World Renewal Ceremony

Members of the Hupa tribe in ceremonial garb.

Even before I pass the sign welcoming me into the Hoopa Tribal Lands I am aware I am a guest here. A slip of paper with the name and number of Mildred Nixon, a Hupa Elder who has run one of the camps at the Jump Dance with her family for 45 years, provided an invitation for me to see the biennial Jump Dance.

This is the place where the Hoopa People have always lived. Natinook is located in the Hoopa Valley of Northwestern California. Archeology soil tests prove through carbon dating that the ancient fire pit at Ta’k’imildin, the site of the Jump Dance, has been in use for 7000 years. Outside the sacred sweat lodge at Ta’k’imildin alongside the Trinity River, the Dance Maker has gathered the Natinixwe people (Nah-tin-o-whey), now known as the Hupa people, to prepare for the second part of the sacred World Renewal Ceremony, the Jump Dance.

By the time I contacted Mildred, the Jump Dance had been in progress for six of its ten days. I arrived in Hoopa well after dark. The fire pit was inviting and I could see there were people gathered around it. The Jump Dance site is much the same as it was long ago. The message is also the same. Through prayer, dance, and song the people ask that the world be renewed and the earth balanced.

Before the Jump Dance can begin everyone taking part in the ceremony must resolve any past troubles or disagreements they have with others. No one may come with thoughts that are unsettled. This way you may know that everyone taking part in the ceremony has no ill feelings.

Laura Lee George, Assistant Superintendent of Klamath-Trinity Schools, explained, “What everyone brings with them is what goes into the mix. The Medicine Man and Medicine Woman are praying for peace, praying for plenty of food, praying for everybody to get along. And this time during the Jump Dance there was a lot of emphasis on terrorism. Well why? To go away! The prayers are actually asking for all these things to be blown away in the wind. And during the dance there were huge gusts of wind. And that was part of what we were asking”.

That night I felt surrounded by mysticism and spirituality in its highest form. The bright firelight made shadows as the dancers moved in front of the high wood plank fence. The firelight made it seem like there were two rows of dancers. The dancers of the first row were fully dressed in traditional Jump Dance regalia, while the shadowy figures with swaying, feather-shaped plumes made the second row seem larger than life.

The dancers face northwest, looking toward the river and mountains beyond. Behind me the river rushed over a riffle making a song of its own. The wind came up in gusts howling the chorus. As I watched the dancers and swirling flames of fire, I found myself praying too.

The hand carved cedar plank fence behind the dancers plays a very important role during the Jump Dance. Bound to each end of the fence are two fir saplings, and as part of the preparations to the ancient site, the Medicine Man carves spirals into the bark so that the immortals, or K’ixinay (Ka-hin-nay), may find their way behind the fence to watch the dancing.

The stories passed down from one generation to the next tell of the immortal leader of the K’ixinay, Yimantuwinyai, who gave precise and explicit details for all aspects of Hupa life, human and immortal, including the two most important ceremonies, the White Deerskin Dance and the Jump Dance. The two dances coincide with one another with the goal of world renewal. The Jump Dance is held the next moon cycle after the White Deerskin Dance and is performed for everyone.

Storytellers of today and old texts on Hupa culture describe the origin of the Jump Dance. They tell of a dark cloud in the sky over Natinook towards the southeast. This cloud was full of disease. The K’ixinay became fearful and started to cry. The wailing was so loud that the birds flying over almost dropped dead.

“It is disease that is coming; come make a dance,” said Yimantuwinyai.

After ten days of dancing the cloud receded and was no more.

The Medicine Maker puts incense root into the fire to assist with prayer and positive thinking. He talks about the K’ixinay, the wind coming to blow the sickness out to sea, good food to come again, and the people living well. The prayer itself is as old as the Jump Dance and is spoken at some point during each day.

The dancers adorn themselves with treasured, vibrant red woodpecker scalp headdresses, and valuable dentalium shell necklaces. They hold cylindrical Jump Dance baskets by two sticks running down the center that represent a man and a woman. The woven basket between the sticks represents all the trials and tribulations of family, friends, and the world around them. The dancers wear eagle feather plumes inserted into crocheted hood pieces traditionally made of iris root. They wear horizontal bands of black face paint under the eyes and deer hides wrapped around the waist, held together with the left hand.

When the dancers are ready they form a line and go to their places in front of the fence. The Dance Maker matches up the dancers. The middle man leads the dance with a singer on either side while the boys dance at the ends of the line. One of the singers begins a song, the middle man throws up his plumed head, swings his basket out and up lifting it towards the sky, and brings down his left foot with a thud.

When both songs have ended, the dancers drop off their deerskin hides, lay down their baskets, join hands, and jump with both feet. When they have jumped and rested ten times, they withdraw.

As I sit in ancient Natinook, I am not far from the sacred fire pit. I listen to the river sing its rhythms and I look around at the mountain silhouettes enclosing me in a perfect circle. Overhead is the night sky, one big starry dome.

“You cannot come here without love in your heart,” Mildred said.