WE START FOR GUATEMALA
(1896)
The evening we were at Mitla, Señor Quiero came hurrying to our room and
urged us to step out to the corridor before the house to see some
Mixes. It was our first glimpse of representatives of this little known
mountain people. Some thirty of them, men and women, loaded with fruit,
coffee, and charcoal, were on their way to the great fair and market,
at Tlacolula. They had now stopped for the night and had piled their
burdens against the wall. Wrapping themselves in their tattered and
dirty blankets, they laid themselves down on the stone floor, so close
together that they reminded me of sardines in a box. With a blazing
splinter of fat pine for torch, we made our inspection. Their broad dark
faces, wide flat noses, thick lips and projecting jaws, their coarse
clothing, their filthiness, their harsh and guttural speech, profoundly
impressed me and I resolved to penetrate into their country and see them
in their homes, at the first opportunity.
Our friend the padre never tired of telling how much more interesting
Guatemala was than Mexico; he could not understand why any man of sense
should waste his time in Mexico, a land so large that a dozen students
could not begin to solve its problems, while Guatemala, full of
interesting ruins and crowded with attractive Indians, was of such size
that one man's lifetime could count for something. His tales of indian
towns, life, dress, customs, kindled enthusiasm; but it was only after
thinking over the Mixes, that I decided to make a journey to Guatemala.
The padre, himself, could not accompany me, being a political refugee,
but he had told me Ernst should go with me. After three months'
consideration my plan was made. We would start from Oaxaca overland via
the Mixes country; we would everywhere keep in the mountains; in Chiapas
we would completely avoid the usual highway, hot and dusty, near the
coast; in Guatemala itself, we would go by Nenton, Huehuetenango and
Nibaj. This did not suit the padre: he had had in mind a journey all
rail and steamer; and friends, long resident in Mexico, shook their
heads and spoke of fatigues and dangers. But I was adamant; the Mixes
drew me; we would go overland, on horse, or not at all.
When the Padre left Chila, he took a letter of recommendation from the
Archbishop of Oaxaca to the Bishop of Vera Cruz at Jalapa. By him,
the padre was located at Medellin, a few miles from Vera Cruz itself.
Thither I journeyed to join Ernst and make the final preparations for
the journey. Ernst met me at the station at 6:30 in the evening and we
stayed the night in the hot, mosquito-tortured, plague-stricken city.
Leaving at eight o'clock in the morning we were at Medellin in an hour.
Our journey was through low, swampy ground on which the chief growth was
of palm. The padre, whom we had not seen since we parted at Oaxaca, met
us at the station and took us at once to his house. The town is small,
the population a miserable mixture of black, white, and indian elements.
Few of the couples living there have been legally married. The parish is
one of the worst in the whole diocese. The bishop warned the padre that
it was an undesirable field, but it was the only one then unoccupied.
But the padre was working wonders and the church was then undergoing
repairs and decorations. The actual _curato_ was long ago seized by
the government and is now used as a schoolhouse. The priest lived in a
rented house close by the river bank. The house is a double one and the
priest occupied but half of it; those in the other half were hostile to
him and he was anxious to rent the whole place. His neighbors, however,
did not care to leave and threatened vengeance; they were behind a mass
of accusations filed against him with the bishop. His friends rallied to
his support, sent in a strong endorsement, and he remained. The padre
had been industrious while here. Behind his house is the little river,
with a bath-house built over it; crossing in a dugout canoe we found his
garden flourishing, filled with fresh vegetables. The family of pets had
grown; Baldur, Freia, Votan, Doxil--the dogs--were here as at Chila, but
he also had fantail and capuchin pigeons, hens and chicks, ducks
and geese, canary birds, and native birds in cages. Here also were
archaeological relics, plants, beetles and birds for gathering. And here
too, for the first time, I had the opportunity of examining his great
collection of Ecuadorean humming-birds and a magnificent lot of
Guatemalan quetzal skins, among them probably the finest ever collected.
[Illustration: THE PADRE'S HOUSE; MEDELLIN]
[Illustration: THE CHURCH; MEDELLIN]
We left Medellin on January 8th; went by rail to Puebla, then to Oaxaca.
