ZAMORA AND THE ONCE PUEBLOS
(1898)
The morning train from Guadalajara brought us to Negrete at about two
in the afternoon, and we had soon mounted to the top of the clumsy old
coach, which was dragged by six horses. The road to Zamora runs through
a rich farming district. For the greater part of the distance the road
is level and passes amidst great _haciendas_. The corn crop had been
abundant and carts were constantly coming and going from and to the
fields. These carts were rectangular, with side walls some four or five
feet in height, made of corn-stalks set close together and upright.
All were drawn by oxen. Most of the carts had a light cross, made of
corn-stalks, set at the front end, to protect the load from adverse
influences. Great numbers of men, dressed in leather trousers drawn over
their cotton drawers, in single file lined past us, with great
baskets full of corn strapped on their backs. Here and there, in the
corn-fields, groups of such men were cutting the ripened ears from the
plants.
We now and then met groups of men bringing great timbers from the
mountains fifty or sixty miles away. These timbers were many feet in
length and trimmed to a foot square; from four to six made a load. The
cart upon which they were carried consisted of a pair of wheels and an
axle; one end of the timbers was attached to this, and the other was
fastened to the yoke of oxen. It was rare that we met with a single
timber cart, as four or five usually went together. The drivers who were
in charge of them were pure Tarascans.
For a considerable distance a fine slope rose to our left, strewn
with loose rock masses, and covered with a growth which was chiefly
_pitahaya_, some of the plants attaining the size of grown trees. Many
of them presented an appearance which we had not seen elsewhere--the
tips and upper part of the upright branches being as white as if
intentionally whitewashed; the simple explanation of this strange
appearance was that the branches in question had served as buzzards'
roosts. Our journey of twenty-five miles was made with two relays of
horses. After perhaps three hours' riding, we reached the Zamora River,
which we followed for some distance. From the time when we began to
follow this stream, our road was almost a dead level. At many places
along the river, we saw a peculiar style of irrigation machine, a great
wooden scoop or spoon with long handle swung between supporting poles.
The instrument was worked by a single man and scooped up water from the
river, throwing it upon the higher land and into canals which carried it
through the fields. Sometimes two of these scoops were supported side by
side upon a single frame, and were worked in unison by two persons. At
the only town of any consequence upon the road, we found numbers of
interesting hot springs which might really be called geysers. They were
scattered at intervals over the flat mud plain for a distance of a half
mile or more. We could see jets of steam of more or less vigor rising
from a score or so at a time. At some of these the water really boiled,
and we saw it bubbling and tossing to a height of a foot or so above the
margin of the spring. Groups of women, laughing and talking or singing
snatches of songs, were washing clothes at several of these hot springs,
and the garments were spread out over the bushes and trees to dry. At
one little geyser, bubbling up in the very middle of the road, as we
passed we saw a boy pelting the water with stones and mud in order to
make it mad and see it spout. The plain was sprinkled here and there
with thickets of acacia and mesquite. In the early evening the breeze
came loaded with the fragrance of the golden balls of the acacia. There
was bright moonlight, and we could see the country, even after sunset.
The latter portion of the journey was through low swampy ground, much of
the time over causeways.
There are few towns in central Mexico, not on a railroad, to be compared
with Zamora. It is large, clean, well built, and presents an air of
unusual comfort. The main _plaza_ is large, and finely planted with
palms, orange-trees, roses and flowering shrubs. The orange-trees
were in full bloom and the air was heavy with their odor. The town is
electric-lighted and has a good system of waterworks. The great church,
with two slender towers, fills up the whole of one side of the _plaza_,
while the other three are occupied with business houses. The amount of
life in the town at night surprised us. Even after ten o'clock, many
were on the streets, and the _dulce_ stands, _cafe_ tables and _loto_
hall were doing a large business. Few towns in Mexico are so completely
under priestly influence, but few again appear as prosperous,
progressive, and well-behaved. Two distinct types of houses
predominate, the older and the newer. The old style house is such as
is characteristic of many other Tarascan towns, but is here more
picturesquely developed than in most places. The low-sloped,
heavily-tiled roof projects far over the street and is supported below
by projecting timbers, which are trimmed at the end to give a pleasing
finish. So far do these roofs project over the sidewalk that the water
is thrown into the middle of the street and the footpath below is well
sheltered. The new style of house, which is required by the recent laws,
has an almost flat roof which ends squarely at the sidewalk, and from
which long tin pipes project to throw the water into the streets. Here,
as so frequently, the old fashion is at once more comfortable and more
artistic.
We spent the morning in efforts to secure horses, but finally secured a
man, Don Nabor, who agreed to accompany us with five animals. The party
consisted of myself, my interpreter, my plaster-worker, and Don Nabor.
