval of the par- ents, especially the mother, was needed before the child could dispose of anything himself. Gifts such as horses might be given to chil- dren--and they could not be taken back by the giver, even if he were a parent. Small children occasionally inherited horses which were kept in trust for them. The colts from such horses be- longed mostly to the child, although the guardian might keep one or two in return for his services in caring for them. Medicine pipes and other prop- erty were not kept thus in trust. These bequests were made for children of both sexes. (Polly Shoyo.) Olden gives an illustration of this practice. Once a Shoshone sold a horse to a white man and was paid cash. After a little time he returned for the animal. "Give it back to met! he said to the owner. "It is my son's horse..."2 On the other hand, children took their chances in times of stress. When starvation made cannibal- ism necessary, a child was usually eaten. The status of children was definitely inferior to that of adults. A very young child would be treated only by his female relatives when ill. In case of pneumonia, they might try to clear his throat by means of a finger or cloth-covered stick. A little later, a shaman would be called in. Thus a young woman recounted that she had had chorea as a child. Her mother tried some local white doctors, who failed to help her. Then she sot Frank Perry, a famous shaman, to whom she paid 7. As the young woman relates: He put a weasel hide on my belly. Then he prayed. After that he brushed me off with an eagle feather. I felt him drawing the sickness out of me just like electricity. He blew on his feather and blew it away. I fell asleep, slept for twenty-four hours, and recovered completely. At a child's death, the mother would grieve, cut her hair, gash her lees with obsidian, but no prop- erty would be destroyed (other than the cradle, if Olden, 22. I I 297 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS the child were an infant) nor would the family move away from the ill-omened spot. The abnormal child.--The types of abnormality recognized by the Shoshone in recent years are the following: (1) epilepsy, (2) deaf-mutism, (3) feeblemindedness, (4) tongue-tiedness, (5) berdachism, (6) possession by the ninimbi sprite, and (7) twinness. The attitudes toward these ab- normal individuals depended upon the apperception of an abnormality as natural, or as supernatural and dangerous. If the last, the child would be destroyed in self-defense by the parents. In the instances viewed as natural, the family's atti- tudes and those of outsiders were very different. Generally, the first were kind, helpful, sympa- thetic; often, the latter mocked infirmities cruelly. Among adults in recent times, I know of one case of epilepsy, in a boy who died about 1917 at the age of seventeen. The disease was well enough known, however, to be ascribed to a spe- cific creature, Water-Ghost-Being. Most medicine men were afraid to treat it, but a few, who had supernatural power from Water-Ghost-Being, had success with it. One intelligent undersized deaf-mute man, forty-five years of age, is liv- ing at the present time. Other men constantly play quite vicious practical jokes on him. A girl who died at eleven years of age, in 1907, seemed feebleminded. She did not comprehend enough to keep from playing in the fire, burn- ing her finger and elbow. She had to be fed. One fairly young man today is tongue-tied. He can- not hold a conversation, and generally uses signs. But he is a healthy and intelligent per- son. He is always gambling. Berdachism, that is, the assumption of a fem- inine social role by a man, was treated sympa- thetically, but definitely not encouraged. The berdache had no recognized social role whatsoever in Shoshone society. In fact, the condition was sufficiently irksome to induce many such indi- viduals to die as wi'yagait, men who attacked the enemy armed only with a flute or rattle. Two instances of berdachism occurred in re- cent times. One man, who died at the age of seventy or seventy-five about 1935, dressed like a woman, went around with women, did all sorts women's work, "except to go to the menstrual hut He had minute genitalia. He was not known to ha practiced homosexuality, and lived by himself. John McAdams thought him a coward who would not. to war. Again, Emma Aragon tells of a young man who started to act like a woman. People tried to bre him of that, but unsuccessfully. They felt sor for him. He was a good carpenter. He died of in. fluenza. Olden gives a highly typical reaction to an instance of supposed possession by ninimbi. A Shoshone Indian had a large family, of whic the youngest child, a girl, was very precocious, When only two or three months old (sic), she C could not only run around, but talk. The parents, spoke to the medicine man about it. "That little girl is not a bit like other children" he said' "And do you know what is the matter with her? Why Ninembeb has taken possession of her and mad her body his dwelling place. She will bring no end of trouble on you and your family. You will all become sick and die. For your own sakes the is. only one thing you can do. Take the child off to the mountains and leave her there. When her b dies, Ninembeb will come out of her." The poor parents believed all this, so with s rowful steps they started one day for the mounta with the little child. On the way they met a mani who was part Mexican and part Indian, and stopped to talk to him. "Where are you going?" he inquir Then they told him their story. He was furious, and swore in a terrible manner. "You will do no such cruel thing!" said he. "I will have the chi baptized and make her one of my own family!" The Mexican brought the child to Mr. Roberts for bap tism, for he thought that ceremony would drive ol the evil spirit, or Ninembeb. Then, although he had several children, he ran the risk of taking into his own home. The child lived to be about eight years old.23 The various attitudes in regard to twins will, be discussed in later pages. 2301den, 27. I i ,?'j 298 INDIVIDUAL DEVELOPMENT PREGNANCY AND BIRTH Pregnancy.--The relation of sexual intercourse procreation and conception was perfectly well a to the Shoshone. Inquiry in this matter, act, caused considerable amusement on the of several informants at my naivete. On the .sr hand, theories regarding the ultimate cau- on of children--the transmigration of souls other possibilities--remain obscure. For most shone individuals they were like other meta- ical concepts, I believe, vague, unsettled, uninteresting. Highly typical was Charley ter's remark, "We don't know how we're born, her from the father or the mother-. We just we're alive, after we get old enough." Pregnancy was recognized when the woman began iss her menstrual periods. The length of the ation period was formerly known only approx- ely. Dick Washakie thought it was twelve .months. The closest Polly Shoyo could on was that a missed menstruation in the fall t birth by the time the grass was green in spring (here, about October to Nay). ce pregnant, the woman would be bound by a r o0 restrictions. She would have to avoid intestinal fat of all animals. "If you eat it will eat up something inside. One time a t woman ate this. And she vomited, then ' (Polly Shoyo). Generally, the only meat would be buffalo legs and paunch boiled to p. On the other hand, the diet included all a of wild roots. Furthermore, a woman in cate health ate the boiled inside of the kly pear (Opuntia). All fattening foods were ed lest the child grow too large. A preg- woman drank hot, not cold, water. If her d became cold, she put rocks heated in the on her stomach to warm it. though there were many things, including animals, she was not supposed to touch, the t woman's glance was not regarded as f1, and she could look at anything she d--the sky, animals, etc. Nor did she have void the sight of ugly or misshapen beasts her child be like them. According to Polly o, one could prognosticate the sex of an un- child. If the belly is smooth, the woman have a girl; if it is kind of round, a boy. e was no way to foretell twins, nor was any pt made to cause the birth of one sex rather the other. Both were equally welcome. Pan- Pogue denied the possibility of prognosti- on. No one knew of any cure for barrenness, when a child was greatly wanted. Barrenness -o-cause for divorce. en thq first pains of labor began, the par- ent left her home for the menstrual hut. other, her mother's relatives, and profes- 1 midwives, or some combination of these, ly helped her. -midwives.--There were four or five I regular midwives in each of the four main bands. They were middle-aged women who had borne numerous children and had been present at many births. Fre- quently, they had been helpers to regular midwives, possibly their mothers or other relatives. The pro- fession was, however, not directly hereditary, for a visionary sanction was always necessary. This supernatural power would come in the form of dreams at home: women did not seek visions in the moun- tains. They would see themselves acting as midwives. No guardian spirit would appear, nor would any song be heard. They would grow up with these dreams and some of them might start practice when quite young. The midwives were distinct from the women sha- mans, who were in a certain sense dissociated from their sex (they lost their power when men- struating, etc.). The former used no shamanistic equipment, such as a pipe, sang no songs, did no curing. Nevertheless, people respected them. Two assistants helped the midwife. They aided in manipulation and massage, and handled the in- fant. The midwife herself avoided all possible contact with blood, which might pollute her super- natural power dangerously. In difficult cases, various drugs as well as more forcible handling than usual aided delivery. No man, not even a med- icine man, could be present, even if mother and child died. It would be too dangerous for him. The midwife was not held responsible for deaths in labor. The usual obstetrical fee was the equivalent of from five to ten dollars. Birth.--Once a pregnant woman had entered the menstrual hut, she was no longer allowed to scratch her head with her fingers, but was obliged to use a scratching stick instead. She could not eat meat. However, she did not have to use a drinking tube, as among some other tribes. But her husband had various restrictions placed on him. Throughout her sojourn in the menstrual hut, he stayed at home and loafed (semicouvade). "He might hunt, but he won't be able to kill any game, so he might as well stay home" (Dick Washakie). Furthermore, he had to fast completely between the time the baby was born and the time its navel cord dropped off. He could drink only water, eat nothing at all. When the midwife and her two assistants had ar- rived, they dug a pit in the center of the hut. This they lined with soft, warm, dry grass. In front of it they planted a stout upright pole. On the ground behind it they built a fire which they later cleared away to leave only the comfortably warm ashes, pos- sibly covered with dry grass. All this time they would supply the parturient with much warm water to drink. This, combined with the baking in ashes, kept her warm. In delivery, the woman was not naked, but wore an old buckskin dress. If this became bloody, it was later thrown away. As the pains increased, the woman in labor squat- ted on her knees in front of the pit, with her legs wide apart. She held on with both hands to the [299] I :- ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS vertical pole. Now the midwife (in Pandora Pogue's practice) would pray to her own hand and to Our Father to bring the baby in good shape. Then she knelt in back of her patient and pressed gently, massaging her back, sides, and abdomen, turning the baby to facilitate a head presenta- tion. At the critical moment, the mother would tell the women that the baby was coming out. The two helpers would catch it in the pit. They laid the woman back. Shortly after, the mother forced out the pla- centa and the blood. She aided the contractions of her uterus by working a round-ended stick against her abdomen. Meanwhile, the navel cord was cut off with any kind of a knife. The stump was always long, at least four inches, as a shorter length would be dangerous. The baby was washed in warm water, but no grease was put on it. Then an assistant rolled up the stump of the navel cord on the child's belly, placed ashes on it, then tied a cloth around it. The infant was wrapped in wildcat fur lined with buffalo mane. The placenta was either buried in the pit or placed in a tree without further ado. Following the birth, a rawhide would be tied around the mother's abdomen. This, cut to fit and laced tightly, served to return her stomach to shape. Special care of the breasts was usu- ally unnecessary. If the mother had no milk at birth, an herb called pi'yigwab'wa (milk squeez- ing; .unidentified) would be rubbed over her breasts. The infant was put to breast the first day. Sometimes, in nursing, the child was indis- posed, or had a sore throat, and refused to suckle. The milk then became hard in the breasts. If this happened, hot rocks were put against them to make them well again. If a woman lacked milk, she could ask a neighbor With a young in- fant to wet-nurse for her. Once, according to Polly Shoyo, a woman died just after delivery. The child was given to another woman to wet- nurse. The father told her that, if the infant lived, she would get a good horse. The other relatives told her the same. But the baby died, and she received nothing. After the navel cord dropped off, it was buried in an ant bed (not the kind of ants that were eaten), with a prayer that the child might be as strong and hard-working as an ant. Several days after the birth, grease was first put on the baby. About the same time, the mother got up to fetch wood and water, lest she become too lazy. This was her only work, for, since nothing could be brought from the menstrual hut to the tipi, she was unable to work on handicrafts. A full lunar month after the delivery (as noted by the phases of the moon) the mother bathed, put on new clothes, painted her baby all over with red paint, and came home to her husband. There was no difference in procedure between first and succeeding births. Difficult labor.--Difficult labor was not in- frequent. In breech presentation, the midwife might pull out the infant by the feet. A stillbirth would be pulled out. At times, the three midwives would lift up the pregnant woman. One woman would take each leg, the third, her body, and they would try to facilitate delivery by vio- lent shaking. Pandora Pogue's techniques depended more on med- icines. She knew of three painkillers, pi'a natu6uf (big medicine), do yawitambok (dog-tooth violet?) and paro:'3a (wild parsnip?). These grew in Utah, and were used by white people as well as Indiana" In digging them up, one prayed, "I am here to dig you up. I want you to keep me well, etc." Of one childbirth, she relates: A woman was in labor four days. They sent for 2 me. The afterbirth was sticking to the mother's back. I had some salmon vertebrae, which I pounded> I took some white clay and pounded that with it, ), in water. I gave her the boiled concoction to drink. She kept on drinking. The baby came, but the afterbirth didn't. She told me to grab the afterbirth and pull it out. It came easily. I got $10 and five buckskins for this. She gave the same help in two other cases. In one, "a dry birth with little fluid," Pandora fed a the woman watermelon seeds in water as a medicine. The practice of confessing adultery to make difficult labor easier was not known. Stillborn infants were taken up into the moun- tains to be buried. Neither they nor mothers dyingt in childbed were given any special type of interm Nor did the Shoshone believe them to have a specia1 fate after death. Contraception abortion. twins.