Here we found our friend Doctor Hyde, of Silao, who was nursing Lucius
Smith, in what proved to be a final illness. He aided us in finding
animals and completing preparations for our journey. We secured a large
bay horse for myself, a roan for Ernst, a little mule for baggage. For
my own part, I dislike mules; Ernst and the doctor, however, were loud
in their praise of such a beast; both asserted that a good mule should
sell for double its cost on our arrival at Guatemala City. When,
finally, after inspecting a variety of animals we found one lively,
young one, the doctor was delighted. Taking me to one side, he informed
me that such an opportunity was unlikely to occur again. I yielded and
the little mule was ours. We named the three animals Mixe, Zapotec, and
Chontal, from three tribes through whose country we expected to pass.
The doctor's helpfulness was not confined to advice regarding mules. He
insisted upon our buying various supplies, such as boxes of sardines,
sago, coffee, etc., the utility of which appeared neither at the time
nor later. Also at his suggestion a quart of whiskey was purchased and
carefully divided into two flasks, one for each saddlebag. Most useful
of all the doctor's suggestions, and one for which we had reason many
times to thank him, was the securing from the governor of a letter to
all local authorities in the state, directing them to supply us with the
necessities of life, at just prices.
We had hoped to start from Oaxaca in the early morning, but it was well
on in the afternoon before all arrangements were completed. The doctor
and his Mexican friend rode with us to Tule to see us well started. It
was out over the old road to Mitla. The afternoon was hot, dust was
deep, and a heavy wind blew it up into our faces in clouds. The sun was
already setting when we rode into Santa Maria Tule, and we went at once
to see the famous cypress tree, which no one in the party, save myself,
had seen. It seems now to be a single tree, but was perhaps, originally,
three; at present it displays a single, vast trunk, buttressed with
heavy irregular projecting columns. So irregular is this enormous mass
that no two persons taking its girth exactly agree. We measured it four
feet above the ground and made the circumference one hundred and sixty
feet. The mass of delicate green foliage above was compact, vigorous,
and beautiful. Many years ago Humboldt cut a rectangular piece of bark
from the old trunk and on the smooth surface thus exposed carved an
inscription with his name.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Bark has since grown over the sides and corners of this tablet, but much
of the inscription may still be read. Since Humboldt's visit many lesser
men have gashed the old tree to leave their mark.
As it was now darkening we hurried to the _meson_ of the village. The
old lady in charge received us with suspicion; she could not feed us and
refused to receive us into the house for the night; she would permit
us to sleep outside, in the corridor--which we might have done without
asking permission. At this moment, the doctor's friend remembered that
he knew a man here and went out to reconnoitre; he soon returned and led
us to his friend's house, where we were well received. A supper of eggs,
_tortillas_, and chocolate was soon served. Before we had finished the
moon had risen and by its light the doctor and his friend started
on their return to town. We slept on beds, made of boards laid upon
sawhorses, in a grain store-room, where rats were running around all
night long.
The next day, we were again at Mitla. It was a festival day, that of the
Conversion of St. Paul the Apostle. In the evening there were rockets,
the band played, and a company of drummers and _chirimiya_ blowers went
through the town. Señor Quiero had fires of blazing pine knots at the
door. When the procession passed we noted its elements. In front was the
band of ten boys; men with curious standards mounted on poles followed.
The first of these standards was a figure, in strips of white and pink
tissue paper, of a long-legged, long-necked, long-billed bird, perhaps a
heron; next stars of colored paper, with lights inside; then were large
globes, also illuminated, three of white paper and three in the national
colors--red, white, and green. Grandest of all, however, was a globular
banner of cloth on which was painted a startling picture of the saint's
conversion. All of these were carried high in the air and kept rotating.
Behind the standard bearers came a drummer and the player on the shrill
pipe or _pito--chirimiya_. The procession stopped at Señor Quiero's
_tienda_, and the old man opened both his heart and his bottles; spirits
flowed freely to all who could crowd into the little shop and bottles
and packs of _cigarros_ were sent out to the standard-bearers. As a
result we were given a vigorous explosion of rockets, and several pieces
by the band, the drummer, and the _pitero_.
Beyond Mitla the valley narrows and the road rises onto a gently sloping
terrace; when it strikes the mountains it soon becomes a bridle-path
zigzagging up the cliffside. As we mounted by it, the valley behind
expanded magnificently under our view. We passed through a belt of
little oak trees, the foliage of which was purple-red, like the autumnal
coloring of our own forests. Higher up we reached the pine timber. As
soon as we reached the summit, the lovely valley view was lost and we
plunged downward, even more abruptly than we had mounted, along the side
of a rapidly deepening gorge. At the very mouth of this, on a pretty
terrace, we came abruptly on the little town of San Lorenzo with
palm-thatched huts of brush or cane and well grown hedges of _organo_
cactus. Here we ate _tortillas_ and fried-eggs with chili. Immediately
on setting out from here we rode over hills, the rock of which was
deeply stained with rust and streaked with veins of quartz, up to a
crest of limestone covered with a crust of stalagmite.
