Many Indian legends depict the sun as a male being who impregnates mortal women. The Cherokees are one of three tribes who view the sun as female, as has been said already. In this classic tale with an Orpheus theme, the sun is an old woman with a grown daughter and human emotions.

The sun lived on the other side of the sky vault, but her daughter lived in the middle of the sky, directly above the earth. Every day as the sun was climbing along the sky arch to the west, she used to stop at her daughter’s house for dinner. Now, the sun hated the people of this earth, because they never looked straight at her without squinting. She said to her brother, the moon, “My grandchildren are ugly; they screw up their faces whenever they see me.”

But the moon said, “I like my younger brothers; I think they’re handsome.” This was because they always smiled pleasantly at his mild glow in the night sky. The sun was jealous of the moon’s popularity and decided to kill the people.

Every day when she got near her daughter’s house, she sent down such a sultry heat that fever broke out and people died by the hundreds. When everyone had lost some friend and it seemed as if no one would be spared, the humans went for help to the Little Men. These men, who were friendly spirits, said that the only way the people could save themselves was to kill the sun. The Little Men made medicine to change two humans into snakes — the spreading adder and the copperhead — who could hide near the daughter’s door and bite the old sun.

The snakes went up to the sky and lay in wait until the sun arrived for dinner. But when the spreading adder was about to spring, her bright light blinded him and he could only spit out yellow slime, as he does to this day when he tries to bite. The sun called him a nasty thing and went into the house, and the copperhead was so discouraged that he crawled off without trying to do anything.

The people, still dying from the terrible heat, went a second time to the Little Men for help. Again the Little Men made medicine and changed one man into the great Uktena, the water monster, and another into a rattlesnake. As before, the serpents had instructions to kill the old sun when she stopped at her daughter’s house. Uktena was large and fierce, with horns on his head, and everyone thought he would be sure to succeed. But the rattlesnake was so eager that he raced ahead and coiled up just outside the house. When the sun’s daughter opened the door to look for her mother, he struck and she fell dead in the doorway.

Forgetting to wait for the old sun, he went back to the people, and Uktena was so angry at the rattlesnake’s stupidity that he went back too. Since then we pray to the rattlesnake and don’t kill him, because he wishes people well and never tries to bite if we don’t disturb him. But Uktena grew angrier and more dangerous all the time. He became so venomous that if he even looked at a man, the man’s whole family would die.

Eventually the people held a council and decided that he was just too dangerous, so they sent him to Galun’lati, the end of the world, where he still is.

When the sun found her daughter dead, she shut herself up in the house and grieved. Now the people were no longer dying from the heat, but they lived in darkness. Once more they sought help from the Little Men, who said that in order to coax the sun out, they must bring her daughter back from Tsusgina’i. This is the ghost country, which lies in Usunhi’yi, the Darkening Land in the west.

The people chose seven men to make the journey. The Little Men told the seven to take a box, and told each man to carry a sourwood rod a handbreadth long. When they got to Tsusgina’i, the Little Men explained, they would find all the ghosts at a dance. They should stand outside the circle, and when the sun’s daughter danced past them, they must strike her with the rods and she would fall to the ground. Then they could put her in the box and bring her back to her mother. But they must not open the box, even a crack, until they arrived home.

The seven men took the rods and the box and traveled west for seven days until they came to the Darkening Land. There they found a great crowd of ghosts having a dance, just as if they were alive. The sun’s daughter was in the outside circle. As she danced past them, one of the seven men struck her with his rod. As she swung around a second time, another touched her with his rod, and then another and another, until at the seventh round she fell out of the ring. The men put her into the box and closed the lid, and the other ghosts never seemed to notice what had happened.

The seven took up the box and started home toward the east. In a while the girl came to life again and begged to be let out, but the party went on without answering. Soon she called again and said she was hungry, but they did not reply. When at last the group was very near home, the daughter of the sun cried out that she was smothering and begged them to raise the lid just a little. Now they were afraid that she was really dying, so they barely cracked the lid to give her air. There was a fluttering sound, and something flew past them into the bushes. Then they heard a redbird cry, “Kwish! Kwish! Kwish!” Shutting the lid, they went on again. But when they arrived at the settlements and opened the box, it was empty. So we know that the redbird is the daughter of the sun. And if the party had kept the box closed, as the Little Men told them to, they could have brought her home safely, and today we would be able to recover our friends from the Ghost Country. Because the seven opened the box, however, we can never bring back people who die.

