Joining Running Foot in a Navaho Sweat Lodge

Site Contents | Search | All about digital imaging | Favorite Projects | Sweat
The Sword of Heaven | County Fair | Portfolio | Links | Your Comments

Return to main Sweat page

MEDITERRANEAN BATHS

Visiting the modern Hammam in Ankara and lstanbul
Early Greek and Roman Batths
Mass Bathing in the Balnea and Thermae
The Islamic Hammam is Born
The "'Turkish Bath" Visits Europe and
America
Private Sweat Bathing Cubicles

FINNISH SAUNA

A Visit in the Dead of Winter
History of the Nordic Bath
Sauna in Europe
Sauna in Japan
Sauna in America

NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE

Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat
Lodge
A Guest at an Oglala Sun Dance Ceremony
History of Sweat Lodges
Hot Rock Sweat Lodge
Direct Fire Sweat Lodge
Sweating Without a Sweat Lodge
Origin of the Temescal
The Temescal Today
The Sweat Lodge Joins the Modern World

RUSSIAN BANIA

A Boisterous Bath in Leningrad
History of the Great Russian Bath
Bannik, the Spirit of the Bania
The Birth Bania
The Wedding Bania
The Death Bania
Health & the Bania
The Bania after the Russian Revolution
The Spreading Influence of the Russian Steam Bath

SAUNA & HEALTH

Sauna & Health
Sweating
Skin
Heating & Cooling the Inner Body
Positive Effects of Negative Ions
Spirits of the Sweat
Social Sweating

USING THE SAUNA/ SWEAT BATH

SAUNA/SWEAT SPICES

PRECAUTIONS

SPECIAL SAUNA CONCERNS FOR WOMEN

BUILD YOUR OWN

NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE

Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat
Lodge

©1997 Mikkel Aaland All Rights Reserved

"Behave as you would in your white man's church."
-Hoskie, a Navajo

Hoskie emerges from the sweatlodge. Photo copyright by Mikkel Aaland.

Of all the world's sweat baths I visited, none have retained the sanctity of the American Sweat lodge. I was privileged to have participated in two very special and dissimilar sweat lodge ceremonies--one with the Navajo, the other with the Ogala Sioux.

JOINING RUNNING FOOT IN A NAVAJO SWEAT LODGE

After a cordial interview with Dave Charlie at the Center for Indian Affairs in Phoenix, I drove 38O miles across the desert to visit his relatives near Gallup. The land of the Navajos is much what it always was, the elements prevailing--barren red dirt, buttes, plateaus, pinons, cedars, their roots clawed into the arid soil, an occasional puff of cloud in the vast blue sky.

The Navajo nation holds a territory of 16 million acres across five southwestern states. Its contact with white society is only peripheral. In its heart live old traditions established long before Columbus and Cortez--rain dances, hunting rituals and, most sacred of all, the sweat bath ceremonies.

I wasn't sure if they would accept the presence of an Anglo in their sweat lodge, but Dave Charlie had put in a good word for me and had given me some canned goods to deliver. At the hogan I was introduced to Running Foot, the 92-year-old medicine man, his grandsons and their cousins.

Running Foot spoke only in his melodic Navajo tongue, and graciously invited me to join them in the sweat lodge. Grandson Hoskie became my guide and interpreter. The sweat lodge stood a few hundred yards beyond the hogan. It resembled a giant bee hive--a split cedar frame sunk two feet into the ground and arching four feet high, covered with dark New Mexico earth. These earthen mounds are not uncommon throughout the reservation.

A log fire blazed a few feet away. The grandsons tossed in a dozen or so melon-sized rocks brought from a distant mountain. When they glowed red and Running Foot was satisfied they were hot enough, he signalled Hoskie to take his pitchfork and lay them carefully in the northern corner of the lodge where they would ward off the malevolent north wind, carrier of colds and more sinister illnesses. He stripped off his clothes and crawled in. He sat alone for a few minutes until the temperature was right, then called us in.

Hoskie put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Behave as you would in your white man's church."

I was the last to enter. Hoskie called back to his cousins outside to drop the blanket door. In the sudden blackness, I couldn't see my own hands, only the dull, glowing rocks. Vision gone, my other senses sharpened--I keenly felt heat from the radiant rocks baking my skin, the texture of the bark floor cushioning the frozen ground, and the shoulders of the grandsons pressed against me. Mingling sweat streamed from our skins as we sat absorbed in dark silence.

