Dancing from the Heart: A Rehearsal at Zuni Pueblo
Published in Indian Country Today in 2013. For more on topics like this, please see my book, American Apartheid: The Native American Struggle...
The
late afternoon sun slanted through puffy clouds and played over the surface of
Zuni Pueblo’s sacred Corn Mountain. Small golden heads of wild sunflowers
dappled the field at the base of the mesa, which rises 1,000 feet over the pueblo’s
western New Mexico village. Against this imposing high-desert backdrop, a dance
rehearsal got underway.
Seven-member
Soaring Eagle, the first of two groups to run through their paces that day,
adjusted their headdresses and other regalia. Meanwhile, Tammy Weebothee, a dancer and organizer of the
rehearsal, pointed out a tall spire, nearly the height of the mesa and just
south of it. It appeared to represent
two figures, one taller than the other, wrapped in a blanket. “They’re a
brother and sister who died to save the community when flood waters rose.” She noted
pale striations across the russet face of Corn Mountain—traces left behind by
the foaming waters, she said.
Soaring
Eagle lived up to its name. As the dancers moved through long chains of
intricate unison footwork, they seemed to spend more time in the air than on
the ground. Meanwhile, their elegant hand gestures floated above the footwork. Such
light-footed elegance may look delicate, but requires strength and timing—skills
that have earned them Zuni Fair dance championships and appearances throughout
the Southwest.
The
music supports the dance and makes this possible, said Weebothee. “The drumbeat
is the heartbeat of Mother Nature. When you dance, it carries you, and you
become one with the earth.”
Soaring
Eagle performs social dances, as opposed to religious ones, said group leader
and musician Arlen Quetawki, Jr. They’re traditional pieces, but they’re also creative,
he said. “Working within the Zuni tradition, we compose our own steps, hand
gestures and songs. The lyrics have to do with rain, plentiful crops, good
health and longevity. We don’t perform for ourselves but to bring the audience
good feelings. If anyone is ill or down on their luck, we want to give them a
bit of enjoyment.”
In
addition to appearing at cultural centers and festivals, the group has
performed in the Zuni public schools. The younger members of the troupe love
traveling, Quetawki said—and they have lots of energy. After performing at a
Grand Canyon venue, they hiked 3½ miles to the canyon floor. “Our dream is to be
in the Macy’s parade,” he added. “It would put the spotlight on Pueblo people.”
Whether the setting is obviously educational or not, the group seeks to teach
while dancing, he said.
Soaring
Eagle is one of dozens of dance troupes in the pueblo, with as many as 40
participating in the annual Zuni Fair, according to Soaring Eagle musician Howard
Lesarlley. For most performers, dancing professionally provides a small second
income, though a few groups have dancers under contract, and they can make a
living at their art, said Weebothee.
As Soaring Eagle’s rehearsal
came to a close, pick-up trucks pulled up bearing 14 members of Anshe:kwe, shown here, which has performed coast to coast and has also won Zuni Fair championships. The
dancers leapt out of the trucks to don brilliantly colored macaw- and pheasant-trimmed
headdresses and other regalia, line up and begin their most popular work, the
Shield Dance.
Whereas Soaring Eagle’s
style was lyrical, that of Anshe:kwe, led by musician Serfino Cachini, was
dramatic. The corps of female dancers displayed unison footwork in subtle,
shifting rhythms—linking high-energy runs, stamps, step-hops and toe touches with
precision and panache. Their performance was a definition in dance form of cohesion
and cooperation.
Meanwhile, three male
dancers wove in and out of the line of women—pacing, jumping and punctuating
their steps with occasional high-pitched cries. Their movements were grounded
and sinuous and included improvisation. “We’re portraying warriors in this
dance,” explained the eldest male dancer, McKeffe Chapella, left. “And when warriors
go into battle, they have to improvise.”
Choreography is a collective
effort for Anshe:kwe, said Cachini. “We sit down and brainstorm. One of the
group members or I will show a movement; we’ll all try it out, work with it,
then decide together if it looks good or not. We discuss everything—the words
of the songs, the hand gestures and every detail of the regalia.”
How often do they rehearse?
Peals of laughter from the dancers greeted Cachini’s response: “Every day! We
spend too much time together! We’re like a family, and in fact we’re all relatives.
Dancing is our world. What we do comes from the heart.”
Anshe:kwe’s women were
wearing dance dresses they’d finished the night before (“hot off the sewing
machines,” said Weebothee) in preparation for their next appearance, in Hopi,
Arizona. The troupe performs almost every week, for private events like wedding
receptions and graduation parties, as well as for public ones. Anshe:kwe is 27-strong
at its largest, and when it travels, accompanying family members swell the size
of the entourage to several times that number. The group recently appeared at
the Grand Canyon, and younger troupe members joked about jumping on the glass-bottomed
Skywalk (“You could feel it shake!”).
Most
of the dancers have practiced their art since they were able to walk, said Weebothee.
In the rehearsal at Corn Mountain, the tiniest member of Anshe:kwe, three-year-old Vanessa Kallestewa, shown below, followed the older
girls, clutching feathers in her little fists as she tried out the steps. “That’s
how it is,” said Cachini. “The little ones learn by watching the older dancers.
We also coach each other.”
Zuni
dance is about more than steps, according to Weebothee. “For us, it’s an
heirloom, and we dance to maintain our traditions. Through it, dancers learn respect,
responsibility and cultural awareness. They develop proficiency at positive
social interaction. And they learn to dress themselves in traditional attire.”
Weebothee and her uncle and brother have taught dance in the pueblo’s
public schools. “If
our dance students had disciplinary issues, we did not penalize them. Instead,
we talked to the whole group about the issue, as though it was a family. As a
result, the students grew.” The Zuni public-school dance group also inspired
others. When they performed in a California city, Weebothee recalled, audience
members decided to use their own heritage dance to attract youth to something
meaningful and positive.
The
rehearsal broke up, and the dancers headed back to the village. The sun sank
through the brilliant blue sky, picking out yellow wildflowers, green junipers,
swaths of pink desert sand and the russet of Corn Mountain—costuming the
ancient Zuni landscape in colors as vivid as the dance.
Seeing Zuni Dance
To learn when and where Zuni dance troupes are appearing, at the pueblo or outside it, contact Zuni Visitor Center (505-782-7238; www.zunitourism.com). If you’re going to the pueblo, make the visitor center your first stop. It’s a low adobe building on the north side of Route 53, east of the village. You can purchase a photo permit—required if you plan to take any photographs at all—and find out about places to eat and stay, walking tours, the community’s Ashiwi Awan Museum and several trading posts right in town offering authentic Zuni jewelry, stone carving, pottery and other crafts.
To learn when and where Zuni dance troupes are appearing, at the pueblo or outside it, contact Zuni Visitor Center (505-782-7238; www.zunitourism.com). If you’re going to the pueblo, make the visitor center your first stop. It’s a low adobe building on the north side of Route 53, east of the village. You can purchase a photo permit—required if you plan to take any photographs at all—and find out about places to eat and stay, walking tours, the community’s Ashiwi Awan Museum and several trading posts right in town offering authentic Zuni jewelry, stone carving, pottery and other crafts.