2003 Before the Avenida Pino Suarez Cleanup
In Mexico City the corner
of Pino Suarez and Republica De El Salvador is alive with human traffic, like a
continuous undulating ribbon of half empty souls. The streets are lined with
people selling goods, and tourists edging towards the Zocalo. However all seem
oblivious to a deteriorating plaque pegged to the wall on the side of a Church
and the Hospital of Jesús Nazareno supposedly marking the spot on the causeway where
Hernán Cortés, cocooned in steel, and the feathered Moctezuma II met for the
first time in 1519. This plaque marks the most decisive event in the history of
the Americas.
It was Cortés who ordered the hospital
built to tend to soldiers wounded fighting with the Mexicas. It is the oldest western
hospital in this hemisphere. In fact Cortés' remains were placed in the church
section in 1774. At the same time a bust was created of the conquistador. This
was highly unusual for there are few memorials to the man who brought the Spanish
language, catholicism, social upheaval, and great suffering to Mexico. One time a plaque inside the church
indicated the conquiatador’s tomb. However, in August 1882, there was a
proposal to move the remains and place them next to those of some of the heroes
of Mexican War of Independence, but this caused great clamor. Some even
attempted to desecrate the tomb in the church. The remains were discreetly
removed to another site.
On the opposite side of this
famous corner stands El Museo De La Ciudad De Mexico. Originally the museum was
a residence constructed in the baroque style of the era for
one of Hernán Cortés’s supporters. One corner of the museum has incorporated into its construction the
large carved stone head of a serpent salvaged from the conquered city of
Tenochitlan . The architectural contrasts are remarkable. The euopean baroque
masonry of rectangular shapes, arches,
and walls faced in red lava tiles co-opted from the fallen city itself all now
tread upon the head of a wincing snake.
When Hernan Cortes, the
conquistador, and his men entered the city of Tenochitlan for the first time in
1519, it seemed to float upon Lake Texcoco. They were dwarfed by its
magnificence. The encounter was recorded in the accounts of Bernal Diaz Del
Castillo, a footsoldier in Cortes’ army:
“Within the lake of Texcoco and all around its
edges were countless dwellings. Three causeways led from the mainland to the
island center of the city, and a grid of canals laced the Metropolis. The lake
and the canals were filled with canoes and the whole scene was alive with
people. (Estimates indicate that the full zone of the city embraced 60,000
dwellings and 300,000 persons. ) When we saw so many
cities and villages built in the water and other great towns on dry land we
were amazed and said that it was like the enchantments on account of the great
towers and cues and buildings rising from the water, and all built of masonry.
And some of our soldiers even asked whether the things that we saw were not a
dream? I do not know how to describe it, seeing things as we did that had never
been heard of or seen before, not even dreamed about.”
Cortes returned in1521 and with the help of his
multi lingual concubine, Malinche, alliances were formed with tribes that were
enemies of the Aztecs, and perhaps with his most important ally, small pox, he
advanced on the Empire. Cortes prevailed.
During the final seige, Cortes’s army began
to systematically level the city in order to create a battlefield cleared of
any obstructions. The Spanish destroyed the
fresh water aqueduct and slowly advanced tumbling the buildings and filling the
canals with their debris as smallpox, that unseen ally, continued to devastate
the population. The defeat was nearly complete. All that was remained was used
to rebuild a new world order atop the ruins. It was to resemble a classic european
city using the very bones of Tenochitlan.
Chiapas
It is said the
people of Chiapas are a people without a history yet for at least two thousand
years the Mayan culture flourished in Central America. The conquest didn’t
erase the history of the people of Chiapas, it ignored it. All people, great
and small, create histories. First there are trickling springs that seep from
the cracks of ancient stones, joining to form small brooks, that empty into
larger streams to eventually become rivers that flow from a region. The rivers
are more evident.
