Conservation in Guanajuato

More than a dozen species of the encino oak tree spread a dark green canopy across the rocky Sierra de Santa Rosa, but centuries of mining, grazing, and firewood-gathering have taken a toll on the forest. Trees have been cut down to provide wood for the mines; cows and goats roam the hillsides; people gather leña (firewood) and pack it to town on burros where it is sold to fuel the cooking stoves of street vendors. The land is dry, and when the trees disappear, the vegetation is slow to recover. The soil erodes dramatically, and this affects the streams and reservoirs that provide water for Guanajuato and many of the surrounding pueblos.

Several decades ago, the government engaged in a program to address the deforestation problem by planting non-native, fast-growing eucalyptus trees. This solution has created new problems; the eucalyptus trees suck up a lot of the water and they have taken over areas that would historically have been covered by encino trees.

A small but impressive nonprofit conservation organization, Cuerpos de Conservación Guanajuato, is addressing these problems to improve the health of the mountains and the well-being of the tiny pueblos that are embedded in the remote reaches. The organization really has just one full-time employee: Arturo. But he knows how to mobilize people. Today we explored the mountains with him and learned about the projects of the Cuerpos. He has worked with local people to build extensive stone terraces across hillsides that have been deforested. The loose stones are gathered from the mountainsides, and they are arranged in countoured walls that help to catch sediment and rebuild the top soil. In some places, native maguey plants have been planted along the terraces to facilitate the process. The terraces prevent ongoing erosion and slowly facilitate the restoration of the soil on the mountainsides; the work of building the terraces provides employment for local people (the Cuerpos organization has received government funding from both México and the United States for these projects). Many of the workers are women; Arturo said the organization has had more success mobilizing women in the small mountain towns for these new projects.

The Cuerpos de Conservación Guanajuato also helped a group of about twenty women develop a community-based cooperative business to make and sell traditional sweets, jams, and syrups from the seasonal fruits of the region. One of the women, Margarita, told us today how the women have always made these preserves in their homes, but, with encouragement from Cuerpos and others, they began to imagine it as a viable business. Now they have a beautiful kitchen and shop on the main street in Santa Rosa where they sell glowing yellow and orange and amber jars of preserved fruits: tejocotes en almibar, mermelada de fresa, mermelada de mango, chiles chipotles. Their strawberry jam is shipped weekly to restaurants in Mexico City. The business provides an economic boon for the community and celebrates the land by honoring the traditional fruits of the area without contributing to deforestation (as livestock grazing and firewood gathering have done). The business has grown organically from the kitchens of the women in the pueblo, and it promotes natural foods and an environmental ethic.

As we surveyed the landscape and learned about these projects, Arturo said, "La sierra es una buena escuela." The mountains are a good school.

Hasta los Huesos

"Down to the Bones" - un cortometraje mexicano - is a short claymation celebration of Mexico's vibrant traditions related to death. From the November holiday of Día de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead) to the feminine icon of death, la Catrina, a skeleton garishly dressed in fancy clothes - Mexican traditions say, "Los muertos viven con nosotros" and "El muerte es una fiesta" ("The dead live with us" and "Death is a party").

Sunday Mornings

On Sunday mornings, we get a load of laundry hanging on the line to dry, then we walk down Temezcuitate, get a coffee at Café Tal, pick up two newspapers, and find a bench in the Jardín de la Union. We choose between two daily Guanajuato papers - "A.M." and "Correo" - for local, national, and international current events, and we always pick up the "Chopper," a local weekly paper that is a little more chatty about what's happening around town.

Of course, there is always grimness in world news, which is why it is good to read the newspaper on a bench in the Jardín. It is hard to be too deflated by current events while watching families stroll through the plaza eating ice cream cones. And always on Sunday mornings, scout troops of young boys and girls, decked out in uniforms of blue pants or skirts and yellow blouses and green neck scarves, meet and practice their orienteering skills in scavenger hunts around the city center. They are earnest and cheerful and suggest that surely we'll find our way.

A Little Fruity

Some great colloquial Mexican expressions are fruity and foody:

Él está como mango.
He is really handsome.
(mango = mango)

¡Naranjas!
No!
(naranjas = oranges)

La idioma de español es mi coco.
The Spanish language is a challenge for me.
(coco = coconut)

Ella es una chica fresa.
She is rich/preppy.
(fresa = strawberry)

Bailar es mi mero mole.
Dancing is what I love and do well.
(mole = traditional Mexican sauce, rich with a little sweetness and kick)

Un Rincón para Estudiar

During a break between classes, I love to sit at the front window of Café Carcamanes to study. The table is just wide enough to hold my notebooks, dictionary, and cappuccino, and it is at just the right angle at 10 in the morning to receive a warm slant of light. Outside the window, the dry purple petals from a tall jacaranda tree are scattered like pieces of cut ribbon across the tiny stone plaza.

