Chalma Revisited

About Chalma, Mexico

     Twenty five kilometers west of Cuernavacaand twenty three kilometers east of Tenancingo is the pre-Columbian sacred site of Chalma. Now a Christian holy place it is the second most visited pilgrimage site in Mexico after Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. Mexicans are Guadalupanos. They worship their Maria Morena more than He who was crucified to save their souls. Mothers, I believe, hold more sway than fathers,,, not just in Mexico but everywhere. 
    Supposedly the name Chalma comes from Nahuatl: Xalmantla: Xal.- Root of the word Salí- "sand". Man.- Root of the word Mana- "pone" of the verb poner. Tla.- It is a suffix that indicates abundance of what the, or, the roots that precede it signify. The most acceptable meaning is: "Place where sand is plentifully placed". This definition seems to contradict the geology of Chalma which is ruled by rock more than sand. Its true meaning has been lost to history.
     The early history of Chalma is shrouded in myth and later in religious fabrications. Chalma as we see it today is the result of a clash of perceptions. It seems that when Augustinian friars first visited the area in the mid 1530’s they learned that local Indians, from Ocuilan, Malinalco, and Tenancingo,, and others from much greater distances were making pilgrimages to a sacred cave within the canyon of a river that passes through what is now called Chalma making offerings to a strange cave-God who may have had the power over human destiny,,, a God with healing capacity. The friars erroneously noted, seeing through their version of truth, that almost all the surrounding towns possessed a very low cultural level for they were very inclined to deify natural things, such as trees, water, and upright stones. The Chalma River and the cave, a niche in the rock, could be God's window or God's house even. Indigenous perceptions were influenced by exerting their imagination over "natural occurrences". Water, for instance has always played a heavy part in Indigenous legends, and here, where dryness rules for the better part of the year water could easily be worshipped. The catholic missionaries who first came to this region needed a tool to make their God appear,,, faith. Faith allowed one to know God albeit at first in an amorphous form that later was made fast by a plethora of italian artists with brushes, chisels, and a vibrant imagination.The indigenous people just left the teepee and there was God in the sun, moon, sky, animals and the rivers. God's access was more direct. Faith, with its lack of evidence was not necessary for them.  
     Supposedly the pilgrims would walk for days from the surrounding mountains, wearing flowers in their hair and carrying incense burners. They usually stopped at El Ahuehuete where there is a large cypress tree and from the roots of this tree flows a huge spring of crystal clear water that forms The Chalma River. Pilgrims would arrive here first to drink the sacred water and dance, hanging offerings and the umbilical cords of their infants on the cypress,,, acting with both exhuberance and hope before walking the remaining 6 kilometers along the canyon of Ocuilan to the more serious business in Chalma. It is said in the myth that they followed the river that sprouted from beneath the cypress to a cave where La Basilica now stands in order to make offerings to a statue of Ozteotl, the Dark Lord of the Cave. Perhaps but the part about Ozteotl is unclear. At any rate whatever drew them to the cave doesn't exist anymore. It was said to have been a large, man-sized, black, cylindrical stone reputed to have magical healing powers. The idea of a natural formation that appeared in an unnatural pose makes some sense. Whatever, the idea of Chalma began sometime in the distant past as a place where people searched for favors and miracles.In fact it still is.   

 

El Ahuehuete

 

El Ahuehuete

 

El Ahuehuete

 

El Ahuehuete

 

El Ahuehuete 

 

El Ahuehuete

 

El Rio Chalma next to La Basilica Chalma

 

Entering La Basilica en Chalma

 

The dome in La Basilica Chalma

 

Exvotos

 

Waiting to enter the basilca at Chalma

 

Inside La Basilica Chalma

La Basilica Chalma

 

 

On the route to La Basilica Chalma

 

Religious baubles in Chalma

 

Peregrinacion de un grupo de Lerma a Chalma

 

