Larger Than Life: The Monos de Calenda of José Azcona

José (Pepe) Azcona is a “monero”. For over twenty-five years he has been making “monos de calenda”, giant paper mâché puppets that are an integral part of calendas, the popular religious festivals that are everyday events in Oaxaca.

Like many Mexicans, he has had to hustle all his life to make a living. His profession for many years was tire repair and he raised his family doing that. Tire repair brought in little, but it was relatively consistent. However, when work was slow he had to find other ways to earn money. He made piñatas, built gates, and even had a shoe shine kit for when things were really dark. In 2014, Pepe decided to devote himself “body and soul” to monos. “When life begins to get routine and boring, you need to change direction completely”, he told me. Once he made the leap, he began to get invited to dance in important calendas, sales and rentals of his monos increased, and he became known as the maestro de monos in Oaxaca. 

Unlike tire repair, income from his monos is very irregular. He had to learn to save for rainy days and be frugal. “When things are the darkest, there is a new dawn awaiting”, he told me. “I had my share of dark days”. But he is willing to weather these dark moments to do the work that he loves.

One reason that Pepe loves his work is the egalitarian nature of calendas. “They are a totally democratic form of celebration. It doesn’t matter what your ethnicity is, or your political party, or how deep your pockets are. Anyone can participate. It is a level playing field in which the rich and poor celebrate together”. 

Making monos allows Pepe’s imagination to run wild making a rooster for a neighbor child or a condom and sperm cell for AIDS Awareness Day. He welcomes visits from friends while he is working. I have to be happy to do my work; I cannot create if I am sad or depressed. I need an atmosphere of peace and tranquility that allows me to develop the potential for creativity that we all carry inside of us.” Friends provide him that atmosphere; they fuel his spirit.

What I like best about my work is seeing people’s faces when I dance”. His monos are ten to twelve feet tall, and a peephole is made at waist level to allow the dancer to see where she is going. “It fills my heart with joy to see how my monos bring smiles of enjoyment that enrich people’s lives and nourish their souls”.

Pepe’s monos have evolved considerably over the years. It was after meeting his current partner, Sonia, that he started to pay more attention to anatomy. “Sonia is my muse; she is a beautiful woman and she made me realize that my female monas were not right. Their breasts were often more rectangular than round. I corrected that thanks to her. Breasts represent motherhood and nurturing. Since monos are fantasies, I decided to exaggerate the breasts to emphasize those qualities. ”

He particularly enjoys making “monos” for young children. “It is a way of planting cultural seeds in fertile soil. They will grow up and preserve these traditions. And whenever they see a mono, they will remember their childhood, because remembering is a way of reliving the past”.

Pepe doesn’t dance his monos much anymore. It is hard work; the monos are heavy and it requires a lot of stamina to dance several hours straight in a calenda. There is a younger generation coming up to keep the tradition alive and dancing. They are making their own monos and letting their imaginations run wild, just like Pepe. 

At this stage of his life, Pepe is happy to be el maestro de los monos and pass on his art form. His workshop on Heroes de Chapultepec is now a landmark in Oaxaca. He does not have to seek out clients for his monos, people find him. Young people call him to find out when the next calenda is, his monos are dancing throughout the state of Oaxaca, and Pepe manages to earn a modest living by doing what he loves to do most: make other people happy.

El trabajo de todos los días (Everyday work)

  

 Each tortilla ...is a tasty round of applause... for the sun (Francisco Alarcón)

El totopo is type of corn tortilla made exclusively in the Istmo region of Oaxaca. It is an ancient form of food that dates back centuries, food from the sun. Totopos are made from zapalote, a native species of corn that grows well in the Istmo. The process for making them has changed very little over the centuries. It has been passed on from generation to generation, from mother to daughter. It is noble work.

