JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST最新文献

{"title":"Supplement to \"History of the Sif Oidak District, Tohono 'O'odham Nation\"","authors":"Harry J. Winters Jr.","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2024.a933421","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2024.a933421","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p><ul> <li> <!-- html_title --> Supplement to \"History of the Sif Oidak District, Tohono 'O'odham Nation\" <!-- /html_title --> </li> <li> Harry J. Winters Jr. (bio) </li> </ul> Published in <em>Journal of the Southwest</em>, Volume 62, Number <issue>3</issue>, <season>Autumn</season>2020, pages 679– 708 <p>In the \"History of the Sif Oidak District\" referred to in this paper's title, translations of two 'O'odham men's names, both from the 'O'odham Paḍ 'Aangam tradition, were not given because I had not figured them out. These names are Suhañ Maakai, first mentioned on page 686, and Kokoñip, first mentioned on page 689. Since then, after checking some Uto-Aztecan vocabularies and consultation with friends, 'O'odham and non-'O'odham, the translations have become clear.</p> <p>The name Suhañ Maakai is correctly pronounced S-'Uuvañ Maakai. A maakai is a man with certain natural knowledge and supernatural powers that, for example, enable him to cure 'O'odham sicknesses. S-'Uuvañ comes from the verb 'uuva that means to give off an odor (not a particular odor; just an odor). The name means Maakai Who Gives Off An Odor or Maakai Who Smells (of something).</p> <p>The name of S-'Uuvañ Maakai's adopted son was Kokoñip. It is pronounced the way it is written. Kokoñip was a Yavapai boy who got lost in the desert and was found by S-'Uuvañ Maakai. Kokoñ is an old 'O'odham word that means raven (common raven, <em>Corvus corax</em>). Pennington (1979, 27) has it as \"Cuervo coconi\" for the seventeenth-century Pima Bajo in Sonora. Kokoñ is still used by the Pima Bajo of Ónavas, Sonora (Amadeo Rea, personal communication, September 2021), and by the Mountain Pimas (Luis Barragan, personal <strong>[End Page 179]</strong>communication, September 2021). It is still used by the Tepehuán of Baborigame, Chihuahua, as \"kokóóñi (ave) s el Cuervo\" (Bascom and Molina 1998, 99), and by the Tepehuán of Santa María Ocotán, Durango, as kakoon (sing) and kokkon (plural), cuervo and cuervos, respectively (Willett and Willett 2016, 110). Kokoñ is no longer heard in Arizona. The 'O'odham word for raven today is havañ, a word recorded as early as the mid eighteenth century (Winters 2020, 688–689). Kokoñip, the boy's name, is a contraction of kokoñ(i) and 'oob, affected by vowel harmony, and means Raven 'Oob.</p> <p>The 'O'odham word 'oob means enemy, not a personal enemy, but a member of an enemy nation. At the time of the events in the Paḍ 'Aangam tradition, the 'O'odham applied the word 'oob to the Yavapai. Since the beginning of Apache raiding in 'O'odham country it has been applied to both the Yavapai and the Apaches. Until recently the Yavapai still referred to the 'Akimeli 'O'odham (Pimas) as the jahwá kahána, \"the main (original) enemy,\" even though hostilities between the two ended in the 1870s. The failure of authors of books on 'O'odham history, ethnology, and linguistics to determine w","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"11 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-07-30","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"141866124","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"\"I Want People to Really See It\": On Poetry, Truth, and the Particularities of Blackhorse Mitchell's \"The Beauty of Navajoland\"","authors":"Anthony K. Webster","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2024.a933416","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2024.a933416","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> \"I Want People to Really See It\":<span>On Poetry, Truth, and the Particularities of Blackhorse Mitchell's \"The Beauty of Navajoland\"</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Anthony K. Webster (bio) </li> </ul> <h2><em>In memory of Blackhorse Mitchell</em></h2> <blockquote> <p>We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours for ever.</p> —J. L. Carr, <em>A Month in the Country</em>, 1983 </blockquote> <blockquote> <p>Not just having been <em>there</em>, but having been <em>then</em> is what maketh the ethnographer.