Life is Measured in More than Years: Marcelino and Concepción

Green Card

 Marcelino and I are the same age, in years anyway. But life is measured in more than years. Life's experiences are a much more accurate measure. I am the privileged gringo who has gone to college, found a satisfying job in public education, and retired with an adequate pension to live comfortably and travel extensively in my "golden years". My two children have had the same opportunities that I had, and our family is a tightly knit unit that gets together often and participates in each other's lives. We have financial stability and our basic needs are well met. Relatively speaking, we have good lives and promising futures.

Remembering 

Marcelino's life, and his wife's, Concepción, have been down a much more rugged path, with far fewer opportunities and no retirement pension in their "golden years". Their lives have been rich in many ways, but they have faced many hardships and experienced more than their share of suffering and sadness. The seventy-seven years that Marcelino has lived are very different than the seventy-seven that I have lived. 

In the mid seventies he got a work visa to go to the States and ended up there for a few years working in construction and, most rewardingly, as a baker. When he returned to Oaxaca, he brought his new profession with him. He married his wife, Concepción, and they had two children, and they became the town "panaderos" (bakers). Three times a week they fired up their wood-fired clay oven and made sweet breads which they sold door to door in the pueblo.

Concepción

The pueblo of Tanivet, like many pueblos in Mexico, is inhabited primarily by women. As soon as they are old enough (late teens or early twenties), the men migrate to the States to work, just as Marcelino did. This was the case with Concepción and Marcelino's son. But unlike Marcelino, their son did not come back. Since he did not have papers, he could not return stateside if he left. During the time that I knew them, Marcelino and Concepción suffered much due to the absence of their son. They had no chance of getting a visa to the US with their job as itinerant bakers, nor could they ever afford it. Their son mentioned several times he was going to try to get back home, but it never happened. After many years, Marcelino and Concepción lost hope of ever seeing their son and grandson. 

The separation of family members is a source of much pain and sadness. That imaginary line that separates the US from Mexico, also separates loved ones, parents from children, husbands from wives. Most Americans can cross "la Linea" without much problem. We are welcomed in Mexico and no visa is necessary. But for many good people like Marcelino and Concepción, crossing over is almost impossible or it is very dangerous and expensive. So many people live without the opportunity to see their spouses, children and grandchildren. And this is the big difference between my seventy-seven years of life and Marcelino's. Pain and sadness wear heavily on a person.

Tanivet is an hour and a half from where I live. I have not gone back to see my friends there for a while, but I hope to do so soon. It would be such a joy to find Marcelino and Concepción reunited with their son and his family and enjoying life together in their "golden years". I have that opportunity, why not them?

The Mysterious World of Don Antonio Hernández

Don Antonio was a man shrouded in mystery and magical secrets. I met him in the early 1970's in Velez, Santander, Colombia. He was in his early fifties and I was in my mid twenties. I was staying with my friend, Butch, who was a Peace Corps volunteer that I had served with in the West Indies a few years earlier. Butch lived in the hills outside of Velez and Antonio lived in a small adobe house right next to him. There were no neighbors anywhere near us. When Butch went into town in the early evening to give his English classes, Antonio and I spent a few hours together trying to communicate. My Spanish was almost non-existent at that time, but Antonio was convinced that I would understand him if he spoke louder. I am sure that our nightly conversations often echoed through the countryside. Antonio could neither read or write, but he had an innate talent for working with animals, and besides doing odd jobs in the campo, he also acted as a self-taught vet. He was the one people called upon when they had a sick cow or goat, and Antonio would brew up concoctions to cure them. 

The town of Velez was half an hour walk away, and to get there we had to cross a grassy field surrounded by barbed wire. We would sneak though an opening and walk the fifty yards to another opening nearer to the pueblo. Every now and then there would be a cow grazing there. We called her Vaca Brava (mean cow) because often, for no reason, she would decide to charge us and we had to run for our life and dodge under the barb wire fence before she got to us. Antonio found this to be very comical and belly laughed when we came back home with a Vaca Brava escape story. Vaca Brava was one of his patients that he never cured. He figured she had some kind of brain tumor that caused her to flip out like she did sometimes. He was probably right. Luckily she never caught me, but she came very close more than once. 