Luis Marin, one of Cortez’s officers
arrived in Chiapas 1523. After three years of battle with the indigenous
population Marin was not able to exert complete control. The Indians of the
highlands resisted ferociously. Cortez dispatched a new
military expedition under the command of Diego de Mazariegos who had more
success. Faced with capture and inevitable slavery, many indigenous warriors
chose death over the loss of freedom. In the Battle of Tepetchia, many Indians
jumped to their deaths into the deep Cañon del Sumidero. After that indigenous
resistance weakened. By the end of 1528, the conquest of Chiapas was complete,
with both the Tzotzil and Tzeltal Indians subjugated and repressed. On March
31, 1528, Captain Mazariegos established Ciudad Real in the Valley of
Jovel. Ciudad Real was later renamed San
Cristóbal de las Casas.
On
the afternoon of October 12, 1992, there was a protest march of indigenous
peoples in San Cristóbal de las Casas. In front of the intricately carved
sandstone façade of the temple of Santo Domingo stood the monument to Diego de
Mazariegos, founder of the city. One man attacked the statue with a
sledgehammer and then the crowd closed in reducing it to fragments, taken as
souvenirs. One noted symbol of the conquest was erased, five hundred years
after the bloody conquest and its subsequent oppressions.
Prologue
It was said once in a book that people who dwell in the mountains
theoretically live just a little longer than those below. They spin faster
relative to those that live at lower altitudes because they are perched upon
the margins of the planet,,, just as a bicycle wheel rim spins faster than its
axel in order to cover the greater distance of its perimeter at the same time
that the axel makes one revolution. The climate is different in the mountains,,
usually more temperate. The sunlight is more intense in the thinner air. The
atmosphere is compressed as it flows over the peaks and increases in velocity,
distorting and stretching the shapes of the clouds it bears making them seem as
if they were high jumpers leaping over a bar. Mountains have figured prominently
in human mythology, as the lofty place where Gods roam. They are gateways to
heaven,, and sometimes portals to hell. Spirits are said to haunt the peaks of
these disturbances in the earth’s skin. People living in the mountains are like
those living on an island, isolated,, sequestered. Their home, an atoll pierces
an ocean of sky.
Chapter I
Primavera1890
She often climbed Monte De Plata to
collect plants. Monte de Plata was an an ancient volcano, elongated and flat
topped, its sides deeply furrowed and blanketed in a quilt of pine and oak. It
was called Monte De Plata not because there were deposits of silver but because
of its color in the afternoons when the afternoon sun struck the bunches of ocote
needles. Then the trees resembled a sheeps rolling fleece glistening argentine.
On the way up, close to the path, she passed a small deep stagnant pool, edged
in thicket and viney arabesques, just a
saturated pocket in the mountainside that yielded special plants, not suited to
the higher richer well drained forest. The mountain was an agreeable place.The
summit’s deep friable soil supported an old growth woodland, moist all of the
year, which provided a good habitat for gathering. Where a broad crowned oak or
a tall tubular ocote had long ago crashed to the earth having perished from old
age or strikes by lightning, vast holes were torn in the thick forest canopy which
allowed wide shafts of light to enter illuminating portions of the woodland
floor. The now prostrate rotting trunks were smoothed and muted by deep carpets
of moss, ferns, treelets, and a diverse assortment of plants. It was early yet,
perhaps 11:30, and the day was growing hot. Her bags of ixtle were almost
filled with many small sheaves each neatly tied with a sedge leaf. Cloak fern,
deer’s tongue, and gorse had been taken from the wetter areas. From the forest
she gleaned pokeweed, wild geranium, pimpernel, burr cucumber, verbena,
heliotrope, nightshade, and much more.
“The foraging has been fruitful by God’s
good grace”, she said to herself.
A fresh breeze aroused the trees from
their apathy and they began to whisper, declaring their presence.
“They
are gossiping about their neighbors”,,,, she thought, a little amused.