Of course, even this peaceful rincón, so perfect for sitting alone with one's thoughts, also holds a history, another dramatic legend of Guanajuato. The brothers Carcamanes, so the legend goes, arrived in Guanajuato from Europe more than 150 years ago. One day, they were both found murdered in their house, and the people thought they had been killed by robbers. But, in fact, they had fallen passionately in love with the same woman, who frivolously played with them both, and when the brothers discovered their torrid love triangle, they killed each other, and their lover, in a fury.

But today the peaceful quiet is only disturbed by a man calling out "agua ciel" in a baritone voice as he walks the street selling jugs of water.

Quinceañera

On Saturday night, high in the Sierra de Santa Rosa, a young woman turning fifteen years-old became a princess as the entire pueblo celebrated her quinceañera. She wore a pink, glittery ball gown; her black hair was pulled back in an elaborate up-do; her make-up sparkled. More than a hundred people - all familia lejana, the extended family of this tiny town - gathered together to honor the young woman in this traditional Latin American rite-of-passage. Earlier in the day, the girl had attended a special mass in her honor. In the evening, the festivities moved outside. Tables, chairs, tents, and a stage with full lighting were set-up in a field overlooking mountains upon mountains. A full dinner of pork and rice and abundant beverages was served to everyone - even us gringos, who knew no one, but had been invited by the band, and we were welcomed generously and immediately. The young woman, the quinceañera, performed several formal dances with young men from the community, and then, in a sweet ceremony, she received her last doll - a sign of her moving past the things of childhood and becoming a woman. She also called up dozens of people from the community and gave them each a rose as a sign of her appreciation of the role they have played in her maturation.

And then the band played, norteño-style music, and everyone began to dance. They dedicated one of their first songs, a more somber song, to two sons of Santa Rosa who have gone to the United States to work. We're thinking of you, they said, and their song reached far into the darkness across the sierra. The night was cold, but a thin moon smiled above the field, and the party promised to continue through the night.

Saturday in the Sierra de Santa Rosa

My mind was saturated at the end of this week: School resumed after the two-week Easter holiday, so I was meeting with students and reading essays; I began co-teaching an English class for elementary school teachers; and I began an intensive Spanish course at the Universidad de Guanajuato's language school, so my mind was reeling with new information about the Mexican Revolution, recipes for frijoles charros (cowboy beans), and the classification of verbs. So this morning it was refreshing huir a la Sierra de Santa Rosa - to flee to the mountains of Santa Rosa again for a long morning run.

We drove the cobbled main road up the hill through the tiny, tranquil town, passing burros carrying firewood and a herd of goats, then we began our run on a small dirt road. The dirt road became a single-track path that became a tangle of brush - including a grove of the striking, red-barked, gracefully twisting branches of the pingüita shrub. Our friend led us through the thicket until we reached an open space tucked deep into the mountains. At the center of the clearing was a solitary tejocote tree, reveling alone in a glory of white blossoms.

Earlier this week, Mark met with the director of a local conservation organization, Cuerpos de Conservación Guanajuato, that is engaged in environmental protection work in the Sierra de Santa Rosa. A book that describes their work states,

Capturar momentos y lugares que ilustren lo majestuoso y el mismo tiempo lo esencial del patrimonio natural de Guanajuato es emprender un viaje por generosos paisajes humanos y naturalezas que la sierra de Santa Rosa oculta.

To capture the moments and places that illustrate the majesty and at the same time the essential natural heritage of Guanajuato is to begin a journey through the ample human and natural landscapes that the mountains of Santa Rosa hide.

To see just some of the secrets held in these mountains, under such blue skies - I am grateful.

