Around the winter solstice, a truly captivating and sacred dance unfolded – the Turtle Dance of the Pueblo people. Arriving at San Juan Pueblo under a vast azure sky around 3 PM, the warmth of the sun was a welcome contrast to the crisp winter air. The rhythmic sounds of the dance had already filled the plazas throughout the day. It was a unique opportunity to witness firsthand how casino revenues were positively impacting the Native community, evident in the beautifully replastered adobe houses, with not a single trailer in sight. As we settled in, the men emerged from the newly rebuilt kiva after a brief fifteen-minute respite, ready to commence the final, mesmerizing set of dances.
Turtle Dancers in San Juan Pueblo Ceremony
The Turtle Dance, a deeply significant ceremony, takes place annually on the day after Christmas. Its profound purpose is to welcome the return of the sun, a vital force for life and sustenance. This dance is exclusively performed by men, with an impressive participation of approximately 100 individuals. Each dancer is adorned with bells and turtle rattles fastened to their moccasins, creating a rhythmic sound reminiscent of life-giving rain, as essential as the sun for successful crop cultivation. Their attire included kilts embellished with rich crimson sashes and neck handkerchiefs adorned with delicate roses draped around their shoulders. Notably, and despite the cold winter air, they wore no clothing above the waist. Many moccasins were crafted from warm skunk fur. The men’s upper torsos were painted with gray earthen clay. Adding to the visual spectacle, each dancer had cedar boughs attached to their arms, some incorporating beaded bands. Diagonal stripes were painted across each dancer’s face, completing the striking makeup. However, the most breathtaking element of their regalia was the headdresses. Eagle and turkey feathers were meticulously arranged in a horizontal line on one side, intertwined with fragrant cedar boughs. On the opposite side of the headdress, positioned on the same horizontal plane, a split gourd faced outwards. Each gourd was artfully painted with a vibrant blue morning glory, a flower that symbolizes the sun’s morning embrace, or other personal designs representing the sun’s anticipated return. Recognizable sun faces from Zuni and Hopi traditions were also evident. The intricate designs and rainbow hues adorning the inside of these gourds were truly awe-inspiring.
Beyond the core dancers and playful clowns, the ceremony included a couple of supernatural figures cloaked in animal hides and coyote fur. Their faces were entirely concealed by masks, one black and one white, with only ominous slits for eyes. Both carried whips, which they rhythmically struck against the ground. These masked figures selected additional men from the observing crowd, presenting them with a cedar branch and dusting them with cornmeal. After shaking hands with the supernatural beings, these chosen men joined the lengthening line of dancers. Once selected, a man could not refuse this honor, instantly becoming part of the dance.
The clowns, integral to the Turtle Dance, wore distinctive black and white striped, double-peaked hats topped with cornstalks or cedar sprigs. Their bodies were painted with double bands of horizontal white and gray clay stripes across their stomachs and backs. They also wore simple cotton or wool kilts. Each participant – dancers and clowns alike – carried sacred cedar branches and gourd rattles filled with seeds, which they shook rhythmically as they chanted. The dancers’ regalia was a vibrant display of color, and each man moved in unison, forming a long, sinuous line that shifted direction in response to subtle cues within the chant. The effect was reminiscent of a slow-moving serpent, weaving side to side. Amidst the vibrant colors, the haunting chants, and the gentle interactions of the clowns with the audience, the men danced in place, their voices rising and falling in unison as they turned first in one direction and then the other. Different chants resonated as the procession moved between plazas, each contributing to the overarching ceremony of gratitude for the sun’s return. The large crowd of Pueblo people watching the ceremony were wrapped in exquisitely handcrafted blankets, each showcasing remarkable designs.
As the sun began its descent, the increasing cold penetrated even my layers of socks as I sat against a smooth adobe wall. I deliberately chose to sit where I couldn’t see the dancers, wanting to fully immerse myself in the sound of the chanting. Unconsciously, I began swaying in rhythm with the music, captivated by its hypnotic quality. As dusk deepened, the dancers seemed to vanish almost instantaneously. The eerie, coyote-clad, and masked supernatural figures, with their whips, departed Ohkay Owingeh, not to be seen again until the following year.
I felt immense gratitude for the invitation to witness this ceremony. According to Pueblo tradition, each person who witnesses the joyful return of the sun becomes a prayer themselves, a beautiful concept to carry.
Researching the Turtle Dance afterwards revealed its deeper significance: it marks the close of the old year and the dawn of the new. The dance is named after the turtle, believed to be the first hibernating creature to stir after the year’s turning point. The turtle, therefore, symbolizes the beginning of each annual cycle, embodying renewal and rebirth.
Throughout the day-long dance, four songs are sung in the Tewa language, each repeated three times in every plaza and sung four times in total. These songs are invocations that acknowledge and honor the four cardinal directions, beginning with the north, then west, south, and finally east. They celebrate the new dawn, the young generations, and the arrival of the holy people, encapsulating the themes of renewal and the ongoing regeneration inherent in the cycle of creation.
An example of the evocative lyrics from these songs is:
“Away to the north the holy people are running about, gathering from every direction. They come with their rain bearing powers, and still they come….
Away to the west the holy people are running about, gathering from every direction. They come with their evergreens and medicinal and plant bearing powers, and still they come…” (Alfonso Ortiz translation)
Reflecting on my Northeastern background, where the turtle symbolizes “Mother Earth,” I was particularly struck by the fact that this inaugural dance of the year was performed by men, not women. Discussing this observation with author Sabra Moore, I inquired if the patriarchal structure of the Pueblo people in this region might explain the dance being a male domain. She considered this a valid point, highlighting the fascinating nuances within different indigenous traditions.
Historically, the San Juan people have long divided their world into three distinct spheres. The first encompasses the village and its immediate surroundings, considered the domain of women and marked by four sacred objects aligned with the cardinal directions. The second sphere is the mesas (pronounced MAY-sas), large, flat-topped hills with steep sides that surround San Juan Pueblo. These are accessible to all – men, women, and children – but fall under male authority. The third and outermost sphere is the world beyond the mesas, exclusively belonging to the men of the tribe. This is their realm for hunting, defending their community when needed, and seeking spiritual guidance, further illuminating the intricate social and spiritual organization of the San Juan Pueblo people and the context of the Turtle Dance.
