Waltey

Prevod

Indijanec je imeniten pripovedovalec. Vsako pleme ima svoja izročila in starejši možje in žene jih radi pripovedujejo, saj vedno najdejo poslušalce. In kako nenavadne zgodbe znajo povedati! Prisluhnite na primer tejle. To je legenda, ki živi med plemeni v Arizoni.

Ko je Ta-Vwots, zajčji bog, spal v dolini Maopa, mu je Sonce iz nagajivosti ožgalo hrbet, da je z zavijanjem poskočil. »Aha! Torej si mi ti zagodlo to potegavščino?« je zavpil in pogledal proti Soncu. »Že še poskrbim, da ti bo vroče. Boš že videlo!«

In brez nadaljnjega se je odpravil v boj s Soncem. Med potjo se je ustavil, da bi nabral in spekel nekaj koruze. Ko so ljudje, ki so jo posejali, pritekli in ga hoteli kaznovati za tatvino, je izpraskal luknjo v tleh in smuknil vanjo, da je izginil izpred oči. Zasledovalci so v luknjo streljali puščice, toda Ta-Vwots je imel svoj dih in ta dih je bil strašansko močan, saj je z njim vse puščice odvrnil vstran. »Malopridnež je tu notri,« je rekel eden izmed njih. »Pa ga zgrabimo kako drugače.« Prinesli so kresilne kamne in lopate ter začeli kopati.

»Torej se greste takšno igro?« je zamrmral Ta-Vwots. »Jaz poznam pot iz te zagate, ki je vi ne poznate.« Nekajkrat je pihnil in nekajkrat brcnil z nogami ter dosegel veliko razpoko, ki je vodila v skalo za njim. Po tem prehodu se je prebil do odprtine v skalni vdolbini, od koder je lahko opazoval sovražnike pri kopanju. Ko so luknjo že precej povečali, je zavpil: »Naj vas pokoplje grob, ki ste si ga sami izkopali!« Zalučal je čarobno kroglo, ki jo je nosil s seboj, in jim zrušil zemljo na glave. Nato je odkorakal z besedami: »Bojevati se je prav tako zabavno kakor jesti. Maščevanje je moje opravilo. Vsakdo, ki ga srečam, bo moj sovražnik. Nihče ne bo ušel moji jezi.« In izpustil je bojni krik.

Naslednji dan je zagledal dva moža, ki sta segrevala kamne in iz njih klesala konice za puščice. »Naj vama pomagam, saj mi vroči kamni ne morejo škodovati,« je rekel. »Rad bi, da verjameva, da si duh, kaj?« sta ga posmehljivo vprašala.

»Nisem duh,« je odgovoril, »sem pa boljši mož od vaju. Držita me ob teh kamnih, in če se ne opečem, mi morata dovoliti, da z vama storim enako.« Moža sta privolila, v ognju razžarila kamne in ga pritisnila obnje, nista pa opazila, da je s svojim čarobnim dihom med seboj in vročo površino vzdrževal zračni tok. Neopečen je vstal in zahteval, da se tudi onadva podvržeta mučenju, in kot prava Indijanca sta to storila. Ko je ogenj globoko ožgal njuno meso in sta umrla, je izpustil bojni krik in odšel naprej.

Dan zatem je srečal dve ženski, ki sta nabirali jagode, in jima naročil, naj mu v oči pihneta listje in trnje. Mislili sta, da sta to tudi storili, toda s svojim čarobnim dihom je vse to zadržal stran od obraza.

»Ti si duh!« sta vzkliknili ženski. »Nisem duh,« je rekel. »Čisto navaden človek sem. Listje in trnje ne moreta nikomur škodovati. Glejta zdaj.« In pihnil jima je trnje v obraz ter ju oslepil. »Aha! Ujeli sta se v lastno past. Na poti sem, da ubijem Sonce. To je dobra vaja.« Nato ju je ubil, izpustil bojni krik in odšel naprej.

