An Indian steam bath. — Tumbalá. — Sierras and Forests. — San
Pedro. — Desertion of guide. — Alguazils. — Construction of
Indian huts. — Habits of Indians. — Cargadores. — Crossing a
River. — Forests beyond San Pedro. — Powers of endurance of
Indians. — Arrival at San Domingo del Palenque.
The base of the sierra whose summit we had to reach before night, was
about two leagues from Yajalon. After having ridden that distance I
expected to see some indications of Tumbalá, but not being able to make
out anything, I asked Villafranca where it was. He pointed upwards
towards the sky, and said “En el núbe, (in the cloud) Señor.” In effect
it was just possible to see the church amongst the clouds which were
sweeping over the highest ridge of the Cordilleras.
The greater part of the day was passed in making the ascent, which was
a steep and continuous rise for over three leagues. In the afternoon,
when we had attained to a considerable height, we left below us the
bright and sunny daylight, and entered into the region of cloudland.
The weather became cold and gloomy, and as we approached Tumbalá it
was scarcely possible to see our way for we were moving in a dark fog.
Near the outskirts of the hamlet we passed close to a structure of an
unusual shape, not unlike an oven. I was afterwards informed that it
was used by Indians in time of sickness and was practically a steam
bath. The methods of using it were similar to those adopted by many of
the tribes in North America. The patient finds inside a supply of water
to generate steam. Heated stones are passed in from outside and these
he drops into the water. This system is said to be efficacious in the
disorders to which men living amongst the Cordilleras are subject, and
which are probably caused by exposure to sudden changes of temperature.
It was strange to see amongst these remote sierras a practice which
seemed to establish the fact that there were links connecting these
Mexican Indians with the Dakotas in North America, the natives of
Hawaii, and the Maoris in the distant islands of New Zealand.
When we arrived at the walls of the convent it was evident that there
was a general state of commotion without and within. Some event had
happened, the nature of which I was unable to ascertain. The precincts
were crowded with numerous groups of Indians and Ladinos. The priest
was living in a large shed. The quadrangle was apparently used as
a farmyard and was filled with cattle, horses, mules, turkeys and
fowls, all wandering about at their own free will, and causing an
indescribable disturbance. The mists were so thick that it was quite
impossible to make anything out clearly.
Inside the shed the state of affairs was equally confusing. Men, women
and children were busily engaged in preparing to pass the night under
the protection of the roof, and were choosing their sleeping places.
As it was necessary to find room without delay, I told Villafranca to
hang my hammock to the rafters as near to the fire as possible. We then
went out and tethered the mule upon a level open space beyond, which we
thought to be convenient for the purpose, but the clouds were so dense
that we could not see what we were doing. After some further trouble,
supplies of forage and water were obtained, and placed within the
mule’s reach. We then returned to the shed within which the priest was
endeavouring to find suitable quarters for his numerous visitors.
Later in the evening we were joined by a young couple who had just
been married, and wanted shelter. It happened that there was an Indian
bedstead available and this together with two extemporized pillows
was placed at their disposal. When it became night, we sat round the
fire and cooked our suppers, and then sleeping mats were unrolled and
spread upon the ground. The Cura placed his mat near the fire, beneath
my hammock. Amongst the crowd were several young mothers who had
their infants with them. These little creatures were duly attended to
and their wants supplied. The mothers then proceeded to roll them up
tightly in swaddling clothes until only their heads were visible. They
were afterwards placed in a row against the wall, where they looked
like diminutive Egyptian mummies, their large round eyes staring at us
in a most unmeaning manner. When all these various arrangements were
completed the doors were closed.
What happened during the night I do not know, but upon awaking in the
morning I found that I was alone and that the shed was empty. All the
numerous inmates of the previous night had departed. I turned out of
my hammock and joined the Cura who was walking in front of his ruined
convent. He said he would accompany me for a few hundred yards to the
outer edge of the sierra, to look at the world around and beneath us.
The clouds had disappeared, the sun had risen brightly above the
eastern horizon, the sky was blue, the air felt pure and exhilarating,
and the view was magnificent. Not only did we command range upon
range of these Cordilleras, but there were also extensive views of
the valleys below us. Beyond, looking northwards, were the savannahs
and the tropical lowlands near Palenque; and in the far distance the
sunlight was flashing upon the calm waters of the Laguna de Terminos.
