Paths of Life

Sonoran Catholic, by Dr. Ofelia Zepeda

". . . She fingered the rosaries, rolling the beads gently between the forefinger and the thumb—she handled them as if she were Catholic . . ."

"It is known that when Father Eusebio Kino and his fellow Jesuits penetrated the Pimeria Alta beginning in 1687, the Pimans were already there. They were probably there as well in the 1539–1540 period . . . but this is not a certainty."

—Bernard Fontana,
Handbook of North American Indians

The Tohono O'odham (formerly Papago) say with certainty that they were here—and have always been here. The oral history of the people tells of their emergence from the ground. Today there are places in the ground where an O'odham can point and say "this is where we came from."

The history of the O'odham, as modern people know it, was probably first written when they met Spaniards and were introduced to catholicism. Their history is also recorded in the structures they built for housing the new religion. These are the missions, ranging from the quaint little churches that spot the reservation to the grand San Xavier del Bac. It is in these buildings that much of O'odham life revolves.

Juana remembers being baptized because she was almost eight years old at the time. She also vividly remembers taking catechism classes about the same time. One day the catechism lesson was on the holy sacraments, baptism, and communion. That day the sister quizzed the class on the meaning and value of the sacrament of baptism by asking, "If you should die tonight, do you think you would be accepted into the kingdom of heaven?" Each of the students she asked, answered "yes."

When the sister got to her Juana answered "yes," but the sister repeated the question. Juana knew immediately that something was not right. She had a funny sensation in her stomach, the air began to get stuffy and warm, and it all began to close in on her. Finally, with the authority only a sister in a full black habit, giant oversized rosary, thick rope belt, and thick shiny black shoes, can have, she said, "No, you will not be allowed into heaven." An eternity of dead silence prolonged her torture as the eyes of all the other children looked at her in shocked surprise. Finally, the sister broke the silence. She said, "Class, the reason Juana will not be allowed into heaven is because she has not received the sacrament of baptism. She still has the original sin of Adam and Eve on her soul. But since she will be baptized soon she does not have to worry."

Ha! Don"t worry?" Juana thought. "What is an eight-year-old supposed to do?" Fortunately for her, her baptism took place the following week. Many O'odham people admit that there were certain things that were tremendously scary about the catechism teachings. Perhaps it was not so much the ideology as much as it was the visual imagery induced by the teachings, imagery enhanced by a child's imagination compounded by O'odham beliefs. In particular, the belief in spirits, both good and bad. Certainly Juana, like so many other O'odham, has good memories of growing up catholic—a form of catholicism so influenced by the Mexican culture they called it "sonoran catholic." The Christmas holiday is filled with such fond memories. This time was marked with food, family, and prayer.

For Juana, Christmas Eve was more important than Christmas Day. It was on Christmas Eve that the miracle happened after all. It was the custom for everyone to stay up until past midnight, even the children. One of the more significant memories of those evenings is the thing that always happened every Christmas Eve. She never figured out if it was planned or not. Regardless, she believed it all to be so true . . . at least she thought she believed.

Inevitably an adult cousin or uncle and aunt, someone reputable by all standards, would arrive and would appear shaken. They would then begin to tell of how as they were walking down the dirt road toward the house when they were certain they sighted figures walking along the road, although since it was dark it was difficult to make out who they were. They would say, " . . . we walked towards them thinking it was someone we knew and we saw that it was a man and a woman, but as we got closer there was a third person. Finally, when we were close enough to speak to them we realized the third was not a person but a small donkey. Right away we knew not to bother them. We quickly walked past them. And when we thought we were far enough from them we looked back and they were gone. It was them though, Mali:ya and Husi (Mary and Joseph)."

Throughout the evening in many O'odham homes there would be reports of other sightings. Someone might say that he saw Husi giving the donkey a drink of water at a ditch. And still others might say they saw both of them washing their hands at a faucet. They saw the holy family as ordinary people doing ordinary things. These visions certainly did not resemble the pictures of the holy family in the catechism book, with a halo about their heads and a holy, pure light all about them.

Now, as an adult, Juana still carries the traditions of being an O'odham sonoran catholic. Christmas is still food, family, and prayer, although the prayer is the part that has diminished somewhat. And on occasion she carefully looks down Campbell Avenue on the chance of sighting the holy family on Christmas Eve. And finally, she sometimes thinks of her child who is not yet baptized.

Dr. Ofelia Zepeda, an Associate Professor of Linguistics at the University of Arizona (1993), grew up on the Tohono O'odham reservation in southern Arizona.