Category: Religion

The Traditional Nacimiento (Manger or Creche) in Mexico

A Christmas tree may be the central focus of your home decoration during this joyous season of the Christian year. In most parts of Mexico, though, the Christmas tree is a fairly recent import and the primary focus of the holiday is still on the nacimiento (manger scene, creche, or nativity scene).

One of Mexico Cooks!' biggest delights every late November and early December is shopping for Christmas–not hunting for gifts, but rather on the lookout for new items to place in our nacimiento (manger scene). Truth be told, we have five nacimientos–or maybe six–that come out each Christmas season, but only one of them keeps growing every year.

The tiny figures in this nacimiento are made of clay; the choza (hut) is made of wood. The shepherds and angels have distinctive faces; no two are alike. One shepherd carries firewood, another a tray of pan dulce (sweet breads), a third has a little bird in his hands. The tallest figures measure only three inches high. The Niño Dios (Baby Jesus) is not usually placed in the pesebre (manger) until the night of December 24. The Niño Dios for this nacimiento is just over an inch long and is portrayed sleeping on his stomach with his tiny knees drawn up under him, just like a real infant. This nacimiento was made about 30 years ago in Tonalá, Jalisco, Mexico.

Mexican households traditionally pass the figures for their nacimientos down through the family; the figures begin to look a little tattered after traveling from great-great-grandparents to several subsequent generations, but no one minds. In fact, each figure holds loving family memories and is the precious repository of years of 'remember when…?'. No one cares that the Virgin Mary's gown is chipped around the hem or that St. Joseph is missing an arm; remembering how the years-ago newest baby, now 32 and with a baby of his own, teethed on the Virgin's dress or how a long-deceased visiting aunt's dog bit off St. Joseph's arm is cause for a family's nostalgic laughter.

Nacimiento en vivo (living nativity scene), Lake Chapala, Jalisco, Mexico. In 13th century Italy, St. Francis of Assisi was the first to be inspired to re-enact the birth of Christ. The first nacimiento was presented with living creatures: the oxen, the donkey, and the Holy Family. Even today in hundreds of Mexican communities, you'll see living manger scenes.

Holy Family, 18th century Italy. The first nativity figures, made of clay, were created in 15th century Naples and their use spread rapidly throughout Italy and Spain. In Spain, the early figural groups were called 'Belenes' (Bethlehems).

A few weeks before Christmas, our tiny nacimiento de plomo (manger scene with lead figures, none over four inches high) comes out of yearlong storage. The wee village houses are made of cardboard and hand-painted; each has snow on its roof and a little tree in front. You might well ask what the figures in the photo represent: Sr. San José (St. Joseph, who in Mexico always wears green and gold) leads the donkey carrying la Virgen María (the Virgin Mary) on their trek to Belén (Bethlehem). We put these figures out earliest and move them a bit closer to Bethlehem every day. This nacimiento is the one that grows each year; we have added many figures to the original few. This year we expect the total number of figures to rise to well over 200.

Click on the photo and you will see that the Holy Family has not yet arrived in Bethlehem; the choza is empty and St. Joseph's staff is just visible in the lower right-hand corner. Click to enlarge the photo to better see the figures in the nacimiento: gamboling sheep, birds of all kinds, shepherds, shepherdesses, St. Charbel, an angel, and Our Lady of Guadalupe are all ready to receive the Niño Dios (Baby Jesus). Notice the upright red figure standing in the Spanish moss: that's Satan, who is always present in a Mexican nacimiento to remind us that although the birth of Jesus offers love and the possibility of redemption to the world, sin and evil are always present.

Detail of the lead figures in our ever-growing nacimiento. To the left is a well (with doves) and a woman coming to draw water; to the right is an arriero (donkey-herder) giving his stubborn little donkey what-for. No matter how many figures are included, the central figures in any nacimiento are the Holy Family (St. Joseph, the Virgin Mary, and the Baby Jesus). In Mexico, those three are collectively known as el misterio (the mystery).

A very small portion of one of the largest nacimientos on display in Mexico City. It measures more than 700 square meters and includes thousands of figures. They include everything you can think of and some things that would never occur to you: a butcher shop, a running stream and a waterfall, sleeping peasants, and washerwomen. A nacimiento can include all of the important stories of the Bible, from Genesis to the Resurrection, as well as figures representing daily life–both today's life in Mexico and life at the time of Jesus's birth. Photo courtesy El Universal.

Papel roca (hand-painted paper for decorating a nacimiento), a choza (little hut), and two kinds of moss for sale in this booth at the Guadalajara tianguis navideño (Christmas market). This year, Mexico Cooks! has purchased figures of a miniature pre-Hispanic loinclothed warrior, a tiny shoemaker working at his bench, a wee man sawing firewood, and a shepherd standing under a tree while holding a lamb. The shepherd's tree looks exactly like a stalk of broccoli and makes us smile each time we look at it.

Where in Mexico can you buy figures for your nacimiento? Every city and town has a market where, for about a month between the end of November and the first week in January, a large number of vendors offer items especially for Christmas. Some larger cities, like Mexico City, Guadalajara, Morelia, and others, offer several tianguis navideños (Christmas markets) where literally thousands of figures of every size are for sale. A few years ago, we found a tiny figure of the seated Virgin Mary, one breast partially exposed as she nurses the Niño Dios, who lies nestled in her arms. It's the only one like it that we have ever seen.

This shepherd keeps watch over his cook-fire in the Mexico Cooks! nacimiento. He's about three inches long from head to toe; the base of the fire is about the same length; the lead props for the pot are about two inches high.

This booth at a tianguis navideño in Guadalajara offers Niños Dios in every possible size, from tiny ones measuring less than three inches long to babies the size of a two-year-old child. In Mexico City's Centro Histórico, Calle Talavera is an entire street devoted to shops specializing in clothing for your Niño Dios. The nacimiento is traditionally displayed until February 2 (Candlemas Day), when the Niño Dios is gently taken out of the pesebre in a special ceremony called the levantamiento (raising). The nacimiento is then carefully stored away until the following December.

The choza (hut) in the Mexico Cooks! nacimiento. People and animals are waiting for the arrival of the Mary and Joseph, and for the birth of the Christ Child. Click on any photo for a larger view. In addition to the original lead figures, we now have indigenous figures found in a Mexico City flea market, antique lead animal figures (the rabbit behind the sleeping lamb, the little brown dog behind the kneeling shepherd), finely detailed santons from a trip to Provence, modern resin figures of every description, and many more. Two hundred more–and counting!

Piles of gold and silver glitter cardboard stars of Bethlehem, for sale at the tianguis navideño in southern Mexico City's Mercado Mixcoac.

At another tianguis navideño, an assortment of clay figures for your nacimiento: villagers, chickens, and vendors. Size and scale don't matter: you'll find crocodiles the size of a soft drink can and elephants no bigger than your little finger. Both will work equally well in your nacimiento.

Giant flamingos go right along with burritas (little donkeys). Why not?

Each traditional figure in a nacimiento is symbolic of a particular value. For example, the choza (the little hut) represents humility and simplicity. Moss represents humility–it's something that everyone steps on. The donkey represents the most humble animal in all creation, chosen to carry the pregnant Virgin Mary. The star of Bethlehem represents renewal and unending light.

Which diablito (little devil) tempts you most, the one with the money bag or the one with the booze?

How many shepherds do you want? This Guadalajara tianguis navideño booth has hundreds, and in sizes ranging from an inch to well over a foot tall.

It wouldn't be a Mexican nacimiento without tortillas!

This Christmas, Mexico Cooks! wishes you all the blessings of the season. Whatever your faith, we hope you enjoy this peek at the nacimiento, one of Mexico's lasting traditions.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours.

26 de December de 2015
Piñatas, Mexico’s Christmas Tradition

Huge piñatas at a Mexico City market.

