Friday, February 2

This morning Rita had an appointment with a contact at Na Bolom, the old house of Franz and Trudy Blom that is now an institute and museum. They went off exploring libraries and cultural events, of which more later.

After lunch we headed to the market to get a combi for Zinacantan. We came in at the end of a minor festival of the Virgin of Candelaria. Outside the church was a small band with a loudspeaker that could reach to Vancouver.

When we entered the church, 11 men in ceremonial traje were dancing in a near circle, the circle being completed by the three seated musicians playing a violin, harp, and guitar. The dancers wore old-fashioned sandals with the high ankle-guard, as was used in prehispanic times. Over their gorgeously embroidered and tasseled tunics they wore a long black poncho that almost reached the ground and had subtly coloured stripes near the hem. Each held his hat in his hands, while over his head was a grey headcloth from which hung tassels of bright ribbons, mainly blue and red. The dance was simple, striking alternate feet with the beat, not moving a all from one’s place. The song was simple and repetitive. But the whole effect was mesmerizing, except for the firecrackers outside toward the end of the dance.

We stayed inside a while as they preyed, but were drawn outside by new sounds. In the bandstand a man was playing a bamboo flute while two others accompanied him on drums. Other men in ceremonial garb hung around, and bottles of posh were evident for the offerings.

We then headed to the museum, a thatch-roofed, mud-walled structure with some displays of clothing and musical instruments. Next door is a continuation that also functions as a kind of shop, with a kitchen setup and partly finished weavings hanging on the walls.

A ways behind the museum, next to a school, was a smaller church, dated 1872 and dedicated to San Sebastian. After taking a picture of Rita in front of this church, we went inside and had a chat with the Sacristan. We noticed the beautiful ceiling pattern that looked Islamic to me, and which he said was made form ocote, the wood we use to start a fire. He also lamented the evangelists who no longer prey to the saints. It seemed absolutely nonsensical to him. He wanted our opinion but we deferred, noting that we are strangers in their land.

We decided to head back but it was late in a day, and the combi wouldn’t leave until two taxis were filled and left. The taxi driver wouldn’t leave until he filled up unless we agreed to pay for four passengers rather than two. We waited about half an hour, while Rita rested and I went through the shops with weavings. In one shop they tried to tell me that shirts made in a factory in San Cristobal were made by hand in Zinacantan, so I headed to the other, a cooperative of 20 women with beautiful things in it. Took some photos with their permission.

Back then to the taxi. The rate is 12 per person. If we pay 48 for the whole ride we can even get off where we want instead of in the market. The driver started lowering the price, reaching 40. Rita offered him 35 which he refused. I offered him 36, noting that it would be like taking 3 passengers and we had a deal.

We got off the taxi, as arranged, at the Museum of Maya Medicine, north of the market. The museum is well worth a trip. It treats not only the physical but also the spiritual, if they could be divided. So there is much emphasis on Maya concepts of hot and cold plants and how they balance the body, and on diviners and others who cure by what we would consider supernatural means. This exhibit would probably help reinforce the kind of curing and divining episodes that Rosario Castellanos puts in her book.

We then walked back through the market, buying fruits and vegetables on the way, came home, and made a nice supper. After supper, we went to a “cultural event,” listed as an encounter with regional literature. It turned out to be very 60s, a room in a restaurant-bar where young poets took turns reciting. I don’t understand poetry in English so this was lost on me. But there was an effective story told by a young man. If I got this right, it is about a young girl whose father had abused her for years, and thus who tended to choose older men with authority as lovers. At present, her lover is a teacher. She decided to assert herself and demand that he use a condom. He grew angry but tried, and had trouble and grew much angrier to the point that he beat her. This, like many things, reminded her of the beatings she also got from her father, and the resulting despair led her to suicide. After a few others, a woman got up and recited rather than read a poem about pregnancy related to the chrysalis stage of a butterfly. I enjoyed the varied motions and changes in tone. They announced that more of a discussion would follow and Rita suggested we leave. I was very happy to do so as one member of a couple standing and sitting on the other side of me had clearly eaten too many frijoles and was not being successful in controlling the fragrant results.

And that’s it for Friday.