El Callejón de los Milagros

"The Alley of Miracles" (also called "Midaq Alley" in English) is a film that inhabits a neighborhood at the heart of Mexico City. The lives of the neighbors intertwine, and the film shifts its points of view four times to show the neighborhood from the perspective of different characters: Don Ru, the owner of a cantina who late in life is awakened to homosexual inclinations; Almita, a beautiful young woman who is coming of age, and her novio, Abel, a young and earnest barber who migrates to the U.S. with the hope of earning enough money to return to México and marry her; and Susana, the spinster landlady who is waiting for her Prince Charming to arrive. Their world - this tight and chaotic neighbhoorhood at the center of a sprawling metropolis - is strained in many directions by poverty, disillusionment, love, hope, passion, despair - the spectrum of human motions. Each character is complex, and the shifting point of view of the film challenges the empathy of the viewer. The 1995 film is the most award-winning Mexican film, and, as the professor of the "Cine y Literatura" class claims, it is one of the best.

And it is very Mexican - the scenes of men playing dominoes in the cantina; the crush of people of all different social strata in the streets; the sights of Mexico City plazas. What is fascinating and ironic is that the film was adapted from a novel set in Cairo by the Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz.

Proverbios y Dichos

PROVERBS AND SAYINGS

In the United States, Friday the 13th is a day of supersitions. In México, Tuesday the 13th (today!) is a day of superstitions. The saying is "Martes 13 ni te cases ni te embarques." On Tuesday the 13th, don't get married and don't go traveling.

Other common proverbs I've learned recently are:

"Pan para hoy y hambre para mañana."
Bread for today and hunger for tomorrow. (Advice to live in the moment, and enjoy it - but perhaps also to think a little about the future.)

"Dios dirá."
God will say. (Or - God will determine. The sense is that it is in God's hands. So, if you are late for an appointment, you can say, "Dios dirá,' to suggest that, well, God controls events!)

"Dime con quien andas y te diré quien eres."
Tell me who you walk with and I will tell you who you are.

"Camarón que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente."
The shrimp that sleeps gets carried away by the current.

Second Languages

I have been reading my students’ essay drafts on the novel “The Professor’s House” by Willa Cather. They have written their essays in English, their second (or third!) language.

I also have been reading a Mexican history textbook written for students at the secundaria (middle school) level, as a way to build my Spanish language skills while also learning more about México’s rich history.

As I read the students’ essay drafts, I add and delete a’s, an’s, and the’s, and I correct verb tenses. I marvel at the students’ sophisticated literary arguments about the themes of inheritance and the search for a usable past.

As I read the history textbook, I circle words and write definitions in the margins. I marvel at México’s rich, diverse, mestizo heritage, and I wonder at how the ancient Maya and Zapoteca and Teotihuacana mythologies continue to shape Mexicans’ worldviews today.

I feel so eager for my students to access the nuances of some great literary works written in English, unmediated by translation. And I am so eager for myself to access more history, literature, art, and world news in Spanish – again, unmediated by translation.

An understanding of a second language is such a fundamental, valuable humanistic skill. I feel this every day here. I’m inspired by my students.

A la Anciana

The viejita climbs the cobbled street
of Temezcuitate with quiet steps,
pecking at time with tiny, black-shoed feet.
She plaits a path across the crooked space,
between the houses’ walls of pink and white,
of green and blue. She weaves a line of grace
and carries knowing on her aged back,
her shoulders folded over memories deep.
The callejón, the plaster walls have cracked
under the weight of so much past. And yet
her bird-bones hold. An orange rebozo flames
across her back, around her arms and chest.
She grasps the silkened cotton at her heart,
holding the comfort of tradition close
with gnarled hands that also know the part
of letting go. Her eyes pour out a gaze
that barely sees, but pulls the world in.
The dark eyes still draw strands from memory’s haze.
Silver hair with streaks of white, it folds
behind her face into a feathered braid
that neatly falls across her back, and holds.
Her brown face opens to the warming light.
She knows the sun, the sky. And as she rises
up the street, in time, she’s taking flight.

The Santa Rosa Mountains and Reasons to Run

REASONS TO RUN:

1. To feel the geography - how the Santa Rosa Mountains in the Sierra Madre Range climb to more than 8,000 feet; how the pebbly soil rolls under your footsteps; how encino deciduous trees cover the leeward sides of the mountains with dense foliage of copper and green; how the cactus plants are topped by yellow blossoms now, to be followed by the tuna fruit that will mature beneath the blooms; how mining sites carve out pale spots on the mountainsides and small dams create pools of water in the valleys; how old pueblitos rest in tiny nooks in the distance.

2. To make friends - such as Abraham, a historian and a muy fuerte runner, who introduced us to this Santa Rosa trail; to have a common connection in the desire to put one foot in front of the other for a couple of hours; to enjoy the honor of listening to someone describe the features of the landscape they live in and love.

