The Origin of Agriculture, Cahuilla

Long time he'd been traveling, following the tracks eastward. First had been the little dust devil that came along as he stood by the graveside pondering the unfamiliar plants growing there. He'd followed without hesitation, and as he walked behind, it had grown larger and larger, until it became a whirlwind.

When all traces of the whirlwind were swallowed up by tracks of the great red ant, he followed that trail. And when the ant tracks disappeared beneath tracks of the tumblebug, he followed those, never relenting in his pursuit.

His heart told him it was the spirit of Mukat, the creator, whom he followed through all these changing forms, the creator who played such tricks on his children, even in death...

It was Mukat's tricks which had estranged him from his people. He'd given poison fangs to the rattlesnake. He'd invented the bow and arrow and then tricked his people into shooting each other. But worst of all was his desire for the Moon Maiden. At his touch, she'd grown pale and weak, and finally she withdrew to the sky.

After that, the people had plotted against Mukat. The lizard spied out his weakness, and the frog, with her magic, brought about his downfall.

As he lay sick and dying, Mukat instructed the people in what would follow. He told them how to build his funeral pyre; he told them what to expect and how to act.

But one thing he had not told them. And when, on the third day after his death, the people saw the new plants, plants they had never seen before, growing from their father's grave, they wondered. "What is this?" they asked. "Our father never told us about this."

Only one man could think of anything to do. His name was Palmech Mewit, and he said: "Since no one knows what this is, I will go after our father's spirit and ask him."

And now, as he journeyed eastward, a figure loomed up ahead of him in the darkness. But as Palmech Mewit approached, he saw it was only a greasewood, hung with mistletoe. He kept on going. Again, a figure loomed in the darkness. As he drew near, he saw that it was only a desert willow. Four times this happened, and Palmech Mewit said, "I know it is you, my father, doing this to frighten me." He kept on going.

He came to the sand hill country, where mirage light covers the earth, making small things seem large in the distance. He came to the short grass country, and here the hooting of an owl told him his goal was at hand.

That night he saw a light rising straight up into the sky. It was the spirit of Mukat. As Palmech Mewit approached, he could see that its form was beautiful, like crystal glowing in the darkness. But he trembled with fear, and the strength that had carried him across the desert now turned to weakness. He felt his knees giving way.

"Who are you?" asked Mukat's spirit, although he knew perfectly well already. "What do you want?"

"I am one of your people," Palmech Mewit said. "I have come to ask you something. Some plants are sprouting from your grave that we have never seen before. We want to know about this."

"Oh, that," said the spirit. "Yes, well I was going to explain all these things to you people. I don't know what you were thinking of when you cast that spell against me. But it's alright. Here, I'll tell you what you want to know."

When Palmech Mewit returned from the east, he brought with him the knowledge of agriculture. Tepary beans, squash, and the six-colored ears of corn: crops of the Sonoran Desert peoples.

The Cahuilla raised little kitchen gardens near springs or where storm runoff collects, soaking the ground. These plant foods are the body of Mukat.

Robin Hewitt, 1989