--The only con- traceptive device known was magical. When a woman had had many children and miscarriages, and her latest child had died, she could avert future preg nancies by burying the infant face down. She would say, "I don't want to have any more babies." Mothers or midwives helped in abortion. The aborter would squeeze the girl's stomach or pound it with the stick used to expel the placenta. This, was never tried after the second month of pregancy for the danger then would be very great. No aborti- facient drugs were known. In all, abortion was verf, rare, quite unimportant. Women feared to have twins, primarily because o the difficulty of birth. To prevent twinning, they had to avoid eating any part of an animal bearing twins, or any twin fetuses. Consequently, they had to be careful in the spring, when animals would be` bearing young. (This attitude persists. Wetchie's wife, who had borne twin boys, averred that eating, an egg with a double yolk caused the twins.) Attitudes toward the twins themselves differed.. One woman flatly stated that they brought bad luck and, in the old days, were killed. "One was all right, but they didn't want both" (Pandora Pogue). Case histories disprove this as a completely gen- eral rule. Another informant thought there was a mystic bond between the pair (they often had identical names), so that if one died the other was sure to die also. Still others had the opposite theory, that one twin thrived at the expense of the- 300 I I CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE ier. For this reason, the boys of a recent pair twins were reared apart. Other authorities.-- Clark and Lowie largely firm my data. Their accounts follow, with Ftements at variance with my findings under- bred. Clark writes: With the Shoshones and Bannocks medicine-men B not allowed to assist, and the woman UMQ- ,es goes away to the solitude of the brush or iber, and there alone passes through the pains childbirth, though it is customary for some her women kinsfolk to go with her. Sometimes 0 absence is prolonged from four to six weeks. Oquently a little lodge is pitched adjacent to large one, and used for this purpose. It is ut as cheerless and uncomfortable as the one jd during-the menstrual period.24 Lowie writes:25 Like her Lemhi sister, the Wind River Shoshone Fan retired to a menstrual lodge, which was cted at some distance. She stayed there for ut thirty days. A female attendant might re- n with her; some women lived there alone much the time, though visited by other women. The ~band never came there and did not see his child until his wife returned home. If he staved with his wife, he would bleed to death from the nose. When the child was born, another man would inform the father and say to him. "Now go to the creek and take a good bath." He would'then take a bath at the same time the baby was being washed. When the iavel cord dropped off, a mes- senger also informed the father, who might then eat meat from which he had abstained. The wife was obliged to continue her meat fast for a month. For parturition two posts were set into the ground and a crossbar was arranged for the kneel- ing parturient to cling to; below her a pit is dug for the baby to drop into. The female at- tendant cuts the navel cord; the stump is buried in an ant hill while the mother expresses the hope that her child may be healthy and as indus- trious as the ants. If a woman were sick after her delivery some other woman with a baby of her own of atout the same age might nurse the infant; when the mother recovered she would pay a horse for this service. In the case of twins born one directly after the other no special usage seems to have obtained. But if consider- able time elapsed before the second delivery care was taken lest the twins see each other.. The older was taken awa to die but itabe lieved that the younger-would then be able to live long because he had not seen the other. CHILDHOOD Childhood among the Shoshone comprised the riod between bringing the infant from the men- 1ual hut a lunar month after birth and the 'l's first menstruation, or the young boy's skening interest in girls. 'The following is a list of age-status terms: o'nhaZ baby de:'per, child t1'iape? boy tu'iwiCl, youth te'nape, man cu'gupe, old man waipereper girl child na ya, girl wai'pe, woman nagoto:d, woman after bearing first child hi'Pilo, old woman se terms reflect well the functional changes status with age in Shoshone society. When the mother had brought back her child the tipi after birth, a cradle26 was made the infant. This cradle had the usual el- tical ladder frame (today it is an ellipti- ly sawn board), a rounded, twined awning in bt, and a loop in back which the mother pped over her shoulders iii carrying. Frame 24Clark, 27. Lowie, 1924, 269-270. See Kelly, 132-135, for the highly compa. Se Surprise Valley Paiute cradles. and awning were covered with buckskin, inside which the child lay, laced-in snugly. In former days, the cradles were undecorated. The only difference between boys' and girls' cradles was functional.27 According to some, the former had a piece of rawhide sewed over .the front to pre- vent urine from leaking out; according to others, a special penis hole was provided in boys' cra- dles so that they might urinate freely. The in- terior padding was either the loose hair from a buffalo's mane or sage bark. The baby used only one cradle in its develop- ment. In fact, if the baby had been healthy, the cradle, when outgrown, would be used by another woman for her infant. This was so that the second child too might be strong. A weakling's cradle would never be used. If the baby died, its cradle was burned. The first year of life was spent virtually en- tirely on the cradleboard. Laced in, the baby re- mained immobile and communicated its wants only by crying. If that became too annoying, older brothers and sisters would drown its wailing and silence it with a chorus of mocking, bawling noises. As the mother would lull her little one to sleep, she would croon a wordless lullaby and rock the cradle by swinging its upper end to and fro, while the lower remained on the ground. When the child slept, the cradle would be leaned against a wall. Nursing, the mother took up the cradle in her arms so that the baby might have access to her breasts. In trav- 27For decorative differences indicative of sex see Spier, 316 ff. I 301 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS traveling, the cradle was slung over the mother's back or attached to the front of the saddle by the suspension loop so as to hang down by the horse's shoulder. When the child became uncomfortably wet and started to cry, and, above all, the first thing every morning, the mother would take it out of its cradle and let it kick around on a soft robe. She would wash it, most generally by dipping water with the buffalo-horn cup, warming it in her mouth, then spitting the water at her child. Or she would heat the water in the cup on the fire, then splash the liquid on the baby. After this, she would anoint it all over with grease and red paint. In cases of rash or other skin disorders, pounded, dried bawayump plants (to which, as to all important Shoshone medicinal plants, ceremonial payment had previously been made) were rubbed on the infant's skin. Then the mother brushed the child's head with a brush made either from a porcupine tail, with the meat and bones replaced by a stick handle, or from some rough weed tied on a stick. As the child lolled on the blanket, the mother often sang to it. She would pick it up and kiss it, though not quite in our manner, for the lips remained flaccid and there was no in- halation of air. She would take its little hands or toes and play the equivalent of "Five Little Pigs Went to Market," kissing and fondling the baby. She might chuck it under the chin; rarely, tickle it. In all this play, as in washing, the penis was neither especially avoided nor espe- cially fondled (although in one mythological text a Water-Ghost-Woman pulled a baby's organ until it could satisfy her). The child was nursed whenever it cried for food during the first two years. Weaning was started when the infant began to-crawl around. They gave it "just nice, fine stuff," pounded, or rabbit brains. It would be fed a little at a time, the food being placed in the mother's hand, then put in its mouth. By the time the child could walk (roughly at two years of age) he was able to feed himself. Distaste for the breasts might be induced by placing unpleasant substances (e.g., pepper) on them. More often, however, decreasing amounts of milk and the changing tastes of the child reduced nursing possibly to a single evening occasion by the third year. According to another informant, the child weaned itself. But the mother gave it roots, or fine, dry meat which she had first chewed. Rocks or pieces of bark served for teething. However, a piece of dry meat is in all respects the best thing for a child (Emma Aragon). In addition to all its other virtues it is slightly laxative. Only the mother or her female relatives took part in this early care. Men completely avoided very young babies. At the end of the first year, greater freedom came. The cradle was abandoned, and the child was free to move about. Traveling, he rode on his mother's back, wrapped in a blanket and sup- ported by a strap that went around her shoulders and under his buttocks. At this time, clothes would first be made for the child, as it had be naked in the cradle wrappings. These clothes we of the usual Plains cut, but were made warmer, O fur. The inside of the leggings, for example, would be lined with fur. Walking rarely began before eighteen months, retardation possibly due to confinement in the cradle.2 8 When it began, father, grandmother, grandfather, and older sibling would watch and fondle the child. He could give free vent to his pent-up grievances now, and was not punished for; attacking older children. Comstock gives a clear. picture of such happy times: The Army officers accompanying our expedition most of whom were familiar with the habits and ^ customs of other tribes in the West, often ex- pressed great surprise at the numerous exhibitio of paternal and conjugal love which were openly displayed without embarrassment or apparent sese of condescension. While, as is usual among the Indians, the squaws belonging to our scouting party were given the charge of domestic affairs, including the packing of luggage and the driving^ of animals on the march, young children, espe- cially the boys, were quite commonly carried low distances in their father's arms, or in front of them on the saddle, and it was very common to see one or more of the braves strolling about in our camps with their sons tenderly clasped in their arms. Very often, when rough shelters of boughs were made, the material was cut and brought to tb spot by men; and many little acts of kindness of' a similar nature were frequently noticed. Cheer- fulness and gayety, approaching even to wittines are prominent traits of the Shoshone character.29 Further, he writes: I frequently noticed the children crying and shedding copious tears, with expressions similar to those of white children in like cases. Laughte2 was very common, both among old and young...Pout- ing, with great protrusion of lips, is common wit the children when crying or sulking. Few ceremonies marked this stage of life. Thus names were given in babyhood, but without any es- pecial ceremony, nor at any special time (e.g., the fourth day) after birth. The mother and fathei simply talked over what name they liked best for' their child, then bestowed it on him. The name w not changed if some other person bearing the sae" name died. However, after a man had grown up, he could get a new name (in a special ceremony) as the result of a striking deed. Typical names were Male names Female names mu'mbi6, owl so:'ka' ni6, many homes wa:'haidiya; he takes two guns pa'wasap, perfume pu:'higap, (a kind of -flo w1er) pa:Wra i, water above 2 8Dennis (1940) believes, on the basis of Pueblo materials, that such confinement exer- cises no appreciable influence. 29Comstock, 272. I I IA 1 Li .1 I I 302 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPtMET AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE Lowie gives a fuller and somewhat varying ac- punt.30 (pain, I have underlined details at friance with my data.) Among the Wind River Shoshone parents or some their friends gave names to children, some- es according to what children do when old ogh to laugh. These real names are not altered Later life, but nicknames may be acquired and Fed so constantly that those ignorant of the lrcumstances mistake them for the real names. lison was called the Crier because he once mim- gked some crying women and children. There is objection td mentioning deceased persons, but istinctive suffix, ha-p, meaning "the late" it "he lies"] is appended, e.g. Tindoi-hap. rot-leaf, Drown Elk-twins, are illustrations women?s names. ihe Wind River Shoshone do not e to tell their names; a man rarely does so-- e readily if alone than in the presence of hr tribesmen--a woman never. If other Shoshone present, one of them may, however, pronounce name. Certain signs were portentous. For example, en a child was joyous at the first thunder in springtime, it was a sign that he would live old age and have great honors conferred upon *?31 The child could secure good fortune in ious ways. Thus, when he lost a deciduous th he went to a wild-rose bush, dug a hole er it, and stuck the tooth there. Then he d: "Wild Rose, you thrived well; in just this my tooth should grow." Disciplinary measures started at an early In large part, they were applied by older lings. Thus, the older children would drown the howling of a baby, as we have seen. If oung child attacked them, they tight retal- e. On the part of the adults, admonitions and hological tales were important measures of trol. For example., Polly Shoyo related how y used to outline the virtues to youngsters. ls wouldn't like bad boys. "They're just like fire, get mad quick." One liked industrious, et, obedient people. Liars would be distrusted, it was feared they might betray the people in es of trouble with the enemy. Friends were es- ed. Old people said, "Don't leave your friend battle. If he is wounded, save him. Don't ow him away." This precept was emphasized. Girls would be taught modesty. They were sup- ed to look on the ground, gaze at and talk to man. "Girls from way back listened well to people. They didn't run around before mar- 2' The old women also instructed them in to raise children, how to be good. Old women would try to stop quarrels, would to people quarreling; but men might have to ate the belligerents. Or old men or old n might stop young and foolish people from on reckless war parties. "There was more pect and affection in the old days than now, 30Lowie, 272. 31Olden, 33. for they never knew when would be the last time they would see each other--what with enemies, hunger, and other dangers." Sphincter control was regarded as unimportant, so that the child achieved it by himself. Mas- turbation was common among both sexes (it occurs repeatedly in mythology), but was regarded with indifference, being neither repressed nor en- couraged.3 Tales played their role in education. As we have seen, they formed the only systematic lore of the tribe. Specifically in regard to children, they emphasized points. For example, one story related how fearful parents abandoned their cry- ing child when a Water-Ghost-Woman approached. The latter tortured the baby by burning, then tore off its head. Water-Ghost-People in general served as bogies for ill-behaved children. At times, as a matter of fact, two masked men would impersonate these monsters and stalk through the camp silently: "They're going to eat the bad and disobedient ones. ?t33 Corporal punishment was rare, and probably due to white influence when it did occur. Only fathers and mothers would occasionally whip their naughty children with slender withes. But the mores of the culture were definitely against such repression. Lewis and Clark noted: They seldom correct their children particularly the boys who soon became masters of their own acts, they give as a reason that it cows and breaks the spirit of the boy to whip him, and that he never recovers his independence of mind after he is grown. 