This is a continuation from the previous pages.
"Meeting strangers" (nda do'hwa'a'iltse'e'da). The term, nda, labels categories at two levels of contrast. At the most general level, it designates any person---Apache or non-Apache--who, prior to an initial meetings, has never been seen and therefore cannot be indentified. In additon, the term is used to refer to Apaches who, though previously seen and known by some external criteria such as clan affiliation or personal name, have never been engaged in face-to-face interaction. The later category, which is more restricted than the first, typically includes individuals who lice on the adjacent San Carlos Reservation, in Fort Apache settlements geographically removed from Cibecue,. and those who fall into the category kii do'handa'a'go (non-kinsmen). In all cases, "strangers" are separated by social distance. And in all cases it is considered appropriate, when encountering them for the first time, to refrain from speaking. The type of situaion described as "meeting strangers" (nda do'hwa'a'ilts'e'eda) can take place in any number of different physical settings. However, it occurs most frequently in the context of events such as fairs and rodeos, which, owing to the large number of people in attendance, off unusual opportunities for chance encounters. In large gatherings, the lack of verbal communication between strangers is apt to go unnoticed, but in smaller groups it becomes quite conspicuous. The following incident, involving two strangers who found themselves part of a four-man round-up crew, serves as a good example. My informant, who also a member of the crew, recalled the following episode:
One time, I was with A, B, and X down at Gleason Flat, working cattle. That man, X, was from East Fork [a community nearly 40 miles from Cibecue] where B's wife was from. But he didn't know A, never knew him before, I guess. First day, I worked with X. At night, when we camped, we talked with B, but X and A didn't say anything to each other. Same way, second day. Same way, third. Then, at night on fourth day, we are sitting by the fire. Still, X and A didn't talk. Then A said, "Well, I know there is a stranger to me here, but I've been watching him and I know he is all right." After that, X and A talked a lot. . . . Those two men didn't know each other, so they took it easy at first.
"Courting" (li'i'gola'a'). during the initial stages of courtship, young men and women go without speaking for conspicuous lengths of time. Courting may occur in a wide variety of settings--practically anywhere, in fact--and at virtually any time of the day or night, but it iss most readily observable at large public gatherins such a sceremonials, wakes, and rodeos. At those events, "sweethearts" (ze'e'de) may stand or sit (sometimes holding hands) for as long as an hour without exchanging a word. I am told by adult informants that the young people's reluctance to speak may become even more pronounced in situations where they find themselves alone. Apaches who have just begun to court attribute their silence to "intense shyness" ('iste'') and a feeling of acute "self-consciousness" (da'ye'e'zi') which, they claim, stems from their lack of familiarity with one another. More specifically, they complain of "not know what to do" in each other's presence and of the fear that whatever they say, no matter how well though out in advance, will sound "dumb" or "stupid." One informat, a youth 17 years old, commented as follows:
It's hard to talk with your sweethear at first. She doesn't know you and won't know that to say. It's the wam way towards her. You don't know how to talk yet...so you get very bashful. That makes it sometimes so you don't say anything. So, you just go around together and don't talk. At first, it's better that way. Then, after a while, when you know each other, you aren't shy anymore and can talk good.
The Western Apache draw an equation between the ease and frequency with which a young couple talks and how well they know each other. Thus, it is expected that after several months of steady companionship sweethearts will start to have lengthy conversations. Earlier in their relationship, however, protracted discussions may be openly discouraged. This is specially true for girls, who are informed by their mothers and older sisters that silence in a courtship is a sign of modesty and that an eagerness to speak betrays previous experiences with men. In extreme cases, they add, it may be interpreted as a willingness to engage in sexual relations. Said one woman, aged 32:
This way I have talked to my daughter. "Take it easy when boys come around this camp and want you to go somewhere with them. When they talk to you, just listen at first. Maybe you won't know what to say. So don't talk about just anything. If you talk with th is boys right away, then they will know you know all about them. They will think you've bee with many boys before, and they will start talking about that."