</p> —Johannes Fabian, <em>Anthropology with an Attitude</em>, 2001 </blockquote> <h2>P<small>oetry and</small> T<small>ruth</small></h2> <p>The question of \"poetry and truth\" (the subtitle of Goethe's autobiography no less)—of which this paper is a small, particular contribution—has a long history in Western theorizing. What kinds of truths does poetry convey? The claims that follow are often categorical. Poetry, we are repeatedly told, tells us a certain kind of truth—reminiscent of Jakobson's (1960) poetic function, which foregrounds the form of the message over its other functions (including, of course, its referential function). To many a linguistic anthropologist, this formulation strikes a resonate note with Bauman's definition of verbal art as performance—\"an assumption of accountability to an audience for the way in which communication is carried out, above and beyond its referential content\" (Bauman 1975: 293). The truth is not of a referential or a factual matter, it is not something to be tested, but to be felt. <strong>[End Page 1]</strong></p> <p>Such discussions about the nature of truth in poetry are rather common—the literature on this, by poet and non-poet alike, is rather immense (see, for example, Samuels 2015; Makihara and Rodríguez 2022; see also Abrams 1953). In its vastness, perhaps, it suggests an uneasiness—perhaps akin to what Hazard Adams (2007) called \"the offense of poetry\"—about the very project of poetry in that Western tradition (one thinks, immediately, of Plato—for better or for worse). Be that as it may, such expansiveness allows as well for a bit of freedom in citing such comments. So here, partly because it is a chance to quote a favorite writer, and partly because she quotes John Cheever, let me quote Mary Oliver's <em>A Poetry Handbook</em> on the matter at hand:</p> <blockquote> <p>Poems begin in experience, but poems are not in fact experience, not even an exact reportage of an experience. They are imaginative constructs, and they do not exist to tell us about the poet or the poet's actual experience—they exist in order to be poems. John Cheever says somewhere in his journals, \"I lie, in order to tell a more significant truth.\" The poem too is after a \"more significant truth.\"</p> (Oliver 1994: 109–110) </blockquote> <p>I think Oliver captures well a particular","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"46 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-07-30","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"141866122","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Oral Histories of Coyote Iguana and Dolores Casanova Among the Comcaac","authors":"Alberto Mellado Jr., Gary Paul Nabhan","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922452","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922452","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Oral Histories of Coyote Iguana and Dolores Casanova Among the Comcaac <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Alberto Mellado Jr. (bio) Translated by Gary Paul Nabhan (bio) </li> </ul> <h2>T<small>he</small> B<small>irth and</small> C<small>hildhood of</small> J<small>esús</small> Á<small>vila</small></h2> <p>Around the year of 1828, in a remote place on the small island <em>Cofteecöl</em>—or San Esteban Island as the Mexicans will call it later—those of us who were there saw the birth of a special little one of our kind. On that happy day, we celebrated with his parents, whose names we still remember after nearly two centuries: the father, Juan Ávila, and the mother, Mariana Sánchez, both Comcaac people. Some of us still remember that Juan Ávila was the brother of <em>Coimaxp</em>. It was he who told Juan Ávila to take his wife to the island of <em>Cofteecöl</em> or San Esteban, for there, they could readily harvest and eat maguey and iguanas. There, because our caves on the island were safer and more protected from the cold, their son could be born in comfort. So, Juan Ávila and his wife, Mariana Sánchez, left for that small island in the middle of the sea, where they lived during the winter of that year, caring for their newborn son.</p> <p>At that time, there was no way that the parents could even imagine that the little boy they held in their arms would one day in the future possibly become the most widely known man in the history of our tribe. The Spanish name they gave him was Jesús Ávila, but at some point in his life he would become known throughout Sonora as Coyote Iguana.</p> <p>When Jesús Ávila was only one month old, his parents ventured westward across the Gulf to take him to the island we call <em>Coof Coopol Iti Iihom</em>, or San Lorenzo Island, as the Mexicans would call it. <strong>[End Page 469]</strong></p> <p>Late in 1829, those of us who were on Tiburón Island saw a balsa boat arrive on the west shore of Tiburón Island. We recognized them as the family of Juan and Mariana, coming from <em>Coof Coopol Iti Iihom</em>, bringing little Jesús Ávila along with them. He was now about one year old. They stayed with us during the season when the saguaros give us their large white flowers, camping with us in the place that we call <em>Cyajoj</em>.</p> <p>In those days they moved like all of us to other camps on Tiburón Island, in the camps we call <em>Hant Copni</em> and <em>Xtasi</em>, where they lived for some time.