Among clean ollas de barro (clay pots), plastic receptacles filled with engrudo (flour/water paste), and colorful, neatly stacked rounds of papel de china (tissue paper), Sra. María Dolores Hernández (affectionately known as Doña Lolita) sits on an upturned bucket. Her birthday is on December 24, and she still lights up–just like a Christmas tree–when she talks about her business and her life.

The last point of the star-shaped piñata is in Doña Lolita's hands, nearly ready to be glued into place.

"When I was a young woman, raising my family together with my husband, it was hard for us to make a good living here in Morelia. We had eight children (one has died, but six girls and a boy survive) and we struggled to make ends meet. My husband was a master mason, but I wanted to help out with the finances. I knew a woman who made piñatas, and I thought, 'I can do that.' So I started trying my hand, nearly 60 years ago."

Doña Lolita adds another layer of newspaper to this piñata in progress. "You can't put too much newspaper on the pot, because it will take too long to break," she explained. "And you can't put too little on it, either, because then the first child to hit it will break it. That's no good, either. You just have to know how much to use." Click on the photo to enlarge it and get a good look at the clay pot inside the paper maché.

"The woman who made piñatas wouldn't give away her secrets, so I had to figure everything out for myself. You should have seen me the first time I tried to make a bird's beak for a parrot-shaped piñata! A man I knew told me to make it out of chapopote (a kind of tar), so I did. It hardened all right, but later in the day the weather warmed up and that beak dripped down to here! What a mess! I finally figured out how to make the shape out of paper, but I just about broke my head thinking about it!"

Pre-cut rounds of papel de china (tissue paper) wait to be glued onto a piñata. The black plastic bag holds strips of newspaper.

Doña Lolita told me about the different grades of paper used to create different styles of decoration on the piñata, and she explained different kinds of paper-cutting techniques; she's absolutely the expert. Here, her son-in-law Fernando cuts tissue paper for fringe. His hands are so fast with the scissors it made my head spin; he can even cut without looking.

"In those days, the clay pots cost four and a half pesos for a gross–yes, for 144. In the old days, I usually sold about 7,000 piñatas every December, so you can imagine the investment I made just in clay pots. In the 1960s, I could sell a large piñata for seven pesos. Now–well, now the pots are much more expensive, so naturally the piñatas cost more, too. The large ones cost 45 pesos. This year, I'll sell about 1,000 piñatas just for the posadas. "

Piñatas in various stages of completion hang from every beam in Doña Lolita's tiny workshop.

"When my daughter Mercedes was about eight years old, she wanted to learn to make piñatas. She'd been watching me do it since she was born. So I taught her, and I've taught the whole family. Piñatería (making piñatas) is what's kept us going." Doña Lolita smiled hugely. "My children have always been extremely hard workers. There was a girl for each part of making the piñatas. Every year, we started making piñatas in August and finished at the beginning of January.

This gigantic piñata, still unfinished, measures almost six feet in diameter from point to point.

"One time, we had so many piñatas to finish that I didn't think we could do it. So I thought, 'if we work all night long, we can finish them by tomorrow morning.' Only I couldn't figure out how to keep the children awake to work all night." She laughed. "I went to the drugstore and bought pills to stay awake. I knew I could keep myself awake, but I gave one pill to each of the children. And in just a little while, I was working and they were sleeping, their heads fell right down into their work! What! Those pills didn't work at all! The next day I went back to the drugstore and asked the pharmacist about it. 'Oh no! I thought you asked me for pills to make them sleep!' he said." Doña Lolita laughed again. "We finished all the piñatas in spite of those pills, but you had better believe me, I never tried anything that foolish again."

Doña Lolita builds piñatas with her son-in-law, Fernando Cedeño Herrera (left), her daughter Mercedes Ayala Hernández, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren. A close friend, Oswaldo Gutiérrez López (background), works with the family. Her grandson Enrique, 19, says he intends to keep the family business going.

Oswaldo Gutiérrez works on this piñata in the doorway of the tiny taller. Doña Lolita has taught many people the art of creating traditional piñatas, but her family and her loyal customers say she's the best piñatera (piñata maker) in Morelia.

"People come from everywhere to buy my piñatas. I don't have to take them out to sell; I only sell them here in the taller. Because they're so beautiful and well-made, all the best people in Morelia–and lots of people from other places–come to seek me out and order piñatas for their parties. I've taught my family that our work is our pride and our heritage, and my children have all taught their children the same. That is our legacy, our family tradition."

Fill the piñata with candy like these bags of traditional colación (hard candies especially for Christmas).

A group of Doña Lolita's piñatas, hung up for sale outside her workshop.

But why piñatas, and why in December? During the early days of the Spanish conquest, the piñata was used as a catechetical tool. The body of the piñata represented Satan; each of the seven points symbolized the seven capital sins (pride, lust, gluttony, rage, greed, laziness, and envy). Breaking the piñata equated with the triumph of good over evil, overpowering Satan, overcoming sin, and enjoying the delights of God's creation as they pour out of the piñata. Doña Lolita's most sought-after piñatas continue the traditional style, but she also creates piñatas shaped like roosters, peacocks, half-watermelons, deer, half moons, and once, an enormous octopus!

What the piñata might contain at Christmas–but fill it with whatever you think the kids will like best! Candies, small seasonal jícamas, sugar cane, mandarinas (tangerines) and cacahuates (fresh roasted in the shell peanuts, in season now) are all popular. Photo courtesy Google Images.

Now, for the nine nights from December 16 through December 24, Mexico celebrates las posadas. Each evening, a re-enactment of the Christmas story brings children dressed as la Virgencita María (ready to give birth to her baby) and her husband Sr. San José (and a street filled with angels, shepherds, and other costumed children) along the road to Bethlehem, searching for a place to stay. There is no place: Bethlehem's posadas (inns) are filled. Where will the baby be born! For the re-enactment, people wait behind closed doors at certain neighborhood houses. The santos peregrinos (holy pilgrims) knock, first at one door, then another. At each house, they sing a song, begging lodging for the night. At each house, the neighbors inside turn them away in song: 'No room here! Go away! Bother someone else!' Watch a lovely slide show:

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R35yspFDsek&w=420&h=315]

Freshly toasted cacahuates (peanuts) also stuff the piñata. The wooden box holding the peanuts is actually a measure, as is the oval metal box.

After several houses turn away la Virgen, San José, and their retinue, they finally receive welcome at the last designated house. After the pilgrims sing their plea for a place to stay, the guests assembled inside sing their welcome, "Entren santos peregrinos…" (Come in, holy pilgrims…). The doors are flung open, everyone piles into the house, and a huge party starts. Traditional foods like ponche (a hot fruit punch), buñuelos (a thin fried dough covered with either sugar or syrup), and tamales (hundreds of tamales!) pour out of the kitchen as revelers sing villancicos (Mexican Christmas carols) and celebrate the coming of the Niño Dios (the Child Jesus). Finally, all the children line up to put on a blindfold and take swings at a piñata stuffed with candy, seasonal fruits, and peanuts.

This five-pound bag of hard candies shows a blindfolded (but peeking) boy ready to break open the filled piñata. Luis Gómez, a merchant at Local 290, Mercado Independencia in Morelia, offers these and other bags of piñata candies.

Mandarinas (tangerines) are in season at Christmastime and round out the goodies in many piñatas.

The piñata, stuffed with all it will hold, hangs from a rope during the posada party. A parent or neighbor swings it back and forth, up and down, as each child takes a turn at breaking it open with a big stick. Watch these adorable kids whack away at one:

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIOjDz0smFw&w=420&h=315]

The piñata, lovely though it may be, is purely temporary. Nevertheless, happy memories of childhood posadas with family and friends last a lifetime.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours

19 de December de 2015
Our Lady of Guadalupe, In Honor of Her Feast Day
The Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe) in Mexico City. This newest Basílica was constructed between 1974 and 1976.

