BEFORE REACHING UNION HIDALGO
It was easy to locate four broken ribs behind, and he complained of great internal bleeding. It seemed that he had started to climb up onto his moving cart in the usual way, and the stake which he had seized broke, letting him fall to the ground under the wheel of the heavily-loaded cart, which passed over his body.
Finally, all was ready, and at about five in the evening we started. Packed like sardines in a box, we were most uncomfortable. Personally, I did not try to sleep, neither lying down, nor closing my eyes. Shortly after leaving town, we crossed a running stream, and from the other side went over a piece of corduroy, upon which we jounced and jolted. Soon after, we descended into a little gully, from which our team had difficulty in drawing us. The baggage-cart had a more serious time; the team made several attempts to drag it up the slope, but failed, even though our whole company, by pushing and bracing, encouraging and howling, aided. There was a real element of danger in such help, the slipping animals and the back-sliding cart constantly threatening to fall upon the pushers. Finally, the cart was propped upon the slope, and its own team removed; our team, which was heavier and stronger, was then hitched on, but it was only with a hard tug, and with heavy pushing, that success was gained, and the cart reached the summit of the slope. We crossed a fine marsh of salt water, quite like the lagoon at San Mateo del Mar, and were told that we were not far from the Juave town of San Dionisio. From here, the country, was, for a distance, an open plain. With the moonlight, the night was almost as bright as day; cold winds swept sheets of sand and dust over us. At one o'clock, we happened upon a cluster of six or eight carts, drawn up for rest, and the company of travellers were warming themselves at little fires, or cooking a late supper. We learned that this gypsy-like group was a compania comica, a comic theatre troupe, who had been playing at Tuxtla, and were now on their way to Juchitan. We never before realized that such travelling of ox-carts as we were now experiencing was a regular matter, and that the carter's trade is a real business. At two o'clock, we stopped to repack our loads, but were shortly on the way again. After the sun rose, we were in misery; the road was deep with dust, and we were grimy, hot, and choking. When the cross that marks the beginning of the land belonging to Ixhuatlan was pointed out, we were delighted, but it was still a long ride before we crossed the little stream and rode into the village.
Ixhuatlan is like all the Zapotec towns of this district, but less clean, on account of its lying in the midst of dust, instead of sand. Our carts drew up in a little grove, a regular resting-place for carting companies, where more than fifteen were already taking their daytime rest. Having ordered breakfast, we hastened to the stream, where all enjoyed a bath and cleansing. Coffee, bread, tortillas, eggs, and brandied peaches, made a good impression, and we ordered our buxom young Zapotec cook, who was a hustler, to have an equally good dinner ready at 2:30. We set this hour, believing that she would be late, but she was more than prompt, and called us at two to a chicken dinner. It was interesting to watch the carreteros in the grove. The scenes of starting and arriving, packing and unpacking, chaffing and quarreling, were all interesting. In the lagoons of Vera Cruz, our boatmen applied the term jornada to a straight stretch across a lagoon made at one poling; here among the carreteros, the word jornada means the run made from resting-place to resting-place. In neither case is strict attention paid to the original meaning of the word, a day's journey. Ixhuatlan is a made town; a paternal government, disturbed over the no progress of the pure Juaves in their seaside towns, set aside the ground on which this town now rests, and moved a village of Juaves to the spot. High hopes were expressed for the success of the experiment; now, however, the town is not a Juave town. It is true, that a few families of that people still remain, but for the most part, the Juaves have drifted back to the shore, and resumed their fishing, shrimp-catching and salt-making, while the expansive Zapotecs have crowded in, and practically make up the population of the place. Between dinner and our starting, we wandered about the village, dropping into the various houses in search of relics. As elsewhere, we were impressed with the independent bearing and freeness of the Zapotec woman. She talks with everyone, on any subject, shrewdly. She loves to chaff, and is willing to take sarcasm, as freely as she gives it. In one house we had a specially interesting time, being shown a lot of things. The woman had some broken pottery figures of ancient times, but also produced some interesting crude affairs of modern make from Juchitan. These were figures of men and women—the latter generally carrying babies in indian fashion—of horses and other animals. As works of art, they make no pretension, but they are stained with native colors, and are used as gifts at New Year's by the common people. Here we saw the making of baked tortillas, and sampled some hot from the oven. Such tortillas are called tortillas del horno—oven tortillas. Flat tortillas, about the size of a fruit-plate, are fashioned in the usual way; a great olla is sunk in the ground until its mouth is level with the surface. This is kept covered by a comal, or a smaller olla, and a good hot fire of coals is kept burning within. When the tortillas have been shaped, they are stuck on the hot olla, being pressed against the sides, to which they adhere, and are left to bake. In baking, the edges curl up so that the cake, instead of being flat, is saucer-shaped. They are crisp and good. Leaving at four, we continued on the hot, deep, dusty road, but saw interesting plants and animals along the way. There were fine displays of the parasitic fig, from examples where the parasite was just beginning to embrace its victim, through cases where it had surrounded the tree with a fine network of its own material, to those where the original tree-trunk was entirely imbedded in the great continuous gray investing trunk of the parasite, now larger than its host. Some trees bore bunches of pale-purple flowers of tubular form, which fell easily from the calyx, and dotted the ground along the roadside. Other trees appeared as if covered with veils of little purplish-red flowers hung over them. Others were a mass of golden bloom, the flowers being about the size of cherry blossoms. A few trees, yet leafless, showed large, brilliant white flowers at the tips of rather slender branches. At Ixhuatlan, we saw the first monkey's comb of the trip. This orange-yellow flower, growing in clusters so curiously shaped as to suggest the name, is among the most characteristic, from this point on through Chiapas into Guatemala. There were but few birds, but among them were macaws and toucans. Eustasio said that in the season, when certain berry-bearing trees are in full fruit, the latter may be seen by hundreds.
