The Sacred Stories of Indigenous People
If God camps with the oppressed, downtrodden, and spiritually humble, then God’s tent must be perpetually pitched with the world’s indigenous peoples. Many of the ancient and sacred ways of indigenous people endure to this day, but only because many indigenous people choose to continue to live off of the earth in non-industrial, simple, scaled-down cultures. There are more, however, who have decided to leave the non-industrial, simple lifestyles to their ancient ancestors. These people have been assimilated into developing culture(s) where they still spiritually adhere to aspects of their tribe’s traditional lifestyles, but only from within a very big shadow cast by industrialized and large-scale societies. Additionally, ancient indigenous people have endured and survived genocide, colonialism, mechanistic materialism, coerced conversions by missionaries from global religions, and the systematic destruction of their natural environments by those driven only by capitalistic economics and consumption. Given all of the above, it is amazing that indigenous people have survived at all. Surely, Divinity has smiled and continues to smile upon these tribes of simple, earth-based, and sacred people. They are, after all, close to God’s heart.
Indigenous people also have blessed the world with wonderful spiritual stories. Stories are an important part of all of our meaning making processes; we all create stories, universally speaking. Ignoring stories that have been written by our brothers and sisters the globe over is not a spiritual strength; it is spiritual weakness (pride). So, if you are not familiar with other people’s spiritual stories, here are a few sacred stories from a few of the planet’s indigenous tribes for your spiritual enlightenment.
Yoruba Mythology (Indigenous African): The Secret of the Fishing Baskets
Across a certain river a poor fisherman set a row of stakes, and on each stake was fastened a basket in which he hoped to trap the fishes as they swam down the river.
But his luck was very bad, and every evening, as he went from basket to basket in his canoe, he was disappointed to find that no fishes, or only a few very small ones, had been caught.
This made him very sad, and he was forced to live frugally.
One day he found a stranger lying asleep on the river-bank. Instead of killing the stranger, the fisherman spoke kindly to him, and invited him to share his evening meal.
The stranger appeared very pleased and ate and drank, but spoke no word at all, The fisherman thought: “He speaks another language.”
Quite suddenly the stranger vanished, and only the remains of the meal convinced the fisherman that he had not been dreaming.
The next evening when he went to empty his baskets, he was astonished to find them overflowing with fish. He could not account for his good fortune, and his surprise was even greater when the same thing occurred the next day. On the third day p. 51the baskets were again quite full, and when the fisherman came to the last basket he saw that it contained a single monstrous fish.
“Do you not know me?” said the fish.
“Indeed no, Mr. Fish. I have never seen you before!” declared the fisherman, nearly upsetting the canoe in his astonishment.
“Have you forgotten the stranger whom you treated so courteously?” went on the fish. “It was I, and I am the King of the fishes. I am grateful for your kindness and intend to reward you.”
Then the fish jumped into the river with a great splash. But ever afterwards the fishing-baskets were full every evening, and the fisherman became rich and prosperous.
Zulu Mythology (Indigenous African): The Council of the Birds
One day all the birds gathered together to decide which of them should be king. They agreed to hold a contest and the one who could fly the highest was to get the position.
Just before the competition began, the smallest of the birds hid underneath the wings of the eagle. When the eagle had soared high above the others, the small bird flew out from his hiding place, and flew even higher.
All the birds were very angry at the small bird’s trickery and decided to punish him. But before they could catch him, he flew into a hole in the ground where the other birds could not follow.
The owl was appointed to keep watch over the hole so that they could capture the little bird when he came out. But, after a while, the owl grew sleepy. First he closed his left eye and kept watch with his right, then he opened his left eye and closed his right. Once, however, he closed one eye and forgot to open the other and this is how the small bird managed to escape.
The owl was disgraced and this is the reason why the owl hides during the day and only comes out at night.
Cherokee Mythology (Indigenous Americas): The First Fire
In the beginning there was no fire, and the world was cold, until the Thunders (Ani’-Hyun’tikwala’ski), who lived up in Galun’lati, sent their lightning and put fire into the bottom of a hollow sycamore tree which grew on an island. The animals knew it was there, because they could see the smoke coming out at the top, but they could not get to it on account of the water, so they held a council to decide what to do. This was a long time ago.