Thursday, February 1

Today was the big orientation, so Rita and I got up early to clean the fruit, set out the food, arrange couches, chairs and furniture etc. After everyone came, we introduced ourselves and then went over the class structure, course requirements, daytrip and fieldtrip plans, rules for behavior and then had long information sharings about available apartments and extending visas.

Rita and I then went to the telcel place where we had brought the phone in order to get a number and a card and get some instruction on the programming. Our number, by the way, is 967 122 1234. Back at the apartment after several false starts we started getting through the phoning (Rita did it all) and made significant headway on hotel reservations for the great fieldtrip.

We then did some errands, going to the post office, then to the travel agent to pay for the Sunday excursion to the Cañon del Sumidero, and to the Instituto Jovel to check out the films they have. Turns out they have nothing but gave us advice on a place to look: Cine Club La Ventana. After walking around for quite a while and getting directions we gave it up as not found. But on the way, we looked into some interesting stores. One lady who sells textiles has several from Guatemala which will make a nice comparison with those from Chiapas. Two stores and contemporary “popular” art, much of which uses Zapatista iconography in idyllic settings of flowers and stars. As I am familiar with the Zapatista iconography from web photos of Oventik murals, I found these paintings quite interesting and even powerful. I may get an original as well as several of the posters and photograph them for use in teaching.

We also decided to stop in at the Casa Del Pan for Rita to get some bread, and I decided to get chocolate. While there, I noticed a film series advertisement for, you guessed it, Casa del Pan, and that at 8-10 there would be a film on the Zapatista movement. So after going home to do more phoning, Rita and I headed for the Casa del Pan for supper and a movie. I emailed the class before hand to warn them of the movie, and several students showed up.

The documentary ended with an extremely provocative testimonio-type scene of a man showing how the army’s big claim to supply medicine is weakened when the bottles of medicine have no name and no expiry date, so you don’t know what you are getting. The point being made was that Maya are still treated as second-class citizens or even sub-human in this racist society, though perhaps it was also making the point that they were no longer going to be quiet about this indignity.

This last scene was very powerful and as Rita and I started discussing it on the way home, we noticed some of the other students who came were also interested in discussing. So we invited them over to our apartment for a nice fire and some hot chocolate. Rhett, Ellen, Peggy, Marella, James, and Karyn came for a lively 2 hour discussion that also involved Apocalypto, archaeology, the media, primitivism, “authenticity,” weaving cooperatives, and many other issues. This was a fantastic experience, with so many perspectives, experiences, and backgrounds to share among the group. As the group left, Rita and I said to each other that this kind of learning experience is just exactly what LASOM should be about!

Wednesday, January 31

This morning Rita and I took a combi out to Chamula, as planned. The main town of Chamula appears very prosperous, apparently because public funds are not getting out to the hamlets that compose most of the community’s population. The main square in the two was a marketplace, with lots of fresh foods as well as souvenirs. We walked around that some and then headed for the church.

Upon entering the church, we were both struck by the atmosphere. In part, it seems to be set up for tourists. There were literally thousands of the kinds of candles that come in what look like drinking glasses. They were all arranged neatly along the sides and back of the church and looked as if they had all been lit at the same time. We also noted the baptismal font, painted in bright colours to emphasize the carved plant deisgns.

But there is also plenty to the church that is not designed to look pretty for tourists, but to Maya taste. The floor was covered with long pine needles, and the walls hung with both green and dried plants. Large cloth banners also were fastened between the ridge of the ceiling and the side walls, with hanging arrangements of ribbons at the top where they join. Of course there were also bouquets of flowers all along the sides and back, where the saints images are kept behind glass. Neither Rita nor I knew why the saint statues have mirrors hung around their necks.

There were groups of Maya people praying. Each group had cleared the pine needles from a space on the floor and set up small, thin candles in neat rows, organized by colour. They had offerings of eggs (food) and drink for those supernaturals to which they preyed. The usual drink was posh (cane liquor) of course, but we did see an exception. We watched one woman set up her candles. She was a young woman with her face disfigured by a large tumor. Before she and her companion lit the 80-or-so candles she had brought, she laid out her offerings of eggs and canned soft drinks. I suspect that this is partly the result of the women’s movement in Maya communities, over the last decade or so, rejecting men’s control and posh-lubricated violence. I saw the soft drinks as an example of women’s resistance and women’s influence over dramatic changes in their communities.

