Green Shoots 5: Ever-Widening Circles of Response to Environmental Threat

Hermann Bellinghausen reports on Mexico's indigenous peoples for La Jornada. Several days ago, his article "Where the Living Jungle Lives" appeared. The story of an outsider's first visit to the community, "Sarayaku: A Journey Into the Heart of the Resistance", includes details and photos that enrich Sarayaku, the Kichwa community described by Bellinghausen. Links to relevant articles are provided below this translation.

"Where the Living Jungle Lives"

Hermann Bellinghausen,

La Jornada, 10/5/2015

One afternoon late in 2011, while sharing manioc beer under an umbrella a few yards from the Bobonaza River [flows into the Amazon] in Ecuador's Amazon jungle, José Gualinga wondered, What is the "living forest" (Kawsak Sacha in Kichwa, or Quechua). Here's how he answered his own question:

"A space of beings where we people elevate our physical, psychological and psychic emotions. For example, in August most of the people move into the jungle, not in a community, but into the jungle, in little houses deep in the interior. There the children, women, everyone, re-create, pick up their life. They go to see the Masanga, the mysteries. This strengthens you and makes brotherhood, unity and respect for the natural world" (Ojarasca, October 2011).

At that time, Gualinga presided over Sarayaku's Governing Council. Before and after, he has taken on various responsibilities representing his people in national organizations and before the world. The Sarayaku defeated an oil company and the government of Rafael Correa himself. They are living proof that it can be done. Bearing the voice of his people, Gualinga has traveled. He does not ignore the essentials of the global environment, or the poisonous honeys of the "first world" or the stinky breath of the leadership circles in Quito [Ecuador], but he knows that in his place life is better without poisons and in harmony with the natural world.

The Kichwas of Sarayaku pulled themselves together. They let the land speak, and they live as she says:

"It is sacred territory, one must not destroy it. The living jungle is also the place where the shamans and elders transmit their knowledge—the science of the jungle, how to know the trees, plants, fish, animals, orient yourself, dream, have visions. This is our science, the relationship with this world. A language of communication with the animals."

Gualinga spoke of the Amazonian indigenous project that goes against the grain of the capitalism that has historically ignored the indigenous people and their existential choices. It is long-term; it is for today and for when we die. This future defines the present. Not the opposite, like the non-neoliberal project that subjects the future to the present. Gualinga confided:

"This proposal that all nationalities of the center-south Amazon region are developing—the Kichwa territory is one border, and the territory extends all the way to the Achuar and Shuar territory. The indigenous territory is five million hectares [12.4 million acres; 19,305 square miles]. The northeastern jungle, Sucumbios, Orellana are already affected, but here the jungle remains well protected."

Now, four years later, the people of the Amazon march once again in the Ecuadorian distances [outside the jungle] to demonstrate their rights and their principle of existence in resistance to the populist-extractivist government of Correa (who has already had to legislate on the rights of Mother Earth).

"As the government expands the oil blocks, we propose declaring the living jungle to be sacred of the beings, where our life is constituted. We propose plans of life: managing the natural resources according to our vision grounded in a fertile earth, applying the knowledge of the peoples and the social behavior that make Sumaj Kawsay (Good Living in Kichwa; in Spanish Buen Vivir). Within that [proposal] we are going to use the natural resources for education, health and our own economy. The platform, the great vision, is to maintain the Sumaj Kawsay, where the natural world is not contaminated but free."

This way of thinking is winning significant battles. In Argentina, impressed by the examples of Bolivia and Ecuador, a Supreme Court Justice wrote "La Pachamama y el humano", Mother Earth and the Human Being (published by Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, 2012). Justice Eugenio Raúl Zaffaroni undertakes a legal, philosophical and humanistic review, from Kant to Monod, of man's relationship with the natural and animal world. Zaffaroni calls for working "intelligently" in the search for a "friendly coexistence" between man and La Pachamama, Mother Earth. On page 12, he writes that if they continue preying on the rivers, mountains and animals that live there,

"the planet is going to continue living. It is not going to end, but we are the ones who are not going to continue living, we human beings."