34 Brackett likewise agreed that: The children are seldom if ever chastised, as the Indians say it breaks their spirits, and they are ever afterward cowed down. 5 Whipping, or forced swimming, or very early rising to make the children strong in after life were not practiced. Play activities became increasingly important with the course of time. Once babyhood had been passed, boys no longer went with their mothers to the menstrual hut. This monthly separation threw together boys of near ages, who concentrated on vigorous group games. They played at war, slinging gobs of mud from sticks at each other. Boy war chiefs would lead each party. Young men and boys would have free-for-alls, kicking each other. In- dividuals would run and jump, knocking over their opponents. There were no rules, and they could kick each other anywhere--on the face, body, etc. This all was just for fun, without bets or defi- nite victory. Wrestling matches between champions gave an occasion for gambling, however. The victor 32Cf. the stimulation given to sex life by the Mohave Indians (Devereux). 33Cf. Shimkin, 1947b . 34Thwaites, 2:370. 35Brackett, 331. I 303 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS had to throw his opponent flat on his back twice. Pole vaulting and swinging were less aggressive amusements. They also played more formal games. There were horse races in which the loser was thumped might- ily on forehead or wrist by the winner. The buffalo-manure target game was popular. This con- sisted of shooting blindly over a ridge. He whose arrow happened to land closest to a buffalo ma- nure won a point; three points gained victory, which often came only after hours of walking and aimless shooting. In wintertime, when other ac- tivities lagged, four-dice games, as well as hand games (a deceptively sinlple guessing game), oc- cupied their time. Rarely did the boys play with girls. Some games prepared for, or mimicked, adult life. Thus Wilson relates: One night I was playing with the Indian boys. Our game was killing white men. With our bows and arrows we would slip up to the bunches of brush and shoot at them. If we clipped off a twig with an arrow, that was a scalp. We would stick it in our belts and strut about like big Injuns.36 In the same category were other activities. Ten- or twelve-year-old boys would go in the gangs with bows and arrows, hunting rabbits over hill and dale. In three or four years they would seek bigger game, groups of them surrounding mountain meadows and running the game out of them. In the spring they would chase down young ante- lope lambs on horseback. Excerpts from Wilson's reminiscences reveal many details. Berries were getting ripe, so we papooses would go with our mothers up in the hills and gather them to dry...for fun we turned to fish- ing and hunting (prairie) chickens and rabbits. Sometimes we would go for antelope but when we went farther, some of the older Indians would go with us to keep us from killing too many...Along towards spring seven or eight of us little boys wefe in the cottonwoods shooting birds...3 In the course of time, a definite spirit of unity would pervade a gang of boys (they were mostly age mates, not brothers). They would be antagonistic to, and abuse, newcomers, such as Wilson. It had got noised around that my legs were very bad, and one day when I was out in front of the tepee, a lot of papooses wanted to see them. One stooped to raise my mother-hubbard to take a look, and the rest began to laugh, but they didn't laugh long f,or I gave him a kick that sent him keeling.8 They also had a definite code of conduct for "he-boys." 3"Wilson, 41-48. 37Wilson, 62-63. 38Wilson, 17. The boy papooses made fun of me, calling me a squaw for doing it, because carrying wood and water was squaw's work...He was glad, he said, to see me stand up for myself; for if I was cow- ardly the papooses would give me no peace.39 The formal recognition of such groups was slight. No age-grade societies existed. However during the annual Sun Dance, the Magpie ceremony; took place. In this rite, all the young boys as- sembled under the leadership of two or four old men. They attempted to steal buffalo tongues whio4 had been prepared for the feast. Their imitation of magpies was in order that they might be like them, for magpies are known to be fearless, going" where other birds dare not go. Girls also had a generally happy life. They enE joyed play with dolls. These could be made of lit. tle balls covered with buckskin, or rawhide, painted or dressed like men or women. Sometimes they carried rag dolls in miniature cradleboards. Often their mothers gave them the patterns, while they themselves made the toys. With these, as well as with the little tipis they made, they would play all day long. Or mud and imagination might serve as a substitute. Comstock describes such play: The affections are developed early. One of the lit. tle girls of our party carried with her almost coni stantly a diminutive "papoose" case, containin a doll with a china head, bestowing much care ana at tention upon it.40 Girls had feminine company for the most part. They played dolls with their sisters. When a littl older, they joined in or imitated the constant gambling games at the menstrual hut: three-dice games, four-dice games, more rarely, hand games. Some, at a tender age, already preferred beadwork; and sewing, although few chores were obligatory until puberty and marriage. Many women and girls played double-ball shinny, from quite an early age. (Men were mere spectatora and bettors in this game.) Juggling-races were als a feminine specialty. Two women would have to go i from the point of departure to a goal, and returxn while juggling three balls. A similar game, much X faster, was played with two balls. Footracing by women was unimportant, denied, in fact, by two mal informants. However, Polly Shoyo said: Once I saw some young women race. The distance wa rather long, say, half a mile. One crossed the fii ish and fainted. After that, they didn't run that far. There was only four runners two pairs of p ners. Many people were watching {hem, betting all they had. Pole vaulting and swinging were girls' as well as boys' sports. Although boys and girls sometimes fought, I have no record of any tomboys. 39Wilson, 37-38. 40 Comstockc, 272. I . I z I,i t? i I I I w N I t I I 304 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE A final important phase of childhood was the DOcasional forecasting of future success and oc- oupation through constant dreams. Thus Quitan iuay, a famous runner, used to dream, when he Bas a boy, that he could run races. That was the ottal content of his dreams: he would be running. ither songs nor guardian spirits came to him. et he was once able to defeat a Bannock "run- ing shaman" (nu'ki bohogant). Tom Compton, a fracticing shaman, generalized as follows: Doctoring is attached to a person from youth. The power first comes to him at twelve or thirteen. He develops it by doing as it tells him to. When a man, if he has the nerve, he goes to the mountains. People knew of a developing medicine man because he has always been mentioning his dreams from child- hood up. He would tell of his orders to go on the mountain, and people would then start to think of him as a shaman. ADOLESCENCE Among the Shoshone the period of adolescence aried greatly for boys and girls. For the lat- r, it was a brief dramatic phase marked sharply menarche and ended shortly thereafter by mar- age. Boys achieved adolescence gradually, as ey became sufficiently expert hunters to gain eir living, sufficiently strong fighters to 'thstand older men, and as they became sexually tent. Their period of adolescence often lasted r a decade, during which they hunted, took part raids and Sun dances, preened themselves like acocks. Marriage transformed them into adults. In large part, adolescence, particularly for ys, continued and intensified processes begun childhood. Thus the independent traveling of ys, alone or in gangs, increased in its scope, vo at this age visited relatives in Utah, jour- ying by himself. Others did likewise. The sol- rity of the gang was intensified: a youth ld be invited to join the young men's warrior ciety, the Yellow Brows. They fought together, ced together, acted as stalwart comrades inst the pretensions of older chiefs and uhty men. Rough games and horseplay were much evidence. One might, for instance, prick an- er's testicles with a sharp grass blade, or tack an unsuspecting rump with violent hand finger. Yet fantastic young men's tales and erotic astings revealed the constant, disintegrating nsion of sex.41 There was now a constant bat- e between social, homosexual society and pri- te heterosexual intimacy. This was the core adolescence. For girls, the transition was less marked. ing for younger relatives of both sexes, they d always enjoyed more balanced contacts. Sex, egnancy, and birth were constantly with them the menstrual hut. Adolescence marked frui- on, not tense ambivalence. At menarche, a girl left her home for the strual hut. This was a simple brush lodge, tily furnished. A fire was in the center. .bedding save a sage-bark mattress and an old falo robe was provided. These furnishings e used only in this hut, and could never be ught to the tipi. In the summertime, a woman t simply use a flat-roofed shade. I 418See also Shimkin, 1947b. On the first morning of menstruation, they called for some strong woman who bled only a lit- tle in her menses to wash the girl so that she-too might bleed little. The girl stayed for ten days, later, maybe only three. Meat was rigorously taboo to her. According to Polly Shoyo one menstruating woman turned black after eating meat. This woman, 3i'boro ("she digs out roots"), whom Polly knew both before and after the incident, got hungry at her catamenial period. There was some dried meat outside. This she took and ate. After that she got really black, with hair all over her face. Only one of her relatives, Archie Ute, is living now. However, the girl was allowed to eat roots, al- though she was generally supposed merely to drink water. During her stay, she had to get wood every morning. She could sleep only at night, never in the daytime. Older women might give her instruction in sex and the care of children at this time, if this was necessary. However, no one sang over hers no scratching stick was needed; the girl's glance- was not regarded as baneful. When ready to leave the hut, the young woman painted and put on new clothes. But no dance or other celebration marked her new status. In later visits to the menstrual hut, the proce- dure was much the same. The woman could not eat meat. As nothing made in the hut could be used in the tipi, her main work at this time was gathering wood. She wore old clothes that were kept there all the time. When ready to leave, she bathed, and put on her-good clothes. She often used a sanitary nap- kin of sagebrush or grass. Cases of dysmenorrhea were treated by the administration of a boiled, un- named root which grows around rocks. On other oc- casions, especially at menarche, heated rocks might be placed on the stomach. The mother or an experi- enced friend or relative did this to the patient. The social force of the menstrual hut was consid- erable. Only young children came here; the others would stay with father or grandfather. But women of all ages congregated for gossip, gambling (espe- cially the three-dice game), and other relaxation, secure from male intrusion. When a boy's voice was changing the father would often tell him how to hunt. He would tell him every- thing he knew. "A hunter should go early in the cool of the morning (by the morning star) before dawn. At this time game will be out, picking around for its : 305 ANTEROPOLOGICAL RECORDS food. Later, when it has fed, it will be in the brush and very hard to get" (Dick Washakie). No hunting uagio was known, except for the ubiqui- tous do'yaratuwara plant, which could kill everything from game to scornful women. No cere- mony was connected with this instruction. Thus, one did not have to give away one's first game (or one's first winnings as a gambler). Both boys and girls now began to follow their life interests. Sex and marriage were primary among these; the two were clearly dissociated. No attempt was made to guard chastity, as by chastity belts and other artifices. Nor was chas- tity in either sex honored on any occasion, such as the Sun Dance. Intercourse with, or even rape of, an unmarried girl carried no penalty. Even if a bastard resulted, there was no stigma or obligation on either party. The mother stayed with her parents; the father might acknowledge his paternity by leaving an occasional game an- imal for the support of the child. In later life, the fact of illegitimate birth would never be brought up in curses or quarrels. Marriage was entered into primarily to form an economic unit of support and care. Generally it was fairly stable. But there was no guaranty of endurance; some persons married five and six times. Desertion or adultery were the only real causes of divorce. The latter wrong caused end- less strife, murders, and suicides. Marriages w6re arranged largely by the par- ents. As we shall see, usually the father simply gave away his daughter to a likely man. Now the principal causes for his decision were the man's prestige as a warrior, medicine man, or hunter, or his personal friendship. Consequently, it was easiest for older, established men to get wives, especially as the Shoshone practiced polygyny. A dearth of young women, either for intercourse or marriage, resulted therefore in anxiety and con- flict between younger and older men. The most effective way to attract women was through personal achievement. Young men there- fore went on war parties. Often, women meeting successful warriors riding back with stolen horses would jump on their steeds to ride double with their heroes. This was tantamount to a pro- posal. For such deeds, as well as for curing, racing, and other accomplishments, the aid of a guardian spirit (box) was of course essential. Men would seek it by sleeping overnight near pictographs or a shaman's grave, or by counting coup on and appeasing the deadly do'yaratuwara plant. Older, supernaturally empowered relatives occasionally planted a spirit inside a well-loved youngster. They did this without recompense, on a son's or nephew's request. The old man takes his medicine power. He puts water in his mouth and washes the power (a liv- ing, moving thing). He asks the young man where he wants the medicine placed--in his head, for example. Then he takes the water and applies it to that place. He takes the medicine in his hand and blows gently toward that spot. The medicine enters the youngster's body. The old man keeps pressing and blowing. He'll peek at his power. it still moves, he keeps on working. When it i8is motionless, then he knows it's in to stay [Mosea'l Tassatsie]. If one were handsome, lazy, possibly a little. cowardly, then foppery would have its allures. " Women would indeed be attracted; the only draw-" back was the envious derision of other men, as expressed by loud mocking, public songs by g a of young ruffians." But if that didn't matter one would comb one's hair with the greatest of ; care, anoint it with grease, then braid it neati (lengthening the braids, if need be, with dis- carded hair and a bit of pine gum). The tips of the braids would be wrapped in otter skin; she and feathers would decorate the hair. From the ears hung elliptical shell earrings. Red paint adorned the face up across the eyes, the part o0 the hair, the cheeks, and the palms of the hand (For this purpose, one had to have the finest red paint from the traders. Inferior native kin were despicable.) Perfumes like peppermint sent. a sweet fragrance around the beautiful man. The , rest of the costume, with its beaded blanket, ermine-trimmed skirt, and other finery, was in-- deed marvelous to behold. Having spent his morning carefully dressing (aided by his mistress of the moment), the fop would, in the course of the day, get on his best horse and ride slowly through camp, thrilling - feminine hearts. A number of factors whetted the appetite for- sexual experience. First of all, crowded quarteS made direct observation of intercourse inescap- able. Secondly, the mythology and, above all, th fantastic erotic anecdotes of the men served to3 stimulate the imagination. For example, John McAdams recalls that one fe3 low told him: Once I went to Bull Lake. I was fishing there. I saw a pretty girl down in the water. So I stripp and got in. I lay alongside of her, making love*4 Then I saw some Indians come along spearing fish, and I jumped out like a trout, thus savi my life but losing the girl. Furthermore, cousins of opposite sex would j each other (brothers and sisters never did--they respected, but did not avoid, one another). A bt might tell his cousin (either parallel or crosa) that he was ashamed of her because she was an maid." She would respond in kind. Or he might t* her, "I am going to get a certain young fellow 4 a brother-in-law." Thus romances would be promot and relatives acted in this way as intermediarie in future marriages. Considerable license was a} lowed between a boy and his brother's wife, or a 42 For a mocking-song text see ibid. I t i I 306 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPTI4NT AMONG THsE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE woman and her sister's husband, but intercourse as rare, and polygamy of this type practically bsent. Boys and girls came together on various occa- ions. In the summer, berrying parties served xcellently for trysts. In the winter, toboggan- ng was a favorite sport. A large rawhide would ave holes punched through the edge and thongs assed through them. Young men would bind these hongs around their shoulders, and thus drag the oung women seated on the rawhides along the ice. sually, a couple of youths would pull a single awhide toboggan, on which a couple of girls sat. Both sexes took part in several dances. In the Cost Dance, which took place in the winter at 1ul moon and several nights thereafter, men and omen alternated in position in a circle. They ntertwined fingers and shuffled their feet side- ise as they moved around clockwise. Surrounding arkness away from the central fire made unau- horized activities quite easy. The possibility f promiscuous intercourse was, in fact, a major ttraction for some for attendance during the enzied messianic Ghost Dances of occasional risis. 