Jutro po tem dogodku se je na pečini Hurricane pojavilo nekaj žensk in veter mu je prinesel njihove besede na ušesa. Nameravale so ga ubiti tako, da bi nanj zvalile skale, ko bi šel mimo. Ko se je približal, se je pretvarjal, da nekaj jé s tolikšnim užitkom, da so ga vprašale, kaj je to. Zaklical je: »Nekaj sladkega. Pridite na rob, pa vam vržem gor.« Nato je nekaj vrgel tako blizu njihovih rok, da so se med sklanjanjem, da bi to ujele, preveč nagnetle k robu, izgubile ravnotežje, padle čez pečino in se ubile. »Žrtve lastnega pohlepa ste. Človek si ne bi smel ničesar tako silno želeti, da se zaradi tega ubije.« To je bila njegova edina pripomba, nato pa je izpustil bojni krik in odšel naprej.

Dan pozneje je naletel na dve ženski, ki sta iz vrbovih košar, prevlečenih s smolo, izdelovali vrče za vodo, in slišal, kako je ena zašepetala drugi: »Prihaja tisti hudobni Ta-Vwots. Kako naj ga pokončava?«

»Kaj sta rekli?« je vprašal zajčji bog. »Samo rekli sva: ‘Prihaja najin vnuk.’« (To je bil običajen ljubkovalni izraz.) »Je bilo to vse? Potem pa mi dovolita, da zlezem v enega teh vrčev, medtem ko mu spletata vrat.«

Skočil je vanj in povsem mirno ležal, medtem ko sta pletli vrat. Smejali sta se ob misli, da je odprtina tako majhna, da nikoli ne bo mogel pobegniti, ko je nenadoma — puh! — vrč razletelo in pred njima je stal Ta-Vwots. O njegovem čarobnem dihu nista vedeli ničesar. Čudili sta se, kako je prišel ven.

»Prav zlahka,« je odgovoril zajčji bog. »Te reči morda lahko držijo vodo, ne morejo pa zadržati moških in žensk. Poskusita, pa bosta videli, ali jih lahko.« Z njunim privoljenjem je Ta-Vwots začel okoli njiju plesti vrbove šibe in kmalu sta bili ujeti kakor v kletki. »Zdaj pa pridita ven,« je rekel. A naj sta se še tako trudili, niti ene šibe nista mogli prelomiti. »Ha, ha! Modri ženski sta, kajne? Ujeti v lastnih vrčih! Na poti sem, da ubijem Sonce. Sčasoma se bom naučil, kako.« Nato je izpustil bojni krik, ju s svojo čarobno kroglo udaril do smrti in odšel naprej.

Naslednji dan je srečal Medveda, ki si je kopal luknjo, da bi se skril vanjo, saj je slišal za zajčjega boga in ga je bilo strah. »Nikar se ne boj, prijatelj Medved,« je rekel malopridnež. »Pred menoj se ti res ni treba skrivati. Kako bi lahko tak drobižek, kakršen sem jaz, škodoval tolikim ljudem?« In pomagal je Medvedu izkopati brlog. Ko pa je bil ta končan, se je skril za skalo, in ko je Medved pomolil glavo blizu njega, mu je zalučal čarobno kroglo v obraz in ga pokončal. »Bal sem se tega bojevnika,« je rekel Ta-Vwots, »zdaj pa leži mrtev v svojem brlogu.« Nato je izpustil bojni krik in odšel naprej.

Dan zatem je srečal Tarantelo, prebrisanega malopridneža, ki je imel kij, s katerim je lahko drugim zadal smrten udarec, njemu samemu pa ni mogel škodovati. Ko se je Ta-Vwots približal, je Tarantela začel stokati in tožiti, da ga boli glava, ker se je vanjo naselil hudobni duh. Ali mu ga ne bi Ta-Vwots izbil iz nje? Seveda bi mu ga. Zgrabil je kij in ga pošteno namlatil, ko pa je Tarantela zaklical: »Močneje!«, je zaslutil, da je orožje začarano. Zamenjal ga je s svojo čarobno kroglo in z enim udarcem pokončal Tarantelo. »Sam si si izprosil ta udarec,« je pripomnil. »Na poti sem, da ubijem Sonce. Zdaj vem, da to zmorem.« Nato je izpustil bojni krik in odšel naprej.