The most lucid indigenous peoples in South America are moving forward on a risky, but possible project. They have managed to set legal limits .... In a 2014 interview with Lobo Suelto [Unleashed, Loose Wolf], Silvia Rivera Cusicanqui declared:

"What we do is transform ourselves into a collective will of 'doing'. We always project ourselves toward the outside as collective wills that break the barrier between the manual and the intellectual."

In her criticism of the government socialisms that, including Bolivia, just don't understand the indigenous peoples, the relentless Aymara thinker said:

"We are no longer alone, since also accompanying us are a whole lot of critters and the Earth." ... 

Are we speaking of a dimension more humane than democracy? Spanish original

* * * * *

There is no more fitting way to close this post than by presenting the ambitious campaign sponsored by AVAAZ to establish in the Amazon River Basin the world's largest environmental preserve: 135 million hectares [333,592,265 acres; 521,238 square miles] of Amazon jungle. That's more than twice the size of France! The petition states:

"But it won’t happen unless Brazil, Colombia and Venezuela’s leaders know the public wants it. That’s where we [AVAAZ] come in. 

"Colombia has just said it is on board. Now, if we create a huge global push to save the Amazon and combine it with national polls in all three countries, we can give the Colombian president the support he needs to convince Brazil and Venezuela. All three leaders are looking for opportunities to shine at the next UN climate summit. Let’s give it to them.

"The Amazon is vital to life on earth—10% of known species live there, and its trees help slow down climate change by storing billions of tons of carbon that would otherwise be in the atmosphere. Experts say this reserve would be a total game-changer for stopping rampant deforestation. Sign the petition now, when we reach 1 million signers, indigenous leaders will deliver our petition and polls directly to the three governments."

* * * * *

Let me give the last word to Paul Hawken:

When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. 

What I see everywhere in the world are tens of millions of ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world.

Still Curious?

• Paul Hawken (2007), Blessed Unrest; website links to Video (5:45): Paul Hawken delivering core message about this nearly invisible, but powerful worldwide movement. Highly recommended.

• Hermann Bellinghausen, "Donde vive la selva viva" [Where the living jungle lives] (La Jornada, 10/5/2015).

• La Jornada Ojarasca website (Spanish):

• "Los Kichwas Amazónicas Protegen Sus Territorios Gobernándose A Si Mismos" [The Amazon Kichwas Protect Their Territories By Governing Themselves], José Gualinga, Kichwa leader;

• "Sarayaku: crónicas del buen vivir" [Sarayaku: Chronicles of the Good Life], Hermann Bellinghausen (Pastaza, Ecuador).

• Chakana Chronicles blog:

• "Sarayaku: A Journey Into the Heart of the Resistance" tells the story of an outsider's first visit to the community of Sarayaku, with photos; 

• "How You Can Help" (Video, 2:36; Spanish with English/German subtitles): Patricia Gualinga, Kichwa leader, sets Amazon struggle in global context a la Paul Hawken. 

• "Resistance to Mega-Mining Projects in Defense of the Water" (Video, 6:32; Spanish with English/German subtitles): Carlos Pérez Guartambel, leader of the Confederation of Kichwa Nationality, explains how mega-mining projects threaten the water; Carlos Pérez Guartambel holds the doctorate in Law and devotes his practice to 'Indigenous Justice'. 

• Eugenio Raúl Zaffaroni (Argentina Supreme Court Justice), "La Pachamama y el humano" [Mother Earth and the Human Being] (Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, 2012).

• AVAAZ: About Us; AVAAZ-sponsored petition to create world's largest environmental reserve in the Amazon River basin.

• Previous Green Shoots posts in Jenny's Journal:

• Green Shoots 1: Living Mesoamerican Community;

• Green Shoots 2: Finding Community on Both Side Sides of Our Shared Border;

• Green Shoots 3: Nurturing and Living Community in the U.S.;

• Green Shoots 4: Social Movement Afoot, Eluding Radar of Mainstream Culture.

