Symphonic Chronicles Vol I

The Pueblo Revolt of 1680 was a carefully organized uprising under the general leadership of Po’pay, a “medicine man” from San Juan Pueblo (now known by its Tewa name Ohkay Owingeh), which overthrew Spanish rule in New Mexico for twelve years. In some versions of what has become the legend of Po’pay, he believed himself commanded by the tribal ancestor spirits (kachinas) to restore the old customs, much as in later cultural revival movements. In other versions he was embittered by his imprisonment and whipping in 1675, and spent five years at Taos Pueblo plotting his revenge. Some Pueblos hold that he was a purely religious figure and therefore forbidden to be involved in violence or death; others celebrate him as a warrior leader.

The generally agreed facts of the Rebellion are as follows: a few days before the date chosen for the uprising, runners were sent out to each participating Pueblo carrying knotted ropes. Every night a knot was to be untied, the uprising to start at dawn after the last knot was undone. In this way there was a full scale revolt on August 10th, in which most of the Pueblos participated (some were presumed to be pro Spanish and were not included). On August 21st the Spaniards were forced to flee, leaving 400 dead, including 21 priests. In addition to returning to the old ways, if the Spanish record is to be believed, the victory was celebrated by all or some of the following: washing off the ‘stains’ of Christian baptism, annulling Christian marriages, forbidding the speaking of Spanish and use of Spanish names, and destroying churches. While these accounts are doubtless exaggerated, it is incontestably true that the Pueblos succeeded in remaining free from Spanish rule until 1692, when New Mexico was finally re-colonised.

Little is known of Po’pay’s life before 1675, the year he was imprisoned by Spanish authorities on suspicion of witchcraft, a standard and somewhat convenient accusation, not unlike the cynical manipulation of the legal system that African Americans experienced in the Jim Crow South. What happened after the Revolt is equally murky. The written record is, of course, from the perspective of the defeated Spanish, and casts Po’pay in as dark a light as possible. Most of these accounts have him establishing a despotic reign with the result that the Spanish were welcomed back in 1692. The Pueblo stories are much less specific, and, like the English tales of King Arthur after Badon, exist in many versions. All that can be said for sure is that, after the Revolt, for any number of reasons, the Pueblos didn’t maintain the level of unity that had led to its success, and the return to the old ways didn’t bring about the hoped for relief and prosperity.

The history behind The Scars On His Back means that the opera necessarily deals with such contemporary cultural hot buttons as colonialism, religious intolerance and racism, but it is neither a polemic nor a mea culpa. The characters in it—both historical and fictional—are shaped by the events surrounding them, and most importantly by the way they are wired as human beings. While a little is taught in schools about 19th century Native American leaders, though even then only through the lens of the conflict resulting from white expansion, the history of America from the 15th to the 17th centuries is too often represented as Europeans ‘discovering’ a virtually empty continent; the atrocities perpetrated on its native inhabitants have been quietly expunged from public discourse. The story of Po’pay is an inspiring counter-narrative of cultural and political resistance, but sadly virtually unknown outside New Mexico. It is as American a story as George Washington or Martin Luther King, and it is high time Po’pay was given his rightful place in American history.

Interlude No.3 is excerpted from my opera The Scars On His Back about the legendary Native American freedom fighter Po’pay, and the revolt he inspired at Santa Fe in 1680, which (temporarily) forced the Spanish out of New Mexico. Po’pay devised a means of co-ordinating the distant pueblos: runners were sent out with knotted ropes, the number of knots corresponding to the number of days required to reach their destination. One knot was to be untied every night, and the uprising would begin at dawn after the last knot was undone and the rope was, in Po’pay’s words, “as straight as the sun’s first rays.”

Interlude No.3 comes between scenes three and four of the final act, when the runners have been dispatched on their mission. The opening, in the form of a chaconne, depicts the rising excitement and tension of the Pueblos as each knot is untied and the (off-stage) battle approaches: about half way through the music changes as the warriors gather and march on Santa Fe. This concert version ends more noisily than its more transitional counterpart in the opera, condensing the elation of victory into final ecstatic outbursts for the large percussion section and full orchestra.

— Simon Andrews