1 - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

minute touches are added to costumes,
dances are brought to a peak of perfection,
and the pueblo set is refurbished.
The degree of cooperation—
even from outsiders—is amazing. The
Santa Fe Railroad, for example, runs
its regular daily train from Phoenix to
Ash Fork through the city half-way
through the performance. Instead of
blowing the train's whistle, the engineer
quietly proceeds past crossings
manned by torch-burning members of
the Smoki People.
It may seem that nothing ever goes
wrong at a Smoki Ceremonial. At
least, that usually is the impression
from the grandstand. But mishaps do
happen.
About two years ago one of the
snakes swiped the black wig right off
a performer's head. Luckily, he was
near enough to the pueblo to duck
into it, reset his wig, and rejoin the
line of dancers without anyone in the
audience being aware of it.
Not too long ago, Mrs. Insley—
who was given the name "Nokomis"
meaning grandmother—played the part
of the Spider Woman, famous in Southwestern
Indian legends. In the course
of the ceremonial, two smoke pots were
supposed to have been set off at intervals
to create a mystic smoke screen
while she produced the snakes. Instead
both accidentally went off at the
same time.
&
* • •
"Why," she laughingly recalled, "I
Smoki snake pit with some of the dozens of reptiles used in the snake
dance. Photo by Mel Compton.
r:
Make-up man applies ceremonial paint to Smoki snake dancer. Photo by
Al Cirou.
was in an awful mess. My eyes and
nose were running from the smoke, and
I couldn't wipe away the tears for fear
of ruining my make-up. I was supposed
to get two snakes, but I couldn't
find them at first, and then when I did,
the threads holding them in place
wouldn't break. We had a terrible
time, but finally managed all right.
The only trouble was the man who
set off the smoke pots couldn't hear
for a week!"
Devotion to a worthy cause? Yes!
And you can see the notable results
yourself by attending a Smoki Ceremonial.
It begins as the sun sinks behind
the Yavapai Hills. The pueblo
comes to life—children romp around
its perimeters, women cook dinners
over open fires, and one by one the
colorful dances thrill the audience.
The Smoki People—who turn every
penny of the proceeds back into the
job of making the next year's performance
even better—are truly civic
minded and less concerned with their
own pleasure than in bringing to the
public an integral and vanishing part
of native Southwestern culture.
AUGUST, 1957 15