</p> <p>We then saw the family of little Jesús Ávila sail north, across the sea to the camp that our people call <em>Hast Pizal</em>, one that the Mexicans will later call Puertecitos. It is on the Baja California peninsula we call <em>Hant Ihíin</em>. It is a fishing camp that many of our families stayed at, about a hundred miles northwest of the <em>Xazl Iimt</em>, the island that the Mexicans would ca","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"21 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299639","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Lola Casanova That I Have Longed to Know","authors":"Robert McKee Irwin","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922449","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922449","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Lola Casanova That I Have Longed to Know <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Robert McKee Irwin (bio) </li> </ul> <p>A few years ago I was embarking on a project about borderlands culture that grew out of a fascination that I'd developed with Ramona—not Helen Hunt Jackson's novel, nor its various adaptations in film or theater or telenovela in the US or Mexico, nor the \"real\" Ramona promoted by the southern California tourist industry, but the legendary figure that encompasses all those Ramonas. As I researched how Ramona continued to captivate audiences over time and space, I was astounded to see how this beloved character came to take on distinct cultural meanings for different audiences. Ramona, as the story goes, was born to an Indigenous mother and a white father but raised as part of a white elite Californio family, later fell in love with an Indigenous man, discovered her own mixed-race background, got married, and assumed an Indigenous identity, a remarkable choice, taking into account predominant racial ideologies. Her story, with its many romantic and tragic twists and adventures, is too complicated to summarize here. But I can condense some of what Ramona came to signify: the romantic charm of Mexican/Californio/Spanish California, the possibilities of interracial integration in the US West, Mexican American culture's deep roots in the US Southwest, and a challenge to prevailing racial hierarchies.</p> <p>I found it particularly interesting that the cultural phenomenon of Ramona, as something of a cultural icon of the Mexican American Southwest, was not contained to the southern California region, where her story (her purported birthplace, the ranch where she grew up, the site of her marriage, etc.) inspired a lively tourist industry, or the United States, where the original novel was a perpetual bestseller for decades and the inspiration for multiple movies and a popular romantic ballad. Instead a Spanish translation by Cuban poet José Martí, a Mexican film, and, much later, a popular Mexican telenovela made Ramona into an <strong>[End Page 447]</strong> iconic figure in Mexico, as well. Ramona, the legend, the character, the icon, was a cross-border phenomenon that provoked passionate adoration among both English- and Spanish-speaking audiences.</p> <p>Curious as to whether any similar phenomenon could be found in Mexican culture, I soon came across a Mexican borderlands legend that at first seemed to share some fundamental characteristics of the Ramona story. Dolores Casanova, like Ramona, grew up a member of the local white elite, and caused a scandal by giving up her privileged position in Mexican society by going to live with an Indigenous man, bearing his children, and assimilating to his culture. Like Ramona, Lola Casanova, as she was known in popular representations, became a protagonist of both literature ","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"154 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299642","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Account Given by Ernesto Molina, Great-Great-Grandson and Descendant of Jesús Ávila Sánchez and Dolores Casanova Villegas","authors":"Gary Paul Nabhan, Laura Monti","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922455","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922455","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Account Given by Ernesto Molina, Great-Great-Grandson and Descendant of Jesús Ávila Sánchez and Dolores Casanova Villegas <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> October 15, 2020, interview with Gary P. Nabhan and Laura Monti, Punta Chueca, Sonora </li> </ul> <h2>P<small>reface</small></h2> <p>Ernesto Molina is a well-known Comcaac elder and an expedition and tour guide who lives in Punta Chueca, Sonora. He has over four decades of experience managing cross-cultural outdoor education programs for the University of Arizona's Southwest Center. In addition to his ancestry from Jesús Ávila (Coyote Iguana), one of his grandfathers was a hunting guide on Isla Tiburón and the mainland for American wildlife writers and naturalists.