Riverside bar Chalma

    
The Augustinian version of events:
     After the Augustinian friars found the cave they were shocked to find evidence of animal sacrifice. In 1539, Fray Nicholás de Perea gave a sermon to Indians assembled in the canyon of Ocuilan, preaching the evils of idol worship and insatiable cruelty. Oh, great prodigy! Oh admirable portent of the divine omnipotence! A few days later the sacred ministers entered in that abominable place and were side by side there with the Philistines and behold The Almighty's hand had cleansed the loathsome niche of its heathen pestilence and there the Hand of God had destroyed  the pagan idol and in its stead was the image of our sovereign Redeemer Jesus Christ crucified, placed on the same altar where the detestable idol was before which was shattered on the ground, reduced to fragments serving as a footstool to the divine and holy image. Seeing this miracle, the Indians fell down upon their knees in "a wave of apostolic piety". 
     Thus began the conversion of the natives in this region. 


Most likely the real story:
      There was a lot of devotion and esteem for an idol of some sort in the cave situated in the canyon of Ocuilan according to numerous communities of natives of the region, for  even people from the most remote climates came to revere the idol and ask him, to fulfill their needs. As for Fray Nicholas de Perea and his famous rallying speech to the masses,, he didn't actually appear in the region until after the image of Jesus had replaced the idol. In addition the Ocuilan dialect was not common and difficult to master. How did the newly arrived Fray communicate so well with the natives? In fact Perea was not there at all but holed up in a monastery in Mexico City quite sick, near paralysed, and unable to walk. Perhaps there was a fervent speech by someone determined to extirpate them from the cave,, one somewhat skilled in the Ocuiltec dialect. I imagine the indians listening to this accolite who was butchering their language as they waxed doubtful and unpersuaded. The religious mime blurted out "And I promise you and I give you my word of that we will remove that stone of scandal we will put  in its place an image of Jesus Christ, Son of God and our Lord who suffered to save us. " The faces of the Indigenous people looked puzzled. They got up and left. The friars, unwilling to give up had a pow wow, in order to plan a strategy. They had forgotten all the blood sacrifices in the Old Testament and the bloodless sacrifice they performed each time they said a mass and affirmed that there was opportunity here. This cave was a religious Eldorado. All they had to do was make the "big switch". The friars returned to the cave where the idol was, shattering it and replacing it with a truer image of God. 
      The indigenous people did not fall to their knees in sudden christian rapture. The truth is that they had to be converted slowly with whips and repetitious speeches and made to build a cathedral on the spot,,, which served as the "new cave".. Eventually it all came full circle and people came to the Ahuehuete to dance and drink its water still considered sacred,, and they walked to Chalma as they still do today to ask a different God for favors. 
   