Mexico Cooks! went to visit La Morenita (a common nickname for Our Lady of Guadalupe) at her Basílica in Mexico City in February, 2008. It was a companion's first visit to the shrine and I was practically bursting with the excitement of introducing her to the heart, the very soul, of Mexico. The extreme devotion demonstrated by the pilgrims to the Basílica, the depth of personal faith in La Reina de México (the Queen of México), and the juxtaposition of the sublime with the not-so-sublime made the trip well worth repeating. I'll be going again in just a few days.

First on our list when friends visit Mexico City is always the Basílica of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Once our friends discovered that we would be in the city, every single person's first question was, "Van a la Villa?" ("Are you going to the Basílica?)"

To each inquirer we grin and answer, "Of course! Vamos primero a echarle una visita a la virgencita." (The first thing we'll do is pay a visit to the little virgin!)

Devotional pilgrimages are an everyday occurrence at the Basílica.

The enormous Basílica of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe in Mexico City is the most visited pilgrimage site in the Western Hemisphere, second only to the Vatican. Its location, on the hill of Tepeyac, was a place of great sanctity long before the arrival of Christianity in the New World. In pre-Hispanic times, Tepeyac had been crowned with a temple dedicated to an earth and fertility goddess called Tonantzin, the Mother of the Gods. Tonantzin was a virgin goddess associated with the moon, like Our Lady of Guadalupe who usurped her shrine.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe is Mexico's patron virgin and her image adorns churches and altars, house fronts and interiors, taxis and buses, bull rings and gambling dens, restaurants and houses of ill repute. The shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, known affectionately as La Villa, is a place of extraordinary vitality and celebration. On major festival days such as the anniversary of the apparition on December 12th, the atmosphere of devotion created by many hundreds of thousands of pilgrims is truly electrifying.

These young sisters dressed as indigenas peregrinas (Indian pilgrims) for el Día de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, celebrated every December 12.

The story of Our Lady's 1531 appearance in Mexico is familiar to every person who lives in this country.

The Tepeyac hill and shrine were important pilgrimage places for the nearby Mexica (later Aztec) capital city of Tenochtitlán. Following the conquest of Tenochtitlán by Hernan Cortez in 1521, the shrine was demolished, and the native people were forbidden to continue their pilgrimages to the sacred hill. The pagan practices had been considered to be devil worship for more than a thousand years in Christian Europe.

On Saturday, December 9, 1531, a recently baptized indigenous man named Juan Diego set out from his village to buy medicine in what is now Mexico City. Passing the sacred hill of Tepeyac, he heard a voice calling to him. Climbing the hill, he saw on the summit a young woman who seemed to be no more than fourteen years old, standing in a golden mist.

Revealing herself as the "ever-virgin Holy Mary, Mother of God" (so the Christian telling of the story goes), she told Juan Diego not to be afraid. Her words? "Am I not here, am I not your mother?" She instructed him to go to the local bishop and tell him that she wished a church for her son to be built on the hill. Juan did as he was instructed, but the bishop's office denied him admission.

Typical children's costumes to be worn in processions for the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

On his way home, Juan climbed the sacred hill and again saw the apparition, who told him to return to the bishop the next day. This time the bishop's staff listened more attentively to Juan's message from Mary. He was still skeptical, however, and so asked Juan to bring back proof from Mary.

Two days later Juan went again to Tepeyac and, when he again met Mary and said that the bishop required proof, she told him to climb the hill and pick the roses, a type normally seen only in Seville, Spain, the bishop's birthplace, that were growing there. Juan climbed the hill with misgivings. It was the dead of winter, and flowers could not possibly be growing on the cold and frosty mountain. At the summit, Juan found a profusion of roses, an armful of which he gathered and wrapped in his tilma (a garment similar to a poncho). Arranging the roses, Mary instructed Juan to take the tilma-encased bundle to the bishop, for this would be her sign.

When the bishop unrolled the tilma, he was astounded by the presence of the flowers. But more truly miraculous was the image that had mysteriously appeared on Juan Diego's tilma. The image showed the young woman, her head lowered demurely. Wearing a crown and flowing gown, she stood upon a crescent moon. The bishop was convinced that Mary had indeed appeared to Juan Diego and soon thereafter the bishop began construction of the original church devoted to her honor.

The original tilma worn by Juan Diego still hangs above the altar in the Basílica. Venerated by millions of pilgrams, the maguey cactus fiber tilma shows no wear after 483 years.

News of the miraculous apparition of the Virgin's image on a peasant's tilma spread rapidly throughout Mexico. Indians by the thousands came from hundreds of miles away to see the image, now hanging above the altar in the new church. They learned that the mother of the Christian God had appeared to one of their own kind and had spoken to him in his native language. The miraculous image was to have a powerful influence on the advancement of the Church's mission in Mexico. In only seven years, from 1532 to 1538, more than eight million Indians were converted to Christianity.

The shrine, rebuilt several times over the centuries, is today a great Basílica with a capacity for over 50,000 pilgrims. Today, a popular Mexican saying is, "No todos somos Católicos, pero todos somos Guadalupanos." (Not all of us are Catholics, but ALL of us believe in Our Lady of Guadalupe.)

Juan Diego's tilma is preserved behind bulletproof glass and hangs twenty-five feet above the main altar in the basilica. For more than 480 years the colors of the image have remained as bright as if they were painted yesterday, despite being exposed for more than 100 years following the apparition to humidity, smoke from church candles, and airborne pollution.

From the sublime to the not-so-sublime: these key ring-bottle openers for sale in the trinket bazaar outside the Basílica bear various images of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe.

The coarsely-woven cactus cloth of the tilma, a cloth considered to have a life expectancy of about 40 years, still shows no evidence of decay. The 46 stars on her gown coincide with the position of the constellations in the heavens at the time of the winter solstice in 1531. Scientists have investigated the nature of the image and have been left with nothing more than evidence of a mystery, a miracle. The dyes forming her portrait have no base in the elements known to science.

The origin of the name Guadalupe has always been a matter of controversy. It is believed that the name came about because of the translation from Nahuatl to Spanish of the words used by the Virgin during the apparition. It is believed that she used the Nahuatl word coatlaxopeuh which is pronounced "koh-ah-tlah-SUH-peh" and sounds remarkably like the Spanish word Guadalupe. 'Coa' means serpent, 'tla' can be interpreted as "the", while 'xopeuh' means to crush or stamp out. This version of the origin would indicate that Mary must have called herself "she who crushes the serpent," a Christian New Testament reference as well as a a reference to the Aztec's mythical god, The Plumed Serpent.

It's simple and fast to take the Metrobus to La Villa, a journey of about an hour from La Condesa, where Mexico Cooks! has its base, to the far northern part of the city. The Metrobus left us just two blocks from the Basílica.

Pope John Paul II made five official visits to Mexico. To many Mexicans, he continues to be the true Pope, Mexico's Pope. This image of Pope John Paul II, protected by and devoted to Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe is found in both pictures and figures. It is still displayed in many Mexican homes.

The street and the bridge to the Basílica are filled chock-a-block with booths selling souvenirs of La Villa. Everything that you can think of (and plenty you would never think of) is available: piles of T-shirts with the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe and that of Juan Diego, CDs of songs devoted to her, bandanna-like scarves with her portrait, eerie green glow-in-the-dark figurines of her, key chains shaped like the Basílica, statues of La Virgencita in every size and quality, holy water containers that look like her in pink, blue, silver, and pearly white plastic, religious-theme jewelry and rosaries that smell of rose petals, snow globes with tiny statues of La Guadalupana and the kneeling Juan Diego that are dusted with stars when the globes are shaken.