Green Shoots 4: Worldwide Social Movement Is Afoot, Under Radar of Mainstream Culture

When we moved to Mexico seven years ago, I recall idly wondering how we might be affected by living long-term outside the United States. For the first few years we were caught up in building some master of Spanish and becoming acquainted with the endlessly fascinating, complex levels of Mexican culture. We had neither time nor emotional space for thinking about it.

During the three years we lived in Pátzcuaro, we were especially attracted to Purhépecha culture. That interest, in turn, led us to explore in greater depth what anthropologists more broadly call Mesoamerican culture. We visited many, if not most, of Mexico's southern archaeological sites, all the while becoming increasingly aware of similarities between the linguistic and cultural groups we visited. Regardless of location, these groups share two major themes: a common cosmovisión, or worldview, and their profound relationship to la naturaleza, the natural world.

Meanwhile, disheartened by all that is not being done to deal with climate change, I had come to wonder if the relationship forged with Mother Earth by Mexico's indigenous peoples might be unique to Mexico. Fortuitously, I came upon the work of Paul Hawken, environmentalist, entrepreneur, and author whose influential writings have shaped corporate sustainability. Prior to the 2007 release of his book Blessed Unrest, the environmental magazine Orion published an article adapted from the book.

In that 2007 piece, Hawken relates that over the last fifteen years he's given close to a thousand talks about the environment. Afterward, people would gather to talk, ask questions and offer their cards:

The people offering their cards were working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. They were from the nonprofit and nongovernmental world, also known as civil society. 

They looked after rivers and bays, educated consumers about sustainable agriculture, retrofitted houses with solar panels, lobbied state legislatures about pollution, fought against corporate-weighted trade policies, worked to green inner cities, or taught children about the environment. Quite simply, they were trying to safeguard nature and ensure justice.

Arriving home from a trip, Paul would take out the cards, look at the names and logos, and reflect on their various missions. Then he'd put the cards in paper bags. Tellingly, he writes: "I couldn't throw them away."

Eventually, Hawken got curious: did anyone know how many organizations there were? His initial curiosity evolved into a "hunch that something larger was afoot, a significant social movement that was eluding the radar of mainstream culture."

Government tax census records in some countries enabled him to extrapolate the number of environmental and social justice groups. At first, Hawken estimated the number of environmental groups to be 30,000 worldwide — a number that swelled to 100,000 when he included social justice groups:

"Historically, social movements have arisen primarily because of injustice, inequalities, and corruption. Those woes remain legion, but a new condition exists that has no precedent: the planet has a life-threatening disease that is marked by massive ecological degradation and rapid climate change. It crossed my mind that perhaps I was seeing something organic, if not biologic. Rather than a movement in the conventional sense, is it a collective response to threat?" 

Hawken has a lot more to say—let me highly recommend Blessed Unrest—but consider these:

"After spending years researching this phenomenon, including creating with my colleagues a global database of these organizations, I have come to these conclusions: [1] this is the largest social movement in all of history; [2] no one knows its scope; and [3] how it functions is more mysterious than what meets the eye. 

"What does meet the eye is compelling: tens of millions of ordinary and not-so-ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world."

Hawken concludes the Orion article with these prophetic words:

THERE IS FIERCENESS HERE. There is no other explanation for the raw courage and heart seen over and over again in the people who march, speak, create, resist, and build. It is the fierceness of what it means to know we are human and want to survive. 

This movement is relentless and unafraid. It cannot be mollified, pacified, or suppressed. There can be no Berlin Wall moment, no treaty-signing, no morning to awaken when the superpowers agree to stand down. The movement will continue to take myriad forms. It will not rest. There will be no Marx, Alexander, or Kennedy. No book can explain it, no person can represent it, no words can encompass it, because the movement is the breathing, sentient testament of the living world. 

And I believe it will prevail. I don’t mean defeat, conquer, or cause harm to someone else. And I don’t tender the claim in an oracular sense. I mean the thinking that informs the movement’s goal — to create a just society conducive to life on Earth — will reign. It will soon suffuse and permeate most institutions. But before then, it will change a sufficient number of people so as to begin the reversal of centuries of frenzied self-destruction. 