She began to move towards the path taking
a few steps when a sound rent the air. Chi,,,, Chi,,, Chi,, Chi, ta
chiiiiiiiii. A rattle, like a vigorously
shaken cup of hard dried peas penetrated the air. She knew immediately what it
was but could not locate the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from
everywhere. The rattle grew in intensity accompanied by a hiss. She remained
still and scanned the terrain before her,, then her eyes caught the slightest
of movements. She had surprised a large albino cascabel, coiled in the sunlight a few feet to her left on a
large flat stone. Its long rattle stood erect vibrating rapidly. She startled and a chill came over her but
soon she recuperated her poise. Her mother had taught her composure in the face
of any change in the landscape.
She studied the snake with her eyes,
assessing his behavior, then spoke aloud and deliberately with a courtesy
backed by generations of reverence .
“Ahh, Q’uq’umatz, it is You, feathered
prince of the creation, Knowledgeable One, good day Master,, You who are the
Lord of change,, I honor Thee,, always,, and I ask pardon for this
trespass.” She began to move cautiously
to her right away from the snake while still speaking, now a little more
submissively. “I have not come to do harm, for You can see I am only a lowly
collector of plants, a healer of Your progeny,,, those You have created. I
humbly ask Your permission to allow me my work. Let me say that I for one do not
believe all that is said of Your fierceness, but even if what they say is true,
You are the great transformer and are always capable of a change of heart,, and
You know me, as I am Thy respectful servant. If You will allow me to pass, when
I return I will make offerings unto You of zapote, cane liquor, and pumpkin.”
She saw that the snake followed her movements with its large diamond head as if
he were listening to her plea. His tongue slithered in and out as it probed the
air. The rattle ceased. When she had edged herself six meters away from the
snake, she bowed to him and said in gratitude, “Thank You, lordly One, we have
each made our promises. I will honor my vow. For seven days I will make
offerings unto You.”
When she reached the path she made her way
angling down along a route that ran below an exposed sheer rock face to a familiar
spring that emanated near the ground beneath a large square smooth expanse of
stone on the edge of a wide path. Water collected in a small clear pool flecked
with grayish pieces of limestone that stood out against the dark bottom On the
other side of the path where the runlet exited down the hillside, the constant
trickle disappeared into the soil and tangled roots, however the water that was
perpetually seeping into the earth had left a wide trail of green for a great
distance on either side and there sustained columbine, mint, stinging nettle, and
horsetail.
The pool was like a tiny lake whose shoreline
was populated with feather foil and fairy moss. Here, in the shade she would rest,
eat, and quench her thirst before returning to her pueblo. She emancipated her
hair from her tight braids and let it loosely fall onto her shoulders as she
bent over the pool regarding her reflection for a long moment. The spring
marked the time dripping haphazardly from a large patch of spongy saturated
plants pegged to the stone. Cupping her hands she dipped them into the pool
disturbing the surface, creating wavelets upon which floated her distorted
image. She applied cool water to her face and neck, filled her gourd, and drank deeply. The water
was fresh and delightfully tasteless like water at its best. All was perfect
and tranquil. The sound of a primavera calling his mate gave depth to the
forest.
She crouched before water and woods for a
moment awash in satisfaction yet before she could reach for her cache of food,
a sharp sound trespassed upon the lush moment. She could hear the scrape and
clop of a horse’s hooves on the stony path. She stiffened with apprehension and
quickly scuffled to her feet. She haphazardly tried to arrange her ixtle bags. A
horse snorted and sniggered as he and his rider came up and into view. It was a
high stepping large chestnut and white paint. The rider ducked to avoid some
limbs. The movement drew her attention away from the paint and towards him. "He
wore high black leather boots, a long loose sleeved flaxen shirt, and coffee
colored riding breeches. His saddle and stirrups were studded with silver conchos.
The spurs of silver and colored rhythm beads adorned with small silver bells jingled,
sending out a bright metallic sound. The walnut butt of a rifle protruded from a
scabbard tied to the saddle.