 One night Antonio came to me with a book of magical incantations he had gotten from a brujo in town. It was very special to him and something that no one else was to know about. He wanted to memorize them as he believed they would help protect him. He had lived through la Violencia, a very violent time in Colombian history, and he was very marked by it. I could read Spanish quite well since it is a very phonetic language. The incantations were a mixture of religious figures from Catholicism and deities from different ancient mythologies. This became part of our nightly sessions as he tried to commit them to memory. He was dedicated and determined in his endeavor. I wish there had been an incantation that would have protected me from Vaca Brava!

Every morning, Antonio and I had coffee in his rickety adobe kitchen, coffee that came from the bushes alongside his house. Once in a while a chunk of the mud roof would fall, narrowly missing one of us. This was occasion for another series of belly laughs from Antonio. He seemed to be fascinated by close calls. When my Spanish had improved some, Antonio decided we should exchange dreams at breakfast. He said they were very important and we should heed what they told us. Trying to describe my dreams proved to be an excellent way to improve my Spanish because I always wanted to hear what Antonio had to say about them. He was very insightful and I respected what he had to say, even if I did not understand him fully.

I was in Velez for Christmas that year, and Antonio and I found ourselves alone as Butch had gone off somewhere with his Colombian girlfriend. Antonio decided to make it special, so he took some of the little money that he had and bought a couple pieces of beef to roast over the fire. He also bought a couple bottles of chicha, an alcoholic home brew made of fermented corn. I went with him to get it and saw chickens running through the hollowed out logs where the chicha was kept. I knew there were going to be some sick days ahead for me, as Antonio bought two bottles of it. I could not refuse his hospitality, but I did pay for it dearly with a case of amoebic dysentery that knocked me for a loop and took a long to get rid of. But it was a very memorable Christmas with a very special friend.

I took the above photograph over fifty years ago and it is still as clear and crisp as the day I processed it. When I look at it, I can see him lift his slingshot to down one of the small bird that he hunted and ate frequently. Very small birds, but they were part of his self-sufficient life style. We were two people from very different worlds who were able to enjoy and learn from each other. I was privileged to have had a glimpse into the mysterious world of Don Antonio Hernández. His portrait is on the wall of my house in Corvallis, a fond reminder of days gone by and adventures lived.

A Man and his Cow: Laguna de Nahuinpuquio, Peru

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Nahuinpuquio is a small, indigenous pueblo in the Peruvian Andes near the town of Ahuac. It is situated at 11,150 feet on la Laguna de Nahuinpuquio, a crystal clear lake in an enchanted valley surrounded by eucalyptus trees and majestic hills of arid red and dusty beige earth. Indigenous women watched their animals as they spun crude wool into thread to weave chompas. According to legend, the laguna is enchanted. Its name means lake with eyes, and the legend has it that many years ago the area was inhabited by the Incas who had built a sacred temple on the shores of the laguna. When the Spanish Conquistadors came to exploit the area and slaughter the ancient rulers, the Incas retaliated. Unable to defend themselves from the mounted, metal-clad white gods that Atahualpa had predicted would arrive, they decided to sacrifice their treasures and sacred belongings rather than have them fall into the hands of the greed mongering Spaniards.They sank the gold bell into the laguna where it still lies today.The locals of Nahuinpuquio tell the story that many years later, a woman grazing her flock witnessed a spectacle that reinforced the anciet legend. The bell emerged from the water and seated itself on one of the grass-tufted islands of Nahuinpuquio and started to ring. It then disappeared again into the depths of the laguna.

