San
Antonio Tlayacapan, Jalisco, Mexico
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Original Posada Catrina in Oaxaca (we're told)
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Almost exactly 3 years ago,
we moved to Mexico with a few suitcases and set up shop in San Antonio
Tlayacapan, Jalisco. A couple of days after we arrived, we went to a class at
LCS (the Lake Chapala Society, the main “gringo” organization here,) taught by
Alfredo Perez Aldana, titled “Mock Death, will you!” We learned the story
behind the now famous La Calavera Catrina, a cartoon drawn about 1910 by Jose
Guadalupe Posada, poking fun at “cultured” Mexicans who were at the time
adopting the culture and style of Europeans. La Catrina, or El Catrin
(masculino) means “dandy,” and is not a name per se. One of the attributes of
that adoption was to try to lighten the skin, making people look like
skeletons. Interestingly, this desire for whiteness was also very prevalent in
SE Asia, where girls spend small fortunes on skin whitening creams and avoid
the sun at all costs. The irony of white people spending time and vacations
trying to be “tanned” is rich.
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2017 LCS ofrenda
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We also
learned in the class about the ofrenda, or offering, a sort of altar to
honor family members who have passed and welcome them back as special guests.
The ofrenda has several key components. Cempasuchitl flowers (marigolds), to guide the visiting souls to the ofrenda. Water and salt for the other-worldly visitors, as well as favorite foods and drinks, often mole and tequila, or pizza and soda for the kids. The sweet, orange-scented bread of the dead, is usual, as well as brightly painted sugar skulls (not edible, really.) Copal incense is lit to carry prayers to the heavens, and of course, photos of the departed.
We have a slightly-Buddhist version in our Mexican home (wherever we are,) for our moms, with a small bell and incense, and we add the flower petals at this time of year. This year a full marigold plant!
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Bali offerings on the steps
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The tradition is very similar to Buddhist shrines in family homes, which are
permanent, and the Hindu offerings put in front of most all homes and
businesses on Bali every morning. There is an entire industry in Bali to make
these tiny offerings of food and flowers, about 5” square on banana leaves.
Later
that day after our class, we went to the plaza in Ajijic and painted our faces
in the style of La Catrina, Linda’s more elegantly done than Mark’s, who ended
up looking more like a Dali-esque nightmare than a Catrin. We then
walked to the cemetery west of town and observed all the families at their
loved ones’ graves. Candles, food, tequila, decorations, mariachis it was just
like the scenes in Coco (the movie), or rather, the movie captured the
look and feel perfectly.
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Now THAT'S an ofrenda!
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That was
2017. In 2018, we spent a month in Oaxaca, renowned for its Day of the Dead
celebrations. People travel to Oaxaca from all over the world to observe and
participate. The entire town is decorated with calaveras, sitting on ledges,
and standing next to store doorways. There are ofrendas everywhere, private
ones in homes and large ones in the plaza.
We signed
on for a night tour of 3 different panteons (cemeteries,) 2 in the Oaxaca city
limits, and one outside the city proper in a small town. The tour was
interesting as the guide told us the history of each cemetery. The 2 in town
were interesting but overrun with tourists (like us!). The one outside of town,
however, was a whole different experience. The town was San Juan Etla, and the
cemetery was much smaller. The graves themselves looked different, mostly small
mounds of earth. The families were there in force, and very gracious to we
“intruders.”
What we love is that it is
not just a sad event, there were mariachi bands, and families eating tamales
together near their departed members, still involving them in the party.
Beautiful. (We think the norteamericanos should adopt a similar practice…all
that wasted park space in cemeteries!)
Now it is
2020, and with the coronavirus, Jalisco is currently (once again) in a
semi-lockdown. The cemeteries are closed and locked. Families entered earlier
in the week with their decorations and candles and left them for their departed
family members. Last night, we walked to the one about 100 yards from our current
casa, and it was heartbreaking to look through the locked gate and see the
adornments, candles flickering, knowing this essential part of Mexican culture
was being cancelled because of the virus. |
Peeking through the gate
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We are
using this time to think of those who are no longer here, yet also to celebrate their lives, and how they can be near us in a way, still. ....our dear ones as well
as the many who have lost the battle with a new enemy, Covid.
2020 November 1