She had been surprised by his jingling presence
and stared, yet at once sensed her gaze was indelicate, perhaps even indolent
and quickly returned her eyes to the the ground before her. The horse’s mouth
was lathered in spittle and his nose, which was tightly reined almost touched
his arched neck, while his head swayed from side to side with the rider’s
restraint. As it came to a stop the horse moved slightly sideways while high
trotting in place. She faced them, silent, eyes almost imperceptibly downward,
intimidated by the size of horse and horseman. The rider raised his head slightly
surveying the woman before him her hair freely flowing down as if he had caught
her at some mischief.
“Well, well, well”, he repeated resting on
the horn of his saddle. “What have we here,,,,, a dark one,, and, unbraided.”
She did not understand his words for she
spoke only Tzotzil. The saddle creaked like a new fire as he slowly dismounted.
He led the horse to the water. The thirsty animal bent and immediately began to
satisfy its thirst. It immersed its nose up to its nostrils, sucking loudly as
little islands of lathery spittle, separated from its mouth and floated upon
the pool. The rider then loosely tied the horse to a nearby bush.
“This is a beautiful place, is it not? All
stop here for the water.” He dismounted and strutted towards her and squatted before
the spring in front of her. His tall
leather boots stretched and creaked. He began to tap his goad upon his palm slowly
shaking his head as if agreeing with his own words, and repeated in a low
primeval voice “yes hija, the water here is the best in all my countryside,,,
cool,, clean,, refreshing. He stopped speaking, turned his head, revising her meager
possessions, then began again while indicating her bags of ixtle with his goad.
“I see you are collecting herbs. From where do you come?”
She was silent, still, with a cold
abstracted look which bolstered his social bearing. Five hundred years of
domination had bestowed upon him indignancy and unalienable rights, now
practically a genetically altered state. The same five hundred had relegated
her to a submissive role that imprisoned even the slightest movements of her
face. She must be blank, not to incite his rage.
“You are mute”,, he said his voice rising
with a slight chuckle. “No I think not,, you cannot understand a word of what I
am saying,,,,,, another ignorant indio,,,
but a fine specimen, handsome even,,,, that is true. You indios are a different
breed of human.”
He continued his dissertation feeling free
to express himself for they were alone. He was masked by this remote place and
her dumbness to his words. She stood motionless assessing the menacing sound of
his phrases and even though she could not understand she recognized the
domination in their tone.
“What plants have you gathered little one?
You and your kind know. Once we called on one of your curas when our son was
ill with an unbreakable fever. He gave him a mixture of herbs and teas and
warbled many unfamiliar sounds. The boy’s fever however did finally break.”
There
was a pause as he seemed pensive.
“Perhaps we could live side by side can
we not, or no? Not like dogs who argue over a scrap of fat but like animals
that know their belonging. There is a social contract written by man yet signed
by God.”
He looked up, his eyes squinting in a
philosophical haze.
“Forgive
me and my inebriation for I am afflicted with years of neglect and need help
for to heal. I for one do not believe you are all bestial and it is after all we
who have given you a life. We landed here by God’s will,,,”
There was a pause in the parody, then he
resumed with renewed vigor, “It
is a clear case of a civilized society entering a primeval realm”. He paused
and then added, “Look, I have seen you give yourselves to anyone for a mirror
or a handful of beads,,, coram populo,,, originally Jews I have read,,, dark and dirty
and smooth skinned.”
He then took note of the smoothness of
the flesh of her exposed upper arms. He stared at her midsection. She cautiously
bent stiffly and slowly down and awkwardly began to gather her things.
“Wait hija, don’t leave just yet”, and as
he said this he brought his goad around and touched her ankle like a doorstop. He
seemed to enjoy his own discursive soliloquy and wanted her audience and to
keep her in his gaze. He rose and she slowly stood more upright her things amassed
haphazardly in her arms. Her gourd fell to the ground. The horse whinnied and
snorted.
She
slowly bent down again to recover the gourd but he quickly spun on the balls of
his feet and arrived first. They both slowly stood while facing one another.
