Strange to say, in spite of the high elevation, there is fever and ague here; the alcalde told me that he had an attack every second day.
As Easter was at hand, there was quite a concourse of people, nearly 300 Indians assembling. Oxen were killed, and general eating and feasting went on. I attended the communal feast, and dishes of food were brought to me. In accordance with the Indian custom not to eat much on the spot, I had my men carry some of the food to the camp, as a welcome addition to our monotonous diet and scanty stores; and we found that, aside from the usual Indian dishes, they comprised bananas, salted fish, honey, and squashes.
The authorities newly elected for the ensuing year gave a similar entertainment to their predecessors in office. At the home of the “Centurion,” the principal official of the Easter festival, a rustic table and benches had been erected outside of the house. I was invited to sit down among the men of quality, and it was phenomenal to be present at an Indian banquet served on a table, the only occasion of the kind in my experience. As the table was small, the diners were served in turns, one set after another. Each guest had a man to wait on him, but there was neither table-cloth nor knife, fork nor spoon. It was, if you like, a déjeuner à la fourchette, except that you were supposed to handle the solid food with pieces of tortilla, that were broken off, folded over, and used as a fork, or rather, spoon, and were eaten with the meat. After the meat had all been fished out, you drank the soup from your bowl or plate. If you could not manage with the tortilla, you were excused for using your fingers. When a bowl or plate was set before an Indian guest, the latter took it up and immediately handed it to his wife, standing behind him, who emptied it into the jars she had brought for that purpose. There was meat with its broth; meat ground on the metate, boiled, and mixed with chile; and atole to drink with it, all fresh and excellent. As I was hungry, I pitched in, although at first I was the only one who ate, which was rather embarrassing. But by and by the others, too, began to eat, perhaps out of politeness. They were pleased, however, that I enjoyed their food, and I did enjoy it, after the poorly assorted diet we had been obliged to maintain. Although the variety of dishes of primitive man is exceedingly limited, such of them as they have are well prepared. The dinner was the best I ever had among Indians. The party was pleasant and animated, and the banquet-hall extended to the pines and mountains around and the azure sky above.
During the night there was dancing on the tarima, a broad plank resting on stumps. Dancing on the plank is said to be customary throughout the Tierra Caliente of the northwest. One man and one woman dance simultaneously, facing though not touching each other. The dancing consists in a rhythmical jumping up and down on the same spot, and is known to all the so-called Christian Indians wherever the violin is played, although nowhere but among the Coras have I seen it executed on the plank. It is called la danza, and is distinct from the aboriginal sacred dances, although it may have been a native dance somewhere in Mexico. La danza is merely a ventilation of merriment, indulged in when the Indians are in high spirits after church feasts, and may sometimes be executed even in church.
Gradually the people submitted to being photographed, even the women. One evening when I changed plates under two wagon-covers in an old empty house, a curious crowd gathered outside and knocked at the door, wanting to know what was going on and to see the secret rites I was performing.
After a few days of deliberation the Indians consented to show me their dancing-place, or, as they expressed it, their tūnamóti (the musical bow).
Chapter XXVIII
A Glimpse of the Pacific from the High Sierra—A Visionary Idyl—The Coras Do Not Know Fear—An Un-Indian Indian—Pueblo of Jesus Maria—A Nice Old Cora Shaman—A Padre Denounces Me as a Protestant Missionary—Trouble Ensuing from His Mistake—Scorpions.
After a fortnight’s stay I said good-bye to Santa Teresa. The alcalde, who had become quite friendly, accompanied me over the llano on which his pueblo lies, extending, interspersed with pine forests, for about three miles west. He begged me not to forget the Coras when I came to the Governor of the Territory of Tepic, and to ask the Mexican Government to let them keep their old customs, which he had heard they were going to prohibit. This fear, I think, was unfounded. He also wanted me to use my influence toward preventing the whites from settling in the vicinity, since they were eager to get at the big forests.