</p> <h2>E<small>rnesto's</small> A<small>ccount</small></h2> <p>Before anything else, I want to remind us that many Mexicans of Spanish blood still express some elements of racism when discussing their views of the history of Coyote Iguana in his relationship with Lola Casanova. He did <em>not</em> have an oppressive or violent relationship with her; it was one based on healthy or respectful behavior. He rescued Lola <strong>[End Page 506]</strong> when she fainted, as others were being killed by combat or fire in the stagecoach she was in, as it traveled between Hermosillo and Guaymas. He took her away from the scene, to a safer place where she could recuperate.</p> <p>Now, we know that Lola went back to see her family at least three times over the subsequent years—at least once accompanied by soldiers—but she always returned to the Island, Tiburón, to voluntarily live with Jesús Ávila Sánchez and their child. The third time she returned, however, he did not accept her company. Her continuing affection for him had no effect.</p> <p>Keep in mind that Jesús Ávila was sometimes called Coyote (<em>Oot</em>) by us, but never Coyote Iguana. Whether the name Coyote Iguana referred to both of them together, or just one of them, I don't know, but it was not used for them in the Seri language, <em>Cmiique Iitom</em>.</p> <p>What we now know for sure was that her father was Spanish-born, not Mexican. We don't know anything about her mother. Lola was fair-skinned and had light-colored hair. She lived with her father on a ranch outside of Guaymas. Jesús Ávila knew that same area well because he had stayed many months at Tastiota, not too far north up the coast from Guaymas.</p> <p>Once he had rescued her from the stagecoach where others perished, they lived together for nearly two years in camps on the mainland not far from Tastiota. But when a military expedition was launched to search for her, they went by horseback to <em>Paa Hax</em>, or Chalate [Place of the Wild Fig in Hermosillo <em>municipio</em>]. From near there, they went off in a balsa boat to cross the sea to the islands to escape beyond the reach of the mounted s","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"35 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299540","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Carp Fever! The Introduction of Carp into Territorial Arizona and Its Lasting Legacy","authors":"Michael Bogan","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922448","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922448","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Carp Fever!<span><em>The Introduction of Carp into Territorial Arizona and Its Lasting Legacy</em></span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Michael Bogan (bio) </li> </ul> <h2>M<small>ichael</small> B<small>ogan</small></h2> <p>European carp (<em>Cyprinus carpio</em>), a species which is largely viewed as a \"trash fish\" in modern times, was the first non-native fish to be imported to Arizona.<sup>1</sup> In fact, the Arizona Territory and much of the United States were swept up in a carp fever in the 1880s. Settlers across the country spent the better part of that decade going to great lengths to obtain carp from government and private providers so they could start their own recreational and commercial carp fisheries. Although carp fever was relatively short-lived, its impacts continue to reverberate today in Arizona's imperiled native fish fauna and in the way aquatic ecosystems and species are managed in the state. In this article, I present the surprising, impactful, and at times amusing history of carp in Arizona, including the clamor to import them in the 1880s, a detailed case study of carp fever in Tucson, and the lasting impact of carp fever on the state.</p> <h2>I<small>ncreasing</small> D<small>emand for</small> F<small>ish in</small> T<small>erritorial</small> A<small>rizona</small></h2> <p>Although non-native fishes were not imported to Arizona until the 1880s, freshwater fishes have always been an important food resource for residents of the region. Native fishes endemic to the Colorado River and its tributaries, including razorback sucker (<em>Xyrauchen texanus</em>) and Colorado pikeminnow (<em>Ptychocheilus lucius</em>), were managed and sustainably harvested for thousands of years by ancestors of the O'odham, <strong>[End Page 425]</strong> Cocopah, and Chemehuevi, among other tribes.<sup>2</sup> However, Anglo colonization of the region in the 1800s led to significant disruptions to the region's rivers and their unique fish fauna, setting the stage for the desire to import new fishes.