TO URUAPAN BEFORE THE RAILROAD
(1898)
We easily arranged at Patzcuaro to leave for Uruapan the next morning.
Although delayed beyond our proposed hour of starting, we were off at
six. It was early enough, indeed, for the morning air was cold; heavy
frost coated the leaves and grass and lay upon the soil; in spite of our
heavy blankets, wrapped closely about us, we shivered as we rode along
upon our horses.
The ride, however, was a lovely one. At first we seemed to leave the
lake behind us; mounting for some time we reached a summit from which it
again broke upon our view; descending, we constantly caught glimpses
of it, with its sinuous shores, its lovely mountain backgrounds, its
islands, and its pretty indian towns. Finally, we again left it and rose
into a magnificent mountain region, covered chiefly with pines. Passing
through Ajuno, which lies upon a steep slope, we overtook a party of
police, mounted on horses, taking a group of prisoners to Uruapan.
At Escondidas, itself a miserable village, we were impressed by the
mercantile spirit of these indians. In all these villages the houses are
constructed of heavy logs or timbers, closely and neatly joined; the
roofs are shingled with long and narrow shingles, and are abruptly
four-sloped. At every house there was something for sale--food, drink,
or _cigarros_. All these houses were built close to the edge of the
road, and in the middle of the front was a little square window, in
which the goods were shown. When no trade was solicited, these windows
were closed with solid wooden shutters. Not only, however, was every
house a store, but on the highway between towns, we passed many places
where, beneath brush shelters, women offered fruit, food, or drink for
sale. Usually several such shelters would be near together, and the
venders had gay times, chatting, laughing and singing. Such houses and
roadside-selling are common through the whole Tarascan region.
[Illustration: TARASCAN WOMEN; JANICHO]
Soon after passing Escondidas, we began a descent, which seemed
absolutely endless. Time after time we thought we had reached the
bottom, only to find that we were on a terrace from which another
drop led us still further down. On and on into this bottomless pit we
descended to Ziracuaretaro, a striking town. Banana plantings surrounded
the houses; orange-trees covered with their golden spheres reared
themselves to the unusual height of thirty feet or more; _maméys_, with
their strange nut-brown fruits, and coffee-trees, loaded to breaking,
were abundant. Amid this luxuriant mass of tropical vegetation,
houses were almost invisible until we were directly in front of them.
Notwithstanding the enormous descent we had made, it appeared to us,
when we crossed the stream and began the ascent, that we had not really
been to the bottom of the great valley. For a long distance we mounted
through a district of sugar-canes; then passed a little settlement
of rude huts spread out over a reddish space; then, by a gentle but
circuitous ascent, to a rugged trail which brought us to the summit
and the edge of the great slope to Uruapan. At the further side of the
valley and to our left, in a mass of green, we saw smoke rising from the
factories of Uruapan. Crossing one of the characteristic bridges of the
district, with a pretty shingled roof--four-sloped like those of the
houses--over it, and with benches at the sides, where passers can
sit and rest, while looking at the dashing, gurgling, foaming, water
below,--we followed a level road between blackberries, wild roses, and
other shrubs, to Uruapan.
No town in Mexico is more beautiful. Perpetual spring reigns. Although
several thousand feet above sea level, it is so situated, with reference
to mountain slopes and funnel valleys, that it has a genial climate,
where plants nourish which are usually found only at lower altitudes.
Its fruits and "the finest coffee in the world" have rendered the town
long famous. The houses, bowered in dense groves of green, are of the
picturesque Tarascan type. The four-sloped roofs, now covered with long,
narrow shingles, now with the dull red tiles, suggest the prettiest
pictures in Japanese towns. The streets are clean. Through the centre
of the town dashes a mountain stream of clearest water, with the hue of
sapphire. This pretty stream furnishes power for mills, factories and
lighting-plant, and is crossed several times by picturesque, roofed
bridges, in the shelter of which one may spend hours in watching the
dashing water, foaming cascades, curious potholes worn in the rocky
banks, and the passing Indians. Most Mexican towns are contented with
one _plaza_; this one has three, following each other closely, separated
only by single lines of narrow buildings. They are neatly planted, and
supplied with bandstand and monuments. The town is electric-lighted and
several hotels had been lately put in readiness to receive the crowd of
visitors expected with the completion of the railroad, a matter of a few
months later.
The _prefecto_ of Uruapan and _jefe politico_ of the district is the
son-in-law of Governor Mercado, and to him we bore a special letter from
his father-in-law. The old gentleman had been insistent that we should
return by Capacuaro and Cheran, indian towns. He said that at the former
we should find a _mogote_ (mound or heap of stones and dirt) which every
traveler should see, while at the latter Lumholtz had secured some
skulls of exceptional interest, and that we should do the same. As our
time was short, we asked the _prefecto_ to send a messenger to Cheran
with orders to dig some skulls and have them ready against the time of
our arrival. That official expressed delight in doing our bidding, and
we saw the messenger summoned and the order placed in his hands, with
full direction as to its delivery.