Running Foot began his first chant. The grandsons hummed intermittently as they translated for me. The spirits of Earth, Air and Water were being summoned to weave our bodies and souls with the elements. We were told of the distant time when the Navajo rose from the Underworld and gathered in a tq'ache (sweat lodge) to create chants and hymns to be associated with various stages in life.

When the chant ended Hoskie explained that each session in the sweat lodge inspired four chants, each with different significance. The Navajo takes sweat baths in sets of two or four, with a recess outside after each. The chants were handed down through generations to chosen individuals within the tribe, and Running Foot was the only one here so chosen.

A few minutes of silence was suddenly broken by a loud crack as he poured a brew of water, cedar and pinon needles on the red rocks. This created a nearly unbearable rush of hot vapor that left as quickly as it came, leaving the pleasant lingering odor of burned needles. Hoskie told me only needles from trees struck by lightning can be used. "It cures," he said. "Inhale it, drink it--it makes you well." A bowl was pressed to my lips and I sipped the resinous brew as Running Foot's chanting again filled the darkness. He called on Greater Powers to bring strength and luck to all residents of the Navajo ranch.

Running Foot doused another bowlful of brew on the hissing rocks and another burst of steam assaulted us. He began his third chant, calling for strength and courage to his hunters and warriors. Before men went hunting, they visited the sweat lodge to purge their bodies of human odors that might be picked up by a wary deer.

The old man gathered his strength for the last chant of this session. After a long silence an impassioned voice rose from his throat, blessing all who traveled from home that no harm would fall. The blanket, like an eyelid, flapped up and we crawled out, blinking and dripping, into the chill bright air.

Running Foot began rolling in a patch of sandy snow. We all followed suit. The abrasive sand worked like coarse soap, scrubbing off dead skin and grime. In this land of little rain there is no better way to become clean. I rubbed snow all over my body. It felt delicious.

We burrowed back into the sweat lodge a while later for the second session. The ritual was similar to the first--Running Foot recited four chants and poured the healing potion on the sputtering rocks. At the end of this session, however, he remained behind. "He is singing a prayer of thanks to the spirits of the sweat lodge," explained Hoskie. This Blessing Way Song is also an apology for any errors in song, prayer or protocol made during the ceremony. Perhaps my presence was being atoned for. We had another roll and rubdown in the sandy snow, dressed and strolled as brothers back to the hogan.

RETURN TO TOP... NEXT CHAPTER... RETURN TO MAIN SWEAT PAGE



		Site Contents \| Search \| All about digital imaging \| Favorite Projects \| Sweat The Sword of Heaven \| County Fair \| Portfolio \| Links \| Your Comments