Near at hand were groups of wild-looking Indians watching our
movements. The Cura said he believed they belonged to the Maya
race, and were allied to the tribes that occupied Yucatan. In their
appearance they were like the Tzendales near Bachajon. They were
strongly built men, rather low in stature, and very dark in colour;
their eyes had peculiarly rounded orbits, and their long black hair
was cut square over the forehead. They spoke a language which sounded
very rough and abrupt. The Cura observed that the Indians dwelling
amongst the mountains were daily becoming neglected, and that they
were left entirely free to follow their own beliefs and customs. In
consequence of there being no regular stipend for the clergy, it had
become impossible to maintain a sufficient number of priests to
carry out the duties. He had to superintend the parishes at Tumbalá,
San Pedro, Palenque and the districts around Las Playas, near the
river Usamacinta, and therefore he could not attend personally to the
numerous and scattered Indians placed under his charge.
Upon our return to the convent, Villafranca came to me and reported
that the mule was ready and that he had got his machete sharpened
in order to clear away any branches or brushwood that we might find
to be obstructing the track. He added to his pack some part of the
weights carried by the mule, as it was necessary that she should be as
free as possible, to push her way through the woods, and we reduced
the quantities of food and other necessaries to the lowest amount
practicable. A young Mexican who was going to the seacoast came with
us as far as the entrance to the forest. He then told me that he should
not attempt to go through it with his clothes on, so he stopped and
stripped to the skin, and tied his clothes up in a bundle which he
fastened to the top of his head. He was a white man of mixed descent
and in his action he showed some elements of the nature of his remote
Indian ancestry. He ran rapidly to the front, plunged into the forest
like a lithe athletic young savage, and was soon out of sight.
As it was not possible to ride I dismounted, and we began to descend
the steep sides of the mountain. It was very hard work. Villafranca
led the way. I followed close to him, holding the halter at its full
length, to prevent the mule as she slipped forward from falling upon
me. This manner of progression was made difficult by the obstinate
conduct of the mule. She would occasionally attempt to choose her own
way and go the wrong side of a tree, and as no energy expended in
trying to get her back was of any use, I had always to yield and to
follow her round the trunk. Upon one occasion she got away into the
forest and was nearly lost. The guide at once threw off his pack and
went after her.
The instincts of an Indian were apparent in his proceedings. He
carefully marked every step of his advance through the dense
undergrowth by cutting down small branches of the trees and placing
them on the line of his track. He also here and there, but always
on the left hand side, cut notches in the trees or bent some twigs
backwards. After a few minutes interval he returned triumphantly with
the mule, and after this experience I took care not to allow the halter
to leave my hands again.
The fatigues of the day were beyond description. I had been prepared
to expect difficulties from the steepness of the ascents and descents
and the growth of the underwood, but there were other obstacles which
were previously unknown. Our track was constantly barred by creepers
which crossed from tree to tree in festoons like thick ropes. They hung
loosely in bends and bights in every conceivable shape, but usually
they swept the ground in semicircles. Others were hanging in graceful
loops three or four feet above the ground, so that the mule was unable
to pass under them. There were also miry, swampy places in which the
mule sometimes sank to an almost dangerous depth. But what I found
to be the most serious trial was the want of ventilation. There was
absolutely no movement in the air or any sounds of life, and there was
very little daylight, for the rays of the sun above did not penetrate
to the ground.
The forest was dark and gloomy, and the atmosphere most oppressive.
The want of a proper supply of fresh air to breathe made the journey
extremely exhausting. After struggling for several hours down the
rugged slopes of the first mountain, we reached a narrow valley and
crossed a small stream. We then had to climb up another sierra so
steep that it required all my available strength to reach the summit.
From this height there remained another league to be traversed down a
steep rocky slope to a wide open savannah, upon which was situated San
Pedro. Towards sunset we arrived at the village and found shelter under
a shed, within which was installed the official who ruled over the
district, and who was called the Maestro.
In the morning I discovered that during the night my guide had
deserted. Possibly some accident may have happened to him, but in my
opinion his conduct was a deliberate act of desertion. I reported the
case immediately to the Maestro, but Villafranca could not be found
and I never saw him again. It was supposed that he found the work and
fatigue of the day greater than he had expected, and was not willing to
make his way on the morrow through the equally dense forests between
San Pedro and Palenque. If this surmise was correct his view of the
situation was quite intelligible, but as I did not consider that an act
of this kind should remain unpunished, I arranged with the Maestro that
a letter from me should be dispatched to Yajalon where the man had
been hired.
