Like many traditions, the roots of Pátzcuaro's annual Semana Santa Tianguis reach deep into the soil of Mesoamerican, including Purhépecha, culture, which was based on subsistence farming.
The culture practiced self-sufficiency supported by values of mutual obligation and mutual responsibility that served to bind members of the community to one another.
But subsistence farming and self-sufficiency didn't mean a lack of specialization. In fact, quite the opposite was true. The geography of Mexico is such that entirely different ecosystems often lie only a few miles apart.
The availability of different natural resources naturally fostered the development of specialized crafts and wares in different indigenous communities. These crafts and wares were traded or, more accurately, bartered (trueque) at annual fairs held precisely for that purpose.
The system of trueque practiced at the tianguis (open-air market) was simply another facet of the value of mutual obligation—each community provided specialty items that enriched life in the broader regional Mesoamerican community.
It's a real challenge for me to try to describe the diversity of crafts: pottery of all sizes and shapes—bowls, vases and trays glazed with aesthetic designs and color.
There are large, black and brown glazed floor pots, some a meter high, which are beautiful when they grace Mexican patios and courtyards.
There are wood products: wood-carved masks, sculptures of crocodiles and dragons large enough to sit on the floor; salad bowls, serving forks and children's toys made of wood. The trucks are truly special! There are the pottery devils and dragons of the pueblo of Ocumicho, which Reed collects.
There are cotton handwoven and embroidered blouses, huipiles (single-piece dresses).
Huipiles
There are wool sweaters woven from the softest merino lambswool, and rebozos, children's cotton shirts and pants; men's shirts, and sombreros woven from natural fibers. And embroidered scenes of pueblo life.
Embroidered traditional scene
There is lacquer ware of all kinds (hair combs, boxes, earrings, large trays and bowls), hand-crafted silver jewelry, woven baskets, and did I mention children's wooden toys, including coordination-challenging tops!
But yesterday as Reed and I strolled gazing at the stalls, I was struck by the differences in traditional dress of indigenous women who, clearly, come from different pueblos. Their dress reminded me yet again of the cultural blending that occurred with the arrival of the Spaniards.
It's obvious that the early Church Orders (brothers charged with converting the indigenous and teaching them Spanish culture) mandated that the indigenous peoples adopt minimal Spanish dress: shirt and simple pants for the men; blouse and skirt for the women.
Purepecha senora
Zapotec dress, Oaxaca
My indigenous friend Alicia reminded me the other day that each pueblo has its own distinctive clothing style, a point driven home by her sister's experience as a teacher in a distant pueblo.
Intent on fitting in with the families of her students, her sister bought the pueblo's traditional dress. When she returns to Pátzcuaro, she wears the same clothing because it's too expensive to maintain two sets.
Purepecha women at a fiesta
But to her consternation, she finds that people in Pátzcuaro think that, because of her dress, she's from the far-away pueblo rather than her nearby home pueblo of Nocutzepo, which is about 20 minutes away on the west side of Lake Pátzcuaro. To say the least, it is slightly unnerving to be taken as fuereña (outsider) in your own hometown!
I also want to write about rebozos, which is a separate post all in itself!
Rebozos
My grandmother was not happy without her rebozo.
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