[Illustration: THE START FROM OAXACA]
[Illustration: THE CELEBRATION AT MITLA]
The road up to this summit was not good, but that down the other side
was _bad_. The irregular, great blocks of limestone, covered with the
smooth, dry, slippery coating, caused constant stumbling to our poor
animals. From this valley we rose onto a yet grander range. Here we had
our first Mixe experience. At the very summit, where the road became
for a little time level, before plunging down into the profound valley
beyond, we met two Indians, plainly Mixes. Both were bareheaded, and
both wore the usual dirty garments--a cotton shirt over a pair of cotton
trousers, the legs of which were rolled up to the knees or higher. The
younger of the men bore a double load, as he had relieved his companion.
The old man's face was scratched and torn, his hands were smeared with
blood and blood stained his shirt. We cried an "_adios_" and the old man
kissed my hand, while the younger, pointing to his friend said "_Sangre,
Señor, sangre_" (Blood, sir, blood.) Vigorously they told the story of
the old man's misfortune, but in incomprehensible Spanish. While they
spoke three others like them, each bent under his burden came up onto
the ridge. These kissed my hand and then, excitedly pointing to the old
man, all talking at once, tried to tell his story. Having expressed our
sympathy, we left the five looking after us, the old man, with his torn
and bleeding face, being well in the foreground.
Down in the valley, across a little stream, we struck into a pleasant
meadow road leading to the Hacienda of San Bartolo. Suddenly, before us,
in the road, we saw a man lying. We thought he was dead. He was a young
man, an indian in the usual dress, apparently a Zapotec. His face was
bloody and his shirt was soaked in front with blood, which had trickled
down upon the ground forming a pool in which he lay. We could see no
deep wound, but, as he lay upon his side, there may have been such. Near
him in the road there lay a knife, the blade covered with blood. The man
lay perfectly still, but we fancied we could see a slight movement of
the chest. In Mexico, it is best not to investigate too closely, because
the last to touch a murdered man may be held responsible for his death.
So we hurried on toward the _hacienda_ but, before reaching it, met two
girls about nineteen years of age and a little lad all Zapotecs. We told
them what we had seen and bade them notify the authorities. One of
the girls cried, "_Si, Señor, es mi hermano_" ("Yes, sir, it is my
brother"), and they ran down the road. As for us, we hurried onward,
without stopping at the _hacienda_, in order not to be delayed or held
as witnesses.
There is no love between the Zapotecs and Mixes. We never learned
the actual story, but imagined it somewhat as follows. The old Mixe,
carrying his burden, had probably encountered the young Zapotec and
had words with him. Probably there had been blows, and the old man was
having the worst of it when his companions came along and turned the
tide of battle.
The road, after passing the _hacienda_, ascended almost constantly for
many miles. We passed clumps of yuccas. As we mounted we faced a strong
and cutting wind, and were glad when any turn in the road gave us a
moment's relief. The final ascent was sharp and difficult, up a hill of
red or purple slate, which splintered into bits that were both slippery
and sharp to the feet of our poor animals. Just as the sun was
setting and dusk fell, we reached the miserable pueblo of Santa Maria
Albarradas. It was situated on a terrace or shelf, and its little houses
were made of red or purple adobe bricks, and thatched with grass. Little
garden patches and groups of cultivated trees surrounded the houses. The
church was little larger than the dwellings, and was constructed of the
same clay, thatched with the same grass. Near it was the town-house. We
summoned the _presidente_, and while we waited for him, the men, women,
and children of the town thronged around us and watched our every
movement, commenting the while on our actions and words. When the
_presidente_ came, we made known our wants and soon had supper for
ourselves, food for our animals, a shelter for the night, and a _mozo_
as guide for the morrow. The town-house was put at our disposition; it
was sadly in need of repairs, and consisted of two rooms, one larger
than the other. In the larger room there was a long and heavy table, a
bench or two, and some wooden chairs. We slept upon the ground, and
long before we rolled ourselves up in our blankets the wind was blowing
squarely from the north. The sky was half covered with a heavy black
cloud; as the night advanced, it became colder and colder, the wind
cutting like a knife, and while we shivered in our blankets, it seemed
as if we had been born to freeze there in the tropics.