Every animal that could fly or swim was anxious to go after the fire. The Raven offered, and because he was so large and strong they thought he could surely do the work, so he was sent first. He flew high and far across the water and alighted on the sycamore tree, but while he was wondering what to do next, the heat had scorched all his feathers black, and he was frightened and came back without the fire. The little Screech-owl (Wa’huhu’) volunteered to go, and reached the place safely, but while he was looking down into the hollow tree a blast of hot air came up and nearly burned out his eves. He managed to fly home as best he could, but it was a long time before he could see well, and his eyes are red to this day. Then the Hooting Owl (U’guku’)and the Horned Owl (Tskili’) went, but by the time they got to the hollow tree the fire was burning so fiercely that the smoke nearly blinded them, and the ashes carried up by the wind made white rings about their eyes. They had to come home again without the fire, but with all their rubbing they were never able to get rid of the white rings.
Now no more of the birds would venture, and so the little Uksu’hi snake, the black racer, said he would go through the water and bring back some fire. He swam across to the island and crawled through the grass to the tree, and went in by a small hole at the bottom. The heat and smoke were too much for him, too, and after dodging about blindly over the hot ashes until he was almost on fire himself he managed by good luck to get out again at the same hole, but his body had been scorched black, and he has ever since had the habit of darting and doubling on his track as if trying to escape from close quarters. He came back, and the great blacksnake, Gûle’gi, “The Climber,” offered to go for fire. He swam over to the island and climbed up the tree on the outside, as the blacksnake always does, but when he put his head down into the hole the smoke choked him so that he fell into the burning stump, and before he could climb out again he was as black as the Uksu’hi.
Now they held another council, for still there was no fire, and the world was cold, but birds, snakes, and four-footed animals, all had some excuse for not going, because they were all afraid to venture near the burning sycamore, until at last Känäne’ski Amai’yehi (the Water Spider) said she would go. This is not the water spider that looks like a mosquito, but the other one, with black downy hair and red stripes on her body. She can run on top of the water or dive to the bottom, so there would be no trouble to get over to the island, but the question was, How could she bring back the fire? “I’ll manage that, said the Water Spider; so she spun a thread from her body and wove it into a tusti bowl, which she fastened on her back. Then she crossed over to the island and through the grass to where the fire was still burning. She put one little coal of fire into her bowl, and came back with it, and ever since we have had fire, and the Water Spider still keeps her tusti bowl.
Mayan Mythology (Indigenous Americas): Rabbit and The Coyote
This is a story of Uncle Rabbit and the coyote. The rabbit came to a big rock, and there he deceived the coyote. He was leaning on the rock when the coyote came by.
“What are you doing, brother?” the coyote asked the rabbit.
“Come here quickly, brother, the sky is falling down on top of us. Lean against the rock and hold it up while I go for a stick. We’ll prop it up with that,” said the rabbit to the coyote.
“All right,” said the coyote and began holding it up with all his might. Since the coyote was so stupid, he did exactly what the rabbit told him to. The rabbit had said that he was going to get a stick, but he went and left the coyote holding up the rock. When the rabbit didn’t return the coyote shouted:
“Come back, brother! The weight of the rock has made me tired.”
The rabbit still didn’t come back.
“No matter, I’m going to leave even though the sky may fall down on top of us,” said the coyote. But when he ran away he fell into a ravine. The rabbit never came back to the rock and the coyote was lost.
Later the rabbit came to a pond and saw the reflection of the moon in there. As the rabbit was very tricky, he was always deceiving the coyote. The dumb coyote always followed him and didn’t know that the rabbit was deceiving him. The coyote came to the pond where the rabbit was. When he saw the coyote coming he began to drink the water from the pond.
“What are you doing, brother? The coyote asked the rabbit.
“Look, brother, there’s a lot of food down there,” answered the rabbit.
“What kind of food?”
“Look,” the rabbit told the coyote.
The coyote looked in the water and said: “I see it. What is it?”
“There’s a cheese in the water,” the rabbit said to the coyote. “If we drink all the water we can get the cheese. Drink it, you’re big and you can finish all the water.”
“All right, brother,” he said, and began to drink the water.
“I’m going for a walk,” said the rabbit, and left.
The coyote continued to drink the water, but the rabbit was gone. The coyote’s stomach began to hurt him, and he got the runs. He wasn’t able to finish the water, so the coyote abandoned the effort and left.
Chinese Mythology (Indigenous Eurasian): The Foolish Old Man Removes the Mountains
The Taihang and Wangwu Mountains, which had a periphery of seven hundred li and were a hundred thousand feet high, originally lay south of Jizhou and north of Heyang.