Each of us was mounted, and a fifth horse carried the plaster and other
luggage. Leaving at noon, we took the long road past Jacona, a little
town famous for its fruit. Having passed there, after a long journey, we
looked down from the height almost directly upon the place whence we
had started. The scene was of unusual beauty--the wide-spreading, flat
valley, with its fields of wheat and clustered trees, presented a mass
of rich green coloring, in the midst of which stood the pretty
city. After a long climb, we descended into a valley in which lies
Tangancicuaro, a large town with a _plaza_ full of fine, great trees,
where we ate at a quaint little _meson_. From here we pushed on to
Chilchota, the head town of the Once Pueblos. From the crest, just above
the town, we looked down upon a level valley, green with new wheat.
Entering the town a little after five, we rode up to the _meson_ of
San Francisco, near the little _plaza_. It was with difficulty that we
secured a room containing a single bed, with mattress, and two mats.
There was nothing at all to eat at the _meson_, but on strolling out to
the _plaza_ we found some Indian women selling _atole_ and bread.
With this we were compelled to be content until morning, paying seven
_centavos_ for our four suppers. Hunting up the _presidente_ of the
town, we found him sitting, with his court, on benches in the _plaza_.
He was a pleasant, rather dressy young man, but at once took interest in
our work, and told us that Huancito was the best town for our bust work,
as the population there is primitive and purely indian.
The Once Pueblos--eleven towns--are famous through this portion of
the Republic. Several of them are purely indian; Chilchota is largely
_mestizo_. The towns lie in a long line on the side of the little
valley, at the foot of the bordering hills. Between some, spaces of
considerable extent intervene; others are so close together that, in
riding through them, one sees no line of separation. All consist of
adobe houses, of a rich brown color, roofed with tiles. Some of the
churches are of considerable size, but are also built of brown adobe.
The Once Pueblos are famous for their pottery, and in some of them
almost every house has its little kiln or oven. Fruit is cultivated,
and the houses are frequently embowered in trees; in many yards are
bee-hives. The valley is abundantly watered with little streams of
perfect clearness.
The _presidente_ had insisted that the school teacher at Huancito would
prove invaluable. He gave us a letter of introduction to him, and an
order upon the authorities. We were at once given possession of the
schoolhouse for our work, and I started out to find a subject. Almost
the first person encountered was a young man of twenty-three years, who
presented the pure Tarascan type. I at once told him that he was the
very man we wanted; that we planned to make a picture of him in plaster;
at the same time, I described the method of work, and while talking,
holding him by the arm, drew him over toward the schoolhouse. Almost
before he realized it, we were ready for the task. As he removed his
shirt and prepared for the operation of oiling and the application of
the plaster, he looked somewhat sombre. After seeing the work well
begun, I stepped outside and sat in the portico until it should be
done. The first piece of plaster had been applied, the subject had been
turned, and was lying ready for the second application. At this moment,
an indian maiden, with dishevelled hair, came rapidly running across
the _plaza_ toward the schoolhouse. Rushing past me, she entered the
school-room, and seeing the subject lying on the floor clasped her hands
and cried, "Florencito! My Florencito, why wait here? Stay not with
these cruel men; flee with me!" Seizing him by the hand, they dislodged
the plaster from his shoulders and started for the door, but catching
sight of me, cast a glance around, saw the open window, and leaping
through it, dashed off home. Up to this time the local authorities had
shown an interest in our work and a willingness to aid. Calling the
chief of police, I bade him and the teacher seek our subject and bring
him back for the completion of the operation. "But, sir," said the chief
of police, "suppose he does not wish to come?" "Why are you chief of
police?" was my reply. The teacher, who is himself a _mestizo_ and
despises the poor indians in his charge, was loud in his complaints. He
vigorously declared that what these people needed was a second Cortez,
that they had never been properly conquered, and, with the chief of
police, he started out for the new conquest. After an hour or more of
waiting, we saw them reappear with Florencito. But humanity is ever
loath to admit defeat. As he passed us, he grumbled that he saw no good
reason for such a fuss, as he had simply gone to eat his breakfast.
Having completed the work with this subject, we suggested that others
should be brought, but met with a prompt refusal. The judge and the
chief of police both declared that the people did not wish to have busts
made, and that they would bring no more. In vain I suggested that a
meeting of the townspeople should be called together in order that
we might address them and explain the purpose of our visit. It was
impossible to move the officials. Finally I told the judge that I should
send a mounted messenger, who had accompanied us from the _presidente_,
to Chilchota to report the failure of the town officials to do their
duty. He promptly declared that he was going to Chilchota himself to
see the _presidente_ in the matter. Sure enough, when my messenger was
ready, he had made his preparations, and the two departed together to
present the different sides of the question. Neither returned until
we were through for the day. During the afternoon we secured two more
subjects, and by nightfall had three good busts as the result of the
day's labor. Then we faced new difficulties. Carriers could not be had
for love nor money. What was wanted were three men, one to carry each
bust back to Chilchota, where we planned to spend the night. Finally,
after loss of time and temper, each of us shouldered a bust and rode
back on horseback with our trophies.