The scent of leather plugged her nostrils. The tart self indulgent sound of his
words and his ultimate actions triggered fear. He held the gourd not really offering
it. She managed to extend two fingers into the mouth of the gourd and gently
took it from his unwilling hands having to bow slightly towards him in order to
maintain hold of her possessions..
“You are handsome morena even with your
age”, He touched her left calf with the goad. She reacted a little defensively yet
cautiously closed her legs more tightly at the same time moving her calf out of
reach. He pushed forward again touching her calf another time toying with her,
edging her sarong up matter of factly as if inspecting goods, then letting it
fall back into place once again. They stood, two distinct birds, not moving for
some time. Then he brought the goad upwards barely touching her clothing, up across
her belly and stopping just beneath her breasts. She trembled slightly, and
recoiled. He pressed the goad harder to her body focusing his gaze trying to
penetrate her husk and eviscerate her essence.
“Be still”, he blared, and she stilled
from the tone of his voice.
He arrived at her breasts lifting them a
little with the goad and gently held their weight balanced upon the shaft. He
slid it slowly up over their roundness catching her nipples which retsrained
for an instant the goad’s upward progress. He advanced stopping just beneath
her chin forcing her to raise her head slightly. His head was bent sideways as
if he were evaluating a horse. Her eyes looked down at the goad with a mixture
of defiance and fear but she withdrew the former submerging an assertive
attitude as fast as it had arrived. It was then she knew. It was at that moment
that she began to disengage from her feelings, to seek another place where she
could bear whatever was to come.
He
snorted, “This is My spring, morena, it is part of my family for more than 100
years and all who come to drink here must pay me for its use.” He was close now
and the odor of sweat and alcohol coldly unfastened her. He changed his tone
and feigned softnesss and brushed her hair with the back of his left hand as he
let the goad drop to his side. She detected smell of tobacco on his hand. She
thought at that instant she might break and run but she knew better. He might
run her down with his horse, and he had the rifle. He was filled with tyranny
and high station and kindled with desire. He deliberately pressed himself to
her so she could feel his manhood. “Mira nada mas con esto caloron y su pulgero
que traen de vestido”, speaking now in a kind of denigrating growl. The goad
spun about with lightning speed and struck her on the upper thigh with a
resounding thwack. She was abruptly roused from her distance and brought back
to the darkness. She took a step back and dropped her possessions. They fell
helter skelter in a heap between the two of them. Surprised, he retreated slightly,
instinctively offering more of his side than his front. She slowly and cautiously
raised her hands, took a step back, then resolutely reached for the waist of
her huipil with crossed arms and quickly pulled it up over her head baring her
upper torso. He relaxed a little then regained his former poise, staring
intently at her breasts excited even more now by her willing subjugation. He
had been reaffirmed as man,, of all men, owner of a great hacienda, de gente y
tierra, rico y todo abajo de su voluntad,, como un Rey. He thought of the broad wallowing whores with
whom he had romped in Ciudad Real, who gave themselves to him for a peso. He grew
consumed with lust and distended. She released the waistband of her sarong and
stood before him completely naked now staring out with hollow emptied eyes, and
then placed her sarong and huipil reverently on the ground as if making her bed.
She lay down upon her clothes on her back and raised her knees and spread her
legs slightly with her arms at her side, motionless, like stilled paddles. She
had made her decision, desecration would be a better than violence. She prayed
silently that it would end quickly, and then for the second time since the
arrival of horse and man she whisked herself away, to a another place without feeling,
or mercy. She closed her eyes and disinherited herself from all her senses, falling
into a chasm where she was untouchable replacing reality with an alternative to
what was happening. She fell into pure blankness,,, peering up at an endless
sky patterned with amorphous clouds, although now she was blinded to beauty, and
she could hear her voice speaking a prayer but there was no sound. She saw the
face of Q’uq’umatz, his tongue flicking,,,, you have broken your promise,,, and
she felt a surge,, a pulsating wetness,,,
and then the wind abruptly arose clearing what remained of her consciousness and
blew away all the debris that remained.
