Story of the shaman, G̣ᴀ′ndox’s-father

[Told by Abraham of Those-born-at-Qꜝā′dᴀsgo.]

After he had spoken through him for a while, a certain person fell sick. When he was almost dead they got him. Then he fasted four nights. At the end of that time, just before daybreak, he went out to look for his soul. Two other persons went with him. He went round the town on both sides of the houses. By and by he seized his soul. He made a noise like that of a young sea otter.

At once his companions seized him and carried him toward the house. When they carried them (shamans) so, they were very careful, because the shaman had the soul between his hands.

All that time they were singing for him in the house he had left. Presently, after they had carried him into the house, they put a mat over him and the sick man. There he put his soul into his mouth. Immediately he was saved.

And, when he got into the house, the house cover only was open (i.e., it was crowded with people). He danced the way Wu′ltcꜝixaiya used to. When he began to dance he was proud, and he had himself pulled upright. After that was done he began to dance.

Then he wanted fire drills. Now all the town people gave fire drills to him. When they came in with them he let them all drill together. Then he looked on. After all had done the same thing they put them into the fire. That was why he had them give them to himself.

Afterward Sᴀqaiyū′ł again spoke through him. And, after the dancing had gone on a while longer, he wanted to sleep. At that time the Sea-grass town chiefs would not let him. By and by, since they feared the supernatural beings might say something different from what they wanted if they refused, they let him sleep.

A big being with a black skin stood there. He also had a big gun. He stood pointing it downward at the earth. Sᴀqaiyū′ł handed something to him out of his pocket. After a while he took it without looking at him and put it into his mouth. He did not know what it was. He thought it was Indian tobacco.

Then Sᴀqaiyū′ł said to him: “Do not be afraid, master. Even the supernatural beings die. Where my three sets of clothing hang up, I have lived a long time. I died three times, but my body never dies.”

There he saw his uncle. Then his uncle asked him: “Did you see the one standing there with a black skin? He shoots down on those people below who treat each other badly. Then the land below is also full of smoke, and there is sickness everywhere.”

Then he went down again with him in the thing with wheels. At that time he awoke in the sail house. Not a long time afterward he died.

This is the end of it.

This story is of exceptional interest, both from the insight it gives into native beliefs generally and for the picture presented of the influence exerted on those beliefs and over the external life of the people also by the coming of white men. G̣ᴀ′ndox was evidently this shaman’s daughter, and the name appears to be Tsimshian. After he became a shaman, however, he was known, as was customary, by the name of the spirit who was speaking through him at the time. He belonged, like two of the shamans in the preceding story, to the Town-of-Djī′gua-People of Old Kloo.

I was fortunate in having obtained information regarding this shaman from one who knew him intimately, and to whom, it appears, he confided some of his spiritual experiences. The shaman is well known to all Skidegate Haida, and many other stories are told regarding his predictions. For some of these, see Memoirs of the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, volume V, part I, page 39.

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