     Throughout the year thousands of Catholic pilgrims walk, arrive in buses decorated with flowers, or drive to the site to give thanks for prayers answered or to pray for miracles. Today’s pilgrims take the same narrow paths they have for centuries. In Tenancingo the most popular pilgrimmage to Chalma takes place during easter week. Between wednesday night and early thursday morning tens of thousands of people walk over the mountains to Malinalco then finally Chalma. The route begins on the highway then turns more rural as you leave Tenancingo proper climbing towards the "cumbre" (summit) before the grand descent into Malinalco. The line of people leaves the highway about a mile past Teneria and passes upward on a dirt road. A swishing of feet and line of flashlights dots the route like purposeful fireflies as far as one can see. The ground is soft on the old road, a surface of dried powdery soil and deeply clumped leaves is its pavement. The moon is almost full because it always full during easter week and it illuminates an avocado grove in blue silvery splendor. One climbs until the road becomes a path narrower and filled with stones. Then the tide turns, and like boats moored in a small bay, hovering a moment between the change of the tide when their bows begin to turn to face the new flow,,,,,in this case,,,, down. The descent is rockier than before and zig zags to compensate for the steep angle. The glittering light from a thousand torches and candles snakes a magic trail up and down the deep ravines. Women carry small babies; old men hope for a miraculous cure; and young folk seek an adventure. 
     After the descent one emerges in Malinalco greeted by people selling fresh juices. Wherever people gather in Mexico there are sellers of foods and drink. Rosaries are recited by comrades. One courses through Malinalco's cobbled streets, polished with the alhumbre (light) de civilizacion. After Malinalco it's the highwayagain bordered by moonlit mountains. The night becomes more silent, for you are ten miles into the caminata, more separated than the crowded descent. The pilgrims are a bit more subdued, the night silence only broken by the shuffling of feet and the whish whish of arms swinging and brushing past jackets. By now one can feel the pace in their knees. 
     Everthing is downhill from Malinalco but two miles before Chalma an unwelcome upward incline starts. It's not severe but by this point in the walk one can feel it. Ahead beckons the glow from Chalma, set in a bowl, lightly illuminated by the mountain sides. 
Finally you enter Chalma. One passes over the Chalma River and rounds a curve lined with all the tired perigrinos only to encounter the final severe climb into the pueblo. Your feet rebel and will not obey anymore.This final hill which is the road to the sanctuary actually passes "up" and through the center of the town. One looks back and the moon that is half hidden by a bulbous mountaintop. The tired faithful are installed here and there sleeping in the darkened edges of this last corridor. When you reach the top the corridor is illuminated and becomes a market place of sweets, fruits, atole, quesadillas, and sellers of crosses. Crosses are everywhere,,,black Jesus, big Jesus, hand held Jesus, rustic Jesus, polished Jesus, bloody Jesus,,,,,and in second place endless strings of scapulas, and rosaries.  Every perigrino passes this crucifix laden entry way. Some wear flowers, just as their ancestors did and some crawl on their knees for the final part of their journey. Many are carrying heavy wooden crosses to be blessed a little further on in the Basilica. 
     At last one enters the church courtyard now filled with supplicants many ambling with walking sticks. On the floor of the atrium thousands of the faithful, are bundled in their blankets sleeping. The sea of the faithful seems to disappear into the brilliantly glowing entrance of the church.  You hold on to your companions inching ahead towards the portal. All have been emptied of physical energy,, without judgement , and of course open to suggestion. They bring their faith, their desires, their souls, and their tired bodies to this place. You enter the church leaving the early dark morning behind and you are stunned by the light inside. The walls are cream colored and the fluted pillars glow in rays of gold leaf. The interior space is laden with people who move slowly towards the altar. Upon reaching the altar you may fall to your knees. Facing the white and gold altar flowered in white lillies, you feel tired yet strangely high,,,overcome, totally relaxed, ,,,,your heart completely open,,unprejudiced. Many are enveloped in trance. Others are seen exiting through a door to the left side of the altar. You meld with the flow into darker room, lined in large ominous  paintings. Two friars toss holy water onto the passing crowd and the relics they bear from all parts of Mexico. 
     One passes the gift shop and ticket windows that sell masses but that sign of commercialism may not deter from the rush of sentiment. One may, when completely "opened" by physical effort, overcome the crasser aspects of religion. They cannot burden when one is in this state of drained bliss,,, and you pass them without internal comment,,,perhapsyou are too tired to care,,,between worlds,,,they can't get inside you at that moment. You exit church into daylight, untouchable for a while , in search of a seat, an atole or some nourishment. 
     The walk from Tenancingo to Chalma is about 23 kilometers.
     

San Jose Chalmita

     Just a few miles from Tenancingo center is the mountain town, San Jose Chalmita. It lies within a mountain range of glassy limestone. Once you leave Tenancingo going west towards Zumpahuacan you climb up a little to San Pablo. There the road escalates quickly twisting like a roller coaster affording vast panoramas towards the west and east


                               
                                                      Panorama towards the west


                               
  Panorama east. The mountain in the distance is Xinatecatl or Nevado de Toluca, a dormant Volcano


     Finally the road flattens as you enter the village of San Jose. The church, made of gray limestone, dominates the view.