Rita and I then decided to visit the old, ruined church at the cemetery near the entrance to town. Walking along we came to an “ethnographic museum” which we investigated for a few minutes, then continued down a road lined with tourist stalls, arriving a few minutes later a more isolated stall where two women sat weaving brocade designs, while an older woman suggested we buy something, and a young girl rocked a babe in a wooden crate that served beautifully as a cradle. In a couple of minutes, we were at the old church. A horse tethered there seemed to badly want attention but we didn’t feel it was appropriate.

We had hoped to get a combi from Chamula to Zinacantan but it turns out to be more complicated than that. One has to walk out to the highway (which we did), get a combi that goes toward San Cristobal, but get off at a crossroads and get another combi to Zinacantan. We decided that there wasn’t time today if we were going to do other errands, and that we would try for Zinacantan on Friday.

On the way back we had a newer combi, muy de lujo, and next to me sat a Chamula lady with a pre-schooler, a toddler, and a baby she was nursing. The combi returned us to the main market in San Cristobal so we walked through it buying vegetables and beans to make a soup for supper.

On the way home, we ran into Peggy, freshly returned from Playa del Carmen, and visited her while Rivkah entered with her friend, having just come from Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. Later Paulina came in with her father: they had just driven in from Oaxaca. The ranks are filling up.

Tuesday, January 30

We had good news last night from Erin and Valerie that Rita's bag had gotten to Tuxtla, and this morning further news that it had been brought to the taxi stand. So after going to the bank with our landlord to pay the month's rent, we headed farther south to get the baggage. Everything there and in its place.

After a visit from Heather, we headed over to the house of June Nash, only a block from here. I'm still reading her superb book on politics and the Maya in Chiapas. Her garden is paradise, with a fountain and pool in the centre, with fish nibbling at plants and orange-and-blue dragonflies hovering around, plus lots of flowers, of course.Her husband served us a wonderful hibiscus drink, cold (it got pretty warm in her garden).

June gave Rita lots of information on people to contact and libraries to visit for her classes and research. I also asked her about Amatenango del Valle, where she did much of her anthropological research, and which is famous for its pottery. I asked about seeing women's "studios," and she offered to go with us on our field trip as our guide!!! Couldn't be better. She is 80, by the way, but sharp as ever and looks 60. What a treat to sit and talk with her.

We then stopped at the institute where our classes will be held and I showed Rita the classroom. On the way up toward the market we went into the largest bookstore I have seen, called Chilam Balam. Lots of books on literature, art, archaeology, etc. in Spanish and English, but very expensive and the owner is very pushy. Doesn't want to take no, or tomorrow, or later, or any answer other than "I'll buy it." Bill had a hard time with him this summer too.

On to the artesanias market but since the two cooperatives were still closed (it was only 3) we went into the main market and looked around, buying some garbage bags. For refreshment we stopped at Casa del Pan. Rita had the special coffee (cafe de olla) with spices (cinnamon, sugar, and something we cant remember). I had a carrot juice which, since I'd been double tipping the waiter, came puro rather than with water.

On then to the artesanias. We visiting the smaller weaving cooperative, then went into the16th century dominican church, and finally into the larger of the two weaving cooperatives. I really enjoyed showing the textiles to Rita and she just loved them. Especially the larger, Sna Jolobil, the display of which is organized by community so it is easy to distinguish the styles.

But I was confused. The women outside with stalls in the artesanias area were either wearing the 'traje' of Zinacantan or another style I thought might be Chamula. But this style wasn't in the cooperative under the Chamula sign. What the women outside were wearing was blue or green, satiny huipiles with embroidery around the neck. I asked inside where these women were from, and when told they are from Chamula, I asked why their style of huipil was not sold in the store. The answer was that the blouse they wear is industrially made and purchased, then embroidered, rather than made completely by hand. And the rule in the store was "handmade only." I'm ambivalent about this: I can understand it as a marketing security mechanism, since this is the highest class weaving store in Chiapas, but anthropologically it is problematic in de-legitimating what people actually wear and do.