</p> <p>At first, Anglo colonists practiced small-scale subsistence and recreational fishing in Arizona. This pattern was regularly documented in territorial newspapers, including this description of fishing for Gila chub (<em>Gila intermedia</em>; described as \"speckled trout\") in the Santa Cruz River in Tucson in 1877:</p> <blockquote> <p>There is more or less fishing being done these days along the waters of the Santa Cruz.… We saw a string of fish the other day some of which were a foot long. They are a very palatable fish too, though we don't know their proper name. Perhaps speckled trout.… There is said to be some first-rate fishing spots along the river.<sup>3</sup></p> </blockquote> <p>As Anglo populations grew, and mining and agricultural industries developed, the demand for freshwater fish grew as well. This growth includ","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"15 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299740","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"An Account of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova in Seri Oral Tradition","authors":"Cathy Moser Marlett","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922451","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922451","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> An Account of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova in Seri Oral Tradition <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Cathy Moser Marlett (bio) </li> </ul> <p>Presented here is a translation of a Seri account of the abduction of Lola Casanova, narrated by Roberto Herrera Marcos and recorded on reel-to-reel tape by Edward Moser, in Desemboque, Sonora, in 1964.<sup>1</sup> While other Seris, notably Jesús Morales, provided additional details when queried by Moser, Herrera's is the most complete single narrative recorded in the Seri language. This was made more than a century following the abduction. The recording was made during the visit of Edith Sykes Lowell in June 1964, while she researched the Seri information about the abduction for her University of Arizona master's thesis (Lowell 1966) and a subsequent article (Lowell 1970).<sup>2</sup> In Desemboque, Lowell and her husband met the Mosers, who then introduced her to known Seri narrators, one of whom was Roberto. His wife, Ramona Casanova, was considered to be the great-granddaughter of Lola Casanova and Coyote Iguana.</p> <p>Perhaps primarily because of the severe consequences inflicted on the Seris as a result of Lola's abduction, the event remained a part of Seri oral tradition.<sup>3</sup> Besides showing the depth of this tradition, the narrative is significant in that it relates to a little-recalled period when the southern Seri people, known as the <em>Xiica Xnaai Iicp Coii</em> \"those who live in the south,\" or the <em>Xnaamotat</em>, \"those from the south,\" inhabited the area near Guaymas, Sonora (see Moser 1963, 2017). By the late 19th century, the people as a group were lost to history, having been integrated into the surrounding Spanish and Indigenous populations, or, to the north, been decimated in conflicts with other Seris or the Mexican military. Only a few words of the distinctive dialect of the Seri language they spoke have been recorded, recalled by descendants of Seris from one of these groups (Moser n.d.). <strong>[End Page 461]</strong></p> <p>Herrera's narrative, along with what other Seris confirmed at the time, makes it clear that Coyote Iguana was a Seri man who, because of spending time with Yaqui people, was acquainted with their songs and language. Coyote Iguana, whose Spanish name was Jesús Ávila, became the subject of apocryphal and sometimes mystical accounts in Seri folklore. However, little has been passed down about his victim and companion. One might wish that the account given here contained more personal details about Lola, such as her character, her offspring, and her life with the Seri people. It is clear from the paucity of personal details here and elsewhere that the significance of the kidnapping event lies in the consequences suffered by the people rather than in Lola's life with the Seris.<sup>4</sup></p> <p>Herrera's account, loosely translate","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"24 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299542","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"Introduction: The Union of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova Set in a Time of Crisis","authors":"Gary Paul Nabhan","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922450","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922450","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> Introduction:<span>The Union of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova Set in a Time of Crisis</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> Gary Paul Nabhan (bio) </li> </ul> <p>Why do some stories continue to be told mouth to mouth, generation to generation, for centuries, without ever losing their power or precision? It is a question that is particularly potent for peoples who have been oppressed, enslaved, or brought to the brink of extinction by genocide. We suspect that such stories may do far more than to simply remind them how their ancestors survived difficult times. Could it be that they offer object lessons for current generations on how to remain resistant and resilient in the face of the challenges and threats that continue to confront them?