                                       


                                              
                             
                                       
           
                                        


     There are wonderful surprises about the San Jose if one is willing to walk a little. Its rocky paths descend into foliage and emerge revealing the mountains which embrace it. It is frozen in time and thawed by sun each day to divulge its secrets, and there are treasures trapped between the past and seasonal ritual.  A mountain is a magical place, up and out of the regular world. 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 an outer edge of the planet,,,just as a bicycle wheel rim spins faster than its axel in order to cover the greater distance of its larger circle at the same time that the axel makes one revolution. The climate is different in the mountains,,usually cooler. The sunlight is more intense in the thinner air. Air is compressed as it travels over the peak and increases in velocity, distorting and stretching the shapes of the clouds as if they were high jumpers leaping over a bar. Mountains figure prominently in human mythology, where both Gods and men do roam. They are gateways to heaven,,and sometimes portals to hell. Spirits are said to haunt the tops of these great folds in the earth. People living on a mountain are a little like those living on an island, more isolated,, sequestered. Their home is an island , whose summit, like an atoll pierces an ocean of sky.

     

 

My lawyers desk

 

Hello Kitty swing

 

A real Christmas cactus 

                                         
                                                                        Roof cobs

 

Roadside adornment

                                          
                                                               Sitting around the house
  
     In San Jose Chalmita there are three choices. Be a mescalero, an empuntadora,, or leave. San Jose has been an isolated island since a group of people who wanted to escape the Mexican Revolution settled in this remote place. To scratch out an existence in this rocky place has always been a challenge. Electricity and water only arrived just a few years ago.

                                    

     I visited the family of Don Semitrio Vargas. He is a mescalero and his daughters are empuntadoras. We walked among the agaves, endemic to this region, from which mezcal is made. The destination was Semitrio's simple still down the steep hillside near the spring. Semitrio had just finished cooking the piñas and was preparing the next day to begin the distillation.

                                            

  

   

The simple Alambique or still down below

  

   

   

     Meanwhile his daughters were preparing a meal for us  of hand made tortillas, beans, and rice. 

   

Areceli making tortillas

          After the meal Areceli, Aurelia, and Rosy began their work puntando rebozos. 

 

 

  

 

Don Simitrio

 

Aurelia

  

Hermita embedded in the rock

  

The Pantheon

 

 

Rosy showing off a rebozo

 

Maribel showing her work

 

Amalia, another empuntadora.

 

There is a sound that is heard throughout the village. It is a click made with the thumb of the empuntadoras. A home made steel flat thimble allows them to tighten the knots. In the lazy afternoon the air is filled with the clicking of human crickets.

Let's Go For A Swim

     When my grandmother went to the beach in beginning of the last century she looked like this:


                                      

                                                 
                            This is her daughter a few years later in a much more risque´outfit

Beach attire sure has changed.

     In 1919, special deputies called "Sheriffettes" were sworn in to monitor the swimwear of the bathers at Rockaway Beach, Queens, New York. The moral code called for strict adherence to "covering up" the female form. Annette Kellerman's one piece bathing suit from the turn of the last century was considered the appropriate norm. 

      Last year on a beach in Nice, France, there was a twist to the modesty rule. A muslim women was asked to disrobe by police because the "burkini" she was wearing was against the law,, covering up too much. Two different anxieties in two different epochs  traveling in opposing directions meet again to draw a line in the sand.

               

                                 

       The Burkini. The burkini, designed by an Australian Muslim female, Aheda Zanetti, is a  bathing suit that covers the entire body, except the face, hands and feet. The garment provides individuals with the freedom to enjoy outdoor activities whilst respecting their religious obligations.

                                     

                            

     Even the French Prime Minister Manuel Valls added his two francs to the dress code fray by claiming that Marianne, the french revolutionary icon, a symbol of freedom, was painted with breasts exposed so that she might feed an entire nation. Sounds like a Trump tweet.

 

     
     Marianne, above, pictured in the iconic painting by Delacroix, holding the french flag, treading on bodies,, her mammaries loosed and free, ready to nurse the madding crowd's thirst for Liberte´. 