Naslednji dan je prišel na rob sveta in se zazrl v praznino, kamor je padlo na tisoče neprevidnih ljudi, nato pa tam preživel noč pod drevesom. Ob zori je stopil na rob zemlje in v trenutku, ko se je prikazalo Sonce, mu je zalučal čarobno kroglo naravnost v obraz. Površina Sonca se je razletela na tisoč kosov, ki so se razpršili po zemlji in zanetili silovit požar. Ta-Vwots se je zavlekel pod drevo, ki mu je prej dajalo zavetje, a to ga ni moglo obvarovati pred vse hujšo vročino. Poskušal je zbežati, toda ogenj mu je požgal najprej prste na nogah, nato stopala, nato noge in nazadnje trup, tako da je tekel po rokah. Ko so mu zgorele še dlani, je hodil po štrcljih rok. Nazadnje mu je ostala le glava, ki se je kotalila čez hribe in doline, dokler ni udarila ob skalo. Tedaj so mu oči počile in solze, ki so bruhnile iz njih, so se razlile po deželi ter pogasile plamene. Sonce je bilo premagano. Ko so mu sodili pred drugimi bogovi, so ga ošteli zaradi nagajivih potegavščin in obsodili, da mora odtlej vsak dan potovati čez nebo po isti poti.

Izvirnik

The Indian is a great story-teller. Every tribe has its traditions, and the elderly men and women like to recount them, for they always find listeners. And odd stories they tell, too. Just listen to this, for example. It is a legend among the tribes of Arizona.

While Ta-Vwots, the hare god, was asleep in the valley of Maopa, the Sun mischievously burned his back, causing him to leap up with a howl. “Aha! It's you, is it, who played this trick on me?” he cried, looking at the Sun. “I'll make it warm for you. See if I don't.”

And without more ado he set off to fight the Sun. On the way he stopped to pick and roast some corn, and when the people who had planted it ran out and tried to punish him for the theft he scratched a hole in the ground and ran in out of sight. His pursuers shot arrows into the hole, but Ta-Vwots had his breath with him, and it was an awfully strong breath, for with it he turned all the arrows aside. “The scamp is in here,” said one of the party. “Let's get at him another way.” So, getting their flints and shovels, they began to dig.

“That's your game, is it?” mumbled Ta-Vwots. “I know a way out of this that you don't know.” With a few puffs of his breath and a few kicks of his legs he reached a great fissure that led into the rock behind him, and along this passage he scrambled until he came to the edge of it in a niche, from which he could watch his enemies digging. When they had made the hole quite large he shouted, “Be buried in the grave you have dug for yourselves!” And, hurling down a magic ball that he carried, he caved the earth in on their heads. Then he paced off, remarking, “To fight is as good fun as to eat. Vengeance is my work. Every one I meet will be an enemy. No one shall escape my wrath.” And he sounded his war-whoop.

Next day he saw two men heating rocks and chipping arrow-heads from them. “Let me help you, for hot rocks will not hurt me,” he said.

“You would have us to believe you are a spirit, eh?” they questioned, with a jeer.

“No ghost,” he answered, “but a better man than you. Hold me on those rocks, and, if I do not burn, you must let me do the same to you.”

The men complied, and heating the stones to redness in the fire they placed him against them, but failed to see that by his magic breath he kept a current of air flowing between him and the hot surface. Rising unhurt, he demanded that they also should submit to the torture, and, like true Indians, they did so. When their flesh had been burned half through and they were dead, he sounded his warwhoop and went on.

On the day following he met two women picking berries, and told them to blow the leaves and thorns into his eyes. They did so, as they supposed, but with his magic breath he kept the stuff away from his face.