Reina de la Cruz is a totopera. She is a thirty six year-old, single mother with two adolescent children and a mother who is ill. She has been making totopos for fifteen years. Six days a week she rises at dawn to prepare the fire in her earthen oven in the back of her yard. When the temperature is “just right”, she mixes her corn masa, forms it into perfectly round tortillas, and slaps them on the sides of her oven to cook “just the right” amount of time. “Es el trabajo de todos los días”, she told me, everyday work. 

The work she does is time consuming and the income that it generates is very meager. 

The price of corn rose a few years ago and it has made selling her totopos difficult. Her totopos now sell five to eight for ten pesos. Tortillas de kilo (sold by weight) cost fourteen pesos for thirty tortillas. The ancient food of the zapotecos is becoming unaffordable for many local families.  And this makes the economic survival of artisans like Reina difficult.

Reina & her mother, Maria

But despite its hardships, Reina likes her work. “I like that my family can still eat good tortillas,” she said. “They are “hecho al horno” (oven baked) and made with nutritious, local corn". Her job also allows her to be with her family full-time. It gives her some flexibility with her schedule so she can care for her aging mother, be involved in her children’s school and to partake in civic events.

But she regrets the fact that people don’t value the work she does. "They don’t want to pay the price that the work deserves.”  So to supplement her income, she weaves. It was something she always wanted to do as a child and was able to take classes when she was younger. She weaves after dinner sometimes if she has the energy. Otherwise it is on Sunday, her day of rest, when she can work on a huipil. “Es muy pesado el trabajo” (it is really hard work), she tells me. The huipiles from Juchitán are very ornate and exquisite. They take a long time to make, especially if you are making totopos ten hours a day. It takes Reina a week to ten days to finish a huipil when she is working  on it full time. And unless it is a commission, there is no income until it sold.

When I left Reina's house that day I left with a huipil for Quena and 25 totopos to share wit my good friends at the Casa de la Cultura de Juchitán who made these photo sessions possible. And I told her I might come back someday with my son, Joa, who just happens to be 36 as well. And..... he like tortillas!

Heavy Metal: the Craft and Music of Don Jorge Díaz

Heriberto (Jorge) Díaz is a blacksmith. He has been working iron for fifty seven years, loves his trade, and has no intention of stopping soon. He works with his brother, Moises, in both the construction sector making spiral staircases, barred windows and metal doors, as well as forging wrought iron products that are more decorative and aesthetic.

Jorge & Moises in their workshop

They compliment each other well: Moises is more prone to the structural part of the trade and Jorge, by preference, chooses to work at the forge, crafting items that give him more freedom to create and experiment with new ideas and forms. 

After finishing primary school, Jorge, like many youth of his generation, looked for a trade that would provide him a living. His father was a "mantelero" a weaver, who had two looms set up in his home and wove curtains, bedspreads and other textile products. However, Jorge decided not to follow in his father's footsteps as he did not see much of a future in that trade. At age seventeen, he was accepted as an apprentice with a welder, who, he came to discover, was also a master blacksmith.

"I could have learned so much more from "el maestro", but I didn't pay enough attention. I was young and not thinking of the future." But over time, Jorge has learned very much. He had the opportunity to work with some very gifted tradesmen and architects who shared their skills with him. Jorge would like to share the skills he has crafted over the past fifty seven years, but he cannot find anyone interested in taking up the trade. His three children are all university educated and have good jobs as professionals. Other young people are more interested in jobs in technology than in a trade like blacksmithing. When he and his brother retire from the trade, there are no takers. His shop will close.

But in the meantime, he goes on working. He has dedicated himself more to forging. He explained, "there is a lot of competition for the building trade work. But I saw that those who could forge were dying out. It left a space for me to fill." Forging also gives Jorge an "artistic license" to create and explore. He has become a master at working iron, and the forging is what gives him the most satisfaction.