In front of the Basílica, you can have your picture taken next to her image and with a variety of horses. Click on any image for a larger view. The caption on the yellow sign reads, "A Memento of My Visit to the Basílica of Guadalupe".

There are booths selling freshly arranged flowers for pilgrims to carry to the shrine. There are booths selling soft drinks, tacos, and candy. Ice cream vendors hawk paletas (popsicles). Hordes of children offer chicles (chewing gum) for sale. We were jostled and pushed as the crowd grew denser near the Basílica.

Is it tacky? Yes, without a doubt. Is it wonderful? Yes, without a doubt. It's the very juxtaposition of the tourist tchotchkes with the sublime message of the heavens that explains so much about Mexico. We needed to buy several recuerdos (mementos) for friends, but we were hard-pressed to decide what to choose. Some pilgrims buy before going into the Basílica so that their recuerdos can be blessed by a priest, but we decided to wait until after visiting the Virgin to do our shopping. When we finished shopping, we discovered that a priest was stationed in a nearby booth to bless late purchases.

The 17th Century Basílica is sinking into Mexico City's shifting subsoil. The new Basílica is built in the same plaza.

The present church was constructed on the site of the 16th-century Old Basílica, the one that was finished in 1709. When the Old Basílica became dangerous due to the sinking of its foundations, a modern structure called the new Basílica was built nearby. The original image of the Virgin of Guadalupe is now housed above the altar in this new Basílica.

Built between 1974 and 1976, the new Basílica was designed by prominent Mexican architect Pedro Ramírez Vásquez. Its seven front doors are an allusion to the seven gates of Celestial Jerusalem referred to by Christ. It has a circular floor plan so that the image of the Virgin can be seen from any point within the building. An empty crucifix symbolizes Christ's resurrection. The choir is located between the altar and the churchgoers to indicate that it, too, is part of the group of the faithful. To the sides are the chapels of the Santísimo Sacramento (the Blessed Sacrament) and of Saint Joseph.

That February, on an ordinary day at the beginning of Lent, we entered the Basílica as one Mass was ending and another was beginning. Thirty Masses are often celebrated during the course of any day. Pilgrims pour in to place baskets of flowers on the rail around the altar. People filled the pews and were standing 10-deep at the back of the church. There were lines of people waiting to be heard in the many confessionals.

We stood for a bit and listened to what the priest was saying. "La misa de once ya se terminó. Decidimos celebrar otra misa ahora a las doce por tanta gente que ha llegado, por tanta fe que se demuestra" ("The eleven o'clock Mass is over. We have decided to celebrate another Mass at 12 o'clock because so many people have arrived, because of so much faith being demonstrated.")

Priests celebrate as many as 30 Masses every day of the year.

Making our way through the crowd, we walked down a ramp into the area below and behind the altar. Three moving sidewalks bore crowds of pilgrims past the gold-framed tilma. Tears flowed down the cheeks of some; others made the sign of the cross as they passed, and one woman held her year-old baby up high toward the Virgin. Most people moved from one of the moving sidewalks to another in order to be able to have a longer visit with the Mother of Mexico.

When I visited several years ago, there were only two moving sidewalks. Now there are three. Behind them was space for the faithful to stand and reflect or pray for a few minutes. The crush of visitors last February required that the space be devoted to movement rather than reflection and rest.

We walked to the back of the Basílica to look at a large, heavy bronze crucifix exhibited in a glass case. The crucifix, approximately 3 feet high, is bent backward in a deep arch and lies across a large cushion. According to the placard and the photos from the era, in 1921 a bouquet of flowers was placed directly on the altar of the Old Basílica beneath the framed tilma. It was later discovered that the floral arrangement was left at the altar by an anarchist who had placed a powerful dynamite bomb among the flowers. When the bomb detonated, the altar crucifix was bent over backward and large portions of the marble altar were destroyed. Nevertheless, no harm came to the tilma and legend has it that the crucified Son protected his Mother.

After a while, we reluctantly left the Basílica. With a long backward glance at the tilma, we stepped out into the brilliantly sunny Mexico City afternoon. The throngs in the Basílica atrium still pressed forward to visit the shrine.

We stopped in some of the enclosed shops at sidewalk level and then continued over the bridge through the booths of mementos. After we bought small gifts, we moved away to hail a taxi. My heart was still in the Basílica, with our Mother.

Take your pick: hundreds of statues of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe await you in the shops outside the Basílica.

The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe falls on December 12 each year. Think about her just for a moment as you go about your day. After all, she's the Queen of Mexico and the Empress of the Americas.

How to get there once you're in Mexico City:
- From the Centro Histórico (Historic Downtown) take Metro Line 3 at Hidalgo and transfer to Line 6 at Deportivo 18 de Marzo. Go to the next station, La Villa Basílica. Then walk north two busy blocks until reaching the square.
- Take the Line 1 Metrobus north to Indios Verdes from any of its prior stops. Go down the stairs on the right, go to the traffic light, and walk two blocks to the right until you get to the Basílica.
- From the Hidalgo Metro station take a microbus to La Villa.
- From Zona Rosa take a pesero (microbus) along Reforma Avenue, north to the stop nearest the Basílica.
- Or take a taxi from your hotel, wherever it is in the city. Tell the driver, "A La Villa, por favor. Vamos a echarle una visita a la Virgencita." ("To the Basílica, please. We're going to make a visit to the little Virgin.")
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12 de December de 2015
Noche de Muertos (Night of the Dead) in Michoacán, A Journey of Love and Respect

Mexico Cooks!' full body bone scan, 2009.

Remember me as you pass by,
As you are now, so once was I.
As I am now, so you will be,
Prepare for death and follow me.
…from a tombstone

What is death? We know its first symptoms: the heart stops pumping, breath and brain activity stop. We know death's look and feel: a still, cold body from which the spirit has fled. The orphan and widow know death's sorrow, the priest knows the liturgy of the departed and the prayers to assuage the pain of those left to mourn. But in most English-speaking countries, death and the living are not friends. We the living look away from our mortality, we talk of the terminally ill in terms of 'if anything happens', not 'when she dies'. We hang the crepe, we cover the mirrors, we say the beads, and some of us fling ourselves sobbing upon the carefully disguised casket as it is lowered into the Astroturf-lined grave.

Octavio Paz, Mexico City's Nobel Laureate poet and essayist who died in 1998, is famously quoted as saying, "In New York, Paris, and London, the word death is never mentioned, because it burns the lips."

Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán panteón (cemetery), Mexico Cooks! photo. These fellows sing to la Descarnada (the fleshless woman) on November 2, 2009.

In Mexico, on the contrary, every day is a dance with death. Death is a woman who has a numerous affectionate and humorous nicknames: la Huesuda (the bony woman), la Seria (the serious woman), la Novia Fiel (the faithful bride), la Igualadora (the equalizer), la Dientona (the toothy woman), la Pelona (the bald woman), la Patrona (the boss lady), and a hundred more. She's always here, just around the next corner or maybe right over there, behind that pillar. She waits with patience, until later today or until twelve o'clock next Thursday, or until sometime next year–but when it's your time to go, she's right there, ready to dance away with you at her side.

November 2013 altar to La Santa Muerte (Holy Death), Sta. Ana Chapirito (near Pátzcuaro), Michoacán. Devotees of this deathly apparition say that her cult has existed since before the Spanish arrived in Mexico.

In Mexico, death is also in the midst of life. We see our dead, alive as you and me, each November, when we wait at our cemeteries for those who have gone before to come home, if only for a night. That, in a nutshell, is Noche de Muertos: the Night of the Dead.

In the lower center portion of this photograph, you can see the Quiroga, Michoacán, panteón municipal (town cemetery). Late in the afternoon of November 1, 2013, most townspeople had not yet gone to the cemetery with candles and flowers for their loved ones' graves. Click on any photograph for a larger view.