4 Less common was the Warm Dance (a variant of he Ute Bear Dance). In it, two girls would se- ct a single man partner. They would dance back d forth, clasping each other. This performance ook place in the daytime. The purpose of the Bead Dance or Bead Copulat- ng was unequivocal. As Lowie writes: The men chose a site for the performance and gan to s-ing and beat drums. The young women uld get up and choose partners. A man had his and blanket round his partner, and they would lightly raise the feet above the ground with a ick jump. Then they would fall down together, hereupon onlookers threw one blanket after an- ther on top of them. While in this position the presented his companion with all sorts of rinkets...44 Those to whom greater privacy appealed had other method. Young men played flageolets to ntice young women for amorous dallyings at ight. Some women would follow any flute. Others uld go only if they recognized the fluting as hat of a boy they liked. He would always play he same song. Ideally good girls, who feared respected their parents, remained deaf to call. Meetings of this sort ended in sexual tercourse; the girl would come home before rning. Eventually, philandering would become tire- ome, or else an emotional tie would be formed. f all was well, marriage negotiations would tart. If not, three possibilities existed. The young couple might elope. This was al- sy dangerous, not only because of the wrath the parents (which usually subsided in a 43Shimkin, 1942. |44Lowie, 1915, 819. year or so), but because solitary couples were easily ambushed by enemies. Polly Shoyo relates: One time the women went picking berries. There was a girl with them. A young man sneaked behind, following her. Finally, he caught up with her, and they went away, unsuspectingly, into the hands of enemies. When they were well away, enemies saw them and watched them, finally seizing them. Close to their own camp, they killed the young man, then brought along the girl. They feared that the Shoshone must be near, so they moved camp, taking her with them. Some way, the girl got away in the dark? after stealing a horse. She rode furiously all night. She reached her own people by the fourth night. If the girl was adamant in her refusal, a de- spairing lover might decide that life was no longer worth while. He would become a Crier (wi'yagait). He would go about singing bitter songs about his heartless love. Then, armed only with a flageolet, he would attack the enemy and thus be killed. Peo- ple would call that girl "crazy" (John McAdams). On the other hand, threats of magical murder could sometimes intimidate a woman into marriage. This happened to Polly Shoyo. But, most generally, marriage came about as fol- lows: A girl's father and mother know of a good hunter, with many horses. That's the one they give their daughter to. They send a special messenger, a young man, maybe their son, to tell him of their desire. He gives no presents to the groom: they are making a present of their daughter. If the groom-to-be does not want the girl, all is still well. If, on the other hand he accepts then he should give some presents io his parents-in-law. What they are depends on him his own heart, his own thought [Dick Washakiel. The marriage was consummated without ceremony or delay. The young couple stayed with the girl's parents, and helped them. When the tipi became overcrowded with the coming of children, they built another alongside. If a boy who liked some girl had a sister or an aunt, he got her to ask his loved one's parents. The parents talked it over and consulted the girl. If agreed, they told the boy's relative that "he might come over tonight, stay with them that even- ing," or "he might come after the girl tonight." He came, or his friends brought him. The couple sat at the door; then the friends left them. If the boy had any horses, he gave some to his father-in-law. Intercourse started the first night. Farnham gives some variant details: [The young man courting] goes with his chosen horse to the lodge of his chosen girl's father or mother, or if both of these be dead, to the lodge of her eldest sister, ties the animal to the tent pole, and goes away. After his departure, the inmates of the lodge issue from it, and in due form examine the horse, and if it appears to be worth as much as the girl whom the owner seeks, an interview is had, I 307 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS the horse taken by the parents, or sister, as the case may be, and the lover takes the girl.45 Infant betrothal, marriage by capture, and communal rape, affirmed by some authors for 45Farnham, 254; cf. Lowie, 1924, 277-278. neighboring Shoshone,46 were vigorously denied b. all my informants. A few bachelors and spinsters8 existed. They were lazy, wanted no one to boss them. They were not especially treated. With marriage, adulthood began. 46Steward, 215. 308 PROCESSES OF SOCIALIZATION The following pages are an attempt to synthe- size the concrete data on education and develop- ment from the viewpoints of educational techniques and functions of the "social sphere." The present analysis will be found deficient in several ways. I tried it only after my return from the field. [Consequently, there was no inquiry along those approaches specifically. Probably, I have read a number of points into my materials in armchair reexamination. Finally, I made no systematic ef- fort to collect test cases on what I believe now to be the critical points in Shoshone development. As a result, a good many--by no means all--of the statements on the subject remain hypothetical. Nevertheless, the evident advantages of formula- tions such as those of Fortes,'7 Kardiner,48 and Pettitt49 make even this poor try necessary for the theoretical placenEnt of the previous data. EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES The bases of Shoshone education may be catego- rized as follows. The deliberateness of education.--No formal hilosophy of education existed. Definite par- Dntal responsibility for children's success did lot exist, so far as I could learn. No regular ~eachers, say, of shamanism or midwifery were rec- gnized. The most pretentious efforts at instruct- ng, other than for immediate benefits (as in eapon making, etc.), came in the fields of moral nstruction and mythology. Several informants said hat children should know those. Ceremonial edu- ational devices (the Magpie dance, etc.) were eeble. In contrast to this paucity of organized teach- ng, there seems to me to be (and to have been) a ervading attitude of letting persons experiment ithin wide limits and find solutions satisfactory o themselves. Elsewhere,50 I have noted modern nstances: the adult Shoshone are markedly kind, yen affectionate to animals. Yet one grandfather et his grandson torment a puppy without inter- erence. But he did not interfere either when the Up caused the boy to hurt himself. He smiled; the oungster will learn now. Supernaturalism furnishes almost endless exam- les of such independent adjustment. One's solu- ions in that field--positive belief, agnosticism, theism--depend almost solely upon personal vi- ions, or their lack.51 I have no evidence on children's attitudes oward education. The integration of the child in the adult orld.--Some space has already been devoted to his. lIuch is yet to be ascertained: the existence f special stock answers to children's questions, f nursery tales, etc.52 In general, boys and irls in later years followed very different 47Fortes. 48Kardiner. 49Pettitt. 50Shimkin, MS. 51See also Shinkin, MS and 1942. 52For excellent work on these topics see Kidd. courses. The former were isolated with their male age-mates, and participated in a set of values which became ambivalent in adolescence and largely disappeared in adult life. Spatially and economi- cally they long remained independent, and later had to achieve a reintegration with a family unit. Girls, on the other hand, shared increasingly in hotsehold tasks, fetching water, wood, caring for younger siblings, from an early age. They shared the interests of, were definite assets to, adult women's lives. (See also The Development of the Social Sphere, p. 311.) The sources of educational authority.--The mother and the father were all important in the earliest years; siblings and grandparents had sup- plementary roles later. The uncles on both sides and the father's sisters assumed these duties in emergency. Unpleasant disciplinary tasks, such as scolding and whipping, were not delegated to them. At most, a father's elder brother might arbitrate a family dispute or advise a young man against going on a foolish war party. The supernatural, and outsiders masked as spirit- beings, were useful for a few severe disciplinary problems: crying at night, continual disobedience, etc. They did not reward good children. Prominent outsiders--chiefs and the like--might honor young men at ceremonies by picking up regalia dropped, counting their own coups, then giving horses away publicly. However, this was optional and excep- tional. Otherwise the chiefs took no part in edu- cation, positively or negatively. Criteria of maturation.--Unfortunately, I did not inquire into the earlier divisions of maturity-- the first signs of "sense," the age of first re- sponsibility, etc. Other landmarks of transition are quite vague. The clearest are menarche, which began womanhood, and the men's first coup, which marked the arrival of "chiefly" status, full social growth. The treatment of individual differences.--The great regulating mechanism in the adjustment of in- dividual differences was the concept of personal supernatural power. This induced peaceful acquies- cence in superior ability: how can one win racing against a "running shaman?" In addition, it safe- [3091 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS guarded individual vanity: the other fellow is not inherently better than myself; he merely was pitied by a more powerful spirit, acquired a more potent vision. At the same time, the ab- errant person received protection. Particular sensibilities to rumping, say, were shielded ac- ceptably by the sanctions of a finicky spiritual guardian. The looseness of the society, both structurall- and spatially, also abetted the peculiar. Only n ical revenge usually followed fleeing transgresso However, those deviants who could not claim s'. pernatural authority and were too dependent to ea' cape social bounds--the berdache, the deaf-mute etc.--were severely, even savagely, oppressed by,- those outside their immediate families. EDUCATIONAL TECHNIQUES The statements below merely give some Sho- shone uses of each technique; they are unques- tionably incomplete. I give them in their probable order of significance. ParticiDation in real situations.--The proc- esses of free experimentation may be included in this category. Since children controlled their own property, profits or losses in transactions were real. Furthermore, getting severely thumped, for instance, was as difficult a penalty for a small-boy loser of a race as was the forfeit of many horses by his older brother. From an adult viewpoint even small girls made definite social and ceremonial contributions. Boys furnished the household little, but their hunting and fishing allowed virtually full self- support. They hunted to eat, not merely for sport. Directed association and psychological identi- fication.--These methods were implicit in the vision theory of success. For most practical visions--those for gambling, midwifery, etc.-- consisted primarily of an image of oneself per- forming the deed successfully. The prelude to this was basically concentration on the sub- ject;53 the special rigors of sleeping in a sacred place or of Sun dancing were quite sec- ondary, as most visions came at home. The effects of visionary blessing, once achieved, were twofold. In the first place, such a blessing gave the aspirant confidence, crystal- lized his experience, and sanctioned his own spe- cial methods. Second, when the power came as a bequest or through sleeping by a dead shaman's grave, imitation of the mentor's actions and iden- tification with his personality were important. Didactic teaching --In addition to mythology and morals, most instruction in specific arts and-/ crafts--the proper wood for clubs, or bows, etc.-- was of this sort. Older people of both sexes under took this for the young. Guided imitation and imitative plax.--Three i instances of guided imitation occur in the record making dolls according to mother's patterns, ante' lope hunting under adult supervision, and the Magpie brawl emulating feats in battle. Many game imitated household duties, battle and scalping, e Drill and learning by rote,--Drill became fairly important in military training in late Plains days. 54 Outside of this, crystallized learning was little in evidence. No fixed reli- gious songs, formulas, or complicated dance steps.- existed; everywhere, individual variation and achievement were allowable. The technical processe of Shoshone economy and science were too simple to demand much rote learning. There was no tribal cal endar. Counting reached into the thousands only with the aid of sticks; they did not use any com- plicated system of credit and exchange. Thus, Sho- shone education comprised successive, more perfect" approximations of a cultural whole rather than the perfect, isolated learning of separated special parts. (In this it was like that of Fortes' Tale, not our own.) INCENTIVES TO EDUCATION These are also given according to their ap- proximate importance. Immediate benefits.--These are functions of the fact that most teaching situations were also real in terms of benefit or harm. Praise and status.--Early life gave few op- portunities for praise: one did not honor a child's birthday, or his first tooth, etc. For boys, racing, wrestling, and archery came to public notice, but little really praiseworthy could happen before first participation in war. Later, military success, shamanism, etc., opened many other possibilities, which declined with increasing feebleness in old age. Girls had ephemeral fame as hockey players, or for their 53 See also Shilmiin, l947c. looks. Then they had little chance for acclaim until old age, when hard-won skill in crafts, midwifery, etc., as well as old age and the cessation of menstruation in itself, gave def- inite status. Relative age was cause for deference. My impression is that the Shoshone are (?) and were highly matter-of-fact, little given to ac- claim. Ridicule,--Young warriors gathered to mock fops in songs. Cousins of opposite sex twitted each other concerning their unmarried state, and thus hastened marriages. But there was no organ- ized system of control comparable to Plains joking 54 Shimkin, 1942. I. i l I" A 11 .I I .A. 310 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPIENT AIMONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE elationships55 or Eskimo ceremonial mockery.56 idicule was a minor coercive weapon. Supernatural sanctions.