Over the past year, a friendship has developed with Jorge. I stopped by on several occasions in the late afternoon to find him sitting in one of his wrought iron chairs playing his guitar.When I asked him about it, he told me,"In this life it is very important to do things to satisfy oneself. Life is not just about working, taking care of your home, and doing the the things necessary to live from day to day. Someone once told me that if you have a talent for painting, drawing, music, or writing verse, you should cultivate that talent because it will serve you well in life. For me it is music. Music is mental, emotional, and spiritual. In times of need, it serves me better than any medicine can."

So at the end of each day, Jorge leaves his forge, grabs his guitar, and lets his mind and body slow down and relax. He plays traditional Mexican music, but to me he is redefining the term, "heavy metal". To me it is the relaxing music that a blacksmith plays at the end of a hard day's work. 

Wrought Iron Music

Cuba: A Kaleidoscopic View - Habana

Waitress at el Bar Neptuno: Best mojitos in Habana

Of the all the places I visited in Cuba, it was Habana that stole my heart. It is full of history, music, culture and colorful people. It is so wonderfully photogenic that my camera jumped out of my bag without warning and started clicking away. I have decided to make this entry more of a photo essay because, as the old adage goes: A photo is worth ......... Please forgive the formatting, it is a nightmare to deal with on this site.

The waitress above works at el Bar Neptuno. As we were walking down Calle Neptuno I heard a voice calling: Tenemos los mejores mojitos de todo Habana, y los más baratos también". And the best and cheapest they were. I watched the bartender make mine and deliver it personally to my table. It was so good that I had another!

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Walking the streets of Habana was full of colorful scenes and unexpected surprises. The old balconies that look down upon the city are dilapidated and alive at the same time. What appear to be condemned buildings have tenants living inside them. And if no one is in sight, the signs of occupancy are obvious.

Cigar lady with flowers

Life is lived outdoors for the most part. Chess games take place on doorsteps and makeshift tables in the street fill the air with the lively clacking of dominoes on wood. As you walk down the streets of Habana vieja, music invites you from the smallest of bars with music worthy of big time venues. It is as if each neighborhood has their own "Buena Vista Social Club" playing a private gig for those passing by.

Alga Marina & Osvaldo

And thanks to my new friends, Alga Marina and Osvaldo, Habana took on a personal touch. They invited us into their home, shared meals with us, and set up some photo shoots for me. They were a window into the true Cuba, the way people live, their joys, their frustrations, their daily lives. I am forever grateful to them for opening their home and their lives to me.

I met people on the street that also opened their lives to me. Doña Graciela Perez Rios, a ninety one year old artist of recycled materials who invited us into her home to share her work. She makes dolls from milk cartons, plastic bottles etc. The photo to the left is a self portrait of herself as a doll at age 80. She seems to have gotten younger! 

Alberto Pays

Alberto Pays is a portrait photographer that works in the Parque Central de Habana with a 1913 box camera. He charges two dollars for a portrait which is developed inside of his box camera. When I asked what I could bring him in return for an interview, he told me photographic paper as it was extremely difficult to find in Habana. I will bring him some when I return next year.

Marta Aguila

And on our way to el Callejon de Hamet to listen to AfroCuban Rumba we ran into Marta Aguila. We struck up a conversation, she invited us into her home, and she shared her life a bit with us. She is a medium of sorts who is very involved in Santería. She also reads cards. She is a beautiful woman who did not hesitate for one moment to open herself to a couple of foreigners walking through her neighborhood. 

Schoolgirls at Rumba High School

Raúl Corrales with Fidel

I am seriously considering going back to Habana for a month next winter to photograph. Thanks to Alga Marina and Osvaldo, I have a wonderful connection in Norma Corrales, daughter of Raúl Corrales, one of Fidel's personal photographer. She has offered me a place to stay in her home in Cojimar, Hemmingway's old hangout. It is a very tempting offer. 

 So let's all hope that Obama's visit to Cuba will bring the two countries back into a  relationship of amistad and that the blockade and other restrictions will be lifted. Let's also hope that Cuba's infrastructure can successfully deal with the enormous influx of American tourism without losing its integrity and charm. I fear this is a real danger. May the good things that came out of the Revolution remain intact, and the change and growth that may follow be in Cuba's best interest.

