Manataka® American Indian Council
Corn Mother
A Penobscot Legend
What
the buffalo represented to the nomadic tribes of the plains, corn was to
the planting people of the East and the Southwest - the all-nourishing sacred
food, the subject of innumerable legends and the central theme of many rituals.
Derived from a wild grass called "Teosintl", corn was planted in Mexico's Tehuacan valley as early as 8,000 years ago. The oldest corn found north of the border was discovered in New Mexico's Bat Cave. It is about 5,500 years old.
The Hopis say: "Moing''iima makes
corn. Everything grows on his body. He is short, about the height of a boy. He
has a female partner. Every summer he becomes heavy, his body is full of
vegetables: watermelon, corn, squash. They grow in his body. When the Hopi
plant, they invariably ask him to make the crop flourish; then their things come
up, whether vegetables or fruit. When he shaves his body, the seeds come out,
and afterward his body is thin. He used to live on this earth and go with the
Hopi. When things grow ripe, he becomes thin and is unhappy. He stays in the
west." Corn had equal significance for tribes in the East, as we see in this
tale from a New England tribe.
When Kloskurbeh, the All-maker, lived on earth, there were no people yet. But
one day when the sun was high, a youth appeared and called him "Uncle, brother
of my mother." This young man was born from the foam of the waves, foam
quickened by the wind and warmed by the sun. It was the motion of the wind, the
moistness of water, and the sun's warmth which gave him life - warmth
above all, because warmth is life. And the young man lived with Kloskurbeh and
became his chief helper.
Now, after these two powerful beings had created all manner of things, there
came to them, as the sun was shining at high noon, a beautiful girl. She was
born of the wonderful earth plant, and of the dew, and of warmth. Because a drop
of dew fell on a leaf and was warmed by the sun, and the warming sun is life,
this girl came into being - from the green living plant, from moisture, and from
warmth. "I am love," said the maiden. "I am a strength giver, I am the nourisher,
I am the provider of men and animals. They all love me."
Then
Kloskurbeh thanked the Great Mystery Above for having sent them the maiden. The
youth, the Great Nephew, married her, and the girl conceived and thus became
First Mother. And Kloskurbeh, the Great Uncle, who teaches humans all they need
to know, taught their children how to live. Then he went away to dwell in the
north, from which he will return sometime when he is needed.
Now the people increased and became numerous. They lived by hunting, and the
more people there were, the less game they found. They were hunting it out, and
as the animals decreased, starvation came upon the people. And First Mother
pitied them.
The little children came to First Mother and said: "We are hungry. Feed us." But
she had nothing to give them, and she wept. She told them: "Be patient. I will
make some food. Then your little bellies will be full." But she kept weeping.
Her husband asked: "How can I make you smile? How can I make you happy?"
"There is only one thing that will stop my tears."
"What is it?" asked her husband.
"It is this: you must kill me."
"I could never do that."
"You must, or I will go on weeping and grieving forever."
Then the husband traveled far, to the end of the earth, to the north he went, to
ask the Great Instructor, his uncle Kloskurbeh, what he should do.
"You must do what she wants. You must kill her," said Kloskurbeh. Then the young
man went back to his home, and it was his turn to weep. But First Mother said:
"Tomorrow at high noon you must do it. After you have killed me, let two of our
sons take hold of my hair and drag my body over that empty patch of earth. Let
them drag me back and forth, back and forth, over every part of the patch, until
all my flesh has been torn from my body.
Afterwards, take my bones, gather
them up, and bury them in the middle of this clearing. Then leave that place."
So it was done. The husband slew his wife and her sons, praying, dragged her
body to and fro as she had commanded, until her flesh covered all the earth.
Then they took up her bones and buried them in the middle of it. Weeping loudly,
they went away. When the husband and his children and his children's children
came back to that place after seven moons had passed, they found the earth
covered with tall, green, tassled plants. The plants' fruit - corn - was First
Mother's flesh, given so that the people might live and flourish. And they
partook of First Mother's flesh and found it sweet beyond words. Following her
instructions, they did not eat all, but put many kernels back into the earth. In
this way her flesh and spirit renewed
themselves every seven months, generation after generation.
And at the spot where they had buried First Mother's bones, there grew another
plant, broad-leafed and fragrant. It was First Mother's breath, and they heard
he spirit talking: "Burn this up and smoke it. It is sacred. It will clear your
minds, help your prayers, and gladden your hearts." And First Mother's husband
called the first plant "Skarmunal", corn, and the second plant "utarmur-wayeh,"
tobacco.
"Remember," he told the people, "and take good care of First Mother's flesh, because it is goodness become substance. Take good care of her breath, because it is her love turned into smoke. Remember her and think of her whenever you eat, whenever you smoke this sacred plant, because she has given her life so that you might live.
Yet she is not dead, she lives: in undying love she renews herself again and
again."
Retold from three nineteenth-century sources, including Joseph
Nicolar.
Submitted by Blue Panther, Keeper of Stories