Over the course of the last 30-plus years, Mexico Cooks! has been to countless Noche de Muertos events, but none as mystical, as spiritual, or as profoundly magical as that of 2013. Invited to accompany a very small group on a private tour in Michoacán, I looked forward to spending three days enjoying the company of old and new friends. I did all that, plus I came away with an extraordinarily privileged view of life and death.

A magnificent Purépecha ofrenda (in this case, a home altar) in the village of Santa Fe de la Laguna, Michoacán. This detailed and lovely ofrenda was created to the memory of the family's maiden aunt, who died at 74. Because she had never married, even at her advanced age she was considered to be an angelito (little angel)–like an innocent child–and her spirit was called back home to the family on November 1, the day of the angelitos. Be sure to click on the photo to see the details of the altar. Fruits, breads, incense, salt, flowers, colors, and candles have particular symbolism and are necessary parts of the ofrenda.

Detail of the ofrenda casera (home altar) shown above. Several local people told Mexico Cooks! that the fruit piled on the altar tasted different from fruit from the same source that had not been used for the ofrenda. "Compramos por ejemplo plátanos y pusimos unos en el altar y otros en la cocina para comer. Ya para el día siguiente, los del altar pierden su sabor, no saben a nada," they said. 'We bought bananas, for example, and we put some on the altar and the rest in the kitchen to eat. The next day, the ones in the kitchen were fine, but the ones from the altar had no taste at all.'

Preparing a family member's ofrenda (altar) in the camposanto in the village of Arócutin, Michoacán. The camposanto–literally, holy ground–is a cemetery contained within the walls of a churchyard. The candles used in this area of Michoacán are hand made in Ihuatzio and Santa Fé de la Laguna.

Come with me along the unlit road that skirts the Lago de Pátzcuaro: Lake Pátzcuaro. It's chilly and the roadside weeds are damp with earlier rain, but for the moment the sky has cleared and filled with stars. Up the hill on the right and down the slope leading left toward the lake are tiny villages, dark but for the glow of tall candles lit one by one in the cemeteries. Tonight is November 1, the night silent souls wend their way home from Mictlán, the land beyond life.

At the grave: candlelight to illuminate the soul's way, cempazúchitl (deeply orange marigolds) for their distinctive fragrance required to open the path back home, smoldering copal (frankincense) to cleanse the earth and air of any remnants of evil, covered baskets of the deceased's favorite foods. And a low painted chair, where the living can rest through the night.

Waiting through the night. This tumba (grave) refused to be photographed head-on. From an oblique angle, the tumba allowed its likeness to be made.

"Oh grave, where is thy victory? Oh death, where is thy sting?"

Noche de Muertos is not a costume party, although you may see it portrayed as such in the press. It is not a drunken brawl, although certain towns appear to welcome that sort of blast-of-banda-music reventón (big blow-out). It is not a tourist event, though strangers are certainly welcomed to these cemeteries. Noche de Muertos is a celebration of the spirit's life over the body's death, a festival of remembrance, a solemn passover. Years ago, in an interview published in the New York Times, Mexico Cooks! said, "Noche de Muertos is about mutual nostalgia. The living remember the dead, and the dead remember the taste of home."

One by one, grave by grave, golden cempazútchiles give shape to rock-bound tombs and long candles give light to what was a dark and lonely place, transforming the cemetery into a glowing garden. How could a soul resist this setting in its honor?

"Our hearts remember…" we promise the dead. Church bells toll slowly throughout the night, calling souls home with their distinctive clamor (death knell). Come…come home. Come…come home.

Watching. Prayers. No me olvido de ti, mi viejo amado. (I haven't forgotten you, my dear old man.)

Next year, come with me.

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7 de November de 2015
Día de los Muertos en México: Day of the Dead in Mexico, A Primer

Highly decorated cardboard skull for Noche de Muertos.

Pantéon Municipal (Municipal Cemetery), Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán.

Mexico Cooks! will be touring Morelia and surrounding areas again during this special time of year. We'll be attending one or another special Noche de Muertos event every day for an entire week. Traditional ofrendas (altars dedicated to the dead), spectacular crafts exhibits, concerts, and annual concursos (contests) will fill our days and nights. Known in most parts of Mexico as Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead), here in Michoacán we call it Noche de los Muertos (Night of the Dead). By either name, the festival as it's celebrated in Mexico is unique in the world.

These four-inch-long skeletal figures, laid out on their petates (woven rush mats), are hooked up to intravenous bottles of either beer or tequila!

Tiny sugar footwear, in styles from baby booties to high-heeled pumps, are ready to be given as gifts or for placement on an ofrenda.

Mexico celebrates death as it celebrates life, with extreme enjoyment in the simplest things. Life and death are both honored states.

The home ofrenda (altar) may memorialize a cherished relative, a political figure (either reviled or beloved), or a figure from the entertainment world. Traditional decorations include cempasúchil (marigold) and cordón del obispo (cockscomb) flowers, which are used in profusion in churches, cemeteries, and homes.

Sugar skulls are often inscribed in icing with a living friend's name and given to that person as a small token of admiration.

Relatives take favorite foods and beverages to the grave of a loved one gone before. It's said that the dead partake of the spirit of the food, while the living enjoy the physical treats at the cemetery.

Pan de muertos (bread of the dead) is decorated with bone-shaped bread and sugar. The bread itself is flavored with orange and anise.

This miniature ofrenda (altar) is filled with tiny representations of treats that the deceased loved in life.

Several years ago, an article in the New York Times quoted Mexico Cooks! about the Noche de los Muertos: "There's a mutual nostalgia. The living remember the dead, and the dead remember the taste of home." That nostalgia imbues the cities and villages of Michoacán at this time of year just as surely as do woodsmoke and the scent of toasting tortillas.

Looking for a tailored-to-your-interests specialized tour in Mexico? Click here: Tours. And be sure to book your Mexico Cooks! 2016 Dia de los Muertos tour as soon as possible! We'll reserve space for you and your group to make sure you don't miss anything!

17 de October de 2015
Eat My Globe and The Day of the Dead, Revisited

For the next month, Mexico Cooks! will publish a retrospective of articles about the Day (and Night) of the Dead in Mexico. This brief article was published originally on November 24, 2007, when Mexico Cooks! was just a few months old.

Mexico Cooks!' friend Simon Majumdar, on his first tour of Mexico, joined us for a week-long whirlwind crawl to some of our favorite food sites in Guadalajara and Morelia. In between restaurants, taco stands, and walking-around food, we introduced him to the Day of the Dead in both cities.

Papel maché skull masks at the Tianguis del Día de los Muertos, Guadalajara.

Fancy-dress clay catrines (skeletons), each about 7" high, ready for an evening out on the town.

Little clay calacas (skeletons) in sombreros and serapes, the perfect size for hanging from your car's rear-view mirror.

Muñecas de cartón (cardboard dolls) dressed in crepe paper and sequins.

Part of a large ofrenda (altar) in Morelia's Centro Histórico. This altar was dedicated to Don Vasco de Quiroga, one of Michoacán's most historic figures and the first bishop of the state.

A traditional ofrenda (with a twist–click on the photo to get a better view of the hand creeping out of the grave) at Morelia's Hotel Virrey de Mendoza. Click on any photo to enlarge it.

The Plaza San Agustín in Morelia. The ofrenda covered the entire plaza. The central pyramid is made of carrizo (bamboo) and ears of corn. It's surrounded by cempasúchil and terciopelo (marigolds and cock's comb flowers). The cempasúchil fragrance leads the spirits of the dead back to earth and the deep maroon terciopelo is a color of mourning.

A skeletal pair in the Jardín de las Rosas, the garden outside the Conservatorio de las Rosas in Morelia.