Cuba: a Kaleidoscopic View: Part 1

Cienfuegos: Revolution Forever

Just before I left for Cuba I received an e-mail from my friend, Alma Flor, who is Cuban. She wrote: "Your trip will be full of surprises of different kinds. I know you will be able to see the many shapes and colors of that kaleidoscope, and ah, the contradictions." She was so right! Kaleidoscopic indeed! I preface anything I write here with the confession that my Cuban eyesight is most likely 20/200. The many shapes, colors, and contradictions that exist there cannot be distinguished clearly in three weeks or even three years. So read what I write here keeping that in mind.

My time in Cuba was spent with my good friends Lena & Lenita, friendships that go back nearly forty years. Our travels took us to Habana, Cienfuegos, Trinidad, Viñales and back to Habana at the end of our trip. We drank mojitos together, ate lobster and roast pork, and enjoyed each others' company fully. Qué pena that Marie was not with us physically, she would have loved the lobster and the company! But we included her in all we did together.


Our stay in Habana took us to el Museo de la Revolución where I was surprised to learn that three American presidents are officially honored there: Ronald Reagan, George Bush Sr, and good old "W". Alongside each dignitary's image was a plaque commemorating their unique contribution to the Revolution. I left proud to be an "American". I sincerely hope that Donald Trump does not get a chance to be added to that wall!

Since it was my friend, Lena's birthday, she treated Lenita and me to an hour long taxi tour of Havana! During our tour, our driver, Hansel, explained why there are so many incredibly preserved old American cars in Cuba. After the Revolution in 1959, an edict was mandated that said there would be no cars newer than 1959 available for purchase on the island. That law was not rescinded until 2011. Thus, fifty five year old vehicles look like they just came off the assembly line thanks to Cuban ingenuity. 

Street Parade - Cienfuegos

Apart from Habana, Cienfuegos was the city I liked best. It was fair less touristy than Trinidad and Viñales. I felt more "invisible" there, more as if I was seeing Cubans living their daily lives normally without the "tourist mania" that Trinidad and Viñales had. It was a city full of culture and a history that was heavily influenced by the French. It is a place I would readily go back to. 

Marisol and her son

Despite the colonial beauty of Trinidad, I could not connect with it, far too much tourism. And since people need money to move forward in life, everyone is trying to get their share of the dollar or euro. I much preferred to walk on the periphery of the city in more removed areas. It was here that Lena and I came across Marisol and her children. She was cleaning rice on a doorstep when we walked past. "Do you have any soap", she asked. I told her I did back at our room and that I would bring it to her the next day, which I did. Marisol is a 38 year old single mother with two children. Her thirteen year old son has leukemia and her eyes were full of tears as she explained the episodes of intense pain that fell over him. She told us his condition was viewed as terminal by the doctors. They lived in a very basic one room house, which she owns. She cleans houses where the tourists stay and earns forty dollars a month. But throughout all of her son's illness, she had not spent one peso on doctors or medication. She was incredibly grateful for that. Is there something that we Americans can learn here about caring for our people? About having access to quality health care no matter what your socio-economic situation is? Or is that "socialism"? Hmmmmm!

Trying out Lena's specs

Our stay in Viñales was restful and uneventful. I was ready to get back to Vedado, the area of Habana where we were staying. I was ready to escape the fluorescent label of "tourist". I had good contacts in Habana for photographing and was ready to start. So I sat back, had a few mojitos and thanked the universe for letting me be there.
Habana will be Part 2 of this blog entry. 

El canto del gallo: The Rooster's Song

At age eighty one, Joel Garcia Leyva (El Pollo) is completing forty five years as the owner and cantinero (barman) of the only cantina (tavern) in el barrio Xochimilco. He has been intent on keeping his establishment, Pollo's Bar, in el estilo antigua (the old style). Not much has changed since he first opened it in 1970. Walking through the curtained entryway is walking back in time. His shiny, red "rockola" no longer plays three 45' vinyl for ten centavos, but it still retains the look of the one he first bought in the 70's. Pollo himself retains a classic look dating back to the 40's. At eighty one, he is the oldest, if not the only, pachuco in Oaxaca!