"Children, coming home" (cogose naka'ii). The Western Apache lexeme ilta' ' i'nastsa'a' (reunion is used to describe encounters btween an individual who has returned home after a long absence and his relatives and friends. The most common type of renuinm cogose naka'ii (children, coming home), involves boarding school students and their parents. It occurs in late May are early in June, and its setting is usually a trading post or school, where parents congregate to await the arrival of buses bringing the children home. As the latter disembark and locate their parents in the crowd, one anticipates a flurry of verbal greetings. Typically, however, there are few or non at all. Indeed, it is not unusual for parents and child to go without speaking for as long as 15 minutes. When the silence is broker, it is almost always the child who breaks it. His parents listens attentively to everything he says but speak hardly at all themselves. This pattern persists even after the family has reached the privacy of its camp, and two or three days may pass before the child's parents seek to engage him in sustained conversation. According to my informants, the silence of Western Apache parents at (and after) reunions with their children is ultimately predicated on the possibility that the latter have been adversely affected by their experiences away from home. Uppermost in the fear that, as a result of protracted exposure to Anglo attitudes and values, the children have come home to view their parents as ignorant, old-fashioned, and no longer deserving of respect. One of my most thoughtful and articulate informants commented on the problem as follows:
You just can't tell about those children after they've been with White men for a long time. They get their minds turned around sometimes...they forget where they come from and get ashamed when they come home because their parents and relatives are poor. They forget how to act with these Apaches and get mad easy. They walk around all night and get into fights. They don't stay at home.
At school, some of them learn to want to be White men, so they come back and try to act that way. But we are still Apaches! So we don't know them anymore, and it is like we never knew them. It is hard to talk to them when they are like that.
Apache parents openly admit that, initially, children who have been away to school seem distant and unfamiliar. They have grown older, of course, and their physical appearance may have changed. But more fundamental is the concern that they hace acquired new ideas and expectations which will alter their behavior in unpredictable ways. No matter how pressing this concern may be, however, it is considered inappropriate to directly interrogate a child after his arrival home. Instead, parents anticipate that within a short time he will begin to divulge information about himself that will enable them to determine in what ways, if any, his views and attitudes have changed. This, the Apache say, is why children do practically all the talking in the hours following a reunion, and their parents remain unusually silent.
Said one man, the father of two children who had recenlty retured from boarding school in Utah:
Yes, it's right that we didn't talk much to them when they came back, my wife and me. They were away for a long time, and we didn't know how they would like it, being home. So we waited. Right away, they started to tell stories about what they did. Pretty soon we could tell they liked it, being back. That made us feel good. So it was easy to talk to them again. It was like they were before they went away.
"Getting cussed out" (si'ldite'e'). This lexeme is used to describe any situation in which one individual, angered and enraged, shouts insults and criticisms at another. Although the object of such invective is in most cases the person or persons who provoked it, this is not always the case, because an Apache who is truly beside himself with range is likely to vent his feelings on anyone whom he sees or who happens to be within range of his voice. Consequently, "getting cussed out" may involve large numbers of people who are totally innocent of charges being hurled against them. But whether they are innocent or not, their response to the situation is the same. They refrain from speech.
Like the types of situations we have dicussed thus far, "getting cussed out" can occur in a wide variety of physical settings: at ceremonial dancegrounds and tranding posts, inside and outside wickiups and houses, on food-gathering expeditions and shopping trips--in short, wherever and whenever individuals lose control of their tempers and lash out verbally at persons nearby.
Although "getting cussed out" is basically a free of setting-imposed restrictions, the Western Apache fear it most at gatherings where alcohol is being consumed. My informants observed that especially at "drinking parties" (da''idla'a'), where there is much rough joking and ostensibly mock criticism, it is easy for well-intentioned remarks to be misconstrued as insults. Provoked in this way, persons who are intoxicated may become hostile and launch into explosive tirades, often with no waring at all.