It was 1973 and my friend Ken and I had rented a small adobe house a stone's throw away from the Laguna. The pueblo was almost entirely Quechua speaking, but we found a campesino, Don Juan Rojas, who also spoke Spanish. He owned an empty house where his son and family used to live before migrating to Huancayo in search of employment. Nahuinpuquio was a very impoverished area and the soil was exhausted. Making a living off the land was difficult and the Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), a Marxist group, had a strong presence in the area. The local campesinos were more than ready to support anyone who was offering them a better life, as it appeared the government had totally forgotten them. People were hungry and had to walk long distances to find firewood to cook with. Many people had decaying teeth due to the coca leaves they chewed daily to deaden the hunger and tiredness that they felt.

One day Don Juan asked us to keep an eye on his animals since his wife and daughter were gone for the day and he had to go to Huancayo for some medicine for his cow that was sick. We could see his small lot of land from our house which was situated on a hillside opposite Don Juan's place. He told us he would be gone about three hours.

About an hour after Don Juan had left, I noticed that Don Juan's cow was nowhere to be seen. I walked over to check on her and found her lying on the ground dead. I immediately went to a neighbor's house to tell him, and he came over and drained the blood and butchered the animal before the meat spoiled. 

Don Juan returned a few hours later to receive the sad news about his cow. He dearly loved that animal and spoke of her as a family member. He set about right away preparing a going away party for her. He started a fire and opened a bottle of his home brewed corn liquor (chicha) to help kill the pain. The small group of people who were present all partook as Juan told stories about his cow and lamented her passing. He then roasted some of the meat and we all ate some in her honor. It was truly a day in the life in a faraway land, and I feel honored to have shared in it.

 

Words of Wisdom: The Capulalpam Project

Tecla & Nahum

In spring of 2023 I made a visit to Capulalpam de Méndez to visit my friends Tecla and Nahum to give them a copy of the book. Tecla was one of the participants in my Somos Oaxaca book project and she was very touched to receive it. Both Tecla and her husband, Nahum, are very proud of the work they do in preserving the natural resources of Capulalpam, especially non GMO corn. They are true environmentalists and their lives reflect their values and the traditions of their indigenous community. 

I had told Tecla about an idea I had for a photography project with a working title: "Words of Wisdom: The Elders Speak". The concept is to take a portrait of the elders of the community with their words of wisdom to the youth of today. She liked the idea and offered to help me launch it in Capulalpam.

In February, 2024 I returned to Capulalpam to meet with Tecla to plan out the project. Being an indigenous community, Capulalpam is governed by members of the community in a communal fashion with its own rules and regulations. I needed to have permission to move forward with the project and she had arranged for me to meet the current leaders of the pueblo and explain my project to them. They respectfully listened to my proposal and said they liked he idea and would present it to the governing assembly. When I returned a few weeks later, I was told they accepted the proposal and would support me in my efforts to collect advice from the elders and to take their portraits. They connected me with a woman in charge of cultural affairs for the community that would be my liaison with the community and be my companion during the project.

Una limpia tradicional

My first portrait was of Doña Alicia, a healer and respected member of the traditional medicine circle in Capulalpam. She is my age and still very active in her role as a traditional healer. I went to her for a massage and was amazed at the strength and healing power in her hands. The next day I photographed her giving a limpia (spiritual cleansing) to a young girl from the community. Besides practicing traditional medicine, she regularly works in her garden growing food for her family and medicinal herbs that she uses in her practice.

Doña Adela

 My second portrait was an 80 year old woman, Doña Adela, who had been the pueblo photographer for many years until her sight began to fail her. She was ahead of her time as a woman doing work that was traditionally done by a man. She  is indeed her own woman.
I also photographed Doña Fidela, one of the pueblo's most respected elders. She, like so many others, never left the pueblo. Her life is entwined with the history and social fabric of Capulápam. 

Now that i am back in Oaxaca, I will continue the project, extending the geographic location beyond Capulálpam.

Words of wisdom have no boundaries.

