In Indian Mexico (1908)

by Frederick Starr

TZOTZILS FROM HUIXTAN

There were various signs of the approach of Holy Week, and the landlady at our hotel, and her various helpers, were busy manufacturing incense for that occasion. This was made in sticks, as thick as the thumb, and six or eight inches in length, of a black color. Besides copal, leaves and other materials from various kinds of odorous plants were employed in its fabrication; the incense thus made is really fragrant, and it would be interesting to know whether it is, in part at least, of indian origin. In three days we had completed our examination of the men, but not a woman had been produced for examination. On the fourth day, we reiterated our demands to the authorities, and Don Murcio, the janitor or messenger, who had been put subject to our order, was almost frantic. He declared that to secure the women we needed would tax every power of the government; that they refused to come; that his mere appearance in the market caused a scattering. Finally, we told him, that if he would provide twenty-five Chamula women, we would get the Tzendals in their villages, as we passed through them. Encouraged, by having one-half of our demand abated, he made another visit to the market. Soon we heard excited voices, and a moment later Don Murcio came rushing up the stairs with both arms filled with black chamaras. It is the custom of the indian women, when they come to market, and settle down with wares to sell, to fold their heavier garments and lay them on the ground beside them. Don Murcio had gathered up the first of these he came to, and fled with them to the government palace, while the crowd of angry women, chasing along behind, expressed their feelings vigorously. Putting the garments out of reach, the women were told by the officials, that each would receive back her property as soon as the strangers made their desired measurements. While we were dealing with the first cluster, Don Murcio sallied forth, and returned once more with garments and women. In this way, the work proceeded, until the final lot were in our hands. Not to unnecessarily increase their terrors, we had refrained from photographing, until the final company had been secured. We had told the officials of our plan, and as these later ones were measured, they were told that they must wait for their garments until the last one was measured, and until the gentleman had done some other work. When all had been measured, it was explained to the six of seven in the group, that they were to go down into the patio, where a picture would be taken of the company. That they might be properly prepared for the picture, their garments were returned. Suspecting no treachery, Don Murcio led the way, and one of two police officers accompanied the forward part of the procession, while Louis brought up the rear, in expectation of making the portrait. All went well until the first two or three had entered the patio, when the rest suddenly balked, and started to run out onto the street. Hearing the confusion, I started down and caught one of the women as she neared the doorway, while Louis held another, and each of the police officers, and Don Murcio, seized a prisoner. So violent, however, were the struggles, and so loud the outcries of the woman whom I held, that I released her, which was the unintended signal for each of the other guards to do the same, and our group vanished and all thought of gathering a second was given up in desperation.

TZOTZIL BROTHERS; CHAMULA

TZENDAL FATHER AND SON; TENEJAPA

The morning had thus passed; animals for the further journey had been ordered for ten o'clock, and were really ready a little before three. For once, however, we were not prepared. It was our custom to pack the busts in petroleum boxes; these boxes, each holding a five-gallon can of oil, are of just the size to take a single bust, and they are so thin and light, yet at the same time, so well constructed, that they served our purpose admirably. In small indian towns, they are frequently unobtainable, but in the places where mestizos live, it had been always easy to procure them, at prices varying from ten to twenty-five cents each. In a town the size of San Cristobal, it should be easy to get them; to our surprise, we found that they had been in such demand, for carrying purposes by public workmen, that the supply was small and the price outrageous. We had left the securing of the boxes and the packing of the busts to our plaster-worker, and, though we knew he had had difficulty, imagined that he had secured all needed, and that the busts would be all ready. Diligent search, however, had secured but two boxes, and ridiculous prices had been demanded for those. All of us took to the streets, visiting stores and private houses, and at last five boxes were secured, though they were a dilapidated lot, with bad covers. For these we paid an average of sixty-two cents each. Realizing the time and labor necessary for securing boxes, stuff for packing, and for the work of putting up the busts, we dismissed our horsemen, and arranged for leaving the next morning. In fact, night had fallen before our work was done. Leaving a little before eight, we had a magnificent mountain ride. For a league or more, we rose steadily over a cart-road; keeping at a high altitude, and, with but little of ups and downs, we journeyed through fine pine forests, with oaks mingled, here and there, among the pines. We met quantities of Chamula and Tenejapa indians on their way to market. The Chamulas carried chairs, loads of well-tanned skins, and sacks full of little, round wooden boxes, well and neatly made, while the Tenejapes were loaded with nets of oranges, limas, and ahuacates. We were sorry to leave the village of Chamula to one side, but lack of time forbade our visiting it. It was amusing to note the terror of our arriero on the road. Until we passed Cancuc, he was constantly expecting attack from the dreadful indians of Chamula, Tenejapa, and Cancuc, telling us that such attacks might be expected at any time, but particularly in the early morning and in the dusk of evening. What indians we met were most gentle, and answered our salutations with apparent kindness. After a long journey on the high, smooth road, we finally began descending into a pretty valley, and soon saw the great town of Tenejapa, below us, on a space almost as level as a floor, neatly laid out, and still decked with the arches erected for a recent fiesta. The agente of the town had been warned of our coming, by telephone from the jefatura, and received us warmly, a little before one o'clock, giving us a large and comfortable room in the municipal building, supplied with chairs and benches, and a table, though without beds or mats. We were here delayed by the slowness of the old man, who had been furnished at San Cristobal for carrying our instruments. By three o'clock, all was ready, and the twenty-five women were summoned. They gave no kind of trouble, and by six o'clock the work was done. Women here braid their hair in two braids, which are wrapped about closely with cords, making them look like red ropes; these are then wound around the head and picturesquely fastened. The huipíls of cotton are short, and decorated with scattered designs, worked in color, and loosely arranged in transverse bands. Belts are of wool, red in color, and broad, but not long. Over their shoulders the women wear, particularly in cool weather, a red and blue striped cotton shawl or wrap. The red worn—whether in belts, wraps, or hair-strings—is all of one shade, a dull crimson-red. As night fell, dozens of little bonfires were lighted in the plaza, made from cobwork piles of fat-pine. People were already gathering from other pueblos for market, and many of them slept through the night in the open market-place. The band played a mournful piece, repeatedly, during the evening, and some rockets were fired—no doubt, the tailing-off of the late fiesta.

CLOSE OF MARKET, TENEJAPA