The silence of Apaches are who "getting cussed out" is consistently explained in reference to the belief that individuals who are "enraged" (haske'e') are also irrational or "crazy" (bine'idi'i'). In this condition, it is said, they "forget who they are" and become oblivious to what they say or do. Concomitantly, they lose all concern for the consequences of their actions on other people. In a word, they are dangerous. Said one informant:
When people get mad they get crazy. Then they start yelling and saying bad things. Some say they are going to kill somebody for what he has done. Some keep it up that way for a long time, maybe walk from camp to camp, realy angry, yelling, crazy like that. They keep it up for a long time, some do.
People like that don't know what they are saying, so you can't tell about them. When you see someone like that, just walk away. If he yells at you, let him say whatever he wants to. Let him say anything. Maybe he doesn't mean it. But he doesn't know that. He will be crazy, and he could try to kill you.
Another Apache said:
When someone gets mat at you and starts yelling, then just don't do anything to make him get worse. Don't try to quiet him down becasue he won't know why you're doing it. If you try to do that, he may just get worse and try to hurt you.
As the last of these statements implies, the Western Apache operate on the assumption that enraged persons--because they are temporarily "crazy"--are difficult to reason with. Indeed, there is a widely held belief that attempts at mollifications will serve to intensify anger, thus increasing the chances of physcial violence. The appropriate strategy when "getting cussed out" is to do nothing, to avoid any action that will attract attentiion to oneself. Since speaking accomplishes just the opposite, the use of silence is strongly advised.
"Being with people who are sad" (nde do'bilgozo'o'da biga'a'). Although the Western Apache phrase that labels this situation has no precise equivalent in English, it refers quite specifically to gatherings in which an individual finds himself in the company of someone whose spouse or kinsman has recently died. Distinct from wakes and burials, which follow immediately after death, "being with people who are sad" is most likely to occur several weeks later. At this time, close releatives of the deceased emerge from a period of intense mourning (during which they rarely venture beyond the limits of their camps) and start to resume their normal activities within the community. To persons anxious to convey their sympathies, this is interpreted as a sign that visitors will be welcomed, and if possible, provided with food and drink. To those less solicitous, it means that unplanned encounters with the bereaved must be anticipated and prepared for.
"Being with people who are sad" can occur on a foot-path, in a camp, at church, or in a trading post; but whatever the setting--and regardless of whether it is a result of a planned visit or an accidental meeting--the situation is marked by a minimum of speech. Queried about his, my informants volunteered three types of explanations. The first is that a persons "who are sad" are so burdened with "intense grief" (do'lgozo'o'sa) that speaking requires of them an unusual amount of physical effort. It is courteous and considerate, therefore, not to attempt to engange them in conversation.
A second native explanation is that in situations of this sort of verbal communication is basically unnecessary. Everyone is familiar with what has happened, and talking about it, even for the purpose of conveying solace and sympathy, would only reinforce and augment the sadness felt by those whoe were close to the deceased. Again, for reasons of courtesy, this is something to be avoided.
The third explanation is rooted in the belief that "intense grief," like intense rage, produces changes in the personality of the individual who experiences it. As evidence for this, the Western Apache cite numerous instances in which the emotional strain of dealing with death, coupled with an overwhelming sense of irrevocable personal loss, has caused persons who were formely mild and even-tempered to become abusive, hostile, and physically violent.
That old woman X, who lives across Cibecue-Creek, one time her first husband died. After that she cried the time, the long time. Then, I guess she got mean because everyone said she drank a lot and got into fights. Even with her close relatives, she did like that for a long time. She was too sad for her husband. That's what made her like that' it made her lose her mind.
My father was like that when his wife died. He just stayed home all the time and wouldn't go anywhere. He didn't talk to any of his relatives or children. He just said, "I'm hungry. Cook for me." That's all. He stayed that way for a long time. His mind was not with us. He was still with his wife.
My uncle died in 1911. His wife sure went crazy right away after that. Two days after they buried the body, we went over there and stayed with those people who had been left alone. My aunt got mad at us. She said, "Why do you come over here? You can't bring my husband back. I can take care of myself and those others in my camp, so why don't you go home." She sure was mad that time, too sad for someone who died. She didn't know what she was saying because in about one week she same to our camp and said, "My relatives, I'm all right now. When y ou cam to h elp me, I had too much sadness and my mind was no good. I said bad words to you. But I am all right anod I know what I am doing."