The sun had been hopeful when the party had started off for the Darkening Land, but when they came back without her daughter, she wept until her tears caused a great flood. Fearing that the world would be drowned, the people held another council and decided to send their handsomest young men and women to amuse the sun and stop her crying. This group danced before her and sang their best songs, but for a long time she kept her face bowed and paid no attention. At last when the drummer suddenly changed the song, she looked up and was so pleased at the sight of the beautiful young people that she forgot her grief and smiled.

From Myths of the Cherokee, James Mooney, 1900

Two little girls were traveling with the Hopi grandparents. One of the little girls was the beautiful child of a great Hopi wise man. The other was a daughter of somebody-or-other whose name was forgotten but this second little girl was not beautiful, and she was jealous of the wise man’s child. The second child’s jealousy made a hole in her chest where her heart should have been and the Master of Death used this forgotten daughter to bring Death to the wise man’s child.

This death was the first death among the Hopi and upon the earth’s crust and the men watched the beautiful child lying there still and cold. They waited for her to awaken but the little girl slept on in Death and the Hopi wise man became angry, and cried, “Where is my daughter ?” The Hopi grandparents looked at the wise man and his child sleeping in Death and they looked at each other and the wise man stood a long time in the presence of Death. The wise man decided “I will mold a ball of my sacred cornmeal, and I will throw my corn meal ball up into the air, and when it comes down it will hit one of you on the head.”

The Hopi men listened, “I will know that the one that my corn meal strikes is the man whose evil magic has led my daughter into Death.” So, the Hopi wise man molded a ball he made it from sacred corn meal sprinkled with yellow pollen and that wise man threw his molded ball into the air. The ball arched up into the moonlight and hung among the stars and when the sacred corn meal fell, it struck the jealous little girl in her head. Then the wise man looked into the face of the daughter of somebody-or-other and whispered to her “Have you caused this thing, my daughter’s Death”

The Hopi wise man looked at the little girl the daughter of somebody-or-other with his father’s empty heart. He called a council of the Hopi. Those Hopi old ones believed the wise man’s corn meal test and they might have killed her the daughter of somebody-or-other but she asked for their mercy and just a little time. The daughter of somebody-or-other led the wise men and the Hopi grandparents to the edge of the hole they had come from and asked them to look down into it. Look down into this hole, If you can look into it and still want to kill me, I will die.” said the daughter of somebody-or-other. The wise man and the Hopi grandparents listened to this daughter of somebody-or-other and they looked down into the hole that led back into the cave world.

That wise man and those Hopi grandparents saw beds of wildflowers that bloomed in everlasting summer and the wise man’s daughter dancing through the flowers. The wise man’s daughter was filled with the spirit of the wildflowers and didn’t look back at her father and the Hopi old ones who were looking in at her. This world had nothing to offer the wise man’s daughter “Do you see her,” said the daughter of somebody-or-other, “this is the way that it will always be for the children of the Hopi people.” The Hopi grandparents understood what the daughter of somebody-or-other had taught them “This is the way it is when we die. We will return to this world that we have come from, and we will be happy.”

“Where is there room for fear? Why should we anticipate Death with dread?” The Hopi men did not kill the little girl who was the daughter of somebody-or-other. The children of the second little girl became the world’s searchers and finders and men and women of power and they grew in numbers. The children of the daughter of somebody-or-other are still living with us and her children still have dreadful and wonderful skills as their mother had before them.

http://www.orgsites.com/fl/sons/_pgg4.php3

Sarah Vassel, Bog, Westmoreland.

Assono a run a gang. Assono sen’ one of de men for water. When he go a take water, him couldn’t take it; Anansi play fiddle into de water-hole–

“Zing a little ting!”

T’row down de gourd an’ begin to dance. Assono a come to look fe de man. When he come, (Anansi stop playing). He call to him say, “Massa, no quarrel!” Him come give de massa de gourd a go fill it. Anansi begin playing, De Massa t’row down de gourd, begin dance. Assono dance till him drop. Anansi cut off him head an’ tek de head make a water-cup.

NOTE:

Dancing to Anansi’s Fiddle.