I wrote to the Presbitero Macal an account of the desertion and
requested him to bring the case to the notice of the alcalde, in order
that Villafranca should receive a punishment in accordance with the
custom of the country, and that he should be deprived of his wages
which had been left in the Presbitero’s charge. I also requested that
this money should be given to any of his deserving or distressed
parishioners. In justice however to this Tzendal, it should be noted
that he did not rob me. I found everything carefully piled up in
a corner of the shed; saddle, clothes, rug and the remains of the
provisions sufficient for one day. The mule was safely tethered outside
the door.
I was thus placed in a very insecure position and had to rely entirely
upon my own resources. The hamlet was surrounded in all directions
by sierras and forests, and I had not the slightest knowledge of the
mountain passes. With regard to food I could manage very well as I was
able to make a fire and was prepared to make the provisions last for
more than one day if necessary, but in other respects I was entirely
dependent upon the good will of the San Pedro Indians about whom very
little was known, but who were considered to be untrustworthy.
The Maestro declared that he would do all that was in his power to
assist me, and promised that he would get a guide who would go with
me to Palenque. But he said that he could not find a man at once, and
that it would be necessary that I should stop in the convent until the
following day. In some respects I was not sorry to be detained, for I
was thus enabled to have some spare time to see something of the habits
of life amongst the inhabitants of this isolated village, so singularly
placed in the heart of these remote Cordilleras. I observed that the
Maestro maintained towards those who were placed under his rule a
dignified and reserved manner. He was supported in his authority by two
alcaldes, and two alguazils who were Indians elected annually for these
posts. The alguazils wore suitable dresses and performed regular police
duties, walking at intervals about the village, carrying long wands of
office. It was also their custom to visit the Maestro occasionally,
attend to his wants, and render such personal service as he required.
In obedience to his directions, they obtained for me supplies of maize
and water for the mule, and tortillas and beans for myself, and thus I
was able to cook a tolerable breakfast.
During the day I wandered amongst the huts within and near the hamlet
in order to see something of the natives who lived in them and were
said to follow the ancient customs and habits of domestic life. Near
the borders of the savannah some Indians were building a large hut and
I observed a method of construction which, although absolutely the
reverse of any system that I had previously known, was most suitable
for their wants. In the first place the roof is built. This when
completed, looks like an open thatched shed resting upon upright poles.
The eaves are brought down low, but sufficiently high to enable a man
of moderate height to pass under them without stooping. When the roof
is considered firm and secure, the four walls inclosing the room are
made. They are usually constructed of crossed laths and sticks, and
thickly plastered over with a kind of mud which has a good binding
consistence.
The walls are raised until they reach within a short distance from the
slope of the roof, a sufficient space being left for the escape of
smoke. The size of the hut and the height of the walls are determined
by the width and slope of roof. A few rough cross poles are placed
across the top of the walls for the purpose of hanging up any household
goods, and sometimes at one end some of these poles are placed close
together so as to form a platform, where bags of maize and other farm
produce are kept or dried. When the roof is wide and the overhanging
eaves are low there is an agreeable and well shaded space outside the
main hut, where the Indians rest during the day.[77]
As far as it was possible to judge from a passing observation the
Indians at San Pedro seemed to be a contented race. They cultivated
their milpas or corn fields sufficiently to get enough to supply them
with maize bread and pozole, and at most of the huts there were fowls
and a few pigs. The women laboured in some form of household work,
and much of their time was occupied in grinding the maize to make
tortillas. At this village, as in others chiefly inhabited by Indians,
there was an absence of any human sounds. In the interior of the huts,
as also outside them, all the occupations of life were performed in
silence. In the evening, when the men returned home from their work,
there was the same manner of moving about without noise. There appeared
to be also an absence of all interest in what was happening around
them, which gave an element of sadness to the scene. Their lives seem
to be passed in a state of quiet melancholy and listlessness.
This condition of the Indians is practically the same throughout this
part of Central America. The problem of existence is worked out in its
lowest terms. It cannot however be said that they live in want and
poverty, because they have no wants. They exist, and are apparently
content to exist, in the state in which they find themselves placed.
The bare ground, a thatched roof, bedstead, a few mats, some firewood,
and a small store of maize suffice for the necessities of their lives.
Their submissive natures assent to these conditions and they seem to
accept their fate with passive resignation.