This ofrenda, in front of Morelia's Santuario de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, is dedicated to Frida Kahlo.

At the time of this 2007 article, our guest was traveling the world to research his first book, Eat My Globe. Today, Simon Majumdar is a well-known and well-respected Food Network personality, with several more books to his credit. His most recent, published a bit earlier in 2015, is Fed, White, and Blue: Finding America With My Fork.

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10 de October de 2015
Patron Saint of The Impossible: Saint Jude Thaddeus–San Judas Tadeo–in Mexico City

Mexico City's Templo San Hipólito, built starting in 1559 to commemorate the 1520 victory of the Mexica (later known as the Aztecs) over the Spanish invaders in a battle that became known as la Batalla de la Noche Triste (the Battle of the Sad Night), one of the worst defeats the Spanish suffered at the hands of the people they subsequently conquered. The church was finished late in the 17th century.

The church location has been a major influence in Mexico City since those early times. Prior to the building of the church, the first mental hospital in the Americas, founded by Bernardino Álvarez, stood on this corner. San Hipólito was the first patron saint of Mexico's capital city.

A prayer card image of St. Jude Thaddeus, patron saint of difficult or impossible causes. Your Catholic mother or grandmother–or maybe you yourself– probably have an image like this tucked into a Bible.

Not your grandmother's version of St. Jude. Photo courtesy Tattoomuch.com.

Today, Templo San Hipólito is the site of enormous devotion to Saint Jude Thaddeus, known in Spanish as San Judas Tadeo. The most venerated statue of the saint in Mexico is here, and Mexico is deeply devoted to him and to his image. San Judas's feast day is celebrated on October 28 each year, when as many as 100,000 faithful converge on the small church. The huge number of faithful who visit their beloved saint–starting with the first Mass celebrated at midnight–inevitably cause chaotic traffic jams at the corner where the church is located, one of the busiest junctions in Mexico City.

[youtube=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoEsO7rDFoA&w=420&h=315]
The video will give you an idea of the devotion to St. Jude.

Devotion to San Judas in Mexico City is so great that his feast day is celebrated not only on October 28 each year, but also on the 28th of every month. In July of this year, Mexico Cooks! went to visit the saint on his day.

Merchandise sold by vendors around the perimeter of the church–merchandise like these rosaries–is often colored green, white, and gold, the traditional colors of San Judas's clothing.

My companion and I arrived at Templo San Hipólito relatively early, but people had been pouring into the church for each Mass of the day; on the 28th, Masses are said on the hour, all day. This view, from outside the church entrance, did not prepare us for the packed sanctuary.

Once we entered the sanctuary, we were unable to advance beyond the half-way point due to the enormous number of people already inside. At the top middle of this photo, you see a very large statue of the Virgin Mary. Below her is San Judas.

Unlike predominately female crowds at Masses in other churches or at prayer services devoted to other saints, the majority of this crowd is male. While women are certainly present, you can see in the photo that the people in front of us were almost all male.

Custom here is to wrap a figure of San Judas in scarves, scapulars, beads, and medals. When I asked this woman, seated on a bench along the inside of the church, if I might take a picture of her statue, she said yes, but bowed her head to show him, not herself. It's also customary to take small gifts, such as the candy this woman is holding, to share with others at the church.

St. Martín de Porres is also much-venerated in Mexico. This life-size statue of him, holding a real broom, is at one side of the San Hipólito interior. Notice that much of the broom straw has been broken off and taken by the faithful. Click on the
photo (and any photo) to enlarge it.

This young man gave me permission to photograph him and his statue.

Many parents dress their babies in the green, gold, and white colors of the saint. Usually they have made a vow to St. Jude to do this in thanks for a favor granted; oftentimes, the favor granted is the birth of a healthy child after complications of pregnancy.

The man who carried this elaborately wrapped statue during the entire Mass set it on a stone wall so that I could photograph it.

Vendors along the sidewalks sell every kind of St. Jude-related goods. People carry these candles into the church to be blessed, and then carry them home to light their personal altars dedicated to the saint.

We visited many of the booths selling figures of San Judas. The sizes range from about six inches high–like the ones at the left in the front row–to life size or larger. The seated figure just right of center represents Jesús Malverde, an 'informal' saint (one revered by the people but not a saint in the church). Jesús Malverde, a Sinaloa legend, is also known as the 'narco saint', the 'angel of the poor', or the 'generous bandit'. The green sign refers to the copitas (little goblets) filled with San Judas's seeds of abundance just above it. Each goblet with seeds costs 10 pesos. That's approximately 60 US cents, at today's exchange rate.

Feeling like your world is standing on its head? You might want to try a chat with St. Jude.

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3 de October de 2015
Mexico’s Independence Celebration: A Month of Fiestas Patrias

Street vendors hawk la bandera nacional (the Mexican flag) in dozens of forms for several weeks during August and right up to September 16, Mexico's Independence Day.

Mexico's official struggle for freedom from Spanish colonization began sometime between midnight and dawn on September 16, 1810, when Father Miguel Hidalgo gave the Grito de Dolores (Cry of Dolores) from the parish bell tower in the town known today as Dolores Hidalgo, Guanajuato. Mexico celebrates its day of Fiestas Patrias (Patriotic Holidays) on September 16 with parades of school children and military batallions, politicians proclaiming speeches, and general festivity.

Hundreds of books have been written about Mexico's break from Spain, millions of words have been dedicated to exploring the lives of the daring men and women who knew, a bit more than 200 years ago, that the time had come for freedom. You can read some of the history on the Internet. Another excellent source for Mexican history is The Life and Times of Mexico, by Earl Shorris. You'll find that book available on the left-hand side of this page.

But the best-kept secret in Mexico is the Independence Day party. No, the big deal is not on September 16th. Held every year on the night of September 15, the Gran Noche Mexicana (the Great Mexican Night), the real celebration of the revolutionary events in 1810, is a combination of New Year's Eve, your birthday, and your country's independence festivities. Wouldn't you really rather hear about the party?

Jalisco town kiosko (bandstand) decorated for the Fiestas Patrias.

For years I've attended the September 15 celebrations in a variety of towns and cities. In Mexico City, the country's president leads hundreds of thousands of citizens in late-night celebrations in the zócalo, the enormous square surrounded by government buildings and the Metropolitan Cathedral. Every Mexican town big enough to have a mayor holds a reenactment of the Grito de Dolores, Hidalgo's cry for independence. The town square is decorated with flags, bunting, and ribbons. Cohetes (sky rockets) flare and bang. Sometime around eleven o'clock at night, the folks, assembled in the town plaza since nine or so, are restless for the celebration to begin. The mayor's secretary peeks out from the doorway of the government offices, the folkloric dancers file off the stage in the plaza, the band tunes up for the Himno Nacional (the national anthem), the crowd waves its flags and hushes its jostling. The mayor steps out onto the balcony of the government building or onto the stage built just outside the building's front door to sing the Himno's emotional verses.

Dressed in his finest and backed up by a military or police guard, the mayor clears his throat and loudly begins an Independence Day proclamation. He pulls a heavy rope to ring the Independence bell, then he waves a huge Mexican flag. Back and forth, back and forth! In every Mexican town, the proclamation ends with Hidalgo's 205-year-old exhortations: "Long live religion! Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Long live the Americas and death to the corrupt government! Viva México! Qué viva!"

Father Hidalgo's 1810 banner. He carried this banner as his standard as a leader in the fight for Mexico's independence from Spain.

The mayor and the crowd shout as one voice: "Viva México! Qué viva! Qué viva!" The mayor grins and waves as the fireworks begin, bursting huge green, white, and red chrysanthemums over the heads of the attendees.