Inspiration is not garnered from litanies of what is flawed; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, recover, re-imagine, and reconsider. Healing the wounds of the Earth and its people does not require saintliness or a political party. It is not a liberal or conservative activity. It is a sacred act. 

In Hawken's view, three intertwining roots make up this inchoate worldwide movement: the environmental and social justice movements, for sure, but — central to our interests — the resistance by indigenous cultures to globalization.

In Mexico, Miguel Concha, National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) professor and a long-time, highly respected human rights advocate, lays out the challenges clearly and succinctly: "Mexico's Ordinary People Struggle for Life, Land, Water and Work". More specifically, the Zapatista movement in Chiapas probably enjoys the broadest international recognition, but other movements are just as far-reaching and important. To name just two: communal actions by the Yaqui Tribe in Sonora (against diversion of water from the Sonora River—in violation of indigenous water rights—for industrial purposes); and community actions taken in seemingly lesser places like Cherán, Michoacán (Purhépecha indigenous community successfully claimed its constitutional right self-government under traditional Uses and Customs and, hence, to defend its hereditary lands from illegal logging by organized crime).

Hawken's idea of grassroots activism isn't a new theme for Jenny's Journal. In 2010, we wrote a three-part series titled 'Green Shoots' (see below) that explored the notion of community that is at the very heart of indigenous cultures all over the world. But a healthy sense of community is by no means restricted to indigenous cultures.

Green Shoots 3 recaps highlights of Bill Moyers' conversation with Grace Lee Boggs, Ph.D. in Philosophy from Bryn Mawr and a civil rights activist in Detroit for more than fifty years. Ninety-one years-old when she spoke with Moyers (she died recently, October 5, 2015, at age 100), Boggs talked about the cultural revolution she saw brewing in our country at the grassroots level. When Moyers asked her what advice she had for young people, she replied,

"Do something local and specific—it doesn't matter what it is, just start."

Echos of Paul Hawken—actually, Hawken would probably say that what's happening in Detroit is yet another spontaneous human expression in response to the global environmental threat. If they're not already on it, Hawken would certainly add Detroit's grassroots community organizations to his ever-growing list—now conservatively estimated at 130,000—of organizations contributing to worldwide Blessed Unrest.

Still Curious?

• Highly recommended: Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest (2007); the book's website gives access to Video (5:45), where Hawken delivers the core message about this nearly invisible, but powerful worldwide movement.

• Green Shoots 1: Living Mesoamerican Community;

• Green Shoots 2: Finding Community on Both Side Sides of Our Shared Border;

• Green Shoots 3: Nurturing and Living Community in the U.S.

On Searching for Coriander in Mexico City

Cilantro Seeds
Photo: Butterfly Kitchen
See link in Still Curious? section, below.

Cooking in Mexico is quite enjoyable. For one thing, way more fresh ingredients make their way into the pot. To tell the truth,  fruits and vegetables just plain taste better down here. The carrots are sweeter, tastier—as are the beets. Spinach and Swiss chard come straight from the fields. Beans simmered in my traditional earthenware bean pot from Pátzcuaro carry a flavor all their own.

Herbs and spices can be a challenge. It isn't that they aren't here; it's just that searching for them with their Spanish names is often daunting. On the upside, I've discovered that crushing herbs with my small wooden mortar and pestle—rather than crushing them with my finger in the palm of my hand—releases the herbs' fragrances in a most pleasing way.

Then there are the recipes that produce multiple challenges. I had one this week. I had made a big pot of garbanzo beans. On an impulse I'd also bought half of a HUGE squash, which I'd baked and pureed hoping I could use it as a substitute for sugar pumpkin. Short answer: it is scrumptious in Pumpkin Bread!

Looking for a dinner option, I googled the ingredients. Up came a promising Chicken-Pumpkin-Garbanzo Goulash. So far so good. I sauteed onions and chicken in a little oil. The seasonings were easy: 1 teaspoon each of cinnamon, ginger and cumin; and 1 tablespoon of coriander. Oops. Coriander?