On the way back from the artesanias we met first Ewan with Ellen (Ewan has now rented the apartment in June Nash's house) and then Flora and Verity. Back at our apartment, in came Marella, Karyn, and Andrés, then James, Rhett, Ewan and Matea. We had a lively conversation and five of us went to supper together. Now I am nursing a fire with my new stock of wood.

Monday, January 29

Well, the day started out rocky. Went to the bank to deposit money for our account, in the form of two $1000 travelers checks. I didn't notice that on the receipt they had only credited me for $200. So I went back and after about 1/2 hour in line and 1/2 hour of the clerk fidgeting, he told me the change had to go through Mexico City and I should come back again later. Fortunately, when I came back in the early afternoon they had fixed the problem.

Meanwhile I am waiting for our co-director, Rita, to arrive. She is hours late. When she finally comes, she explains that only half of her luggage had arrived and she had been waiting at the airport to see if the rest would come on the next flight. It didn't. Big hassle for her which is not over.

RIta has problems with asthma, so a fire in her bedroom is not going to help warm her, and instead we went out to the big mall at the edge of town so she could buy an electric heater. We think that a fire in the living room will be ok, which is lucky because I've just gone in on the order for a big load of firewood. We also bought a tea-kettle and some fruit. Rita had not seen mamey before so I can't wait until she has some.

Rita came with me to supper at Casa del Pan #2. We ended up sharing orders of vegetable soup and tamales and filled up for half the price. Rita is being great about speaking to me in Spanish, which is good because for three days I haven't spoken a word except for "la cuenta por favor."

In Casa del Pan a singer with an accordion started performing while her male companion strummed absent-mindedly on the guitar. The Spanish songs were enjoyable but she lost my tip when she did a horrendous version of La Vie en Rose. Besides, the children from Amatenango del Valle were crowding around showing us their ceramic figurines. Rita got a beautiful one showing a turkey with a small turkey on its back. Only 10 pesos (one dollar). We hope to visit some of the potters' workshops in Amatenango in April.

Sunday, January 28

Last night I was finally successful in getting a fire started in the fireplace in my bedroom. I was anticipating a warm sleep for a change but hadn’t fully considered the logistics of fireplace burning. Closing my bedroom door to keep in the heat also prevented fresh air from coming in and smoked up the bedroom. So I had to open the door which cooled it off a good deal. Still it was exciting and cheery and I ended up staying awake till 3 am watching the fire. Too bad I woke up at 6. Spent the day pretty sleepy.

This morning after finishing writing up my lecture on Copán, I took my morning constitutional climbing the hill to the San Cristobal sanctuary again. Does wonders to warm up the body. The climb was more interesting today. There were 6 young men camping on one of the landings, with two tents. Farther up, a man was letting his sheep graze at the side. Another was feeding his pig out of a bucket. Prettiest pig I’ve ever seen, with rust-coloured furry coat. I’d feed him too. Streets were still pretty deserted on the way back, due to Sunday morning ritual I guess.

Julie stopped over around midday. She arrived last night and is very happy with the homestay into which Instituto Jovel has placed her. It is near the Instituto and even has internet! I’m happy to note that she is also a big fan of Philip Glass’ music. And we also both love Andean Huaynos.

Saturday, January 27

Even less to report today. I began the day with a climb up the stairs to the sanctuary on the hill in town.250 steps to the upper road and then 30 more to the building. Got me warm for a little while.

I spent the rest of the day working on lectures.

Jaime (James) stopped in. He's got a problem of mold in his place to which he is allergic. He will probably be looking for another and is willing to share. Ellen says hers smells musty too but isn't making her sick. So, word to the wise when you are looking for places. Ewan is also still looking.

If apartments become scarce, a bunch of you might want to rent a house. Try Century 21, behind the Bancomer at the southwest corner of the Zocalo.

For those who have forgotten my address, I'm at Calle 28 de Agosto (2 blocks north of Zocalo) number 19. The number 19 is on both my apartment door and the garage door, so take the apartment door and give a good rap. I wont be there around 5:45 to 6:45 as I will have gone to supper. You can find me at the Casa del Pan on Dr. Navarro every day but Monday, when they are closed, so I eat at their other outlet at Real de Guadalupe 55.

I don't have a phone, so if you are planning to drop by or have any other messages, just email. I'm working if I'm home and that means that my email gets checked every 5 minutes.