</p> <p>What if these <em>oral</em> histories remind them of the <em>moral</em> convictions that their ancestors had? What if they also provide sensory touchstones—the smell of danger in the air, or the unnerving sound of military forces coming toward them in the still of the night—which may allow contemporaries to stay alert to emerging dangers like those their predecessors endured?</p> <p>Could it be that such stories work metaphorically like antibodies to prevent or protect a cultural community from succumbing to similar dangers today?</p> <p>Let us attempt to tentatively answer such questions by \"fleshing out\" the context of one such parable or \"legend\" with multiple versions. It is the story of \"Coyote Iguana\" and \"Lola Casanova,\" whose origins date back to the 1840s and 1850s, that continues to be told today. As ethnohistorian Thomas Sheridan bluntly noted:</p> <blockquote> <p>The [Mexican versions or] legends, which changed through time, capture the fascination and repugnance with which \"white,\" Victorian Sonora viewed the Seri in particular, and Indians in general.… [They] resonated with the lurid power when a Mexican woman of \"good society\" had sexual relations with one of the \"barbarous Indians.\"</p> (Sheridan 1999: 481) <strong>[End Page 453]</strong> </blockquote> <p>It is not surprising that the oral accounts of the Seri (or Comcaac) regarding this incident have an entirely different meaning and moral force. By more fully understanding why the content of these stories has mattered so much to the descendants of those involved in these historical events, we might be able to fathom why it has had staying power in building a steady sense of resistance within the Indigenous Comcaac communities along the desert coast of the Sea of Cortés.</p> <p>These are the seafaring, hunting, fishing, and wild foraging communities who were once called \"the nomadic Seri tribe.\" They were considered by some to be too primitive \"to farm or to build permanent abodes,\" and erroneously deemed \"wild cannibals\" by racist outsiders over three centuries of sporadic contact (Bahre 1980: 197).</p> <p>In fact, ","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"5 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299544","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"How Good Is Oral History and What Is It Good For?","authors":"Gary Paul Nabhan, Laura Monti","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922457","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922457","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> How Good Is Oral History and What Is It Good For? <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> October 15, 2020, and December 15, 2021, interviews with Gary P. Nabhan and Laura Monti, Desemboque del Sur, Sonora </li> </ul> <p>Popular and scholarly interest in the poetry and veracity of oral histories surges and ebbs like the tides in the Gulf of California, going in and out of fashion with various cultural conflicts, political challenges, and academic trends. And yet, few of us would disagree with Bruce Masse and Fred Espenak's (2006: 230) contention that \"oral tradition is [still] viewed in a skeptical manner and its nature and validity are likewise subject to Western cultural biases.\" As the World Wide Web places at our fingertips more and more digital documentary histories, it may seem that oral histories have been further marginalized. One might wonder whether the precision of oral histories about the same events as those in digitized documents is now more routinely dismissed than at any point in human history.</p> <p>In response to this dilemma, David Henige (2009: 128) has offered a counterbalancing view of the significance of oral histories in our digital day and age:</p> <blockquote> <p>If…it can be demonstrated that certain information in oral data is thousands of years old and at the same time an accurate recollection, then reservations about much later (say, several centuries later) orally transmitted information might need to be reassessed, and with such rethinking would come new ways to approach great swaths of the past. <strong>[End Page 516]</strong></p> </blockquote> <p>One great swath of insights about the nature of cross-cultural tensions in the Sonoran Desert is elucidated in this issue, showing remarkable precision and attention to details surrounding events that took place in the desert more than 170 years ago.