| Long ago,
so many years ago that, even among the elders, none can remember
this time, there was no light in the world. People found their way
from place to place by listening carefully to the sounds their footsteps
made as they picked their way along a trail. They noticed the soft
feel of pine needles beneath their feet and listened to the sigh
of wind in the hemlock trees as they reached a certain point in
their journey. With their fingers the people carved grooves in the
trees along a path. In this way they could remember where to turn
going to the spring for water or to the house of a friend. |
| The light
from the sun, the moon, and the stars was held captive by an old
man, who lived at the head of the Nass River. No one, not even his
beloved daughter, was allowed to take the light from the boxes where
he had hidden it, so his daughter, like all the other people of
the village, had to grope her way to the spring to find water for
cooking. |
| Raven, the
trickster, was tired of living in darkness. He could not see the
beauty of the world around him, and in his vanity, he felt sad that
no one could see and admire his great beauty and his magnificant
plumage. Raven was determined to find a way to bring light into
the world from its hiding place in the old man's house. |
| First,
Raven turned himself into a speck of dirt and hid in the basket.
The old man's daughter used to collect fresh water. He thought
that in this way he could trick her into swallowing him. As the
girl dipped her basket into the spring, however, she murmured to
herself, I don't remember if I cleaned this basket yesterday.
I had better throw this water away and collect some more. So
Raven was dashed to the ground with the water, where his feelings,
as well as his feathers, were very much ruffled. |
| Next,
Raven changed himself into a single hemlock needle and attached
himself to a branch along the path where the old man's daughter
groped her way to the spring each day. As her fingers brushed against
the bough where Raven was attached, the hemlock needle broke loose
and drifted down into the young girl's basket. This time, as she
dipped her basket into the spring, the hemlock needle floated gently
on the surface of the water, where it remained as she carried it
home. |
| When the
girl paused for a drink of the cool water from her basket, the Raven-turned-hemlock-needle
slipped unnoticed down her throat and into her belly, where it began
to grow into a boy-child. The time came for the girl to deliver,
and a hole was dug into which she would give birth in the usual
Tlingit manner. Although the birthing place was comfortably lined
with soft. furs, the baby would not come forth, for he did not want
to be born on these fine furs. His grandfather had the furs removed
and soft moss put in their place, and then the baby was born. |
| The baby's
eyes darted all around, trying to pierce the darkness. Somewhere
beneath night's heavy black blanket were the boxes containing the
light. His soft baby croon, like the bubbly warble that Raven can
make, enchanted his grandfather, who delighted in holding the child.
But the baby could also wail with the hoarse, raucous cry of Raven.
During these times the grandfather was beside himself trying to
quiet the young boy. |
| As the baby
grew, he began to crawl and to explore the house where he lived
with his mother and grandfather. The grandfather, like all grandfathers
before him and since, indulged his young grandchild. He made rattles
for the boy from dried deer hooves, which he fastened to a stick.
This amused the Raven-child for a time, until he discovered the
light boxes hidden in the corner. The child pointed at the boxes
and wailed piteously until his grandfather could stand the awful
sound no longer. Give my grandson what he is crying for!
insisted the old man to his daughter. Give him that small box
in the corner. |
| So the Raven-child
was given the smallest of the boxes, which contained the stars.
He chortled and crooned his melodious Raven cry as he rolled the
stars about on the floor. Suddenly, he tossed them high in the air
through the smokehole. The stars continued heavenward, scattering
themselves about the sky, where they remain until this day. |
| Then the
boy began to cry again, ouder and harsher than before, all the while
pointing to the boxes that were hidden away. Let him play with
the moon, then, said the grandfather, holding his hands over
his ears to shut out the racket. |
| He handed
the medium-sized box to the child to open. The boy was delighted,
rolling and bouncing the beautiful, luminous ball around and around
the house. He played catch with his mother, his black eyes dancing
with mischief as they were illuminatead by the silvery light. All
at once he bounced the moon hard against the floor. It flew high
over his mother's head and out of the smokehole, coming to rest
at last in the topmost branches of a tall spruce tree. |
| Raven-child's
gurgles of delight soon turned to hideous wails of dismay as he
begged once more for the remaining prize in the corner. There was
nothing his grandfather or mother could do to console him except
to give him the last and largest of the boxes. |
| When the
boy opened this box, which contained the daylight, he gave the Raven
cry Gaw! Then, changing himself into his true raven form,
he flew up through the smokehole with the light. The grandfather
and his daughter had just enough time to catch a glimpse of Raven
in this magnificent plumage betore he was gone, streaking across.
the sky with the light that he had released from the box. |
| As for the
daughter, she was delighted that she no longer had to grope her
way to the spring for water. And after that, she always looked in
her basket for any stray hemlock needles before she drank. |
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