We soon discovered that the eleven towns were in a ferment of
excitement. Most dreadful tales were rife with regard to us and our
work. Some asserted that we cut off heads and hung them up to dry; that
in drying, they turned white. Others reported that with knives, made for
the purpose, we sliced off the ears of unfortunate indians, close to
their heads. Still others reported that we had a frightful instrument
which was fitted into the nose, and by means of which we tore strips
of flesh and skin from the face of the subject. It was said, and quite
likely truly, that they were arming in all the houses; that _machetes_,
guns, pistols, and clubs were laid convenient to hand.
The next day was Sunday, and we made no attempt to continue work. It was
market-day, and indians from all the pueblos had gathered in the _plaza_
to buy and sell. All were pure in blood and spoke Tarascan. Fruits,
sugar-cane, corn, _tortillas, atole_, coffee, were the chief staples.
Stocks of pottery were attractively displayed. Two characteristic wares
are both pretty. Most typical, perhaps, is the black and green ware
which is made into bowls, plates, mugs, and pitchers. The clay of which
it is baked is local and dark brown in color; a white earth applied to
this, on baking, gives rise to a rich metallic green glaze. Designs are
painted upon this in black. This black and green ware goes far and
wide, and everywhere is recognized as coming from the Once Pueblos. At
Huancito and some other pueblos, they make little _canteras_ with a red
ground and decorative designs in black and white. One thing, offered in
the market, was new to us, dishes full of _ucuares_--long, irregular,
swollen, dry, brown objects that looked like stewed worms with thick and
fleshy skins. One _centavo_ bought far more than any person would be
likely to eat; even after having been stewed in sugar, they were bitter,
and had a foul smell that was most unpleasant; they appeared to be roots
or tubers of some plant.
Naturally, our work had attracted much attention in Chilchota. No one
of the many dozen visitors who came to see us at the _meson_ was so
profoundly impressed as a boy of fourteen, named Ignacio. Appearing
early in the morning, he remained with us almost all the hours of the
twenty-four. Thinking that the effect on the villagers might be good,
I decided to ride in the afternoon through the pueblos. When the
_presidente_ discovered my intention, he insisted upon supplying a
mounted and armed escort, and at the same time gave me a general letter
to the eleven towns, in which strict orders were given that my wishes
should be respected, and dire threats made in case any one should show
me aught but the greatest consideration. Ignacio accompanied me. Riding
through the towns, we passed far enough beyond Huancito to see the most
remote of the eleven pueblos. They are separated somewhat from the rest,
and lie rather higher up in a bend of the valley. Everywhere I took some
pains to talk with the people, to visit their houses, to examine their
pottery, their bees and their growing crops, as I felt that such an
interest would help us in our work. On our return, Ignacio told me that
he should stay to dinner with us, as he much preferred to do so to going
home. He also told me that it would be a great pity to lose the theatre,
which was to take place that evening. Accordingly, after dinner was
over, we went to see the play. I expected that at that season of the
year it would be a _pastorela_--and in fact it had been so announced.
It was, however, a true drama, and one of the
funniest--unintentionally--imaginable. The stage was set in the middle
of the _patio_ of a large house. The boy insisted that we would be late,
and so we went at 7:15, although the bill announced the hour as 8. The
spectators brought their own chairs with them. Except a few youngsters,
no one arrived before 9, and the curtain at last rose at a quarter
before eleven. Among the last to arrive was the _presidente_ and his
party. He was resplendent in a cape of crimson velvet with brilliant
yellow facings. Hardly was his party seated, when we were politely
invited to sit with them. Three acts were rendered, and while waiting
for the fourth, one of the party declared that there would be eleven
more. This gave the _presidente_ an opportunity to relate an experience
of his own. On one occasion, after watching a play from seven in the
evening until four in the morning, the stage broke down; the management
appeared and apologized regarding the accident, particularly, since some
twenty acts were still to have been rendered. Our play, however, turned
out to have had but eight acts, and one of these was omitted. When it
should have been given, the whole troupe appeared upon the platform;
the manager announced the reason why the act would not be given, but
promised that on the following Sunday, in another play, an extra act
should be inserted, in order that all might receive the full value of
their money. Our play ended at one, when the audience dispersed.
