Twenty days after her birth in 1898, Dowawisnima’s mother, Sehynim, and her paternal grandmother carried the newborn out of Old Orabi to the far eastern edge of the Hopi mesa.
As dawn broke over the horizon, the two women asked the sun to bless the little girl and grant her life, health, and a family. The baby’s name, Dowawisnima, meant “trail marked by sand.” Her life within the Hopi community could now begin, but it would be a life filled with change and controversy.
Corn is an integral part of the Hopi diet and young girls learned the techniques of grinding corn from their mothers. At age 5, Dowawisnima received her first lesson in corn grinding with the results just good enough to feed the chickens. She would eventually learn the intricacies of cooking piki, a paper-thin dough made from cornflower, as well as how to cure a piki stone.
Measuring about 20 inches wide and 2 to 3 inches thick, piki stones require hours of smoothing and polishing before being placed over a fire to burn all day. Finely ground roasted watermelon or muskmelon seeds are sprinkled over the stone to release their oils that turn the stone black and shiny. According to Dowawisnima, “It is a lucky girl who inherits a piki stone from her mother.”
When Dowawisnima was about 6 years old, a day school was built below the Hopi mesas and white authorities insisted every Hopi child attend school. Those who allowed their children to be educated in the white school were called “friendlies.” Dowawisnima’s family and those who refused to send their children to school were called “hostiles.” Each day when authorities came to round up the children for school, hostiles hid their children.
But eventually Dowawisnima and the rest of the youngsters were caught and sent to school. They were bathed and given new clothing to wear. Pinned to Dowawisnima’s new dress was a sign that read “Helen,” her new name.
At first, Dowawisnima wanted no part of the white school, but she discovered she learned quickly and began looking forward to each day’s lessons.
Dowawisnima spent only one session at school before tempers mounted between the hostiles and friendlies, culminating in the ouster of the hostiles from Old Orabi in September 1906.
The displaced hostile families settled near the Hotevilla spring, about 5 miles from their old homes. The new community of Hotevilla developed and thrived.
The following October, school authorities marched into Hotevilla and rounded up children to be sent to Keams Canyon Boarding School, about 40 miles away. Eighty-two children, including Dowawisnima, were loaded into wagons for a two-day, bumpy ride.
“We didn’t understand a word of English,” Dowawisnima said, “and didn’t know what to say or do.”
Yet Dowawisnima became an excellent student and enjoyed her studies even though discipline was strict and she sometimes found herself on the wrong end of a powerful slap as incorrect answers in the classroom were usually met with a blow to the head or hand. Dowawisnima received so many smacks that eventually she could no longer hear well from one ear.
Nevertheless, her schoolwork became the pride of Keams Canyon School. “The teachers favored me,” she said, ”and whenever visitors came they always called on me to recite.”
In 1915, Dowawisnima completed 6th grade at Keams Canyon and continued her education at Phoenix Indian School.
Designed in 1891 as a vocational as well as academic institution, Phoenix Indian School emphasized manual labor and farming.
Military precision was the key to education and discipline at the school. A steam whistle signified when to get up, eat, start school, work, and when the day ended. “Everything was done on schedule,” Dowawisnima remembered, “and there was no time for idleness.”
Not only did Dowawisnima continue to shine in class but she caught the eye of the school superintendent, John B. Brown, who hired Dowawisnima to help his wife at home cleaning and caring for their children. The Browns relied so much on her that they often left her in charge of the entire household while they were away. And although it was the policy for students to change jobs every few months, the Browns managed to keep Dowawisnima with them for two years before she was reassigned to the school’s sewing department.
Dowawisnima also made and sold embroidery, crochet, and other hand work to earn extra money, selling her products in town. “(My) hands were never still,” she said.
Not all students flourished as did Dowawisnima and punishment was meted out methodically and cruelly. Boys who ran away spent time in the school jail, had their heads shaved, or were forced to wear dresses. Runaway girls were ordered to cut grass with scissors while wearing a sign that read “I ran away.”
After Dowawisnima completed 8th grade, she returned to Hotevilla. She had met her future husband, Emory Sekaquaptewa, at Phoenix Indian School and the couple wanted to marry in their homeland.
However, after all the years she had spent away, Dowawisnima found herself a stranger in her parents’ home. Her brother ordered her to take off the soft clothing she had grown to love and presented her with two fine Hopi costumes he had woven especially for her. She found them “nice and fine and warm and scratchy. I didn’t wear them.”
On February 14, 1919, Dowawisnima married Emory Sekaquaptewa in both a Hopi ceremony as well as a Mennonite service. They took up ranching near the Hopi/Navajo Reservation border and had 10 children. When her children were old enough to go to Phoenix Indian School, she moved to Phoenix during the school year to care for them.
Dowawisnima and Emory saw the benefits of both cultures in which they lived and she eventually joined the Mormon Church. “Our lives were a combination of what we thought was the good of both cultures,” Dowawisnima said. “The Hopi way and what we had learned in school.”
Dowawisnima Sekaquapetwa died in 1990.
