M A G A Z •: - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

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Through the Navajo grapevine, word quickly went out over the reservation that a sing was
to be held in Canyon de Chelly and some o\ the Indians rode long distances to be present.
G.V6.4O
By JOYCE ROCKWOOD MUENCH
Photographs by Josef Muench
/iT was in the spring that a snake ran
[ I across the path of Nesccayazzie, the
—~S Navajo. That was a bad omen. It
made him restive all the next two months.
Then when his wife Sally began to complain
of pains in her joints, he decided it
was time to have a sing.
Of course, it would cost many sheep
and some dollars beside, to feed all the Indians
who were sure to come, but the host
and hostess would have the benefit of
purification and cure, plus the satisfaction
of entertaining the countryside.
Word spread quickly, thanks to the efficiency
of the Navajo grapevine. By word
of mouth the invitation went—far up the
canyon to the family that dwells beneath
the ruins at Mummy cave, down to Chinle
and out across the Black mesa—yes, they
would all come. No one needed to know
the name of the host—it was necessary only
to know the place and the time.
The first night's ritual was set for a
MAY, 1 94 1
grassy plot six miles up Canyon de Chelly.
The Indians began to gather the day before.
Some of the girls who lived in hogans
far from the edge of the canyon spent that
whole day in travel, dressed in their best
clothes and laughing merrily as they rode
along.
All Indians are fond of ceremonials and
the Navajo is particularly fond of a sing.
Covered wagons rolled along the sandy
floor of the canyon, carrying whole families.
Solitary riders or hikers appeared for
an instant silhouetted against the sky
along the top of the cliffs that rise precipitously
on both sides of the canyon—
then disappeared as they followed trails
known best to these natives who live close
to the earth. There were automobiles too,
shiny new cars and pickups, and others
that creaked and groaned as they bounced
along over the ruts that followed the winding
course of the canyon.
Nesccayazzie and Sally were not among
Joyce and Josef Muench make periodic trips into the
Navajo country in northern Arizona to add new pictures
to the fine collection which adorns their photographic
studio at Santa Barbara, California. On their most recent
visit to the Navajo reservation they were present at one
of the tribal ceremonials in scenic Canyon de Chelly. It
was an emotional experience never to be forgotten —
and Joyca Muench has written about it for Desert Magazine
readers.
those who journeyed, nor were they busy
preparing things where the sing was to be
held. Their hogan was far away and the
medicine man "Wide Hat" was to spend
the three nights there performing rites.
His was a long and ever changing performance,
full of the old magic that has
been brought down through generations
from father to son to grandson. It is full of
Indian music and imagery. It is a tribal
ceremony—not for the white man to see. It
is only when the ritual reaches its later
stages in the squaw dance that he is an acceptable
guest—perhaps even a welcome
guest for he often is impelled to play a
role that is profitable to the Indians.
Night comes swiftly to Canyon de
Chelly. When the sun touches the tops of
the cliffs with a last fleeting gleam, darkness
already has reached the floor of the
canyon. For the walls rise almost vertically,
300 to 500 feet of sheer red sandstone.
These precipitous walls have their ad-