El Pollo is a nickname that Joel has had since birth. He explained to me that everyone en el barrio Xochimilco had a nickname, mostly animal names. He has one brother called el Chango (the monkey) and another el Caballo (the horse). Since he was the youngest of nine children, he was called el Polluelo (the little chicken). "I may be a rooster now, or even a turkey", he joked, "but to the people of this barrio, I am still "el Pollo".

While I was interviewing him recently, a customer came in for a beer. El Pollo told him to help himself because, Manuel, his right hand man, was sick. We continued our interview, the man walked behind the bar, grabbed a Corona, opened it, and handed twenty pesos to el Pollo when he was done. Just like old times, the friendly flavor of a neighborhood bar.

El Pollo como joven gallo

El Pollo did not start out as a cantinero. After finishing sixth grade he decided he did not want to continue with formal schooling. As was the tradition at that time, that meant that he had to take up a trade. He chose to be a tailor, and for several years he worked with relatives and in time became a talented designer of deer and goatskin jackets for men and women. 
He was thirty six when his mother died, and he returned to his family home, set up his tailor shop, and cared for his ailing father. With his workshop in his home, his neighborhood friends began to stop by and compliment el Pollo on his success. In return, Pollo offered them beers and sat down to share a few with them. And before he knew it, Pollo was partying with his friends more and making jackets less.

In short time, he came to the realization that he was having a very good time, but he was not making much money, and he was giving out free beer to his friends. So during one of the drinking sessions with his compañeros he told them, "desde mañana amigos, van a costar las cervezas (from tomorrow onward, my friends, beers are going to cost you)." And so began the history of "Pollo's Bar". 

Welcome to Pollo's Bar

Pollo made a deal with Corona to buy beer exclusively from them, and in return they would deliver. He would go to a nearby ice factory in el Llano with a wheelbarrow and buy enough ice to keep his beer nice and cold. He started out selling only to his four drinking buddies, but word soon spread, and others began to come to see if they also could join in. A friend told Pollo that he know a woman who had a liquor license to sell, and Pollo bought it from her for 100 pesos. He was now a legal cantina! 
El Pollo has always tried to run a reputable establishment, but told me it was not always easy, especially in the beginning. "Men from other neighborhoods came over looking for a fight because someone from Xochimilco (his neighborhood) was dating a girl from theirs". Something that obviously had to be settled! But he managed. "I have never been shut down or fined since I opened", Pollo boasted. 

Not only did he manage to keep his cantina a reputable establishment, but he was elected "presidente del barrio" four times!  During his time in office, he made major improvements in the local school, built a basketball court and soccer field, and renovated the church in Xochimilco, including a new paint job, new bells for the bell tower, and a new fence for the cemetery.

When Pollo was 36 years old, his only sister died. She left six children behind, and their father left and did not provide for the children. So Pollo adopted them and took them into his home. It took some rearranging to accommodate six young children in a neighborhood cantina, but he succeeded. He raised all six, gave the three girls away at their weddings, and paid for all of their education. "All six are professionals now", Pollo told me. "Gabriela, who lives in the States, is the official translator for Pope Francisco", he shared with me proudly. 

And so at eighty one, Pollo's Bar is still a Oaxaca landmark. He can no longer serve and drink with his clients as he used to. Age has made that too dangerous. So he sits in his chair, converses with his clients, and collects the money when they leave. He is seldom dressed as he is seen here anymore. He now is often covered with a wool blanket and is drinking a watered down Coca Cola instead of a Corona. But his gold necklace and gold bracelets are always in sight, and if given a chance, he will gladly don his favorite garb. Once a Pachuco, always a Pachuco!

The author as patron