Magical Tour

On to San Larenzo Zinacantan, the village described in the book by Walter Morris, Maya Threads, that drew me to this tour. I’d collected a few pieces before I read about this village which is the largest supplier of flowers throughout Mexico and parts of southern United States. The hillsides are covered with greenhouses! Most residents wear traje (costumes/outfits) handwoven then embroidered with each year’s current colorful display of flowers. The designs are hand drawn and then machine embroidered in 3 passes. Colors change regularly. When I bought the aforementioned book in 2018 the colors shown were brilliant pinks, purples, blues. But on our visit we saw deep green, burgundy and black for the most part, with some bright colored accents. When the Spaniards took over villagers were instructed to wear their particular traje so they could be easily identified by their conquestors. Zinacantan certainly stands out.

After exploring the market we realized the church was packed with residents attending mass so our leaders approached someone in the meeting house beside it to ask if we could enter. Yes. And take pictures? A more hesitant “yes” with some men inside preferring to leave. The man who led us through the beautiful, color-filled building was a real character. As a community official he modeled his special traje and clomped his wood and leather sandals on the floor when I asked what they were made of. With a huge smile. Funny that while we toured this beautiful traditional space “canned” American Christmas music was playing.

It seems that for ceremonial purposes 2 colors of liquid drinks are used – white to symbolize good – and black to symbolize, well, not so good. The “dark side” I suppose. The white liquid used is often homemade rum called pox (posh). “If you’re offered pox, don’t refuse” we were told. You will insult your host. An extra empty bottle was available if needed. And because they are so helpful at census time in these small villages with multiple little stores – Coke is the primary dark liquid. Interesting.

No, that’s not really Corona

And on to Chamula, the village I’d heard most about from residents in Ajijic (where I live) who’d visited the church of San Juan Chamula, noted for its mix of Christianity and Maya beliefs (syncretism). For some reason I expected a small, simple structure, maybe made of wood, with little space inside. Church pews, of course. But pine needles and candles??? Surely not.

The inside felt immediately sacred and mystical. The walls were lined with small lifelike statues of saints, believed to be ancestors. Marble (?) floors were strewn with fresh pine needles – replaced every few days – and tall, skinny candles ever so close to the “pop-up” altars honoring those in need of healing. Watch your step! There are two primary reasons locals enter this church: to be part of a group to be baptized or to join your curandero (healer) for the second part of your healing. In the midst of chanting and serious faces were baskets of food, Coke (I read that burping is an important part of the gathering but must admit I didn’t hear a thing), flowers, more candles, no pews, and a few cardboard boxes tied with string. The secret of the sacrificial chickens soon to be the family dinner. That’s all I’ll say about that. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Photographs are strictly forbidden inside the church. Don’t even try it unless you don’t mind ending up in a jail cell…or a cage! These folks mean business. Residents didn’t seem particularly enamored with us tourists. As Sheri Bratigan says in her book, Textile Fiestas of Mexico: “Chamulan culture is a force to be reckoned with.” So take your photos outside.

After the mystical experience of the church, we strolled through the enclosed village market…

and passed by the street shops…

full of the women’s fashions.

Elegance village style

The San Sabastión cemetary in the Chamula municipality is used by the 130 official communities of Chamula. Our guide was handsome, young Alejandro, a student of tourism at the university in San Cristóbal. His beautiful long-haired black wool jacket that he wears so proudly indicates his status as a leader in his community. With his precious niece and nephew at his side, he explained the symbology of the unusual cemetery to our group.

Chamula cemetary

Twenty-one crosses pierce the top of the hill, blue and green signifying heaven and earth. Draped in pine boughs that are changed regularly, probably as a “cargo” assignment, a committment asked of all village men (and women?), lasting 1-3 years. The tall wooden crosses are blue or green, signifying heaven and earth. Different colors also signify the different ages of those who have died: blue or green for those in the prime of life, white for infants and young children, black for village elders. Dirt is piled high over each gravesite and wooden “doors” are placed on top of each mound, allowing for an open invitation for those who’ve passed to return to celebrate Días de Los Muertos, Day of the Dead.

From the cemetery Alejandro led us to his family home where we were honored to watch as he and his mother and aunt demonstrated the preparation of wool for felted and combed clothing indigenous to their village. After the freshly shorn wool is carded, spun, and woven into panels, felting is done by hours and hours of pounding with bare feet. Though I once thought the long hairs of the garments were sheep skin, this process clarified the transformation of woven cloth to garment, with the long strands being combed out after the felting is completed. By the way, there is no black wool from black sheep. The deep brown wool is dyed with mud and herbs to achieve the black color. By the way, these sheep are considered sacred and are never killed and eaten.

After the demonstration Alejandro took us to the adobe home that had belonged to his grandmother. Surprisingly, he sang to us, sometimes alone, sometimes with his niece and nephew. We sat spellbound as he welcomed us into their home with music from his very soul. We were served pox (posh), (as in Zinacantan), the homemade rum of corn and piloncillo (pressed brown sugar), sometimes flavored with fruit, during the “ceremony” of thanks, a special offering of gratitude.

It seemed a place of reverence…

Well, that completes my 3 part series on my educational tour of San Cristóbal and the nearby weaving villages with Norma, Eric and Gaby as our guides. The commaradarie , discovery, excitement and awe experienced with the other tour members will not soon be forgotten. Thank you to them, to our guides and to the wonderful people of Chiapas.

There is always, it seems, more to say about México. It is a world of variety, talent, kindness, community, resourcefulness. Its geography is often stunning, its people amazing. There will always be more to see. I’m glad to have had the chance to experience this culture, so different from my own. It has opened my eyes to our differences, but also our similarities. As I often say, we’re all in this together! Viva México!