The Foolish Old Man of the North Mountain, nearly ninety years of age, lived behind these mountains. He was unhappy about the fact that the mountains blocked his way to the south and he had to walk round them whenever he went our or came back, so he called the whole family together to talk about the matter. “What would you say,” he said to them,” if I suggest that all of us work hard to level the two mountains, so as to open a way to places south of Yu Prefecture and the Han River?” Many voices said they agreed to the idea.
But his wife had her doubts. “With your strength,” she said, “you could hardly remove a small hill like Kuifu. What could you do with the Taihang and Wangwu Mountains? Besides, where could you deposit the earth and rocks?”
“Carry them to the shores of the Bohai Sea and north of Yintu,” said several people.
The old man, helped by his son and grandson who could carry things, began to break rocks and dig earth, which they carried in baskets and dustbins to the shores of the Bohai Sea. The seven-year-old son of a widow named Jingcheng, one of the old man’s neighbours, came running up to offer his help. One trip to the sea took them a long time: they left in winter and came back in summer.
The Wise Old Man at the River Bend stopped the old man. He laughed and said, “How unwise you are! At your age, old and feeble as you are, you cannot even remove one hair on the mountain, let alone so much earth and so many rocks!”
The Foolish Old Man of the North Mountain heaved a long sign and said, “You are so conceited that you are blind to reason. Even a widow and a child know better than you. When I die, there will be my sons, who will have their sons and grandsons. Those grandsons will have their sons and grandsons, and so on to infinity. But the mountains will not grow. Why is it impossible to level them?” The Wise Old Man at the River Bend could not answer him.
The Old Man’s words were heard by a god with snakes in his hands. He was afraid that the old man would really level the two mountains, and reported the whole thing to the Heavenly God. Moved by the old man’s determination, the Heavenly God ordered the two sons of Kua’ershi to carry the two mountains on their backs and put one east of Shuo and the other south of Yong. After this, there were no more mountains between Jizhou and the Han River.
Japanese Mythology (Indigenous Eurasian): The Goddess of Mt. Fuji
There once was a boy named Yosoji. His mother was ill with smallpox.Yosoji went to a magician’s house an asked him what to do. The magician advised Yosoji to go to a stream at the foot of Mt. Fuji by the shrine of the God of Long Breath. The water in the stream was magical and it would surely cure his mother. Yosoji thanked the magician and headed off to Mt. Fuji. After walking for a short while, Yosoji realized he was getting near the shrine. But there were three paths. Yosoji wondered which one to take. As he was debating over the matter,a beautiful maiden appeared in front of him and led him to the stream. Yosoji drank some of the gleaming water himself, then scooped some up in a gourd to take to his mother. Before he left, the maiden said to him,” Come back in three days time. You will need more of this water.” After five more visits to the stream,Yosoji found that not only his mother, but the other villagers that had been lucky enough to get some of the water had been cured. They thanked Yosoji time after time but he knew that it was really due to the beautiful maiden that had been his guide that they were all well again. He wanted to thank her so he followed the path that led to the stream.When he got there, he discovered that the stream had dried up and was no longer there. Yosoji knelt down and wept bitterly, for he had loved this maiden dearly. Then he turned around and there she stood, smiling sweetly. Yosoji asked to know her name, but she did not reply.He asked again, but the maiden just kept smiling. Then, a cloud came down, enclosed her inside, and she floated to the very top of Mt. Fuji. Yosoji knew then that he had been helped by none other than the goddess of Mt.Fuji. He had been in love with the goddess of Mt. Fuji. Then, as the cloud was raised higher and higher into the sky, the goddess dropped down a branch of small pink blossoms, perhaps a token of her love for Yosoji. Yosoji knew he would always keep the branch and remember that his mother had been cured by the goddess of Mt. Fuji.
A Final Thought On the Importance of Reading Other People’s Sacred Stories
There are so many more stories to be read. The above are but only a small handful. There are so many more. Start looking for them. You may be surprised at how they teach you. After all, if God is who God is, then God is with the indigenous. What other credential is necessary to teach others?
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Great post Shawn, very thorough, diverse, and true.
I am still fascinated by Chan Kei Thong’s contention that even from a very traditional read of the Old Testament, God dispersed people throughout the Earth in order that there would be worship from all parts of the Earth. In other words, that they would remember, not forget, God’s earliest dealing with man. It makes a lot more sense than the view that divine will populated the whole Earth so that most would live in total ignorance of God and then punished for it for eternity!
peace
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