Upon my return to the shed in the evening, I found that it was
enlivened by the arrival of a busy, loud-voiced Spaniard named Don Pepe
Ortiz. He informed me that he was travelling from Oaxaca towards the
coast of the Gulf of Campeachy with a cargo of tobacco. He had with
him a band of cargadores to carry the bales. He also employed for
his own personal use a man of great strength to carry him in places
where he could not ride a mule. The direction of his journey over the
sierras was for some distance the same as my own, and he proposed that
we should, without delay, make arrangements for crossing a river which
occasionally was difficult to pass over. I had not heard that there was
a stream of any importance in our way, and I asked Don Pepe to do what
was expedient. Accordingly he sent on an Indian to order several canoes
to be in readiness for us on the following morning.
[Illustration: INDIAN WOMAN GRINDING CHOCOLATE, CENTRAL AMERICA.]
At sunrise my new guide José arrived and we all started together. After
riding about a league we reached the bank of a river, called the San
Pedro, which we found to be a deep stream about three hundred yards
wide. The passage was not made without difficulties, chiefly caused by
the conduct of the mules, when they reached the opposite bank, which
was very steep. The canoes were in attendance, and I selected one
which seemed to be convenient for the moderate weights to be carried.
The mule was fastened by the halter to the stem of the canoe, and
swam across with ease, but she obstinately refused to go on shore at
the proper landing place, and consequently, after several unavailing
attempts, I allowed her to go free and choose for herself. She swam
down with the current for about a hundred yards, and then with much
good judgment she selected her own spot and scrambled safely up the
bank.
After having successfully accomplished my crossing, I watched the
movements of Don Pepe and his men in their canoes. It was a picturesque
scene, but it was within two hours of midday before we were all
established on the northern side of the river. We then commenced the
dreaded ascent about which many warnings had been given to me. It was
a steep climb for five long leagues and it was nearly sunset when we
reached the summit. We stopped for the night in a small shed which
sheltered us from the dew.
Don Pepe’s Indians arrived after us and insisted upon lighting a large
fire just outside the hut, with the object they said of keeping away
tigers, and kept it burning like a bonfire as long as it was dark. At
daylight José and myself and mule began the descent of the opposite
slope of the sierra. I had been told that we should find this part of
the journey very arduous, but it exceeded in difficulty anything that I
had imagined.
The track, or opening through the trees had almost disappeared, and
we had to make our own way between detached masses of sharp, angular
rocks. Frequently it was necessary to scramble over them or to slide
down them, and it occasionally seemed to me that we were going at
random down the side of the mountain. But what made our progress more
than usually difficult was the fact that, in several places, decaying
trunks of large trees had fallen across our path, and as it was not
practicable to get the mule over them, we were obliged to diverge into
the forest to pass round them. When it was thus necessary to quit our
line of direction, José would instantly draw his machete and mark
our movements by cutting down branches, so as to secure the means
of retreat to our starting point, in case we failed to find the path
again. I was quite aware of the importance of this action. It was
astonishing to find how in a few seconds in a dense forest and amongst
thick growth of underwood and creepers all knowledge of direction seems
to be lost.
The length of this precipitous descent was a little more than five
miles, and we took four hours to accomplish the distance. During that
time I never saw a glimpse of the sky, although I knew that, above the
trees, the sun was shining brilliantly.
In the forenoon we reached the banks of the Nopá, which ran at the
base of the sierra, and halted there to rest. We then passed over the
river, and pushed or cut our way through two leagues of dense forest
and thick brushwood. There were also several small streams with low but
steep and slippery banks that had to be crossed. Finally we reached and
forded the river Michol. The worst was then over, and we emerged from
the forest and saw before us a savannah where we decided to encamp. I
obtained a slight shelter under the sloping roof of a little open hut,
which had been left there by some passing Indians. Thus ended a most
fatiguing day.
Don Pepe and his Indians arrived after sunset and encamped near us. The
methods adopted by these Indians when preparing to pass the night upon
an open savannah were instructive. In the first instance they placed
upon the ground a quantity of broad dry leaves to protect them from the
damp grass. They then dispersed, and in a few minutes the adjacent
forest resounded with the noise of the blows made by their machetes.
They returned bearing loads of firewood and also several strong forked
branches. These they sharpened at one end and fixed into the earth
near the camping place to form supports to carry the bales of tobacco.
In this manner the cargo was raised about three feet, and thus they
carried out the invariable rule of Indians who never leave anything
upon the ground at night. They then lighted a large fire.
There were characteristics with respect to these Oaxaca Indians, which
I had already observed on the previous day, but which more particularly
came under my notice upon this occasion. They had gone through a long
day’s work of most severe labour, and yet upon settling down for
the night’s rest they neither ate any food or drank any water. My
guides, who were not, like these men, trained to carry great weights
for considerable distances, were also able to live upon very small
quantities of food and never seemed to be tired at the end of the day’s
journey.