--These were of three Lajor sorts: bogeymen for young children, taboos ad private witchcraft. The first two have been iscussed. The last acted to protect the physi- ally weak (cf. the story of the wife of White orse, p. 297), or gave an extra weapon to the ntisocial (Polly Shoyo's second husband). In oth these situations supernatural sanction ielped aberrancy. Physical punishment.--Corporal punishment of 11 sorts developed only in connection with the nternal discipline of boys' gangs and men's orseplay. Beyond these it was virtually absent. egal punishment by a championing friend or an irate husband might include a beating or even death. But that depended in good part on the cul- prit's power of resistance or of flight. Public ceremonial beatings or torture were non- existent. The Sun Dance involved only fasting and thirsting. Women in mourning gashed their legs at most; one never cut off a finger joint as a memo- rial. The purpose of all beatings that took place was punitive. There was no idea (as among the Ho9i)57 that one should whip all the boys of an age group, for example, for the delicts of one (a process which presumably strengthened collective respon- sibility, and the boys' spirit of unity). There was no whipping of any sort as an ordeal of man- hood. THE DEVELOPI{ENT OF THE SOCIAL SPHERE The concept of the social sphere has been bor- owed, with modification, from Fortes. As I use t, the term means the psychological summstion f the sociopsychological factors involved in per- onality adjustment. It describes the interaction C two major types of social phenomena: the pos- tive pressures of society on the person and the imiting framework for behavioral diversity. This nteraction determines the crises in the growth i personality and, rithin certain limits, the ourse of such growth. My formulation for the Wind River Shoshone is quite sketchy, and must be regarded as highly tentative, both factually and conceptually. (See tables 1 and 2.) It should help, however, to di- rect future, more purposeful research. In both tables there is a division according to sex, since men and women had quite different social universes. This division is the only sig- nificant one in the tribe; the Shoshone had no classes, social mobility at all levels being ex- tremely pronounced TABLE 1 Pressures on the Individual (No. of pluses denotes degree of pressure implementing behavior; minuses denote inhibition; pluses-and-minuses (?) represent an ambivalent attitude of simultaneous en- couragement and repression) Socialization Dependency Competition Conformity Recognition Prestige Ages of difference_ ____ M W M~ W ~ M W M W M W M WL 0-1.... ++++ ++++ + + +++ +++ 1-5.... + + +++ +++ ++ ++ + + + + 5-12... ++++ + + ++ ++++ ++ +?++ + + + ++ + 12-25.. +++ ++ + ++++ ++ ++++ +++ -. + +++ ++ 25-50.. ++ ++ __ + +++ +++ +++ ++ ++++ ++ ++++ ++ 50+.... +++ +++ + ++ +++ ++ ++ + +++ ++ +++ +++ Table 1 includes six factors. "Socialization" means the degree to which the gdividual normally participated in group life. p to five years of age it was weak for both exes. Boys, however, were thrown into an intense ocial life once they were old enough to join gngs. After puberty, they either remained so- ialized, joining warriors' societies, participat- xg in sex activities, and so on; or else they thdrew into the isolation of berdachism. Later, amily life reduced interest in social activity. 55For example, Lowie, 1935, 17 ff. Rasmussen, 231 ff. In old age, finally, lessened responsibilities usually allowed a man's reen'trance into the so- cial sphere, although largely in the role of counselor. Women, in contrast to men, participated steadily in a restricted but ever-growing social group. In old age, as in early childhood, the so- cialization of the sexes was about equal. "Dependency" is self-explanatory. In regard to it, the fact is worth noting that women were never completely self-supporting. "Competition" took place at different ages among 57Dennis. I I I 311 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS the two sexes, and was directed toward different goals by men and women. Among boys, competition was intense and centered around physical prowess. After puberty, it remained keen, but the goals were diversified. Prestige in war and hunting, and sexual success seemed equally worth while. Furthermore, some individuals could flee competi- tion entirely, as berdaches. In adulthood and old age competition lessened, but was still important. But so many avenues of satisfaction--hunting, re- ligion, crafts, war, counseling--were open that effective pressure on individuals steadily low- ered. Among girls, competition was never very in- tense. For example, since they were given away in marriage by their parents, they did not have to compete actively for spouses. Nevertheless, a peak of competition did occur in middle age, when a woman's weakening attraction as a wife led to desertion or when she was left a widow. Then se- curing a satisfactory adjustment--a new husband or other support--was often difficult. "Conformity" or discipline was rigorous in the first year for both sexes. The cradle restrained physical activity; siblings restrained vocal ac- tivity. On the other hand, life was very free in the several years following, with much opportu- nity to release pent-up emotions. After five years of age the course of male and female development was quite different. Boys had to follow the code of "he-boys" strictly. Youths could be dashing warriors, elegant but disliked fops, or lowly berdaches. Maintaining the standards of a dashing warrior or a successfully seducing fop was diffi- cult. With increasing age, pressure to conform decreased. The overcautious fighter, for instance, could often become a well-respected medicine man or craftsman. At the same time, he could protect his pet idiosyncracies by appeal to supernatural sanctions. As a result, when old 1ge arrived a man could do much as he pleased. Girls had to follow a strict code in the years around menarche; they were supposed to be shy and virtuous. Soon they were married off. Marriage, with babies and a jealous husband, confined activities even fur- ther. The menstrual hut, however, provided a fo- cus for a somewhat freer although wholly feminine social life. In middle age need for conformity decreased. Women's marital obligations lessened or ceased as the husband's potency diminished. In any case, philandering was in order. Additional freedom was afforded by greater occupational choices at this age--crafts, midwifery, and sha- manism. As a result, the last were the freest years for women as for men. "Recognition of differences" in ability or achievement was virtually nonexistent until ado- lescence for either sex. After that, prowess in hunting, war, or philandering differentiated suc- cessful boys. Girls' achievements were fewer and less important--good looks and running ability were the principal ones. With adulthood, recogni- tion widened for men but not for women. The former could now be active warriors, chiefs, shamans, etc. In old age, however, virtual equality of the sexes was in evidence. Men could still be crafts-, men, for example, yet some of their activities, such as hunting or war, would be ended. Women cou now gain distinction as shamans, midwives, etc. "Prestige" centered primarily around the adult men. Beyond them, young warriors shared in adula". Ition and power. Old men and women were either highly respected or greatly neglected. Other in- dividuals had little prestige. In short, social pressures were about the ssmei on both sexes in early childhood and old age. In the prime of life, however, they were far strong although ambivalent--on men than on women. Ex- pectable among the men, therefore, would be the cultivation both of positive personalities, acti and aggressive, withstanding such pressures, and-, of negative personalities--berdaches--succumbing to them. Furthernore, the frequent critical peaks of pressure in men's lives would be conducive to considerable anxiety and moodiness. Among women such overt extremes would be rare. Rather, for women, either complex personalities with private systems of motivation or dull, unformulated per- sonalities with a minimum of motivation seem most likely. Table 2 considers six vectors. First is the set of approved "Goals" for each sex at various ages. These goals were virtually parallel for men and women; the principal difference lay in the emphasis upon physical dominance and prestige among men, and the importance of sex and family life among women. In both sexes canalization of other ambitions, for example, a sexual factor in the men's search for physical dominance, might be expected. "Companionship" determines the framework with- in which the closer emotional ties of the "In- group" have their being. It is important to note that the mother, grandparents, and older sisters formed the earliest social nucleus for both sexes. Men did not participate in early education. Con- sequently, primary emotional fixations, positive or negative, among Shoshone of both sexes must have been directed toward women. At a later age, the social groupings of the sexes differentiated. Boys participated almost completely in a mascu- line society. Youths had contact with women, but irregularly; liaisons rather than marriage were their purpose. Even adult men only gradually de- veloped a satisfactory marital and family adjust-, ment. As results of these facts, homosexual tendencies (for example, such horseplay as rump- ing), adolescent fantasies (for instance, bes- tialism with female bears), libertine excesses (foppery), and constant uncertainty and fear in marriage were exceedingly common among men. Fur- thermore, even well-adjusted men were absorbed in masculine pursuits and masculine society and had only secondary interest in women and home life. Among women, in contrast, companionship with both sexes was continuous, although marriage was usu- ally sudden, unromantically forced on the girl by her parents. Consequently, women had a much more realistic set of emotional attachments than men. I ... l11 q 7 312 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPlENT AIIONG THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE TABLE 2 The Framework for Behavioral Diversity among Men and Women GOals Companionship In-group Activities Prestige outlets Physical space Ages 0-1... Physical Physical Mother Mother Mother Mother Cradle- Home care, care, board boara attention attention 1-5.... Attention, Attention, Grand- Grand- Primary Primary Walking, Walking, Home, Home, care care parents, parents, family family talking talking men- men- muscie muscie older older or its or its strual strual control, control, sisters sisters substi- substi- hut hut early sex early sex tute tute 5-12... Physical Physical Boy age- Grand- Boys' Primary Play, Play, Physical Foot- Home, Home, dominance, skills, mates, parents, gang, family hunting, care of skills racing rela- men- independ- family parents younger primary or its travel younger tives' strual onee support, siblings family substi- siblings home hut sex tute 12-25.. Prestige, Sex, Boy Age- Husband, Boys' Chil- Travel, Gather- War, Beauty, Wide Home, sex, family mates, parents, and dren, war, ing hunting, foot- tra- men- physical support older children men's parents, reli- chiid (fop- racing, vels, strual domiinance physical men, socie- husband gion? care pery) gam- in- hut crafts girls ties, hunting bling laws' and skills girls homes 25-50.. Prestige, Family Wife, Husband, Wife, Chil- Hunting, Gather- Hunting, Shaman- Some (Tra- family support, in-laws, children men's dren, reli- ing, reli- ism, travel, vel as support, attention, young socie- husband gion crafts, gion craft- home widow sex sex men ties, crafts, child crafts, skill? or de- craft, children chil- war, care, war, gambling serted) skills dren counsel- religion counsel- ing ing 50+.... Prestige, Prestige, Chil- Chil- Chil- Chil- Counsel- Crafts, Counsel- Shaman- Home Home, physical craft- dren, dren, dren, dren, ing, re- reli- ing? re- ism, mid- men- care, skill, in-laws, in-laws, in- in- ligion, gion ligion, wifery, strual attention physical young joung laws laws crafts chilA crafts craft- hut care, people, people, care, skill, attention men women counsel- counsel- I___ friends friends I ling ling_I t the same time, however, far greater affection as lavished upon children than upon the spouse. The "Activities," "Prestige Outlets," and hysical Space" of travel were much more exten- ve for men than for women, as we have pointed ut elsewhere.58 Most men enjoyed far greater 5 8Shimkin, 1947a. intellectual activity and poEsessed far broader mental horizons than most women. One area was closed to other than very young boys, however. This was the menstrual hut. Probably, exclusion from it fostered curiosity, fantasy, even anxiety among boys and youths concerning menstruation and birth. But this statement is speculation, for I have not inquired into the point. I I 313 SOME PERSONALITIES AND LIFE HISTORIES The previous data on Shoshone development, as well as their theoretical summation, describe a general system of norms within this society. But how did actual individuals fit these norms, either in their life histories or in their personalities? My materials are insufficient to answer these questions in detail. Nevertheless, four case studies, those of two men and two women, serve to point out the grosser features of indi- vidual variability in personality and life history., PIVO BROWN Pivo,59 who died in 1938 as a very old man, spent his early manhood under typical prereser- vation conditions. While I could not elicit the full details of his childhood, he apparently spent it happily. Later, he traveled very exten- sively, going to visit relatives among the Ute as a boy, wandering with a small band east of Standing Rock, South Dakota, as a youth. He fought in numerous engagements, both under abo- riginal conditions and as a scout for the U. S. Army during the Bannock and Nez Perce wars. When the hard years of reservation life came, he was active in seeking adjustment for the tribe. He was among the first to adopt peyotism and one of the major leaders of the Sun Dance. Also, he was industrious and adaptable, achieving reasonable prosperity. His family life was uneventful. He married early and remained with his wife until her death some years ago. He had many children, whom he raised well. One of his sons, grown prosperous in recent years, took care of him in his old age. The affection Pivo lavished on his young grand- children, the grief which his children manifested at his death showed clearly the kindliness of his nature. In short, Pivo's life history was exception- ally smooth, his adjustatent highly satisfactory; his personality was, indeed, unusually sensitive., rich, and mature. Mythology as he, in contrast to many others, related it, was full of insights into human conduct, of vivid characterizations, of strong, artistic control of plot and word. He did not repress customary Shoshone obscenity and lewdness; neither did he revel in it. He did not convert grim Shoshone stories into Cinderella tales; neither did he prolong the accounts of ag- onies with sadistic fervor. In other words, he revealed himself as sane and balanced, without strong, unsatisfied internal pressures. His autobiography was a revealing narrative, remarkable in its compass and objectivity. He did not spare himself in telling of his fright in war or his minor misdeeds. Yet he also had a healthy self-respect, and made invidious compar- isons with others more boastful than he, but not as brave. At the same time, his life story showed many experiences, orientations, and anxieties common to most Shoshone men. For example, he spent most of his time hunting and