Doña Fidela

The Abduction of the Bride: El Rapto de la Novia

 I write this post with all due respect for the traditions and customs of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, and the wishes of the families of the future bride and groom for allowing me to photograph at this event. Estoy muy agradecido. (Novia: Bride to be & Novio: groom to be)

On my most recent visit to Juchitán, my friend, Eli, invited me to attend "el rapto de la novia", an ancient Zapotec tradition that is still practiced in some parts of the Isthmus. It is not near as common as it was in the past, but there are still a few places where it is practiced, and certain neighborhoods of Juchitán are amongst them. My understanding is very basic and I do not claim to have any expertise, I am only relating what I was told and errors in my understanding are certainly possible.

The novia's bedroom

There are two main ways to ask for a woman's hand in marriage. One is to go directly to the parents and ask for the novia's hand. The other is to abduct her and bring her to the home of the novio's parents. This is usually arranged beforehand as it requires preparations for a big party with lots of food and drink. The pachanga (party) is to celebrate the virginity of the novia, who is laying on a bed covered by a white sheet that is adorned with rose petals and red glitter. A group of women, family and close friends, accompany the novia in the room. In this group there are several muxes (third gender) friends who are keeping the novia company. There is no lack of beer and  botanas (traditional dishes of food) and most of the women have two, not one, bottles of corona in their hand. The general atmosphere is" "Let the good times roll"! Men are not allowed in this room, but for some reason (maybe my pink cap?) I was given permission to go in and photograph. The family did not allow me to photograph the novia's face. Other than that, they told me, "go ahead and shoot all you want"! And I did, although it is difficult to photograph with a beer in each hand! I did manage, but some shots might be blurry.

Outside the bedroom were many other invitees also having a good time. The men sat together and were well launched by the time we got there. I sat with them for a while until I got the ok to go into the bedroom. After that I stayed with the women. They hold their liquor much better!

At a given moment, it was time to proclaim the novia"s virginity. This was done by the distribution of garlands of roses to all the women present. And of course it meant many more Coronitas, plates of delicacies from the Istmo, and dancing to the live band that was present.The novia never came out, however. After the celebration at the novio's house we went to the novia's parents place. More food and drink and lots of dancing.

Los hombres, bien tomados!

It was a very unique experience and I thank the families for their openness in allowing me to participate.

I will let the remainder of this post be visual storytelling. It is hard to manage the photos here, so I will do my best to organize them. Click on them once to see them larger.

She is a virgin!

Secret to Longevity

Las amigas Muxes

Mis amigas De Juchitán

Muxe downing a Coronita

La Banda

La tia at 80

A Lesson To Be Learned

Three Muxe Beauties

 I write this post on Thanksgiving day, 2022. I have many things to be thankful for: family, friends, and good health among them. But I want to add a word of thanks that events like la Vela de las Aútenticas Intépidas Buscadoras de Peligro (a transgender-gay celebration) can take place in Mexico without violence or bloodshed. This event began the day after the horrible mass shooting at a LGBT bar in Colorado. There were well over 1000 people present dancing, drinking and having a good time. There were straight people, gays and trans people all intermingling and respecting each other.  That is not to say that there is no discrimination. Mexico is not free of discrimination and hate. A few days earlier one of the Muxes (third gender) organizers of the event was assaulted. But the event went on without further incident. This year's Queen of the Muxes, Melisa Mijanos Boijseauneau, is a lawyer and became the first transgender official of the government of Oaxaca. In an interview with the press, she commented that for her, being crowned queen represents the resistance of a community that struggles every day against discrimination, violence and hate crimes, a community that resists to show the world its joy for the freedom to love and to be free. There is a lesson to be learned here and I feel privileged to have been present and accepted by everyone there. 

Reina Melisa 2022

Although the event is "a show" that is only a small part of the Muxes culture, it is still a sight to behold. The imagination and color that fill the venue are captivating. The runway for the coronation of the Queen was a five star performance and after two years of not having the Vela because of the pandemic, people were hungry for the spectacle. (See photos at end of this post)

But this trip to Juchitan was much more than la Vela de las Muxes. Two of the people that appear in my book, Somos Oaxaca, live in Juchitan. I was able to present them with a copy of the book they appear in. It was very satisfying for me to fulfil a promise I had made to them and to myself to bring this project to fruition.