3. To practice language phrases - to learn the names of the plants and the pueblos; to be able to communicate with urgency, "Mis piernas queman" (My legs burn!); and to repeat random Spanish phrases, such as "Puedo filar mi lapiz" (can I sharpen my pencil) as mantras when grinding up a hill.

4. To justify mucho guacamole, hamburguesas, and helado de mango from the Michoacana ice cream store later in the hot afternoon.

Alegría

On Tuesday evenings, the municipal band plays in the gazebo in the Jardín de la Unión, the viejito couples dance, and the world is right.

This is perhaps my favorite thing in Guanajuato.

The densely shaded plaza provides a cool twilight reprieve from the heat of the day; crowds of people begin to stroll around the jardín and gather in the sidewalk cafés and on the park benches. The roving mariachi and norteño groups take a break, and the city band strikes up a tune. Then the old couples get up to dance. Their arms and legs seem stiff at first; their steps are small. But then the gentleman turns the lady with the lightest touch of his hand, and she raises her fingers in a flourish. They move in perfect rhythm. Their faces are straight and formal, but their eyes sparkle.

One gentleman in particular amazes me. Sometimes he wears bright red pants. Tonight he wore blue. His wife wore a beige dress and pink, sparkly shoes. He can dance. He sways his hips, kicks his legs, and occasionally drops one knee to the ground. He leads his wife through lovely turns and crosses. They take a bow after every dance. Everybody smiles and applauds.

La Leyenda de la Princesa de la Bufa

Just as the city of Guanajuato seems to be folded into the mountains of central México, so are fantastic legends folded into its streets, plazas, tunnels, caves, and hills.

We run regularly at the Cerro de la Bufa, an area of forested hills and rocky cliffs on the southeast side of Guanajuato. We have seen the statue of the patron saint of the city tucked in a cave on the hill. But today we learned that an enchanted princess also inhabits the peak of La Bufa, and on Holy Thursdays, for hundreds of years, she has emerged to call for a handsome and valiant man to rescue her by carrying her down to the holy altar of the Basilica in the center of town. Once there, she will once again become human, and the city of Guanajuato will be restored to the resplendent glory of the days at the height of its silver mining boom. But there is risk, and the man who rescues the princess must not be so stunned by her beauty that he cannot complete the journey. He must carry her serenely in his arms all the way; he cannot look back or lose his step, no matter what strange noises he hears behind him. If he does falter, the princess will turn into a terrible serpent, and he will meet an ugly end.

Unfortunately, Holy Thursday was last week, and we ran on Saturday - two days too late. Mark missed his opportunity to rescue the princess and enter into the legends of Guanajuato.

Pascua

After the exuberant week of Semana Santa leading up to Easter, today, Pascua, seemed tranquil and subdued. El centro was busy as always, but there were no lines of vendors selling flowers and special festival foods, no elaborate religious processions flowing down the streets. The churches were filled with worshippers but were not surrounded by festivities; families appeared to gather in their own homes this afternoon. Today the religious celebration seemed to turn inward.

Peregrinación

Yesterday crowds of people moved through the streets and into the Catholic churches with their arms full of manzanilla, chamomile. Inside the churches, altars were full of flowers and candles and graphic exhibits related to Christ's crucifixion. The tradition is for people to visit seven churches on the one day. In Guanajuato, this can be accomplished within a 15-minute walking radius of el Centro. Lines extended from the church doors into the streets.

Today, a peregrinación, a pilgrimage, proceeded from near el Centro to a church up the hill near an old mine, la Mina de Cata. The procession followed a large wooden platform bearing an icon of Christ carrying the cross; it was carried by about 20 men. More than a hundred men followed the procession in two lines; they all wore dark purple burlap gowns and full face masks. Heavy ropes hung around their necks. They were barefoot. It felt medieval. One man had a large color tattoo of the Virgin of Guadalupe on his back. Another wore a black ribbon around each ankle with the name "Che" printed in bold white letters around each ribbon. I wondered what motivated each man to do the pilgrimage, and if it was something he did once in his lifetime, or every year. And why it was only men. They did not speak as they walked.

Crowds of people grouped around and behind the men in purple robes, chatting and pushing steadily forward. The procession grew to many hundreds of people as it advanced, slowly over more than two hours, toward the church. Periodically, the procession would stop, and a portion of the crucifixion story was related over a loudspeaker. Many people in the crowds wore purple; some carried candles; some carried coca-cola and picnics.

There are so many ways for people to demonstrate devotion.