“You are a ghost!” the women exclaimed.

“No ghost,” said he. “Just a common person. Leaves and thorns can do no harm. See, now.” And he puffed thorns into their faces and made them blind. “Aha! You are caught with your own chaff I am on my way to kill the Sun. This is good practice.” And he slew them, sounded his war-whoop, and went on.

The morning after this affair some women appeared on Hurricane Cliff and the wind brought their words to his ears. They were planning to kill him by rolling rocks upon him as he passed. As he drew near he pretended to eat something with such enjoyment that they asked him what it was. He called out, “It is sweet. Come to the edge and I will throw it up to you.” With that he tossed something so nearly within their reach that in bending forward to catch it they crowded too near the brink, lost their balance, fell over, and were killed. “You are victims of your own greed. One should never be so anxious as to kill one's self.” This was his only comment, and, sounding the warwhoop, he went on.

A day later he came upon two women making water jugs of willow baskets lined with pitch, and he heard one whisper to the other, “Here comes that bad Ta-Vwots. How shall we destroy him?”

“What were you saying?” asked the hare god.

“We just said, 'Here comes our grandson.'” (A common form of endearment.)

“Is that all? Then let me get into one of these water jugs while you braid the neck.”

He jumped in and lay quite still as they wove the neck, and they laughed to think that it was braided so small that he could never escape, when--puff! the jug was shattered and there was Ta-Vwots. They did not know anything about his magic breath. They wondered how he got out.

“Easily enough,” replied the hare god. “These things may hold water, but they can't hold men and women. Try it, and see if they can.” With their consent, Ta-Vwots began weaving the osiers about them, and in a little while he had them caged. “Now, come out,” he said. But, try as they might, not a withe could they break. “Ha, ha! You are wise women, aren't you? Bottled in your own jugs! I am on my way to kill the Sun. In time I shall learn how.” Then, sounding his war-whoop, he struck them dead with his magic ball and went on.

He met the Bear next day, and found him digging a hole to hide in, for he had heard of the hare god and was afraid. “Don't be frightened, friend Bear,” said the rogue. “I'm not the sort of fellow to hide from. How could a little chap like me hurt so many people?” And he helped the Bear to dig his den, but when it was finished he hid behind a rock, and as the Bear thrust his head near him he launched his magic ball at his face and made an end of him. “I was afraid of this warrior,” said Ta-Vwots, “but he is dead, now, in his den.” And sounding his war-whoop he went on.

It was on the day following that he met the Tarantula, a clever rascal, who had a club that would deal a fatal blow to others, but would not hurt himself. He began to groan as Ta-Vwots drew near, and cried that he had a pain caused by an evil spirit in his head. Wouldn't Ta-Vwots thump it out? Indeed, he would. He grasped the club and gave him the soundest kind of a thwacking, but when the Tarantula shouted “Harder,” he guessed that it was an enchanted weapon, and changing it for his magic ball he finished the Tarantula at a blow. “That is a stroke of your own seeking,” he remarked. “I am on my way to kill the Sun. Now I know that I can do it.” And sounding his war-whoop he went on.

Next day he came to the edge of the world and looked off into space, where thousands of careless people had fallen, and there he passed the night under a tree. At dawn he stood on the brink of the earth and the instant that the Sun appeared he flung the magic ball full in his face. The surface of the Sun was broken into a thousand pieces that spattered over the earth and kindled a mighty conflagration. Ta-Vwots crept under the tree that had sheltered him, but that was of no avail against the increasing heat. He tried to run away, but the fire burned off his toes, then his feet, then his legs, then his body, so that he ran on his hands, and when his hands were burned off he walked on the stumps of his arms. At last his head alone remained, and that rolled over hill and valley until it struck a rock, when the eyes burst and the tears that gushed forth spread over the land, putting out the flames. The Sun was conquered, and at his trial before the other gods was reprimanded for his mischievous pranks and condemned thereafter to travel across the sky every day by the same trail.

Nalagam bralnik