Later there will be dancing and more music, pozole, tostadas, mezcal, tequila and beer, and, in larger towns and cities, all-night revelry in the plaza, in private homes, and in hotels, restaurants, and events halls.

About five years ago my friend, música ranchera singer Lupita Jiménez from Guadalajara, invited me to a Gran Noche Mexicana where she was performing. The event was scheduled to start at 9.30, but Mexican custom normally dictates late arrival. By ten o'clock I was on my way to the party. At the salón de eventos (events hall) the parking lot was already full, but a man was parking cars on the street just a block away. As I left my car, he said, "Could you pay me now for watching your car? It's 20 pesos. I'll be leaving a little early, probably before the event is over."

"How long will you be here?" I asked, a bit anxious about leaving the car alone on this night of prodigious revelry.

Lupita Jiménez in performance at a Gran Noche Mexicana in Guadalajara.

"Till six." My jaw dropped and I handed him the 20 pesos. Six in the morning! Surely we wouldn't party quite so long as that!

The sad truth is that I didn't. I couldn't. My stamina flagged at about 3:00 AM, after dinner had been served at 10:30, a city politician had proclaimed the Grito, the Himno Nacional had been sung, and fireworks (I swear to you) had been set off on the indoor stage of the salón de eventos. Then the show started, a brief recapitulation in dance of Mexican history, starting with concheros (loincloth-clad Aztec dancers) whirling around a belching volcano, and ending with the glorious jarabe tapatía–the Guadalajara regional dance that most speakers of English know as the Mexican hat dance.

After innumerable trios, duets, and solo singers, the show paused for intermission at close to two in the morning. Several of my table-mates slipped away, but I thought I could make it to the end. The first half of the Gran Noche Mexicana had been invigorating and exciting and I loved it. During intermission, a wonderful Mexican comedian poked fun at politics, functionaries, and Mexican life in general. We were all roaring with laughter. When the comic left the stage, I realized that I was exhausted and needed to go home to bed. Just as the performers stepped onto the stage to begin the next round of song, I sneaked away.

When I called Lupita the next afternoon to congratulate her on the success of the event, she asked if I'd stayed for the last few costume changes. "Mija, I had to go home early. I lasted till three, but then I just couldn't stay awake. I'm so sorry I missed the end."

Lupita laughed. "I'm glad you lasted that long, but next time you have to stay for the whole night! You missed the best part!"

The Zócalo (main city plaza) in Mexico City, dressed up for the Fiestas Patrias.

Viva México! Qué viva!

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26 de September de 2015
The Purépecha of Michoacán in the 21st Century

This is Imelda, a charming Purépecha child already learning the traditional kitchen skills used by the ancestral generations of women on whose shoulders she stands. Morelia, Michoacán, 2012.

Today, more than 120,000 Purépecha live in 16 municipalities in the Zona Lacustre (Lake Zone) and the Meseta Purépecha (Purépecha tableland) of Michoacán. Within those municipalites are numerous towns and villages. Most Purépecha are bilingual. Generally the language spoken by the family at home is Purépecha. Children learn Spanish when they are part-way through primary school. There are still approximately 10,000 Purépecha who speak only their native language.

Maíz criollo (native Mexican corn) in three colors, grown for personal use in a Purépecha family's garden.

The present-day economy of the Purépecha is based, for the most part, in agriculture. The Purépecha grow corn for their own use and grow wheat to sell. In the Zona Lacustre, there are also a number of people who fish commercially.

Making the fragrant base for a pine needle basket. Uruapan, 2010.

Another significant source of income is the creation of arts and crafts. In the mid-16th century, Don Vasco de Quiroga taught the Purépecha not only Christianity but also the idea of self-sufficiency based on the refined production of items for daily use: pottery, textile weaving, copper smelting, and wood carving. Approximately 40,000 families in Michoacán presently work at one form or another of artesanía.

Eleven-hundred-year-old petroglyphs from Tzintzuntzan have a new home (with the approval of INAH, the Instituo Nacional de Arquitectura e Historia) in a visible but untouchable space in a Morelia, Michoacán gallery. It is believed that these and other Michoacán petroglyphs have spiritual and religious meaning that we cannot yet guess.

The ancient Purépecha believed that the Universe was divided into three parts: the region of the heavens, the region of the Earth, and the region of the dead. Each region had its own set of gods. The most important gods were those of the first region–the heavens–and among those, the most important were Kuerajperi, the Lord of Light, and Xaratanga, the goddess of the moon.

Today, the Purépecha practice a Catholicism colored by their reinterpretation of the teachings of the early Franciscan and Dominican missionaries. Many Purépecha believe that God, the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and the saints have special powers which interact among them. The devil, in some of his manifestations, has an importance which goes beyond that of the saints.

Many Purépecha continue to live in small villages, in some respects isolated from cultures other than their own. Their homes, called trojes, are made of heavy, hand-hewn thick pine boards. Each room of a troje is separate from every other room. The buildings are constructed without nails and can be dismantled and moved. The kitchen, living quarters, sleeping and storage rooms are individual small buildings such as the one in the photo to the right.

A close Purépecha friend, Débora Cortés, who has passed away since I took this photo, washed dishes in an outdoor pila (combination water storage basin, sink, and scrub board). The pila is the only source of running water for the household. Her bathroom was an outdoor toilet. She warmed water for bathing in buckets placed in the afternoon sun. My friend was fortunate to have a township water source rather than face the daily necessity of hauling water from a well. Note the roof of the troje at the upper left of the photo and the stalks of corn at right center. The greenery closest to the foreground is a coffee tree. Débora usually kept a pig in the garden, to raise for market and for meat. Mexico Cooks! photo, 2002.

Life for the Purépecha today is a battle for survival, both economic and cultural. Physical survival depends on many factors, including money sent home by the sons and daughters of the pueblos who now work in Morelia (the Michoacán state capital), Guadalajara, Mexico City, and in the United States.

The design on this troje is made with old music CDs. Pre-conquest Mexico, meet the 21st century. Angahuan, Michoacán, 2013.

Cultural survival is constantly assaulted by the influences of television, print advertising, and innovations brought home by the sons and daughters who work 'away'.

Cherán, an indigenous Purépecha community in the west-central part of Michoacán, is well known for its high level of political awareness and activity. The banner in the photo reads, "CHERÁN DEMANDS SECURITY AND JUSTICE" and is signed, "The indigenous community of Cherán".

Political survival is crucial to the continuation of the Purhépecha nation. In Cherán, Michoacán (pictured above), the Purépecha community holds its own community elections and does not subscribe to state and national elections.

Night of the Dead altar dedicated to a deceased relative, private home, Santa Fe de la Laguna, November 2013. The Purépecha tradition of spiritual and religious practices combines ancient rituals and customs with Roman Catholic beliefs. The amalgam sustains and nourishes a community which is itself a combination of the ancient and the modern.

Spiritual survival depends on the handing down of the old ways, the old traditions, by a generation of elders that is fast disappearing. The question of globalization in indigenous communities is not an idle one, but one which must be addressed if the Purépecha are to survive as more than a curiosity in the modern world.

Next week we'll make our final stop (for now!) in the Purépecha towns of Michoacán, in which a delightful visit to Santa Fe de La Laguna turns into a language lesson! Come with us!

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22 de August de 2015
Don Vasco de Quiroga, First Bishop of Michoacán, and the Purépecha Legacy

Archeologists generally consider the yácatas (pyramids with round bases) in Tzintzuntzan to have been a ceremonial center and residence for early Purépecha priests. Originally, on each of the yácatas was a temple made of wood in which the most important rites of the Purépecha people and government took place, including burials, of which about sixty have been found. The burials that have been excavated contain rich grave goods and are probably of kings and high priests. Although reconstruction began in the 1930s, two of the yácatas remain in their found condition. Photo courtesy Google Images.