It was the custom of each Indian before leaving his home to provide
himself with a small quantity of a substance called pozole, which was
prepared for him by his wife. This was usually made in the following
manner. A sufficient quantity of maize was partly boiled, until the
grain could be easily removed from the husks. These softened grains
were then ground upon the metatl or grindstone until a thick paste was
made. This was either put into a little bag or rolled up in a green
leaf. This paste was the principal part of the food that was carried,
but sometimes the wives gave their husbands a supply of tortillas. To
make these, the grains of maize, after being slightly boiled, are put
upon the metatl, and rolled out into a very thin pancake; this is taken
off the stone and put upon a large leaf and made into a round shape.
It is then placed upon a pan and held for a few minutes over the fire,
until it is properly baked, when it becomes a tortilla. With a few of
these and his scant store of pozole an Indian always considers himself
to be amply provisioned until he returns to his village or secluded
country hut.
My guides took their principal meal about noon. A portion of the paste
was taken out of the leaf and placed upon the palm of the left hand, a
small quantity of water was then mixed with it until it became slightly
fluid and then it was eaten. In the evening they usually took more
pozole and a tortilla, after which they would drink some water mixed
with enough of the pozole to make it become the colour and consistency
of thin milk. In this manner they avoided drinking pure cold water.
This was the daily food of my Indians, upon which they could go long
journeys carrying considerable weights, and they never appeared to be
tired.[78]
The cargadores are trained from boyhood to carry heavy burdens over
great distances. Don Pepe expected them to travel eight leagues a day.
But when carrying lighter loads they will sometimes travel for several
consecutive days at the rate of nearly forty English miles a day. When
the cargo-bearers were moving in single file with their burdens, they
looked like the Tamemes bearing tribute to Montezuma as represented
in the ancient pictures. It is probable that these men were enduring
labours similar to those that had been performed by their ancestors for
centuries before the arrival of the Spaniards.
In the morning the Indians proceeded on their journey towards the
coast. We followed a path leading in another direction, through open
and wooded lowlands. Finally after a ride of four leagues we reached
the savannah upon which is situated the village of San Domingo del
Palenque.
Never have I known a moment of more keen pleasure and satisfaction,
than that when José pointed out to me this beautiful spot. I had become
fatigued by the hardships of the previous days, and the buoyancy
of mind that was felt in getting at last into a region of life and
sunshine cannot be adequately expressed.
We stopped to ask where Doctor Coller lived, and were shown the
position of a low, thatched cottage, at the door of which stood the
only European living in the village.[79] I was received by him with
friendly welcome. My hammock was placed under the shade of the
projecting thatch. The mule was set free to wander at will amongst the
plains, and I was advised to take twenty-four hours complete rest. On
the following forenoon I made arrangements for proceeding to the ruins,
and a few Indians were sent there to open the path, and to clear the
inner courts of the palace from weeds and brushwood.
San Domingo del Palenque is placed upon a rising grassy slope studded
with fine trees. The church was in ruins and roofless. The population
consisted chiefly of Ladinos. The Indians lived in secluded places near
the outskirts, where they cultivated their milpas or cornfields. There
was a charm about this sunny fertile savannah and the simple habits of
life of its inhabitants, which must be attractive to men of sensitive
temperaments. The land is fertile, corn is abundant, and cattle, horses
and mules wander over the green pastures in freedom.
It was an unusual series of circumstances that had caused Dr. Coller to
settle for life in this remote part of the world. He told me that he
was a native of Switzerland and was born at Zurich. He was educated in
that city but completed his studies at Berlin. Much of his early life
was passed in different countries. About ten years before my arrival,
he felt a wish to see Palenque and found his way to this region from
the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. Upon reaching the village he was
fascinated by its beautiful situation, its repose and its proximity to
the ancient ruins in which he felt the strongest interest. He found
that the life at San Domingo had an attraction for him which he did
not wish to resist, and he decided to make this place his home, and
married a native who possessed, in her own right, some land in the
neighbourhood.[80]
Dr. Coller was a man of varied and extensive information and an
excellent linguist. He had devoted much time, not only to the
investigation of the Indian antiquities, but also to the study of the
geology and botany of the district, and I was much pleased when he
proposed to accompany me to Palenque. It was of the greatest advantage
thus to have the benefit of his accurate knowledge of the positions of
the mounds and temples.
[Illustration: PALACE OR MONASTERY, PALENQUE. EAST FRONT.]