[Illustration: INDIAN SPEAR-THROWER; LAKE PATZCUARO]
Meantime, there were objects of interest for us in Uruapan itself. The
town is famous for its lacquer work, made with _aje_, like that of
Chiapa. Gourds are ornamented, fruit-forms are colored after nature,
bowls made from fruit shells are elaborately decorated, all quite like
the Chiapa work. What is characteristic of Uruapan are the placques and
table-tops of wood, decorated with floral designs in brilliant colors,
upon a background of dark-green, pink, blue, yellow, or black. This art
is in the hands of a few persons, some pure indians. Visiting them, we
found the wooden placques and table-tops are brought from one of the
mountain villages of the Tarascans; they are first covered thickly with
the background color; upon this the pattern is pencilled and then cut
out in the lacquered surface; the color, mixed with oil and _aje_, as
with other substances, is then applied with the finger-tips to fill the
cut patterns; the lustre is then brought out by careful rubbing. The
work is striking, and is prized throughout the Republic.
In the same quarter of the town, where this local industry is carried
on, are many goitrous persons. The disease seems to be confined to the
one district, but there perhaps one-half the people have it, most of
them to but a slight degree. Occasionally the swelling is notable, and
in the families affected we find, as usual, deaf-mutism.
On the morning of New Year's day, we left for Capacuaro and Cheran. As
we rode out from the city, we were more than ever impressed with
its verdant beauty and picturesqueness. The road to Capacuaro was
unexpectedly level and good, and we reached the town, which is purely
indian, by nine o'clock. Women, almost without exception, wore the
native dress. Goitres were common, and some, among the men, were really
enormous. Riding through the long town, we drew up before the house
of the _jefe de policia_ (chief of police), and summoned the village
officials. On their appearance we found that all but the _jefe_ himself,
were drunk, the _secretario_ in particular being almost useless. When we
handed him the letter from the _prefecto_ he was quite unable to make
aught of its grandiloquence. Having looked it through in a dazed way, he
declared that we were "gringos," "like the one who was here last year"
(presumably Lumholtz). With some severity, I told him he did wrong to
call visitors to the town by the opprobrious name of _gringos_, and
ordered him to read the letter and make known its contents to the
_jefe_. He made another effort and then helplessly said--"Who can make
anything of such a letter? It is in their _idioma_." Sternly pointing to
the signature I said--"The letter is from your _prefecto_ and written
in his _idioma_; you see the _firma_." Helplessly shaking his head, he
said, "Oh, yes, the _firma_ is that of Silvano Martinez, but the letter
is in your _idioma_." Seeing that he was of no earthly use, I took the
letter from him, and, turning to the crowd which had gathered, rebuked
them for their drunkenness, asserting that it was disgraceful for a
whole town government to be intoxicated at the same time; that some one
ought always to be sober enough to attend to business; that we had been
insulted by being called _gringos_, and that our order had not been read
to them because the _secretario_ was too drunk to do his business; that
there were two ways of dealing with such town governments, and that,
unless something was done promptly, we would see how they would like
to go back with us to Uruapan, whence we had come. The _jefe_, who was
really not drunk, thereupon begged to know what we desired, and the
drunken _secretario_ was somewhat frightened; the remainder of the
official body expressed a wish to do only what we wanted. I then read
the _prefecto's_ letter in my best manner and added that we had come to
Capacuaro only at the desire of the governor himself, to visit their
_mogote_, and that we ought to wait no longer for guidance. At once all
was commotion and bustle. Bidding the disgraced _secretario_ go to his
house and stay there, the _jefe de policia_ summoned the rest of his
company about him, seized his staff of office, buckled on his great
_machete_, and took the lead; three policemen, with their _machetes_,
followed; two others, unarmed, followed, and, with this escort, we
started to hunt our ruins on the mountain. They proved to be two heaps
of rubbish, from constructions of stone. Had we had time for serious
investigation they might have proved of interest; as it was, we spent
but a few minutes in their inspection, and then, bidding our drunken
escort good-bye, we continued our journey. We had planned to go first to
Nehuatzen, thence to Parracho, and, after visiting Cheran, back again to
Nehuatzen. At the _mogote_, however, we were already near the Parracho
highway and at once struck into it. Our journey led through forests,
chiefly of pine, with open glades, at intervals; on many of the trees
we saw great bunches of a parasite that bore honeysuckle-like, yellow
flowers. Parracho we found lying at the base of mountains at the very
end of a long stretch of level. It is an unattractive town, our only
reason for visiting which was to see something of the manufacture of its
famous _rebozos_, which differ from others in the wide border of white
and azure blue silk, which is attached to a netted foundation to form
decorative patterns, representing birds and animals, or geometric
figures. The work is curious, and I am inclined to see in it a surviving
imitation of the ancient feather-work for which the ancient Tarascans
were famous. From Parracho our road led through Aranza to Cheran. Just
beyond Aranza we passed over the astonishing wash from some summer
torrent. During the wet season a single rain may fill the gorges, sheet
the mountain slopes with water, tear great trees from their hold, break
off mighty rock fragments and carry them onward, like wooden blocks,
with hundreds of tons of finer gravel. At this season there was not a
sign of water; not a trickling thread was visible in any of the gorges;
but from their now dried mouths there spread fan-shaped deposits many
rods in length and breadth, containing quantities of blocks of rock that
measured from four to ten feet in diameter, trunks of trees up to
two feet in thickness, all in the greatest confusion and at places
completely covering our road to a depth of several feet. We could trace
the tailing out of the fans of deposit, from their thicker, heavier part
at the base of the torrent, to their margin on the plain; from heavy
rock masses weighing tons, through smaller masses, into sand and gravel.