The Purépecha make up the largest indigenous population of the state of Michoacán. Their ancient kingdom, centered in the town of Tzintzuntzan on the shores of Lake Pátzcuaro, is purported to have been an advanced and prosperous civilization as early as 900 A.D.

Archeologists discovered this very early tripod-form Purépecha vessel inside ceremonial rooms of the yácatas. Photo courtesy Famsi.org.

Less is known anthropologically about the historical antecedents of the Purépecha than about any other important Mexican group (the Olmecs, the Toltecs, and the Mexica, for example). The Purépecha had no written language and therefore kept no written record of their lives, culture, or activities. All of their history is extrapolated from post-conquest documents written by the Spanish. The Purépecha language was established long before the arrival of the Spanish and is in no way related to any other indigenous language of Mexico or any language anywhere.

In the early 1500s, the Lake Pátzcuaro basin had a population between 60,000 and 100,000 inhabitants spread among 91 separate settlements ranging over 25,000 square miles. Purépecha government was necessarily strong, with effective social, economic, and administrative structure. A strong religion with many gods and goddesses underlay and supported the society.

Tarascan (Purépecha) civilization. Detail of mural, Diego Rivera, 1942.

What happened to the Purépecha and their strong kingdom?

On February 23, 1521, the first Spanish soldier appeared on the borders of Michoacán. Even before this, however, the effects of the first contact had begun to be felt among the Purépecha. The previous year, a slave infected with smallpox had come ashore after crossing the Atlantic Ocean with the army of Spanish explorer Pánfilo de Naraváez and had triggered a widespread and disastrous smallpox epidemic among indigenous peoples, none of whom had previously been exposed to this sort of illness.

Tzuiangua, the Purhépecha calzonci (king) died in the smallpox epidemic of 1521. Measles and other diseases came along with the earliest Spaniards and led to further reductions in population. Partly as a result of these catastrophes, the young, newly-invested calzonci (king) Tzintzicha Tangaxoana chose to accept Spanish sovereignty when the first Spanish soldiers arrived, rather than suffer the fate of Tenochtitlán, the grand Aztec pyramid city located near present-day Mexico City. As evidence of his submission, he accepted baptism and brought Franciscan missionaries into the region under his protection.

It is unclear whether Tangaxhuan II, the new young king, failed to fully understand the Spaniards' intentions and how their system worked, whether he thought he could pull the proverbial wool over their eyes, whether he was poorly advised, or some combination of the three.

Torture and death of the last Purépecha king. Detail of mural titled "La Historia de Michoacán", painted in 1941-42 by Juan O'Gorman on the back wall of the Biblioteca Gertrudis Bocanegra, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán.

The Spanish had intended to allow Tangaxhuan II to keep some symbolic measure of autonomy for himself and his empire as a reward for his cooperation. However, when the Spanish discovered that he was continuing to receive tribute from his subjects, they had him executed. On February 14, 1530, the last native king of the Purépecha was put to death at the hands of the conquerers.

So begins the mystical creation history of the Purépecha people and Lake Pátzcuaro, the center of their spirituality. Still numerous and active in the modern world, the Purépecha maintain much of their supernatural culture in spite of the intrusion of globalization and the present-day world. The mid-20th Century Mexican-Irish muralist Juan O'Gorman painted the history of the Purépecha nation in the Pátzcuaro public library. The mural, a detail of which is shown above, depicts O'Gorman's vision of pre- and post-Conquest Purépecha life.

Don Vasco de Quiroga and a Purépecha woman, carved in cantera (a volcanic stone) and crowned with flowers. Outside the huatápera in Santa Fe de la Laguna, where Tata Vasco, as he is lovingly called to this day, founded the first hospital (house for shelter and relief) in Michoacán.

In 1533, Don Vasco de Quiroga, a Spanish aristocrat, was installed as the first bishop of the province of Michoacán. At that time, the province was much larger than the present-day state. Don Vasco governed an area that encompassed over 27,000 square miles and 1.5 million people. Don Vasco oversaw the construction of three Spanish-style pueblos (towns), each of which included a hospital, as well as the great cathedral of Santa Ana in Morelia, numerous churches and schools, and founded the Colegio de San Nicolás Obispo (College of St. Nicholas the Bishop), the first school in all of the Americas. Quiroga is immensely important not only to the history of Michoacán but also specifically to the Purépecha nation.

In The Christianization of the Purépecha by Bernardino Verastique (pp. 92-109), the author states that the primary task assigned to Quiroga was to "rectify the disorder in which Nino de Guzmán had left the province after the assassination of the cazonci." Unlike Guzmán, who was a viciously murderous and enslaving conqueror, Quiroga was largely benevolent. He assumed a pastoral role of protector, spiritual father, judge, and confessional physician to the Purépecha.

Tata Vasco teaching the Purépecha the Utopian ideas he held dear. Detail of Juan O'Gorman mural, "La Historia de Michoacán".

St. John the Baptist, fashioned as a Purépecha man. He's wearing his woolen jorongo (like a poncho) and his huetameño (straw hat from Huetamo, Michoacán). This early statue, so tender and so beautiful, so tattered and beloved, is hiding in plain sight in a one-room chapel just off the plaza in Santa Fe de la Laguna. His gentle demeanor melted my companion's heart and mine as well.

Tata Vasco organized the Purépecha villages into groups modeled on Thomas More's Utopia and thus extended his territorial jurisdiction. His actions brought him into direct conflict with the Spanish encomenderos (land grant holders). Quiroga recognized that Christianizing the Purépecha depended upon preserving their language and understanding their world view. He promulgated a multicultural, visual, and multilingual access to Christianity.

Even the Purépecha nation's name is debatable. Erroneously called Tarascans since the Spanish conquest, in the last 40-50 years the Purépecha have begun to reclaim their original name. The term 'tarasco' means brother-in-law in the Purépecha language. The newly arrived Spanish took Purépecha women, heard the Purépecha men use term 'tarasco' to ironically refer to themselves, and mistakenly believed that it was the name of the entire nation.

Descendants of the Purépecha remain in Michoacán, particularly in the Lake Pátzcuaro area. The language is still spoken, and many children speak Purépecha as their first language. During the last 50 years, a written Purépecha language has been devised and is used in a regional newspaper and in books.

Olive trees in what is now the atrium of the Templo de Sta. Ana, the oldest Catholic church in Michoacán. These trees were planted by the Spanish in the mid-1500s.

Olive trees planted by the Spanish conquerers nearly 500 years ago still thrive in the churchyard at Tzintzuntzan, the former capital of the Purépecha kingdom, on the shore of Lake Pátzcuaro. Some of the trees measure nearly 15 feet in diameter. Nearby, Purépecha descendants still produce the crafts of the old days: wood carving, pottery making, and tule (a kind of lake reed) weaving. The present-day town has a population of less than one-tenth of the Purépecha capital at the height of its power, and it continues to lose many of its young people as they migrate in search of jobs to other Mexican cities and to the United States.

Purépecha woman selling deliciously edible flor de calabaza (squash flowers), near Paracho, Michoacán. Photo copyright Mexico Cooks!.

Anthropologists are of two minds concerning contemporary Purépecha life. One group, the 'Hispanists', argues that the Purépecha remnant has become primarily a Spanish-speaking Mexican peasant culture. Though they have maintained their language and some of their basic Mesoamerican cultural elements (in particular their diet of beans, squash, chiles, and corn), they have become Hispanicized with regard to their religious lives, their economy, and their forms of traditional or 'folk' knowledge. In contrast, the other group is more persuaded by the consistencies they see between traditional Mesoamerican culture and the modern-day life of the remaining Purépecha. They note in particular the areas of relationship between language and culture, gender relations, socialization, and world view.

Next week: a look at Michoacán's Purépecha communities in the 21st century. Come with us!

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15 de August de 2015