 |
| La Hacienda on the Road to Muñoz |
Marie never tired of stopping to sketch the landscape of the
high desert surrounding us. It was often on bicycle to Muñoz, a nearby pueblo,
to check our e-mails at the butcher shop/internet café that the scene was most
striking. I would often be in front, pedaling hard on the uphill slope in hopes
of beating the mid morning heat. When I looked back, I would see Marie
straddling her bicycle, sketchbook in hand, capturing the moment.
There
were two roads leading to Muñoz, a little traveled, bumpy, dirt camino that was scenic and peaceful, unless,
that is, a bull had gotten out of the corralled area that ran the length of the
camino to Muñoz. It happened more than once. Several locals had warned us that
if we encountered one bull in the road between our destination and us, we best
turn around, and fast. A bull alone, it appears, is more likely to attack than
bulls in a group. We never decided to see if that was true or not. The size of
the creatures and the fact that el toro de lidia was raised to fight in the corridas, was enough proof for us.
The
second route, the one most frequently taken, passed in front of an old hacienda
before arriving at Muñoz. The bulls were usually in the pasture grazing, but
the fences were sturdier and in better condition due to the fact that there was
more traffic on the asphalt road. It was also a frequent watering point before
starting an uphill pedal that could be quite tiring with the heat and the wind.
Again, el Popo and Itza were often in view. There was starkness to the
landscape, high desert terrain that was dry, and at times, extremely dusty. Yet
there was a definite beauty to it, maguey and nopal cactus scattered about,
heat waves quivering above the blacktopped road, and sheep and bulls grazing
leisurely behind the hacienda fences. It made going to Muñoz a treat, a journey
through a forgotten land that maintained an undeniable authenticity and flavor
that characterized Tlaxcala. In the sketch at the top of this page Marie once again reflects: “When I am here, on the road to Muñoz, with
this countryside in front of me, I know why I am here!"
Muñoz was a pueblo a bit larger than Atlangatepec. It had
amenities that Atlanga did not: a bakery, a few small torta restaurants, a
hardware store, and two butcher shops. One of these butcher shops belonged to
our friend, Arturo. He had spent a few years in Chicago and enjoyed
speaking a bit of English now and then. His brother, Luis, had a small internet
café connected to the butcher shop, about eight computers that were all
occupied once school was out at 1:00 pm. It was a surrealistic sight, a side of
pork hanging from a hook through the doorway between the two businesses. Muñoz
was situated at over 8,000 ft, and the cold wind that passed from the open
butcher shop storefront through the internet café, keep the meat fresh and our stays
short. It was convenient, however, when our dinner menu included carnitas,
something Marie made once in a while, accompanied by a delicious pico de gallo
made with cilantro and chiles manzano from the greenhouse in back of our house.
 |
| Marie's Laguna Sketch |
The road going the
other direction from Atlangatepec brought us to la Laguna, a bird refuge on the
north side of the pueblo. We went there often on our bikes, passing in front of
pastures of grazing bulls and an old hacienda situated in the high desert
landscape surrounded by maguey and nopales. It was a very peaceful place with
fantastic cloudscapes and locals out fishing in small rowboats among the high
reeds where the birds nested and the fish sought cooler water. It was a place
stuck in time, cowboys on horseback and shepherds sitting in the shade watching
their animals graze without a care in the world. We would seek out the shade of
a
 |
| Deek's Munoz & Laguna Sketches |
juniper tree and start sketching. El Popo and I Iztaccíhuatl were
almost always in view. One day we met Jose, a young Tlaxcalteca on the road. He
was a pulquero, a person who tended to the maguey plants and made pulque, a
traditional alcoholic beverage that dates back to the Aztecs. We talked for a while and he invited us
to taste some of his home brew, and we gladly accepted. In the sketch to below, Marie noted that as Jose took us around to see more of the plants, she
stayed behind to draw the flower of the maguey, which from her perspective,
seemed to emerge right out of “La Malinche”. Our day with Jose was one of those
events that happened time and time again, a random encounter that led to a
personal connection that endured.
 |
| Jose, el Pulquero |
There were many such encounters in Atlangatepec that year.