I took a moto taxi to Roberto Sanchez' house without announcing my arrival. Roberto is a tanner and I had not seen him in over five years. He was quite surprised to see me, but was very pleased to receive the book. He told me much had changed since the pandemic and he had to change the location of his tannery, but he was still working. That is what gives his life meaning.

https://dick-keis.blogspot.com/2016/08/working-to-his-hearts-content.html

I then went to see Martin Valdez Toledo, a clay artist and and encyclopedia of Zapotec culture, especially in the Istmo region of Oaxaca. Martin specializes in making Tangú Yú, clay statues that represent Zapotec gods and goddesses dating back many generations. I told Martin that I was thinking about a photography project about "los sabios" (wise people) of Juchitan and he offered to help me make contact with them, Many speak only Zapoteco and Martin said he would be my translator. He is a true gold mine of cultural information. I am excited at the prospect of working with him.

https://dick-keis.blogspot.com/2017/08/one-mans-grain-of-sand.html

Juchitán is a very culturally rich region of Oaxaca. Zapoteco is still widely spoken and the customs and traditions are deeply rooted. I have very good connections with people there who can open doors for me that are not easy to open. Now that my book, Somos Oaxaca, is finished, I would welcome a new project. Juchitan would be an exciting place to begin one. There are still many more lessons to be learned.

Martin Valdez Toledo

Muxe after church blessing

Mario Vasquez Bautista: Zapatero Remendón

 

Mario at work

When I first walked into Mario"s shop in Oaxaca, I had an instant flashback to O'Flaherty's shoe repair shop in St. Paul, Minnesota. His shop emanated the aromas of freshly polished leather and rubber cement, and although Mario's shop is a bit more rustic, it took me right back to my childhood.

Mario is a zapatero remendón (cobbler). His job is not to make shoes, but to give them new life. He learned his trade from his father in Mexico City over forty years ago when shoes were made of real leather and quality materials, not like today when synthetic materials have overrun the market.

Mario still works much like he did forty years ago. Much of his sewing is done by hand. He has a few basic machines: one for grinding, one for polishing and a heavy duty sewing machine for things that cannot be sewn by hand. Despite the "throw away culture" of the shoe industry nowadays, he says that there are still people whose occupations demand a good pair of shoes. Good shoes and boots are expensive, and many people opt to have them repaired rather than buy new ones. Mario is happy to accommodate them. He has never advertised his shop, but the quality of his work speaks for itself and brings him enough new and repeat customers to make ends meet.

The shoe repair business isn't what it used to be. At one time Mario had five employees working with him and his earnings were substantial. Now he works alone and his income is enough to put food on the table, but not much more. Mario said that even though his monthly earnings are meager, he has enough to keep him happy. "I have my house, a good wife, enough to eat, a big garden with lots of animals, and good health. I don't need more." 

At sixty-six, Mario was considering retiring, "When you get older, you begin to see things more clearly. It might be time to give my body a rest. If you stay active and do the things you enjoy, that nurtures you." His life as a zapatero remendón has served him well. He is proud to say that his children have good jobs as professionals and are successful in life. When I left Oaxaca in 2019, Mario was seriously considering retiring.

When I returned to Oaxaca in January 2022, I found Mario in his shop working. He told me had stayed open during the pandemic until November 2020 when he has a debilitating stroke. He was out of work recovering for over three months, went back to work, and then got a severe case of Covid which almost took his life. He was laid up in bed and receiving oxygen for six months. He had just reopened his shop two weeks before I arrived. He now sees his work as a way to keep active and happy and to avoid another stroke. Besides, he has a lot of make-up work due to his absence from his shop during the previous months, and as always, he intends to keep his customers satisfied.