</p> <p>This rather remarkable if not miraculous persistence of Comcaac cultural memories reflects upon the lives of a cross-cultural couple euphoniously called Lola Casanova and Coyote Iguana whose paths first crossed in February of 1850.</p> <p>Meager but tantalizing and contradictory bits of documentary evidence about the abduction incident have been found in archives, including four notes from military leader Cayetano Navarro written within a year of the abduction (see Bowen 2000 and Irwin 2007). And yet, as Robert Irwin (2007) has perceptively documented, and elegantly interpreted, these fragments of field reportage have engendered a rash of wildly distorted sexist and racist tropes in the pulp literature and art films of Mexico for more than a century. Over the same period, far more relevant details from Comcaac oral histories have emerged about the lives of these two individuals than what were recorded between 1964 and 1970, when the first concerted effort was made to archive \"Seri traditions\" about this i","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"16 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299564","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}

{"title":"The Journey of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova: A Visual Geography","authors":"David Burckhalter","doi":"10.1353/jsw.2023.a922453","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/jsw.2023.a922453","url":null,"abstract":"<span><span>In lieu of</span> an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:</span>\u0000<p> <ul> <li><!-- html_title --> The Journey of Coyote Iguana and Lola Casanova:<span>A Visual Geography</span> <!-- /html_title --></li> <li> David Burckhalter (bio) </li> </ul> <p>In 1850, traveling the road from Guaymas/<em>Hasoj Iyat</em> to Hermosillo/<em>Hezitmisoj</em>, a young Mexican woman, Lola Casanova, was abducted from her father's carriage by a Seri named Coyote Iguana (Jesús Ávila) near the caves of La Pintada in the Sierra Libre (Cerro Prieto). Coyote Iguana fled with his captive on horseback, arriving on the shore of Bahía Kino Viejo. Boarding a balsa or reed raft, he ferried her across the Estrecho Infiernillo/<em>Xepe Coosot</em> from Isla Alcatráz/<em>Soosni</em> to Isla Tiburón/<em>Tahejöc</em>. While living on the island, Lola gave birth to a son named Victor Ávila. Lola Casanova was eventually repatriated to her family, while Coyote Iguana met his end at Campo <em>Hoona</em> on the mainland. <strong>[End Page 484]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p></p> <p><strong>[End Page 485]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Aerial view of San Esteban Island</em>/Cofteecöl, <em>looking north to Tiburón Island</em>/ Tahejöc. 2019.</p> <p></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>The peaks of Tetas de Cabra rise behind San Carlos Bay, Sonora. 1990</em>.</p> <p></p> <p><strong>[End Page 486]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Entrance to Nacapule Canyon located north of San Carlos Bay. 2021</em>.</p> <p></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Rancho La Pintada landscape in the Sierra Libre (Cerro Prieto) mountains. 2019</em>.</p> <p></p> <p><strong>[End Page 487]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Cave paintings at Rancho La Pintada. 2019</em>.</p> <p></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>A view of Tastiota Estuary/Hast Ihiin looking east. 2016</em>.</p> <p></p> <p><strong>[End Page 488]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Alcatraz Island/Soosni located inside Kino Bay. 2017. Soosni means \"pelican\" in Seri; in Spanish, Alcatraz also means \"pelican.\"</em></p> <p></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p><em>Sergio and Enrique Robles aboard their panga. Looking east from Tiburón Island to Kino Bay. Three landmarks are outlined on the Kino Bay coast, L to R: Cerro de la Cruz (northern promontory of Kino Bay), Alcatraz Island</em>/Soosni, <em>and San Nicolas Peak</em>/Hacac<em>. 2016</em>.</p> <p></p> <p><strong>[End Page 489]</strong></p> <br/> Click for larger view<br/> View full resolution <p>Pazj Háx <em>(Graphite Water) Arroyo</em>/Hant Ipxz Pazj Háx. <em>With fig trees, flat terrain, and freshwater seeps</em>, Pazj Háx <em>was an important Seri waterhole and campsit","PeriodicalId":43344,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF THE SOUTHWEST","volume":"20 1","pages":""},"PeriodicalIF":0.3,"publicationDate":"2024-03-21","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"140299541","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"历史学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}