traveling. He exhibited no interest in women or family life; 59See also Shimkin, 1947b and 1942. men s matters were his exclusive concern. Finally, worry about the theft of horses by enemies and the fear of death at their hands were recurrent. The following excerpt from his long account tells of his trip to South Dakota in 1877-1879. It gives a vivid picture of men's everyday lives in those days and shows Pivo's reactions to such con- ditions. We traveled to the east along Po'howiyar,60 down to Powder River. We were following buffalo, We camped there. We went down to the river, by the soldiers' winter camp. We stopped this side of the camp. There was a store there. The storekeeper told us there were many buffalo to the east that had been driven down across Powder River. Next morning we started again. We split up there, Some followed Powder River; some--our bunch--went to the southeast. We went all day, past Devil's Tower. We stopped by a big flat. We went to Sand Creek, and stopped there all night. The next morning old man Tu:'nkunt (Rope) (he was the band chief) told me to get on a horse, look for buffalo. We went ahead. Finally, I saw some- tihing black and scattered. I came back to the bunch and told them of it. They got on their horses and rode there. The women remained behind. Soon we sneaked around. We saw them lying down. We got ready, mounted, and went running. The buf- falo saw us, and ran too. We killed two bulls, and butchered them. Near our butchering place we saw a log house. Our women-folk came up and camped to one side of it, White people from the house came over with food, potatoes. We had two Utes with us. One of them a one-legged fellow with a crutch, talked a little - English. We camped around a while. At last the whi man told us there were lots of buffalo to the sout east. "Let's get ready to go that way." In the morning we went. We camped in the evenin in the cottonwood trees, at the first little water. Next morning some of us saw many buffalo to the ea We decided to chase them. We went and chased them over on our good horses. I killed two; others kill manyr. We packed everything away except the paunche8 We were eating buffalo meat. Next day Pisu' (Flatus, Tom Wesaw's grandfather)` and his band, who had separated from us, rejoined o group. With him were his sons and relatives. They stayed with us. It was snowing; there was too much; wind all the time. Tu:nkunt and Pi6u' talked together about going- after more buffalo. The next day we got ready. We packed and went. We traveled all day. About evening For geographic locations see Shimkin, 1947a. [3141 "-a ?j .'m -A ?,l I ::~ A ? I CTILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG TEE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE we saw many tipis. We camped some distance away i[a few hundred yards, Pivo pointed]. We saw much meat hanging from poles, drying. Finally we said, '"If they're enemies, we'll visit them anyway. They might feed us." When we came there, the people watched us. We went to one camp. These were Arapaho, who split Fus up, and assigned us to different tipis. There was a mountain northwest of the camp and a river running south..It was a great tall rock by the river, Standing Rock River. Then they fed us boiled buffalo meat. They are going to cook for us. Then we are going to at. Then they told me and Ka"nawiyu (Quitan Quay) to feed our people as waiters. After a while, I heard sometniing outside, as though some- thing heavy had fallen on the ground. It was the uloading of buffalo meat, fresh meat. They rought it into the tipi. I saw fat, fresh buf- alo meat. We served our people, and we cheated a little, aking extra for ourselves. All ate lots of meat. hen they were through, they sat. Then they were sked if they wanted to eat again. "Yes," they aid. So the Arapaho boiled more, and all ate pore. We waiters no longer cheated. Now all were 'ull. After we got through, the Arapaho chief talked o us in signs. He reached back and took a stick. [e stuck it in a sack, then pulied out a long red ipe. He cleaned the pipe, stuck it back in the ack, filled it with tobacco and lighted it. When he had finished smoking with the Shoshone, he Arapaho told us, "In the morning, when you o, you must be wise. There are many Sioux to the orthwest. They might fight with you." Then we ent home to sleep. Next morning we left. We looked to the south- ast. We saw a great herd of buffalo. It was about pring now. We said, when we saw the buffalo, Let's wait until the morning and rest." We camped there that night. We took our horses o where there was much grass, a low place. Some ent to bed, some stayed up telling stories. Soon e heard something: horses running away from amp. We knocked over the fire. We sat and lis- ened. After a while, one chief (Pisapuci, Pi6u"s on) got up with his gun. He said, "I can do noth- ng. I am on foot now. On horseback I can do some- hing; on foot, nothing." Then they all stood up; they were on foot now. e fellow said, "What are you going to do about ur horses? Who's going over there to see if our orses are still there?" I and another fellow, DiVkawingint, said, "We'll o over to see where the horses are." Pi6apuci said. "When you go over and see some- ody, don't get separated. If there's any shoot- ng, don't be separated." We went quietly, slowly. We looked around, but eard nothing. There was a little moonlight. We aw a bunch of black together, and we said aybe these are our horses." We couldn't tell. e other fellow told me, "If anybody is stealing hem, they shQuld be running." So we went over, d drove them back, and caught them. Pisapuci had a good pinto. He caught it now ied it up, and said, "I'll chase anything with it ow." He was brave when it was all over. He said, e'll all catch our horses now. We'll use them arly in the morning." All caught the.ir own now, d tied them up. Now we slept well. We got on our horses. The buffalo were still where they had been before. We rode spread out. They said, "The buffalo are too thick to run, too crowded together." We started loping now, and caught up. I was on a good horse at first. Next time I lent my horse to my brother [cousin] Pi'gonya. But he was sick, and fell with the horse into a clump of cactus. We started to run, and I killed seven head, one after another. I was a fast butcher, so I butch- ered them. After we got through chasing, they said, "Leave the meat covered with hides. We'll get it on the way back." Next morning we came back to the place of our meat. We loaded it. We went to the northwest. A little distance away there were many white people with covered wagons. Some were on foot, carrying guns. There were buffalo there. The white people started shooting at the beasts to drive them away. We didn't talk with the whites. After we saw the white people, we camped. Next morning Tu:nkunt said, "What do you think, boys? We'll have another buffalo chase." Then I and Pi'gonya saw a big herd to the north. We got on our horses. Pi'gonya killed four head. While we were chasing, Tu:nkunt's good-looking horse (he had got it from a Ute) couldn't catch up with the buffalo. So I gave him a head. When we got through butchering the second bunch of buffalo, we had many fires burning (drying meat). Old man Tu:nkunt said, "Well, boys I guess we've got enough meat. What do you think'. Let's go home." We left the others Pisapuci's band. They hadn't killed anything yet; they couldn't kill because their horses were too slow. They decided to try to get some buffalo though. They said they would camp below Standing Rock. We packed our horses, we went. Next morning, there were Texas longhorns with those bison. Tu:nkunt headed off after them alone. We two boys watched him. He went to that herd. The old man got in a bunch of them. I heard a gun pop; he killed one cow. When we got over the hill, we saw many tents. This was the place where we were going to camp, this was by Standing Rock. We saw many cattle on this side of it, and white people. We decided to keep on going. About sundown we camped. Tu:nkunt now came up with lots of beef on his horse. He was sitting in the midst of beef. We told Tu:nkunt, when he got over there, to get off while we would unload his horse. After we had unloaded the meat, we sliced and pounded and cooked some. After the beef was cooked, we started to chew some. It tasted better than buffalo meat. We camped and went to sleep. We got up early in the morning because we had much to pack. We came slowly. We started from the side of Standing Rock. We camped by a little stream. Next day we were com- ing; we were coming all day. In the evening we came to camp where we had left the women. We stayed for a while, drying the meat, working hides. Plsapuci's band came way after, many nights afterward. They also had their meat though. Pretty soon there was snow, then rain, which melted it. Everything was icy. There was nothing for the horses to eat. Lots of horses froze to death, all were pretty thin. We stood and looked around. We saw many cattle standing up, frozen to death. Tu:nkunt's wife went I I 315 1A4THROPOLOGICAL RECORDS there. She cut them open, and took their fe- tuses out. We ate them. There was too much aind. Toward spring, Tu:nkunt said, "Let's move away from here." We left Pisapuci, whose people were still tanning hides. So we traveled west now. When we moved from there we caiqe this way, toward the log cabin [mentioned previously]. We started from there in the morning with our beef. Our horses were thin. When we got to the cabin we camped at the place where we had been before. Next morning the white people went to our camp. They bought our colts, at a dollar a head in money. Next morning we went again. We got to Grass Creek. We passed Grass Creek. We camped now on this side of Grass Creek. When we started, we came again to a little open place without water. We used rain-water puddles to drink. When we came next day from there we were close to Big [Cheyenne?] River. There was snow in the mountains. Tu:nkunt said, "We can use this snow for water." From there, we got to Big River, where Tagi:"s band had split up.61 We went along the river. We camped there. We had all the water we wanted. We came by the river. It had floating ice on it. Next morning we went from Big River. We came; were coming all day. We got to the store this side of Big River. Soldiers used to be there once. When we -ot there, we had only meat to eat. All the Indians were coming back at this time. There was a saloon at this store. All the Indi- ans bought liquor, as much as they could get for the money from their colts, armfuls of liquor bottles. Tu:nkunt told us two boys, "Go ahead and go to camp right away. Pull out early in the morn- ing. The Indians here use no-good water. White man's water makes you crazy." We came next morning, leaving the others. We got to Powder River and traveled by it. We reached the turn, and crossed the river. We came to where it runs north, and crossed it again. Then we went past it, and on to Po'howiyar. We went south of it, and through the pass itself (Po'howiyap). We saw a trail: signs of dragging travois poles. The travelers must have been Shoshone, a different band of them. After that we followed the track. We came to an open place. We saw some- thing going over the hill. We said, "What is that? Maybe that's they, this other band." We hurried after them, trotting our horses. Pretty soon we saw many tents. We knew these for Shoshone, and felt happy to be back safe. Wiaen we had caught up with the main band, I knew one man of them, a good friend. I went to my friend's camp. An old woman walked my horse, and unloaded it for me. We stayed for a while. The main band had also been buffalo hunting. They are coming back here now. They packed up. Everyone is coming. They got to Little Wind River, to Big Wind River. We camped there many days. The new grass was an inch tall now. We came back home. We camped at the junction of- North Fork and Big Wind River. All came back now. P-iapucils and Tagi"s bands. had been drinking. There had been killings, they told us. One Shoshone, E: 'dirimp, was pretty drunk, He killed a man, slit his belly open so the guts fell out. One man saw this, and told another, a friend of the one killed, of it. The latter, Ba'ho'omp shot E:'dirimp. I don't know what they did with the bodies when they moved. After that, we did nothing. JOHN McADAMS McAdams,62 now in his late sixties, is a man who grew up in the early days of the reservation. His father was a white cowboy who greatly neg- lected his family. Consequently, John attached himself emotionally to Shoshone ways and ideals, an attachment facilitated by the social impor- tance of his mother's family which included such people as Pa: 'si (Bazil5 and his mother, Sacajawea, Lewis and Clark's guide. Nevertheless, John's marginal position in terms of blood, edu- cation, and experience prevented genuine assim- ilation. He sometimes confused and equated the practices of various Indian tribes; he was some- what prudish. He tried very hard to achieve success in shamanism, in the Sun Dance, but failed to gain personal satisfaction or social recognition. Because of this failure to gain notable suc- cess, he has assumed a rather critical, non- co6perative attitude in regard to the strivings of others. The modern Sun Dance, for example, 61Tagi: was one of the principal Indian lead- ers in the Bannock war of 1878-1879. 62see also Shimkin, 1947b and 1947c. is completely a travesty on the original, he says. He drinks fairly heavily. Notwithstanding the peculiarities of John's life and his mild maladjustment, his childhood ex- periences were typical. Furthermore, his attitudes, particularly on the relations between the sexes, are definitely common to most Shoshone. His brief autobiography follows: My father (a white man) was working with the cattle all the time. He used to whip me well. I tried to get away from him and so I spent most of my time with my maternai grandfather, Pa: 'si. n As a boy I joined in mud wars, or kicking fights. We would get bows and arrows and hunt rabbits. Maybe we would get thirty or forty. Then we'd bring them home for a feast. Pa: 'si taught all ofX us how to make arrow points and bows. He taught me what was right and wrong. I started boarding school at about seven. The teacher drew pictures on the blackboard. He didn't' care. We got nowhere, and always wanted to run away. I stayed about five years. After I did run away from [Rev. John) Roberts' school I would go around chicken coops and suck eggs. bnce, I did that, and a young chicken fell into my mouth. That broke me. I I L I I I 316 CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT AMONG TIHE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE I watched people buying goods. There was an Arapaho who forgot some cans. We went on, ate the cans of strawberries. They came up, asked us about it, but we knew nothing. Often we'd get horses up by Ray Lake. Each would catch what he thought was the fastest. We'd race bareback. The loser got thumped on his hand with a fingernail fifteen times, so that it would swell. He might bet his forehead next. We spent all day horse racing. There were no chores to do. We played throwing arrows, four-stick dice, in winter especially. We got some twine, then strung together a couple of frogs as a team, with a wil- low behind. Then we would start whipping them. They would jump in every direction. When I was fifteen I started hunting big game. At eighteen I shot my one and only buffalo, out in the Red Desert. I ran it dowm on horseback. When I was about five, my stepmother brought me to my first, Sun Dance. She swam her horse across the river to get there. As a boy, I used to dance the Round [Ghost] Dance all winter long, every few weeks. But the girls there were mostly my relatives. I had nothing to do with them. I thought the Wolf Dance was a war dance. They had to coax me to get in [he later became the Wolf Dance leader]. When I first saw white people dance, it looked funny to me, having them hug each other, and trying to get between the girl's i legs. [Lynn St. Clair tells me that even today no Shoshone will dance with any female relative except his wife's or sweetheart's sister.] First, I worked for Roberts, weeding at five dollars a month. I was twelve then. At eighteen, I started work for the government as a teamster for the