See Grimm 110, The Jew among Thorns, Bolte u. Polívka 2:490-503; and compare Bundy, JAFL 32:412-413.

Jamaica Anansi Stories ,Martha Warren Beckwith, New York, Published By The American Folk-Lore Society, G. E. Stechert & Co., Agents. [1924] and is now in the public domain.

Grandfather, many have tried to destroy what you have created. The Dancing Spirits have reached deep within my heart. They shall protect the Sacred Circle you have created in my heart. Your gift of such a Sacred Dance is as a precious breath of Mother Earth. The rage of her nostrils shall not harm the ground the Dancing Spirits have danced on.

My Grandson, know that the beauty of this Sacred Circle, you are just a part of. Your brothers build along side of you, take this hand and increase your strength. Seek his wisdom for a river runs swift when streams become as one. You shall honor his deeds for his hand reaches for yours as the Mighty Redwoods reach for the Sacred Skies.

Old One, I shall be as the Standing Bear, his strength has carried him through harshness. Your teaching of the Great Warriors that have turned into dead trees is wise. In how many seasons will they turn into stone? Those before me shall keep the Dancing Spirits buried in my heart.

Young Warriors, what you have built let it stand Mighty as the Paha Sapa. We can not change the past but Father Sun shall guide our tomorrows. It is I that has granted you the Dancing Spirits. You have learned well my sons that Warriors turn into trees and then stone. Listen to the words the Great Winds Have carried to your ears. You cannot live on the empty promises of those that cause hunger to your women and children. My son, let no man break the Scared Circle of the Dancing Spirits.

by Crying Wolf

One day long ago, when souls could still return from the Land of the Spirits, the Sun looked down upon the Earth. ‘The People of the Mountain do not like me,” she said to her brother, the Moon. “See how they twist up their faces when they look to the sky.” “Ah. but they love me.” replied the Moon. “They smile when they see me, and they make music and dance and send me songs.” This did not please the Sun. for she thought she was more important than her brother, and more deserving.

That night, as she always did. the Sun visited her daughter for the evening meal. ‘ ‘How can The People love my brother and not me?” she asked. “I will show them it is unwise to offend me!” And the next, she sent scorching heat onto the land.

During this time of the angry Sun. there lived in a small Cherokee village, a boy named Dancing Drum. He saw the suffering of his people. The crops no longer flourished, the children no longer laughed, the old women no longer gossiped, and the river, Long Man, was drying up. Soon, there would be no water even for drinking. Dancing Drum went to the Shaman, and asked, “Why is Grand-mother Sun burning the land and The People? How can we make her stop?” The Shaman drank the last drop of water from her drinking gourd. “I do not know.” she said.’ ‘But in a dream, a woodpecker came to me and told me to go to the little men in the wood. Alas. I have grown too weak to travel. You are young and strong. It is up to you to go.” Honored to be chosen for such an important mission, Dancing Drum followed the Shaman’s directions and soon found the little men in the wood. “How can we make Grandmother Sun stop burning The People?” he asked them.

“You must go to the Land of the Sky People and kill the Sun before she destroys us all.” they said. “First, take these snake rattles and tie them onto your moccasins.”

As soon as he did this, Dancing Drum felt a strange tingling flow from his heels to his head. Suddenly, he could not move his arms, and when he tried to move his legs. he only heard the shaking of the rattles. He called for help. “Hsssssss!” was all he could say, for he had become a snake!

“Do not worry.” said the leader of the little men. “You will be yourself again when your task is complete.” He pointed to a small opening in the underbrush. “Now follow this path to the house of the Sun’s daughter. In the morning, when the Sun comes out, bite her quickly.”

Soon, Dancing Drum became used to the side winding movements of his new body. He slithered along the path into the woods, up the tallest mountain, and through the mist to the clouds themselves. At last, he came upon a large domed house made of mud and cane. It was the house of the Sun’s daughter.

Since it was near dawn, Dancing Drum hid behind the clay pots stacked outside the door. I’ll catch the Sun as she comes out, he thought. But when the door opened, she rushed by him so quickly, he didn’t even have time to strike.

He would have to be more alert next time. He slept throughout the day, and as twilight approached, Dancing Drum was ready. This time, when the Sun drew near, he tensed to spring at her. But at the last instant, he turned away, blinded for a moment by her brilliance. I must try again, he vowed, and this time, I will not miss. Through the night he waited. As soon as he heard stirrings from inside the house, he slithered to the door and closed his eyes.