Needing but two more subjects, we looked about Chilchota the next day,
hoping to find indians from the more remote villages, who might permit
their busts to be made. Two excellent cases were found. The last was a
man from Carapan, the most remote of the eleven towns. He was a man of
forty years, whose father accompanied him, and both were for a long time
dubious about the operation. Finally, however, consent was given and the
bust was made. As he arose and dressed to go, I said, "Did I tell you
the truth? Did the operation hurt you, or did it not? Was there a reason
why you should not have your bust made?" He promptly answered, "Sir, you
told me truth; the operation did not hurt me and there surely is no harm
in it; but, sir, you can hardly believe what an excitement this work has
caused in our town. Yesterday, in the market-place at Chilchota, there
were more than twenty men from Carapan who carried weapons in their
clothing. We had selected leaders and arranged signals, and at the first
sign of an attack from your party, we were prepared to sell our lives
dearly."
It was a work of time to fill the moulds and pack the busts. Before
we were ready to start upon our journey, it was half-past four in the
afternoon. True wisdom would have suggested waiting until morning.
Time, however, was precious, and I hoped to make Cheran that night;
consequently, though against the advice of many, we started out, with
eight leagues to go, over a road with a bad reputation, and at some
points difficult to traverse. For a little distance, we followed the
familiar trail down through the pueblos, but at Tanaquillo we turned
up into the mountain. The ascent was steady until we reached the pass,
through which an icy wind drove down upon us. We could hope to make the
distance in six hours. At first we met many persons, all of whom warned
us that we would be late in arriving, and recommended that we should
stop at Rancho Seco. We had no intention of so doing, but knew that
we must turn at that point into a new road. Between sunset and bright
moonlight, there was an interval of darkness, and in that interval we
must have passed the turning which led to Rancho Seco. At all events,
we presently found ourselves entirely at a loss, wandering over a rocky
hill covered with brush, amid which the trail had entirely disappeared.
Retracing, as well as we could, our road, we finally found ourselves
upon another trail which we followed until 9:30, when we met a little
band of indians, the first whom we had seen for a long time. From them
we found that we were not upon the road for Cheran, but at the edge of
a slope at the bottom of which was a little indian town, Tanaco.
Descending to it, we found a house where they agreed to shelter us for
the night, and in the _tienda_ near by we bought hard bread and old
cheese. We were sheltered in a substantially built room, into which the
cold air did not penetrate. The indians with whom we were staying were
unusually intelligent; a number of books, including a large dictionary,
lay upon the table, and the men, who crowded in upon us, were anxious to
learn the English words for common things. This was an experience which
rarely happened to us in indian Mexico. The people, however, were not
quite sure of our intentions, and Nabor said that when he went to water
the horses, a committee of village folk waited upon him, asking whether
we were the party of white men who had been skinning live indians over
in the Once Pueblos.
There were four leagues between us and Cheran, and many more beyond it
to Patzcuaro, where we hoped to arrive the next night. Accordingly, we
made an early start. Our host agreed to pilot us over the indistinct and
tortuous bridle-path to the high-road. Many little mountains, almost
artificially regular, arose in the otherwise plain country. As we rode
along the trail we saw the church of Parracho far behind us in the
distance. The latter part of the road, after Cheran was once in sight,
seemed hopelessly long, but a little before ten o'clock we pulled up at
the _meson_. We at once made arangements for food for ourselves and the
horses, and determined to rest until noon. Our reputation had preceded
us. I asked a child at the _meson_ to bring me a mug of water. When he
brought it, I noticed that the mug was of the characteristic black and
green ware of the Once Pueblos, but asked the boy where it was made.
With a cunning look, he answered, "O yes, that comes from where you
people have been,--up at the Once Pueblos." And yet we had not come over
the road from the Once Pueblos, but by the main highway from Parracho.
Rested and refreshed, we started at 12:30 for the long fourteen leagues
of journey. We passed Pichataro, where the round paddles for Patzcuaro
canoes are made, and where the applewood, so prized as material for
spear-throwers, is procured. We passed Sabina, where the canoes
themselves are hollowed out, miles from their launching place, to which
they must be carried over mountains. Each town we passed made me more
and more uneasy, as I knew that Nabor contemplated revolt. He did not
like the idea of too long a journey for his horses. He wished to stop
long before the goal that I had fixed. When we left the last of the
important towns behind us, I felt for the first time secure. It was now
dark, and we found the roads far worse than we remembered them. They
were worn into deep gullies, into which our horses fell and over which
they stumbled. Long before reaching Ajuno I felt convinced that we had
missed the road, but we floundered on, and never was sight more welcome
than the light of fires shining through the cane walls of the wretched
huts of that miserable town. Here there was a final council regarding
resting for the night. The whole party, except myself, considered Ajuno
as a capital resting-place. All yielded, however, and we continued on
our way. It was almost midnight when we rode up to the hotel, upon the
_plaza_ in quaint old Patzcuaro. All were cross and tired; neither
crossness nor weariness were helped when we were told that there was no
room for us at the inn. We made such vigorous representations, however,
that the doors were finally thrown open. An old store-house was cleaned
out and supplied with decent beds, and a good supper was served.