[Illustration: HOUSES AT URUAPAN]
The way to Cheran seemed endless, but at last we reached that
interesting, great indian town, when the afternoon was nearly spent.
It was the New Year, and the street celebration of _los negritos_ (the
negroes--or the little negroes) was in progress. As we rode through the
streets, however, we attracted much attention and the performance was
neglected. We rode directly to the town-house, entered and asked for the
_presidente_. He was slow in appearing and long before he arrived scores
of people were crowding around the doors and windows to see us and know
our business. When he arrived, we greeted him in a most friendly way and
told him that we had come for the skulls. He looked aghast. "The skulls,
what skulls, sir?" "The skulls the _prefecto_ ordered you to dig for
us." By this time, the crowd outside, which had increased with every
minute, showed uneasiness. The _presidente_ declared he knew nothing of
any skulls. After we had explained the matter more fully, he assured us
that no messenger had come from the _prefecto_; this, which at first we
thought to be a lie, was no doubt true. He was plainly scared. He begged
us to be careful lest the people, who were ignorant, should overhear us.
He told us that a year before Don Carlos (Lumholtz) had been there; that
he, too, had wanted skulls, and that the town officials had given him
permission to dig some from the graveyard; that this caused so much
excitement and so many threats that the permission had to be revoked. He
feared the people had already heard our wishes and were even then in an
ugly mood--a thing which seemed likely from an inspection of the faces
in the doorway and windows. He said, however, that Don Carlos afterward
secured some skulls from an ancient burial-place not distant from the
village, and, if we pleased to wait in Cheran through the morrow, as it
was now too late, five in the evening, to do aught, he would gladly show
us the burial place of the ancients, where no doubt abundant skulls
could be secured. Not yet certain that the man was telling truth, we
spoke to him severely, saying that we should report him to the governor
for not having obeyed the order of the _prefecto_. At the same time we
demanded an official document signed by himself as _presidente_, and by
the _secretario_, and duly sealed, stating that no messenger had come
to him from the _prefecto_. To our surprise this document was promptly
furnished, good evidence that the _prefecto_ had played us false, only
pretending to despatch the messenger whom we had seen started.
With profuse apologies and expressions of regret from the officials, we
left Cheran, hurrying on to Nehuatzen for the night. Our chief reason
for doing so was that everyone who knew of our intention to visit Cheran
had shaken their heads, remarking "Ah! there the nights are always
cold." Certainly, if it is colder there than at Nehuatzen, we would
prefer the frigid zone outright. Nehuatzen is famous as the town where
the canoes for Lake Patzcuaro are made. We had difficulty in securing
food and a place to sleep. The room in which we were expected to slumber
was hung with an extensive wardrobe of female garments. These we added
to the blankets we carried with us, but suffered all night long from the
penetrating cold. The two indian boys, who accompanied us as guides and
carriers, slept in the corridor outside our door and when day broke
they were so cramped and numbed and stiff with cold, that they lighted
matches and thrust their cold hands into the flames, before they could
move their finger-joints. We had planned to leave at five, but it was
too cold to ride until the sun should be an hour high, so finally
we left at seven. There was heavy frost on everything; curved frost
crystals protruded from the soil, and we broke ice a half inch thick in
water-troughs, unfinished canoes, by the roadside.
For ten hours we rode, without even stopping for lunch, through Sabina
and Pichataro, San Juan Tumbio and Ajuno, back to comfortable Patzcuaro.