When night had really fallen, I unwisely sat in front with the driver, to prevent his sleeping, and to keep the animals moving. Both drivers had a way of dozing off, utterly regardless of the movements of the animals or the dangers of the road. Carts going in opposite directions must often depend absolutely upon the oxen for their chance of escaping collisions or being thrown over precipices. Frequently the animals themselves stop, and the whole company is at a standstill until the driver wakes up. In this jornada, we had planned to reach La Frontera, the border of the state of Chiapas, at which place we had been promised we should arrive at 8:30 in the morning. Everything had gone well, and we were just about to reach the place, where it was planned to repack for the last time; it was just daylight, and Eustasio was congratulating us upon our prompt arrival; we drove to the brink of a dry stream, on the other side of which was our resting-place; just at that instant, we heard the other driver cry out; we stopped, and found that the baggage-cart was overturned. This dashed all hopes. There was unhitching, unloading, the making of a new axle, and reloading. It was plain that we could not reach La Frontera. While the men were putting things to rights, we strolled up the dry stream-bed to a shanty, where Eustasio told us we could breakfast. There was a well there, with fresh water, and the shanty, for the refreshment of travellers, consisted of nothing but a little shelter of poles. Here, however, we found baked tortillas, atole, and hard meat; the breakfast for four persons, cost twenty-five centavos, equal to ten cents American money. Through the day, birds were hunted and skinned, reading and writing carried on, until at half-past-three in the afternoon we were again ready for movement. The road was now sandy, and not dusty, the sand being produced by the decomposition of crystalline rocks. Mounting to a high llano, we shot a pair of curious birds, which looked like water-birds, but were living in a dry place and were able to run with great speed. They were of the size of a hen, and had a long beak, long legs and four flat though not webbed toes. At the end of this high llano, we passed the Hacienda of Agua Blanca, a property belonging to the jefe of Juchitan. From here, we descended rapidly over a poor road, coming out at nine onto the straight road from Tapanatepec, at this point four leagues behind us. From here on, the whole road was familiar to me. La Frontera was just ahead, and, arriving there at 10 o'clock, we spent an hour. Before us rose a massive mountain, the ascent of which seemed appalling. We could see a white line of road zigzagging up its side, and well remembered Governor Leon's pride in having constructed a cart-road against great natural difficulties. Thirty or forty ox-teams had gathered here, either ready to make the ascent, or resting, after having come down the mountain. Having gotten breath and courage, we started at about eleven. The road had suffered during the five years since I last passed over it, but was still an excellent work of engineering. As we mounted, zigzagging constantly, the magnificent view over the valley widened; each new turn increased its beauty. My companions were asleep, and had had so little rest recently, that I hated to disturb them for the view. When, however, we were two-thirds up the slope, they awakened, and were as delighted as myself. We all got out, and walked for a considerable distance. An astonishing number of little streams and pools of fresh water burst forth from the rocks, and cut across the road or flowed along its sides. Finally, we reached the summit, and began the descent. This had made no impression on me when I went over it on horseback, but travelling in an ox-cart was a different matter, and I shall never again forget it. It was less abrupt than the ascent—less of vertical zigzag, and more of long steady windings. It also was excavated in the solid rock. It was badly neglected, and the cart jolted, and threatened every instant to upset us, or leap into the gulf. Coming out into a more level district, we passed Paraje and Dolores, reaching Carizal at five, where we stopped for the day. This is a regular resting place for carreteros, and there were plenty of carts there for the day.
As soon as the oxen were unyoked, I turned out my companions and lay down in the cart, trying to get an hour's sleep before the sun should rise, as I had not closed my eyes since leaving Union Hidalgo two days before. I was asleep at once, but in less than an hour was awakened by the assaults of swarms of minute black-flies, whose stings were dreadful. The rest of the company suffered in the same way, so we all got up and went to work. A group of carreteros breakfasting, invited me to eat with them—hard tortillas, atole and salted meat, formed a much better breakfast than we got, a little later, at the house upon the hill where travellers eat their meals. At this house they had a little parrot which was very tame, and also a chacalacca, which had been hatched by a domestic hen from a captured egg. This bird is more slender and graceful than a hen, but our landlord informed us that its eggs are much larger than those of the common fowl, and much used for food. Both this bird and the little parrot regularly fly off with flocks of their wild fellows, but always come back afterward to the house. This was a most interesting example of an intermediate stage between true wildness and domescation. There was little doing throughout the day. Heat, black-flies, and sunlight all made it impossible to sleep; but we took a bath in the running brook, and skinned some birds, and tasted posole for the first time. Posole is a mixture of pounded or ground corn and sugar, of a yellow or brownish color, much like grape-nuts. It may be eaten dry, but is much more commonly mixed with water. The indian dips up a jícara full of clear spring water, and then, taking a handful of posole from his pouch, kneads it up until a rather thick, light-yellow liquid results, which is drunk, and is refreshing and satisfying.
A DAY REST; THE CARIZAL
MARIMBA PLAYING; HACIENDA DE ZAPOTE