     

 

     The modern Bikini on a modern woman revealing everything except perhaps the recipe for Coca Cola.... or perhaps it is written there somewhere. 

     
     You will notice that all the fotos above are of women. Dress codes almost always target women. The burkini crisis involves women's beach attire.There has never been much of an issue over men's swimsuits. Why have France and other countries turned the burkini into a symbol of human rights and or an issue of national security? Why are France ,Germany, Belgium, The Netherlands, Italy, Spain, The United States and other countries so eager to trash their freedoms of conscience, religion, and expression and trade them for strict dress codes? It's rather absurd that the dress code in question translates to displaying more flesh. Does it matter if society confuses public conduct with freedom of expression and what are the consequences if we ignore codes? See the lady in the modern bikini above, Does fashion, that covers up, summon more respect for females  or are modesty laws sexist?  Anyway soon no one will remember the meaning of modesty. Why has there been little public debate on the subject of the boundries of freedom of expression,, religious freedom, and in the case of the burkini,,, immigration? There is much latitude for venemous thinking to insert itself here because the consequences of prohibitions may sacrifice the precepts we hold dear.
     Lots of questions yet is there one collective answer,,,, or many answers,, some not very comforting,,, or do we just ban what makes us uncomfortable? I focus on the burkini because it prompted this article. It seems however after considering the subject of muslim fashion verses the world,, the burkini and burka bans have nothing to do with rules for proper public apparel, or that C.4 can be hidden under a burkini,, and everything to do with fear and self loathing in St. Tropez. Does modesty rear its ugly head when one gazes upon their exposed body just at the moment a muslim woman strolls past in a burkini?  What a cringe factor! 

It is easy to see how the non muslim majority could be thrust into a conundrum. They must confront their past, not only from their grandmother's point of view,, but from the point of view of colonial history. The world is changing fast and furiously and the capacity to digest change can sometimes be the cause of mental gastritis. How does a person in a "string" process a  person full body suit?  Do we purify rapid social change with democracy at its worst just as radical muslims wish to purify us with terrorist acts meant to provoke religious discipline? Society risks losing their own precious jewels by not considering all the angles. 

     Well here we are, the filling in a sandwich. The bread above is prejudice and the slice below is cultural relativism. Are you hungry? Societies can find themselves paralysed by either political correctness or outright prejudice. Solutions seem unattainable. Tolerance cannot be tolerated because often there is no real debate on troublesome modern issues.  Could honest debate lead to some conclusions, perhaps like understanding just what has and is really happening. Where does society stand on its own principles?  Instead we issue edicts and just prolong our agony. To vacillate between bans and political correctness render us all wishy washy about our own beliefs as we hastily try to steer a course to nowhere. 

     A few quotes,, not answers :

     “What have you against analysis?’ Nothing—when it serves the cause of enlightenment, freedom, progress. Everything when it is pervaded by the horrible taint of decay of the grave. And thus too with the body. We are to honour and uphold the body when it is a question of emancipation, of beauty, of freedom of thought, of joy, of desire. We must despise it in so far as it sets itself up as the principle of gravity and inertia, when it obstructs the movement toward light; we must despise it in so far as it represents the principle of disease and death, in so far as its specific essence is the essence of perversity, of decay, sensuality, and shame.”


      "There is one force, one principle that is the object of my highest affirmation, my highest and ultimate respect and love, and that force, that principle, is the mind."

     “This kind of American exceptionalism is a product of 200 years of disconnection from our country’s acts around the world — a geographic, intellectual and emotional isolation.”“Ask any Mexican, and she will be quick to say that the U.S. creates the demand, supplies the guns and launders the money; we suffer the deaths. The fight against drug trafficking is unpopular in Mexico because it is seen as a fight we’re waging on another country’s behalf. Whether or not such a view is correct, it would be politically unviable for the Mexican government to be seen as cooperating with an unfriendly neighbor on such a contentious issue. This is not a threat Mexican officials are making at the moment; it is a simple political reality.     

“Tolerance becomes a crime when applied to evil.”  

“The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it.” “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”