Return to main Sweat page MEDITERRANEAN BATHS Visiting the modern Hammam in Ankara and lstanbul Early Greek and Roman Batths Mass Bathing in the Balnea and Thermae The Islamic Hammam is Born The "'Turkish Bath" Visits Europe and America Private Sweat Bathing Cubicles FINNISH SAUNA A Visit in the Dead of Winter History of the Nordic Bath Sauna in Europe Sauna in Japan Sauna in America NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat Lodge A Guest at an Oglala Sun Dance Ceremony History of Sweat Lodges Hot Rock Sweat Lodge Direct Fire Sweat Lodge Sweating Without a Sweat Lodge Origin of the Temescal The Temescal Today The Sweat Lodge Joins the Modern World RUSSIAN BANIA A Boisterous Bath in Leningrad History of the Great Russian Bath Bannik, the Spirit of the Bania The Birth Bania The Wedding Bania The Death Bania Health & the Bania The Bania after the Russian Revolution The Spreading Influence of the Russian Steam Bath SAUNA & HEALTH Sauna & Health Sweating Skin Heating & Cooling the Inner Body Positive Effects of Negative Ions Spirits of the Sweat Social Sweating USING THE SAUNA/ SWEAT BATH SAUNA/SWEAT SPICES PRECAUTIONS SPECIAL SAUNA CONCERNS FOR WOMEN BUILD YOUR OWN
	NATIVE AMERICAN SWEAT LODGE Joining Running Foot in a Navajo Sweat Lodge ©1997 Mikkel Aaland All Rights Reserved "Behave as you would in your white man's church." -Hoskie, a Navajo Hoskie emerges from the sweatlodge. Photo copyright by Mikkel Aaland. Of all the world's sweat baths I visited, none have retained the sanctity of the American Sweat lodge. I was privileged to have participated in two very special and dissimilar sweat lodge ceremonies--one with the Navajo, the other with the Ogala Sioux. JOINING RUNNING FOOT IN A NAVAJO SWEAT LODGE After a cordial interview with Dave Charlie at the Center for Indian Affairs in Phoenix, I drove 38O miles across the desert to visit his relatives near Gallup. The land of the Navajos is much what it always was, the elements prevailing--barren red dirt, buttes, plateaus, pinons, cedars, their roots clawed into the arid soil, an occasional puff of cloud in the vast blue sky. The Navajo nation holds a territory of 16 million acres across five southwestern states. Its contact with white society is only peripheral. In its heart live old traditions established long before Columbus and Cortez--rain dances, hunting rituals and, most sacred of all, the sweat bath ceremonies. I wasn't sure if they would accept the presence of an Anglo in their sweat lodge, but Dave Charlie had put in a good word for me and had given me some canned goods to deliver. At the hogan I was introduced to Running Foot, the 92-year-old medicine man, his grandsons and their cousins. Running Foot spoke only in his melodic Navajo tongue, and graciously invited me to join them in the sweat lodge. Grandson Hoskie became my guide and interpreter. The sweat lodge stood a few hundred yards beyond the hogan. It resembled a giant bee hive--a split cedar frame sunk two feet into the ground and arching four feet high, covered with dark New Mexico earth. These earthen mounds are not uncommon throughout the reservation. A log fire blazed a few feet away. The grandsons tossed in a dozen or so melon-sized rocks brought from a distant mountain. When they glowed red and Running Foot was satisfied they were hot enough, he signalled Hoskie to take his pitchfork and lay them carefully in the northern corner of the lodge where they would ward off the malevolent north wind, carrier of colds and more sinister illnesses. He stripped off his clothes and crawled in. He sat alone for a few minutes until the temperature was right, then called us in. Hoskie put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Behave as you would in your white man's church." I was the last to enter. Hoskie called back to his cousins outside to drop the blanket door. In the sudden blackness, I couldn't see my own hands, only the dull, glowing rocks. Vision gone, my other senses sharpened--I keenly felt heat from the radiant rocks baking my skin, the texture of the bark floor cushioning the frozen ground, and the shoulders of the grandsons pressed against me. Mingling sweat streamed from our skins as we sat absorbed in dark silence. Running Foot began his first chant. The grandsons hummed intermittently as they translated for me. The spirits of Earth, Air and Water were being summoned to weave our bodies and souls with the elements. We were told of the distant time when the Navajo rose from the Underworld and gathered in a tq'ache (sweat lodge) to create chants and hymns to be associated with various stages in life. When the chant ended Hoskie explained that each session in the sweat lodge inspired four chants, each with different significance. The Navajo takes sweat baths in sets of two or four, with a recess outside after each. The chants were handed down through generations to chosen individuals within the tribe, and Running Foot was the only one here so chosen. A few minutes of silence was suddenly broken by a loud crack as he poured a brew of water, cedar and pinon needles on the red rocks. This created a nearly unbearable rush of hot vapor that left as quickly as it came, leaving the pleasant lingering odor of burned needles. Hoskie told me only needles from trees struck by lightning can be used. "It cures," he said. "Inhale it, drink it--it makes you well." A bowl was pressed to my lips and I sipped the resinous brew as Running Foot's chanting again filled the darkness. He called on Greater Powers to bring strength and luck to all residents of the Navajo ranch. Running Foot doused another bowlful of brew on the hissing rocks and another burst of steam assaulted us. He began his third chant, calling for strength and courage to his hunters and warriors. Before men went hunting, they visited the sweat lodge to purge their bodies of human odors that might be picked up by a wary deer. The old man gathered his strength for the last chant of this session. After a long silence an impassioned voice rose from his throat, blessing all who traveled from home that no harm would fall. The blanket, like an eyelid, flapped up and we crawled out, blinking and dripping, into the chill bright air. Running Foot began rolling in a patch of sandy snow. We all followed suit. The abrasive sand worked like coarse soap, scrubbing off dead skin and grime. In this land of little rain there is no better way to become clean. I rubbed snow all over my body. It felt delicious. We burrowed back into the sweat lodge a while later for the second session. The ritual was similar to the first--Running Foot recited four chants and poured the healing potion on the sputtering rocks. At the end of this session, however, he remained behind. "He is singing a prayer of thanks to the spirits of the sweat lodge," explained Hoskie. This Blessing Way Song is also an apology for any errors in song, prayer or protocol made during the ceremony. Perhaps my presence was being atoned for. We had another roll and rubdown in the sandy snow, dressed and strolled as brothers back to the hogan. RETURN TO TOP... NEXT CHAPTER... RETURN TO MAIN SWEAT PAGE