Agent. I'd build a fire in the office. I worked for thir.ty years after that. I had about three hundred chickens. I quit the government and went up the river after cat- tle. Someone stole half my chickens. Then I went into the pig business. I bought hogs, and fat- tened them. I made thirty dollars [sic] on each. When I was about thirty-eight I built a home. I had been a bachelor. I got a woman. The parents asked me to marry. They thought I was fooling with her. They wanted me to marry before she got pregnant. I got forty head of cattle, When I was thirty-eight, I first went in a Sun Dance. I've been in ten Sun Dances. Never got any [supernatural] power; I've no box. I'd still like to get it. I go to church pretty regularly. Only once I missed it on Decoration Day [a pop- ular Shoshone holiday]. I had to take care of my little boy. I had no way to get there or send word. When I got to be fifty, I started talking to my people. They all listened to me. [He became an Indian judge]. I was all friendly with the white people. If any visitors were ordered off, I would intercede. If any of our men got into trouble, we would go to town and get him out on bond or parole. There was a lot of trouble over liquor. But now they don't bother if they are just drunk, as long as they don't annoy anyone. POLLY SHOYO Polly Shoyo63 (Po'po i) was more than ninety, the oldest woman on the reservation, at the time of her death in 1937. She was a remarkable per- son, highly intelligent but tense and nervous. Her life history was absolutely typical, but she reacted to her experiences far more sensitively and far more intensely than did the average woman. Yet her basic attitudes were typically feminine; children and family life were her fundamental in- terests; men's societies, war, and hunting con- cerned her very little. She made a strong impression on me; conse- quently I can tell much about her personality. Very small, almost incredibly withered and wea- zened, she was no longer very active, and had to use a stick to help herself when walking. She spent most of her time sitting in the sun or in- side her hut. Yet she was lively, laughing a great deal, and talking almost incessantly de- spite her very poor hearing and the indistinct Fnunciation caused by a virtual absence of teeth. Ser eyesight was still good, her mind unaffected by her great age--unless one could attribute to age a certain inability or unwillingness to stick to the discussion of a given subject. Her memory, she herself stated, was beginning to fade. Most typically she would sit on her left heel, with her feet to the right; her arms crossed on her lap. Often she would lean forward, patting the ground aimlessly with one hand, smoothing 63 See also Shimkin, 1947b. out the dirt. In washing, I saw her do what she herself denied as a feminine practice. She took water into her mouth, squirted it over her hands, then rubbed her face with them, finally drying them on her hair. When I knew her, she (like most of the other old people) lived alone in a small log cabin near the one of her son and daughter-in-law, who took care of her in a somewhat haphazard fashion. The furnishings of her cabin were poor, even by local standards. Her ancient blue dress, its fantasti- cally dirty apron, and the blanket around her shoulders were of store-bought materials, but on her feet--as on those of practically all elderly women here--were undecorated native women's moc- casins. Generally, she was not friendly toward white people. But she had, seemingly, a great liking for my interpreter, Marshall Washakie, which re- flected on me; and he was very respectful to her (thus, he always addressed her as hiigo, "old woman," never by her name), so our rel6tions were cordial. Very rarely did visitors come to inter- rupt our work. Working, Marshall would loudly repeat to her a question I would put before him. Hearing a part of it, she would immediately use that as a jumping- off place for a long harangue that, interwoven with anecdotes, would usually end in a doleful, but resigned, complaint about the way the world was going to hell. After a while, Marshall would succeed in damming her flow of conversation, think 317 318 ANTHROPOLOGIC. over her remarks, then give me any fruitful statements she might have made. My ethnographic notes are thus, in essence, these interpreta- tions of Marshall's, somewhat rewritten and re- organized. There was in Polly Shoyo a constant opposition between minute, sensitive apperception and driv- ing, dogmatic, mental restlessness. For example, her discussion of women's daily life was vivid, feelingful. After breakfast, the woman would take a raw- hide rope, and go to the brush to get wood. She'd pick up branches, or use an obsidian ax to hack them. It was very painful work. The rawhide was laid down, and the sticks across it, thus [Polly sketched the details in the sand with her finger.] Then the free ends were slipped over like this: She would now sit down and tie the ropes around her shoulders. On her back she had a buffalo robe, tied in front, to keep the sticks from wearing her skin raw. In wintertime this was a particularly bitter and heartbreaking task. If it was cold and stormy, she would have to go out nearly every day. Wood in these grassy plains is very scarce. It is found only in the vegetation of the streams. So she might have to go out in a blizzard, with nothing covering her head. She would stagger under her heavy load with the help of a stick. Sometimes some of her loose hair might be caught between the sticks. Painfully, they would tear them out. It was not always as painful as this. A lucky woman might have a pack horse to help haul wood. And, if camp was moved before all the precious wood was gpne, it would be loaded on a spare beast and carried to the next stop. But anyway, vwhen she returned from her wood gathering about the middle of the day, she could not eat. Aer husband had not returned with game, AL RECORDS and she had to wait until he did. This was usual in the late afternoon, when they ate the second meal of the day. Up to that time she slept, ex- hausted. Contrasting with this vivid description was ; Polly's frequent cutting-down of tales to bare es sentials. What could be starker than this? We feared Bull Lake. Magical buffalo bulls live underneath its waters. Once a man saw them. He c back to his people and told them of it. Soon he got sick. He vomited little rocks and sand. He d I could never imagine her insisting, as Tassitsiej did, on the twentyfold repetition of a phrase and, its variants purely for the rhythmical effects and the achievement of a ceremonial number. Her mental peregrinations included many subjecX One may cite natural history. Once, when we were hunting buffalo, we saw a bull1 coming up a creek, a bear coming down it. They :-, stopped. We wondered what would happen. The two came together, passed each other. The bear jumped X' on the bull's head. The bull tossed the bear, thenX hit him again, two or three times. There was noth ing left of the bear. Occasionally she speculated slightly. The river at Cody is called Pa: 'nawui (water look- ing-glass). It reflects just like a mirror. I wonder why. But she never exhibited the metaphysical interests- of, say, Charley Nipwater, or sought information about the customs of other tribes, as did Dick Washakie. Rather, her questions were rhetorical, her attention to my interpreter's inquiries was superficial. For she was really always pounding at a few favorite themes. She emphasized the strong sentimental attachment, between old women and their grandchildren. The aged would use the proceeds from their skill at making parfleches and other things to get necessities or luxuries for their beloved young people. They taught morals. They were loved, and loved fiercely in return. Nothing could make that clearer than Polly Shoyo's tale of the grandmother's revenge for her grandson's death. On the other hand, she was quite passive or negative in her attitudes to- ward sexual partners. And the world is certainly getting no better. Her attitudes toward native beliefs and super- stitions varied between complete faith and critical skepticism according to her own tenets. People are afraid of gophers. When you see one on top of the ground, dead, you are sure to lose some relative. I believe it myself. In front of my house it's always clear. But one morning I saw a dead gopher, for the first time, in front of my door. Soon, my husband died. In contrast to this was her occasional skepticisi *1. CHILDHOOD AND DEVELOPMENT =IONG THE WIND RIVER SHIOSHONE I know the na'rayar [Round, or Ghost Dance] from way back. Bult lately I heard that if they keep on dancing that way, the dead will come back alnd the white people vanish, blow away. In the oid Cays, nobody fainted at the dance, but, later, a nan or a woman would drop, as though in a faint. t that time he would have a dream, talk to some person, get medicine. When the Bannock came, they told our people that it was the dead that made them faint. Faint- ing in the dance started only with the Bannock. I didn't believe this myself. That's the rea- 3on I didn't believe it. They never di-d it before fin a Round Dance]. Her ambivalence in belief often expressed it- self in the quick variations between hopeful Lolk phantasy and grim realism that followed one aother in the succession of her tales. A man on a war party weakened, and could not ceep up the pace. Finally, they had to leave him Behind, alone. Thus he stayed for many days, ungry, dying. Finally a big wolf came up, with iouth open and bloody. WJolf said to the man: 'Now, if you take this power I give you, you'll Peel as though you had eaten. You will go back to your own people. Think of me always and you fill never go hungry." The man did so, and, his ntrength revived, returned to his people. From that time on, when there was snow in rinter and there was no game, he could go out all lay, barefooted, and never feel the cold. That ras the power given to him by Wolf. In contrast to this: nother time, when men went on the warpath like his, two were left behind. One left the other, d went on. He reached his people, The other tarved to death. Grimness was a theme which she could also en- joy for its own sake. Even more than sex and ob- cenity, it was an area of tenseness that always eld potentialities of humor--some of it strange to our minds. Thus, one noon, when we were relax- ng from work, she began to regale Marshall with story which, from the loud guffaws of laughter hat came from both of them, was apparently very unny. Curious, I asked him what it was: When Polly was visiting the Crow, the latter old her of a time they were feuding with the lackfoot. One night a Blackfoot sneaked in, hrough the guards, into one man's tipi. Skill- ully, with a single cut, he decapitated him. In the morning, the man's mother called him o get up. He did not awake. His wife shook him, hen pulled back the covers to find a headless ody. All started screaming and crying. Such was the woman whose tale follows. My parents had five children, two boys and three girls, of whom I alone survive. My eldest sister died when she was about forty-five. I was seventeen or eighteen then. The second eldest lived to thirty or thirty-five. The boys were I twins younger than I (they bore the same name-- Wawanhi--for they were twins). One died at seven, the other at eight. My mother said I was born somewhere over the mountains but since I have known things I have lived mostly near Fort Washakie. As a child I played with anything: toys out of mud. I was pretty happy then; not very noisy. Only girls played together, my sisters and I; we never played with my brothers. I was twelve or thirteen before I started working, helping my mother. I be- gan berrying as a good-sized girl; dancing as a young woman. But I didn't notice any young man es- pecially. My mother didn't allow me to talk to young men. The only gambling I have ever done has been to play the four-stick game when I was young; and only with other women. I have never played the hand gamne raced, or tried other games. At my first menstruation, my mother told me everything. I didn't feel well then; I was scared. Other girls at that time don't like it either: they go around crying, for they don't know what has happened. But the older women quiet their ex- excitement, stop their crying, and explain. I felt like a woman after this ready to be married. (Now that I am old, I am just like a man. It is a great change..) My father had died when I was very young. My mother was remarried to his elder brother, but he died too. Then, soon after I had reached puberty, she also died. After her death, her brother Ka'roki took us all in. With him also lived my mother's mother, the only one of my grandparents I ever knew. Some time later, my uncle told me that a young man wanted to marry me. "It would be better to marry him. He will take care of you." I said, "Yes." I didn't like that man, but the old fellow told me to marry him. Finally, I got used to the man, Te:'gwanuki. (I never spoke to any of my mothers-in-law, but I speak to my present dau,hter-in-law. I never spoke to my son-in-law.)64 I got th^-ree children by him, one boy and two girls. The boy grew up and died; one of the girls married before she died. I didn't know how to take care of my first baby, but my grandmother told me how. She told me to take care of myself, drinking warm water all the time, eating only wild roots pounded and boiled. She told me to get wood in order not to be lazy. I took the baby along, wrapped in furs. I came back with the baby on one side, wood on my back. My grandmother told me to go by the moon: I had had my baby when it was round. When it was round again I returned to the tent. I came home now, I came in the morning. First I ate breakfast. My grandmother told me to chew the.leaves of the sage- brush, and to spit them out. "That way you'll live a long time. Otherwise, you won't." And I followed her order; so I have lived long too. She told me how to slash the meat, work the hides. Finally, when the first baby was running around, I had another. With this one as with the first my grandmother helped me in labor. She was aided by her own relatives. She told me the same things as 64A avoidance of this type is not normal for the Wind River Shoshone. Possibly Polly Shoyo had pi6ked up this attitude, as she picked up certain other ideas, from the Crow. (See also Shimkin, 1947b.) I t 4 319 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS before. It went on the same way. After my third baby I knew how to take care of myself. Sometimes, when my grandma went out for ber- ries, I went along. She showed me how to pound them, put them away for winter. This first husband was kind, and never got after me. He was rather old, and knew more than I, but he had never before been married. He told me the things he had heard from his mother. Everything else my grandmother taught me I learned. Finally my husband got sick and died. He had a hemorrhage from his mouth and nose. The way I think he got sick was this: he was out hunting, and his horse jumped a deep wash. In so doing he strained himself. The doctor tried all he could, but it did not help. I cut my hair and gashed my legs. I felt badly about it, very badly. The third baby was pretty small when he [hus- band] died. The baby and I left our home when they took his body into the mountains. It was kind of cold then. When he died, some people came, friends and relatives. They gave his things away. I had only my saddle left. When they took the body away, they moved our tipi to a different place. His sisters' husbands and his friends took him away. I gave away all my best things. I had only an old buffalo blanket on; the baby had only a buck- skin left. I went back to my uncle; the tipi was given to my husband's sister. When first I had come to my husband's home, I had only a blanket. And I had only that when I left. I went with my children to my mother's brother. After I got to his home, they sewed a dress for me, fixed some blankets. I was starting all over again. My uncle had only a grown boy, married now; all the others were dead. His wife was sill living. It was rather a hard life, not the way I wanted it to be, living under someone. My uncle hunted for me. I didn't feel right; I didn't feel safe. His wife took care of me