The Winter Solstice Altars at Hano Pueblo

In Short

This ethnographic report documents the 1898 Winter Solstice ceremony, known as the Tûñtai, at the Hano pueblo on the Hopi East Mesa. Through detailed observation of two ceremonial chambers—the Moñkiva and the Tewakiva—the text explores how a Tewa-descended community, which migrated from the Rio Grande valley centuries earlier, preserves its distinct religious identity while living alongside the Hopi. It serves as a vital record of cultural continuity, detailing the construction of altars, the use of symbolic fetishes, and the complex clan-based social structures that define life in this resilient community.

The Story

The narrative begins with a census of the Hano pueblo, a village of approximately 160 individuals at the close of the nineteenth century. The author explains that Hano was established between 1700 and 1710 by Tanoan migrants from Tcewadi, New Mexico, who were invited by the Walpi Snake chief to help defend the region against Ute raids. By the time of this record, these Tewa-speaking settlers have lived on the East Mesa for nearly two centuries. They maintain a distinct linguistic and cultural identity despite ongoing social interaction and intermarriage with their Hopi neighbors.

The heart of the account is the Tûñtai (Winter Solstice) ceremony, a period of profound spiritual labor lasting from December 9th to the 19th. The goal of these rites is to encourage the return of the sun, ensure the fertility of crops, and increase the community's worldly possessions. The author highlights that while the Tewa of Hano and the Hopi of Walpi share the same mesa and observe the same calendar, their ritual practices—specifically the design and construction of their altars—remain markedly different.

The ceremony unfolds in secret within the kivas. In the Moñkiva, the chief Anote and his assistant Satele construct an altar using sand, meal, and stone fetishes. They create rain-cloud symbols and a clay effigy of the Great Snake, which they adorn with corn, squash seeds, and eagle feathers. In the Tewakiva, Pocine and his uncle Puñsauwi perform a similar, yet distinct, ritual. They build a more elaborate altar featuring a "sun-ladder"—a notched wooden slat designed to help the sun emerge from its winter slumber. The text notes that these "ladders" are a unique feature of Tewa ritual, absent from the Hopi ceremonies the author has previously studied.

As the ceremony reaches its climax, the participants engage in the blessing of all household possessions, from domestic animals to the tools of their trade. The author captures the tension of this time, noting that the participants are protective of their ritual secrets, even going so far as to request that their altars remain hidden from the eyes of their Hopi neighbors. The record concludes by arguing that the ritual life of the East Mesa is not a monolith; rather, it is a mosaic. The differences in altars and ceremonies persist because the component clans of each village carry the distinct traditions of their ancestral homes. The Hano altars are a testament to the tenacity of Tewa culture, acting as a bridge between their New Mexican roots and their enduring presence in the high desert of Tusayan.

How It Unfolds

The historical foundation The author establishes the context of the Hano people, tracing their migration from the Rio Grande valley to their present home. This section outlines the clan system and the foundational traditions that brought the Tewa to the East Mesa.

The census of the village A detailed breakdown of the population by clan provides a snapshot of 1898 society. This section highlights the social landscape, including the marriage patterns that connect Hano to neighboring Walpi.

The announcement of the rites The narrative moves to the start of the Tûñtai ceremony, describing how the timing is set by the sun-priests. It documents the initial "Smoke assembly" of the chiefs, which formally begins the period of secret ritual activity.

The construction of the altars The author provides an intimate, step-by-step account of the altar-making process in the two Hano kivas. This covers the preparation of the floor, the use of prayer-meal to draw rain-cloud symbols, and the creation of clay snake effigies.

The symbolism of the sun-ladder Focusing on the Tewakiva, the author explains the significance of the notched wooden slats. These artifacts are presented as essential tools to assist the sun in its return, a unique expression of Tewa belief.

The comparative conclusion The book ends with a synthesis of the observed rites. The author asserts that the ritual diversity of the region is a direct result of its varied ancestral history, and that Hano’s ceremonies are distinct from those of the Hopi.

The People

Anote is the chief of the Moñkiva and a member of the Tobacco clan. He is a primary authority, responsible for guiding the ritual work and constructing the altar. He serves as a custodian of the Hano tradition, balancing the solemnity of his duties with the necessity of secrecy.

Pocine is a seventeen-year-old youth and the chief of the Tewakiva. He acts as a bridge between the traditional ritual roles and the younger generation. Under the guidance of his uncle, Puñsauwi, he performs complex ceremonial tasks, demonstrating that the knowledge of the Tûñtai is being passed down within the clan.

Satele is a member of the Bear clan who assists Anote. His precise work with the prayer-meal and his careful arrangement of the stone fetishes underscore the collaborative nature of the rituals.

Kalakwai is an elder and a source of tradition. He provides the author with the oral history of the migration from Tcewadi, serving as the link between the contemporary ceremonial reality and the historical origins of the Hano people.

Together, these individuals illustrate a community deeply connected to their ancestral heritage. They are not mere observers of history; they are active practitioners of a living, evolving religion. Their insistence on secrecy and their commitment to the precise, inherited forms of the altars show a people who value the preservation of their cultural identity above all else.

In Its Own Voice

"The purport of the Tûñtai rites at Hano seems to be similar to that of the Hopi Soyaluña, namely, to draw back the sun in its southern declination, and to fertilize the corn and other seeds and increase all worldly possessions."

This observation situates the ceremony within the broader context of agricultural and solar religious traditions.

"The Tûñtai altars are characteristically Tewan, and, while homologous with each other, are different from any yet known from the Hopi pueblos."

This distinction reinforces the author's primary argument regarding the independent origins of the Hano ritual life.

What It's Really About

The central theme is cultural persistence through ritual. The book argues that religious practices are the most resilient markers of identity; even after two centuries of living in close proximity to the Hopi, the Tewa of Hano have not fully assimilated. The text explores the idea that sacred space—the kiva—functions as a vessel for ancestral memory. By comparing the altars of Hano with those of Walpi, the author suggests that the "Pueblo" identity is not a single, uniform thing, but a composite of many different clan-based traditions. The underlying question concerns how migrant groups maintain their distinctiveness when surrounded by a dominant, yet related, culture.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the American Southwest will find this work invaluable for its granular, on-the-ground perspective. It provides a rare, firsthand view of an era when ethnography relied on direct observation of living traditions. The warmth with which the author describes the people he encounters—noting their names, their roles, and their specific skills—creates a humanizing contrast to the more clinical academic style of the period.

However, a modern reader must be prepared for the limitations of the era. The text reflects the late-19th-century scientific tone, which can feel detached or overly taxonomical. Furthermore, the descriptions of secret ceremonies are presented through the eyes of an outsider who was granted rare access; today, such documentation raises complex questions about the ethics of recording sacred rites that the participants themselves sought to keep hidden. Despite these difficulties, the book remains a profound record of human endurance. It captures a specific moment when the Tewa people were still actively defining their place in the desert, and the precision of the descriptions—from the specific feathers used in prayer-sticks to the names of the months—offers a lasting, tangible connection to a culture that refused to be forgotten.