“Forgive me. Grandmother Sun,” he hissed. A moment later, the door opened and Dancing Drum struck. He felt his fangs sink deep into her ankle. But when he looked, he saw that it was not the Sun, but her daughter who lay dead on the ground.

Just then, Dancing Drum shed his scaly skin. He was a boy once more. With the Sun’s wail filling the air, he ran from the Land of the Sky People. Over the clouds he went, through the mist, and down the tallest mountain. After many days, he reached his village.

There, the chief was holding counsel. “At last, we have relief from Grandmother Sun’s burning heat,” he said, “But, in her sadness over the death of her daughter, she no longer leaves her house.” He pulled his robe tighter around his shoulders. “Now, The People are cold and in darkness.”

Stepping into the chief’s circle, Dancing Drum announced, “I am the cause of this darkness. I stopped the heat, but out suffering grows worse. I will go to the Land of the Spirits and bring back the Daughter of the Sun. Then our grandmother will once again smile upon The People.”

Once more, Dancing Drum consulted the Shaman. “Take six others with you,” she advisee, “and a large basket. You will find the Daughter of the Sun dancing with the ghosts in Tsugina’i. Each of you must touch her with a sourwood rod. When she falls to the ground, put her into the basket and secure the lid. Then bring her back here.’ “This we shall do,” answered Dancing Drum. He chose six of the swiftest stickball players in the village.

They were about to leave for the Darkening-land when the Shaman cautioned, “Once you have her in the basket, do not lift the lid.” For days, the runners followed the path to the Land of the Spirits. At the end of the seventh day, they heard drums and chanting, then they saw the ghosts, circling around a low fire. The Daughter of the Sun danced in the outer ring, heel-toe, heel-toe.

From their hiding place in the shrubs, Dancing Drum and his companions took turns reaching out with their sourwood rods. Each time the Daughter of the Sun passed, one of them touched her. Dancing Drum’s rod was the seventh. As it brushed her. she collapsed. The ghosts seemed not to notice, so the boys hastily picked her up, put her into their basket, and secured the lid tightly.

After a time, the Daughter of the Sun started moving around in the basket.’ ‘Let me out!” she called to the runners.’ ‘I must eat!” At first, the seven ignored her. Then she called, “Let me out! I must have water!” Again, her plea went unanswered.

When they were almost to the village, the basket started to shake. “Let me out,” called the Daughter of the Sun. This time, her voice sounded strangled “I cannot breathe!” she croaked. Dancing Drum was afraid she might die again, so he opened the lid a tiny crack. Suddenly, a flapping sound came from inside the basket, and a flash of red flew past, followed by the “Kwish. kwish. kwish!” cry of a redbird. Not sure what had happened. Dancing Drum quickly refastened the led and hurried with his companions back to the village. Once there, the Shaman opened the basket. It was empty! The Daughter of the Sun had been transformed into the redbird. “You disobeyed,” the Shaman said to Dancing Drum. “For this, souls can no longer be returned from the Land of the Spirits.”

Dancing Drum hung his head, and Grandmother Sun, watching from the Sky World, began to weep. She cried so hard, her tears filled Long Man to overflowing, threatening a great flood over the land.

“What shall we do?” The People cried.

“We shall sing!” declared Dancing Drum. So The People put on their most beautiful clothes of embroidered buckskins. They wore necklaces of deer and panther teeth, and painted their faces white. They lifted their faces to the sky and chanted for Grandmother Sun. They drummed, and kept rhythm with their groud rattles. But still Grandmother Sun grieved.

Finally. Dancing Drum left the singing and went to his lodge for his own drum. It had been a special gift from his grandfather. He filled the hollow log with water and dampened the groundhog skin. At last he was ready. Returning to the group of singers, he sat and began playing his own song.

From the Land of the Sky People, Grandmother Sun heard the new music. She stopped crying and looked down to see her beautiful people smiling up at her. She saw them offering their special dances, and she heard their special song.

Dancing Drum lifted his face to the sky as he played from his heart for his ancestors, for his people, and for his land. And as he played, Grandmother Sun came out of her house to once again smile down on her Children of the Mountain.

Adapted by Terri Cohlene