well. She liked me, and pitied me, a widow; helped me out. She was a good woman. Grandmother was still living then. Two years after my husband died, I married again. My second man used to stay around the tipi until late. I just hated him. Sometimes when my uncle and aunt were out, he would taik to me, ask me to marry him. Then he sent someone to my aunt. She asked me. I said, "No"; but he kept on, for quite a while. Finally, I heard he was going to poison me with some kind of medi- cine. They advised me to marry him. At last I did. After a while I got used to this man. I lived with him as I had with the other. I had a girl by him. She died just a short while ago. I knew now what to do, but my grandmother helped me yet. (But she was soon to die. I felt pretty badly then. I cut my hair, but I was not allowed to gash my legs. ) All of my other children, except the eldest, had died in the meantime; the youngest, shortly after my marriage. This new man did not like my daughter, and he told me to get her married off. Somehow, when this man was hunting, he had met a young man who had killed some game, and was butchering it. This fellow gave him some meat. So my husband decided to wed my daughter to him. The girl liked him, though she had never < met him before. I had been taken by this husband to his folks, but my daughter was staying with ; Karoki, who liked this new boy, for he was a good hunter. The new husband didn't treat me right. He hit me on top of the head with a club; he was jealous,;1 He was a young man, but mean. He had been married before, in the Bannock country, His wife had left him, and he had drifted back. I had a second child by him, a boy who is still living [eT]gahunuci, with whom she resided until her death]. And then I had a girl again. When this one was ruinning around, my man deserted me. He was mean all the way through. The last time he left, he never came back: he had gone with a young woman. I finally heard of them in Utah. I was glad because he had abused me too much. A year afterward, I married a third man. I liked him. I had met him at a dance; I had gone around with him at night after dances. My folks (my uncle and my aunt) found out, and bade me marry him. I- did. After my marriage, I heard that my second hus- band had been killed--struck by lightning. By my last husband, So'yo, I had four children,8 The first child, a boy, died at birth. The others, a girl and then two boys, all died young. I have only one child left, the one I'm living with now. I went through the same mourning for each when he died. This last husband died of old age; he was of the sa-me age as I. I lived a long time with him. He used to be a policeman. Whlen I had already married him, they allotted the land. I beard then of the treaty at Fort Bridger. After they allotted the land, there were still some buffalo left. The government showed us how to plow. We didn't feel right about it at first. The government began giving us cattle. They gave one cow to each house. We were rather hungry at that time, for we couldn't hunt any more. When we got hungry we Indians killed the cattle. Following the cattle they gave us plows and harness, wagons. We started farming with little cayuses. One fellow would hold the plow another would whip the horses, a third would hold them--it might take four men to manage a single plow. The government commenced to issue food: beefs were killed every Friday.66 There were few buffalo hides, so they issued goods, stoves, scissors, nee- dles, thread. We started sewing garments out of dexnim and calico; buckskin clothes went out. The government brought cattle, but we killed them reck- lessly, so they built slaughter houses after that, and corrals. Quarter-beefs were issued to families. And now we had to go as far as South Pass to get roots and berries, for the old berrying places were fenced up. They told us to farm; just a few had gar- dens, watermelons, and the like. The number in- creased after a while, and is still increasing. 65So'yo had been married before, but had had no children. See also Shimkin, 1942. 66According to Dick Washakie, the Shoshone formulated a calendar at this time: Friday was "Kill Beef for Them"; Saturday, "Issue Day"; Sunday, "Big Day"; Monday and Tuesday had no names; Wednesday was "Four Days in the Week"; Thursday, "Corraling the Beef." 320 CHIIDHOOD AND DEVELOPHENT AMONG THE WIND RIVKR SHOSHONE The number of deaths among children rose, but ~here was only one epidemic [smallpox], up on he creek by the mission. There were no intratribal struggles at this ime. (All this had made little impression on ,olly.] They made a policeman out of my husband, Lowever, to stop people from making trouble. At 'irst he refused but the chiefs talked to him, rid induced him to accept. He got along very well rith them. He was kept busy, talking to people, specially concerning rations. There was a shooting once. One man killed an- ther. They sent my husband over; he finally got im [the culprit]. The man was brought to the gency. They just talked to him for a long while. hey said that the white man would put him in ail if he committed murder again. And they let im go. The government started making frame houses, ust for the chiefs. They also issued canvas for ipis. These were used for quite a while: it's ust a short time that they've had many houses. hey also had the policemen tell the Indians to end their children to school. Some liked it, thers did not. But there was no serious split. 'inally, the children went to school.. I didn't know much about all this. My husband was a policeman, and I liked that. They took my laughter to Roberts' Mission School. They had been issuing grub Efood] to us. Now, if we didn't take our children to school, they Nould take away our ration tickets. Soon we were all scared into submission. We now stayed on the land, except for a period in the fall, when we would leave occasionally to go hunting. My husband also farmed. As we got older, our son took care of us. At last, the old man [husband] took care just of me. I haven't done much since I lost my man. I just sit around, never do anything... I remember the Ghost Dance, or Round Dance, well. Sometimes, someone would faint in it. My husband was not yet a policeman then, but neither of us be- lieved in the Ghost Dance, though we danced in it. The chiefs didn't believe in it--this was the way with Chief Washakie. They had told everyone to go out stay out of the tipis, and dance. But Washakie went back to his tipi, saying, "If you had some- thing to eat, I would stay. Since you don't, I'll go back to my tent." All I saw in the Round Dance was a chance for the young women to sleep with the young men. I didn't believe in it. I had seen it be- fore, when no one fainted. Washakie was the last chief to die. I was there; he died toward morning, of old age. And I never noticed who might be chief after that. Nowadays, "chiefs" are just councilmen--the council after Washakie's death. Things have not gone so well since that time; the half-breeds spoil everything. They started with the Frenchmen, who came from the other side of the mountains around Pinedale, and exchanged things with the indians. Indian women got stuck on them; some of them got married, but there was not much prostitution. And there were half-breeds from the soldiers who used to be with the Indians to the east quite a bit. PANDORA POGUE Pandora67 is a woman in her late eighties who has also led a typical Shoshone life. But her personality differs markedly from Polly Shoyo's. She is a placid and submissive little old woman who lives independently in a tiny tent near her mixed-blood half-sister's frame house. She is cheerful, constantly hunmming to herself. She is industrious, still making moc- casins and other products despite her advanced years. She is surprisingly vigorous, still able to walk many miles in the mountains digging roots. From data available at the present time, one would be inclined to assume that Pandora's milder reactions to the vicissitudes of life were the results of less intelligence and less ensitivity than Polly Shoyo's. For instance, her storytelling ability was extremely poor, She garbled standard tales. Her dreams also ere mere scattered visual memories of a very imple sort. Certainly, such a dream as follows ould scarcely contain much symbolism or ex- periential synthesis, although it does bear witness to certain repression. I met my son and his wife on a sage-hen hunt, and had a big feast of sage chickens. I was talk- ing to them, and they told me they had been to a nice place, and asked me why I hadn't been 67See also Shimkin, 1947b. with them. And before I could talk to them I woke up. I went to sleep and again met some more of the ones who have been gone for a long time. Before I could talk to anyone I woke up. Finally, Pandora's Rorschach test68 gave simi- lar results. The protocol of this was as follows: R = 9 (3 rejected); T/R = 1.44; F/R = 0.88; FK +F +Fc H +A A +Ad R = 0.88; Hd + Ad=7 R 0.77; P o22. FM + m = ZC = 1; R =02;R = 'Fc +c +C' 0 M = Q; W 4 VIII, IX, X = 0.44; R 0.44; ZC 1 M 0; RR D d Dd+ S D= 0.56; 0; DRS= o; m = 0; M =0; R ) ~_ ; R = O m O M ; FN = 1; k = 0; K = 1; FK = 0; F = 8; Fc = 0; FC = 0; CF = 1; C = 0; c = 0; C' = 0. A reasonable interpretation of the protocol is this. Pandora is definitely inhibited; she care- fully responds only to clear-cut stimuli, not to 680n the Rorschach test, see Rorschach, Beck, Schneider, and Klopfer, et al. My analysis ba- sically follows Klopfer's technique. For further data and the Rorschach test among the Wind River Shoshone, see Shimkin, 1939 and MS. I I I I I 321 ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS insinuations or suggestions. She is mentally stereotyped, banal; in fact, completely lacking in imagination or originality. Possibly she would have developed definite perseverations had her energy been greater; as it is, she is strongly set in her ways. She does not attempt to escape from reality through excessive concern over minu- tiae, or through negativism. Even more, her ap- proach to experience is synthesizing; but since this approach is not balanced by introspection to any extent, it results in creative attempts beyond her ability (as in storytelling) rather than in true achievement. Emotionally, she is a genuine extrovert, who finds her active stimuli in other persons, not in herself. Inner drives, either positive or neg- ative, motivate her but feebly. At the same time, she is emotionally very undeveloped, with a spark of labile affect as her only mode of expression. Finally, a certain degree of vague anxiety trou- bles her. In contrast to the present-day picture, the evidence of the past affords some hints that at an earlier day Pandora was probably far more re- active emotionally and intellectually than now. Thus the shock of menarche was so severe for her that she suffered from a temporary hysterical blindness. Again, she was able to achieve consid- erable success as a midwife in her middle age. Consequently, a definitive statement concerning personality-environment interactions is impos- sible in her case. Her autobiography came to me piecemeal, in many contexts; it involved much repetition, There- fore, I will only summarize it below. Pandora's mother came from the Comanche. A band of her people had been massacred by the Ute, so that only she and her sisters survived. They fled to the Wind River Shoshone at Fort Bridger. There she married and stayed. A boy was born; two or three years later, Pandora. Then they went to live among the Bannock in Idaho thence to the Salmon Eaters of the Lemhi country. The family lived at Lemhi a year and a half, during which the mother bore another boy. They moved back to the Bannock country. When the young- est boy was three, the father became enamored of another woman and deserted his wife. The oldest boy left with him; Pandora, with her mother's sis- ter. The youngest boy was adopted by the Mormons. He grew up in their faith. He later had two wives, Pandora never saw him again after the parting. The mother went to Salt Lake City and Fort Brid- ger. At the last place, she lived with a Frenchman in the army. Pandora grew up with them. Only three or four families lived in Pandora's camp. Her mother's sister had two daughters, older than she, with whom she played somewhat. They would spin rocks on the ice, or play shinny. Indoors they- mostly played cards, although sometimes the hand game. Usually her mother's sister told stories on winter evenings. But Pandora didn't play much. She used to help beading, sewing, making dresses. For a while, she worked for a white family. She used to dance somewhat, mostly the Ghost Dance. Sometimes they would have a Warm (Bear) Dance, in which the girls would make the soldiers join. She was afraid of boys and did not want the man to whom she was given. All she thought of was beadwork and buckskin. At menarche she almost went blind. Her mother took grated buffalo horn and put it in her eyes. Her marriage occurred when she was sixteen. After that, she menstruated only irregularly, between pregnancies. The menopause was no shock. Her husband was a government scout. Mostly, in summer, he was away on raids. In the meanwhile, she and her mother were always sewing. Her mother helped her with her first child. She had six chil- dren, of whom three died. She came to Wind River. There, her husband de- serted her and soon died. She married another, Mb'ragats (Mora Pogue). In a few years, he, too, died. No one would marry her after that, for all feared that she had killed him. Since then, as always, she has "just let life drift along." 322 APPENDIX THE WIND RIVER SHOSHONE KINSHIP TERMINOLOGY These data are after Lowie (1924: 290) and Shimkin (field notes, 1937-1938). General discus- sions of the historical and functional aspects of this and other closely related terminologies may be found in Shimkin (1941), Hoebel (1939), and Steward (1938: 284-306). Also see Shimkin (1941) for the "coupling" terminology of the Wind River Shoshone. Lowie Shimkin Lowie Shimkin Term Application Term Application Term Application Term Application a.po f, f b a: 'pe f, m ss h a ra m b, ss ch a'ra m b, f ss h, cu gu'ap2 f o (. sp. ss oh i4ide:'*ape" f y.b wf, sn l (m. sp.) pi ' m, m ss mibi'a mi, m ss) (. and f b w W. Sp.) c'' ~ i na(3i a4 im ss cu guara m o b undu"a his s Ldu'a , c ko nu f f, s ch rTge no f f, s ch na#yaharua | steps (M. Sp.), (w.m sp.) W f, si nopa'di my d ii be'de d, c d (m. and na'ya hapede stepd w. sp.) nobabi my o b, mba: pi o b, gagu m m, d ch T]ga gu m m, d ch o male c o male c (w. sp.), (w. sp.) w ss h, m m Ss, ml h ss or b w h doko M f, d ch ndo'go mf, d ch (Mn. Sp.) (.s. nota mi my y b, nda"wi y b, m f b w f y male c c y male c , w ss h, hutsi f m, s ch uhu"ci f M s ch h ss or (w. sp.) (w. sp.) b b h (W Sp. l1i'7|_f,gg bh |ha yarawi6 | youngest b | ,, - 9g-gch .1 1 | 1l ~~ ~ ~~~gwo |W)' ss SS)e 96W no ba'dzi my o ss, 4i baz i o ss, b. ..w rf6ba'~ifern c,0 gwva'hap68 h, ss li. h b gua: xape' h bl w fem0c, | | o fem c. te nape"9 h (voc.) A bl W l l ll | |urdndo'J.goo fl nona mi my y ss, i: 'ami y ss, fem c, ha yanaii y fem c urenga gu ml bl w youngest ss gu: xapmbia1a h m gwe'xibia w m ba ha f ss, bo h m ba'ha f ss, b ch (W. Sp.) (W. Sp.) ml, d h 1. ___ I (w.sp.) I I I I __I_ I _ (Continued in next colmnn) 1-pe, personal suffix. 2euguU-, old. 3de:, childish, little. 4na-, reflexive prefix, which often has the connotation of resemblance: "like a mother." 5na'yaha- or na'yaga-, mistaken, false. 6/ ha ya-, first. 7no ', literally "weak, faint"; with the pas- (Continued on next page) sive suffix -p, the word (3 ap) means "ghost." 8Lowie is definitely wrong, as g and gw repre- sent different phonemes in Shoshone. 9te:'nape, literally "man." 10ure-, third personal invisible plural prefix, "their"; thus the father-in-law is "their" (some- one's?) maternal grandfather; similarly, the mother-in-law. 11gu:'xapmbia, literally "husband's mother." [323] ANTHROPOLOGICAL RECORDS Lowie Shimkin Lowie Shimkin Term Application Term Application Term Application Term Applicatiot mA napob | sl (s. sp., mu:'nape sl no ri h b w in. sp.) nre'd m ss h n de'3 bi hu tsombia13 dl hu'cilbiap8e| di (i. sp.) baha mbia'4 h ss b w ;iba'hagibia ssl w b _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ (W. 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