It was a very small pueblo, and being the only “gringos” in the area, we were
under constant scrutiny. We wanted to meet people and become part of the
community, something much more delicate and complicated than we had imagined.
There were definite cultural stumbling blocks, and we tripped more than once in
our effort to form friendships with the locals. But for the most part we were
successful.
One of the first friendships formed was with Jema and Rafael
(Rafa). They had a small dairy farm with about fifteen cows. We would walk to
their farm to buy fresh milk and some of the delicious “queso frescos” (fresh
cheeses) that Jema made. They also were “outsiders”, having moved to Atlanga fifteen
years earlier to help establish an agricultural cooperative. When the project
ended, they decided to stay on. Rafa was a veterinarian who turned his knowledge
to raising dairy cows. Jema learned how to make the cheese and went door-to-door
selling her products. Over time, we became good friends. Marie asked Jema if
she could sketch her before we went back to the Sates, and Jema agreed.
 |
| Jema & Rafa |
They
invited us for dinner one night and after a delicious meal and a few shots of
tequila, we went to the living room to listen to Rafa play music and for Marie
to sketch Jema. On the page she wrote: “Gracias Jema for letting me sketch you.
Sorry that I was not able to capture your true beauty. Gracias Rafael for
sharing your love of the music and songs from Durango. And to both of you,
gracias for your friendship”. She had a high quality copy made for them, put it
in a simple frame, and gave it to them as a gift of our friendship. They were
very touched. When I look at this sketch, I can still hear Rafa singing and
taste the ricos taquitos that Jema prepared for us that night. The same is true
of almost all of the sketches in Marie’s sketchbooks. They are moments captured
with sensitivity, emotion, and simplicity that are timeless.
 |
| Chon & his Azteca Group |
We also developed a strong friendship with Clara and
Concepción (Chon) and their two young children. Clara raised chickens and eggs
to sell in the organic market in Tlaxcala. Chon worked in his father’s fields
growing organic vegetables. He had decided that he did not want to leave his
pueblo to go to Canada to work like his brother. He preferred to have less
money and live in a simple house instead of leaving his family for long periods
to go to “el otro lado”. They struggled financially, but were happy. Chon was
leader of an Aztec dance group that performed in nearby pueblos on special
occasions. He invited us to a practice session at his house one afternoon.
We had
been to their house several times before, but never to hear them play music. They
told us that the music they were playing was to ask the gods for a bountiful
harvest. Marie settled in to sketch and I to take photographs to give the group
for promotional purposes. Chon’s daughter, Maria, sat next to Marie with her
pencil and sketchbook. Under her sketch of Chon Marie wrote, “Maria is sitting
next to me drawing. Too bad she doesn’t have the color pencils I gave her
yesterday”. Maria sat intently and sketched her father and his friends. She
captured them quite well. She had seen them play many times before, but perhaps
this time she saw them in a new light.
Most of the time, the fiesta goes hand in hand with a religious holiday. But the ritual and reverence is accompanied by a convivencia, a social event that brings people together as family and friends. And it always includes children; they are at the center of most everything. It does not take a lot of money to enjoy community. There are things that people will, however, spend their hard earned money on, like a picture of their child with "La Virgen de Guadalupe", or a ice cold "nieve" from the local ice cream vendor. 
Another hallmark of a true community celebration is monos de calenda, giant paper maché structures with a frame made of carrizo, a bamboo like material. The woman monos are always very well endowed and the men mustached and handsome. I was very fortunate to have met José, a local folk artist who makes monos. He was very involved in la Fiesta de Nuestro Señor de Esquipullas at la Iglesia de Carmen Alto, the church 50 meters from my apartment. He makes the monos and teaches the neighborhood kids to dance in them. The neighborhood kids are more than happy to climb inside the monos and whirl around the plaza with reckless abandon. José is a true example
of a folk artist. He does his art out of a love for his community and
the rich traditions of his homeland.
Every
good Mexican fiesta ends with an unforgettable display of fireworks. It
can't be any other other way. Hours are spent in the preparation for the
culminating event of the evening. Castillos (castles) are built with
pyrotechnic precision, works of art that are meant to be destroyed in
minutes to fulfill the hopes and expectations of the crowd. As my friend, Bob remarked, "looks like a Mexican version of "Burning Man".