As these statements indicate, the Western Apache assume that a person suffering from "intense grief" is likely to be disturbed and unstable. Even though he may appear outwardly composed, the say, there is always the possibility that he is emontionaly upset and therefore unusually prone to volatile outbursts. Apaches knowledge that such an individual might welcome conversation in context of "being with people who are said," but, on the other hand, they fear it might prove incendiary. Under these conditions, which resemble those in Situation No. 4, it considered both expedient and appropriate to keep silent.
"Being with someone for whom they sing" (nde bda'dista'a'ha biga'a'). The last type if situation to be described is restricted to a small number of physical locations and is more directly influenced by temporal factors than any of the situations we have discussed to far. "Being with someone for whom they sing" takes place only in the context of "curing ceremonials" (go'jita'at; e'dota'l). These events begin early at night and come to a close shortly before dawn the following day. In the late fall and throughout the winters, curing ceremonials are held insided the patient's wickiup or house. In the spring and summer, they are located outside, at some open place near the patient's camp or at specially designated dance grounds where groups rituals of all kinds are regularly performed.
Prior to the start of a curing ceremonial, all persons in attendance may feel free to talk with the patient; indeed, because he is so much a focus of concern, it is expected that friends and relatives will seek him out to offer encouragement and support. Conversation breaks off, however, when the patient is informed that the ceremonial is about to begin, and it ceases entirely when the presiding medicine man commences to chant. From this point on, until the completion of the final chant next morning, it is inappropriate for anyone except the medicine man (and, if he has them, his aides) to speak to the patient.
In order to appreciate the explanation Apaches give for this prescription, we must briefly discuss the concept of "supernatural power" (diyi') and describe some of the effects is is believed to have on persons at whom it is directed. Elsewhere (Basso 1969:30) I have defined "power" as follows:
The term diyi' refers to one or all of a set of abstract and invisible forces which are said to derive from certain classes of animals, plants, minerals, meteorological phenomena, and mythological figures withing the Western Apache universe. Any of the various powers may be acquired by man, and if properly handled, used for a variety of purposes.
A power that has been anatgonized by disrespectful behavior towards its source may retaliate by causing the offender to become sick. "Power-caused illnesses" (ka'stil' diyi' bil) are properly treated with curing ceremonials in which one or more medicine men, using chants and various items of ritual paraphernalia, attempt to neutralize the sickness-causing power with powers of their own.
Roughly two-thirds of my informants assert that a medicine man's power actually enters the body of the patient; others maintain that is simply closes in and envelops him. In any case, all agree that the patient is brought into intimate conact with a potent supernatural force with elevates him to a condition labled go'diyo' (sacred, holy).
The term go'diyo' may also be translated as "potentially harmful" and, in this sense, is regualry used to describe classes of objects (including all sources of power) that are surrounded with taboos. In keeping with the semantics of go'diyo', the Western Apache explain that, besides making patients holy, power makes them potentially harmful. And it is this transformation, they explain, that is basically responsible for the cessation of verbal communication during ceremonials. Said one informant:
When they start singing for someone like that, he sort of goes away with waht the medicine man is working with (i.e., power). Sometimes people they sing for don't know you, even after it(the curing ceremonial) is over. They get holy, and you shouldn't try to talk to them when they are like that...it's best to leave them alone.
Another informant made similar comments:
When they sing for someone, what happens i liket his: that many they sing for doesn't know why he is sick or which way to go. So the medicine man has to show him and woir for him. that is when he gets holy, and that makes him go off somewhere in his mind, so you should stay away from him.
Because Apaches undergoing ceremonial treatment are perceived as having been changed by power into something different from their normal selves, they are regarded with caution and apparehension. Their newly acquired status places them in a close proximity to the supernatural and, as scuh, caris with it a very real element of danger and uncertainty. These conditions combine to make "being with someone for hom they sing" a situation in which speech is considered disrespectful and, if not exaclty harmful, at least potentially hazardous
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