Just so I don't leave the cooks hanging, the recipe also calls for a couple of cups of diced tomatoes—I did mention that I use all fresh ingredients, didn't I? I use plum tomatoes, no additives, no preservatives...delicious. And pumpkin. I used a cup of the squash puree that I'd made, but chunks of baked pumpkin could also be used—actually, I'll try that next.

Served over couscous, the recipe was okay without coriander, but definitely lacked pizazz! Time to start looking.

Day 2: Getting Started

My first stop was the dictionary: Coriander is coriandro in Spanish. So far, so good—or so I thought. But a thorough search of the spice shelves at the supermarket yielded nothing, so I quizzed the young woman who stocks the spices. She'd never heard of coriandro.  The hunt was on!

While I was in the produce area, I asked the man stacking cucumbers the same question. He kind of looked around, then sotto voce told me, "We don't have them. Go to the abarrotes (little grocery stores), they'll have them."

Confused, I asked, "In the mercado?"  His smile lit up the area, "Yes, that's right."

I smothered a smile as I thought of our good friend in Pátzcuaro whose reply to the query, "Where can we buy...?" was unfailingly "En el mercado" (in the market). It became a standing joke among the three of us.

When I got home, I emailed my longtime friend from Mexico City, who now lives with her family in the United States. From her I learned that coriander is the seed of cilantro:

"Ask for semilla de cilantro," she urged me, "in the herb section of the mercado." I sighed...yet again...está en el mercado...believe me, Mexico's market tradition goes back millenia...way before the Spanish arrived, and it is alive and well!

Curious, I googled cilantro and learned that cilantro leaves (used in Mexico even more than parsley is used in the U.S.) and its seeds deliver two entirely different flavors. But how on earth would I roast the seeds?

A Canadian friend who winters in Ajijic, Mexico, is a gourmet cook. So I emailed her, asking if I could persuade her to bring me coriander when she comes in a week. She demurred in favor of my finding cilantro seeds.

"It's easy," she wrote, "just clean up the seeds, dry roast them and grind them in your coffee grinder. Your coriander will be much fresher than any I can bring." This was starting to get interesting.

Day 3: Our Local Mercado, Perhaps?

On my way out, I happened into our building administrator, Doña Carlota, who is a wealth of information. I believe she's on a mission to wean me from the 'super' (supermarket). Each time I make a discovery of something else I can buy in our local market, she nods approvingly while commenting, "Now you're learning."

The truth is that every week, I buy more products locally. So I asked Carlota if I might find cilantro seeds in our local mercado—a block and a half away. Carlota was doubtful. As we chatted, it became obvious that she didn't know anything about cilantro seeds.

Mindful of the advice of both my long-time friend and the produce clerk ("go to the mercado"), my next thought was the Tianguis de Sábado, the open-air market held each Saturday on a street about a 10-minute walk from our apartment. The Tianguis is a rich source of all kinds of food stuffs: beans, chiles, fresh fruits and vegetables, so it seemed natural that they might have coriander as well.

Day 4: Saturday Open-Air Market

When I arrived at the Tianguis, I began looking for the herb lady, but she wasn't there that week, so I proceeded to the stall where I buy the sinfully-delicious almond-chocolate mole (delicious over baked chicken breasts), dried cranberries, granola (amaranth, sunflower seeds, various nuts, naturally sweetened) and ALL my beans (black, garbanzos, May and June beans—similar to pinto beans, but harvested in the named months).

As I was leaving, I spotted plastic bags of natural (unrefined) sugar. So I bought a two kilo [four pound] bag for 25 pesos [US$1.89]. One more item bought locally. Carlota would be pleased.

I'd begun to walk up the street when I remembered the cilantro seeds, so I stopped at a produce stand featuring a large display of greens. The vendor greeted my query with disinterest, but his customer lit up and told me to go to the stall that sells chiles: "They have them."

I had to laugh. It was the same stall I'd just left, and the vendor's wife laughed when I came back for a third purchase. She told me that she hadn't brought cilantro seeds this week, but she'd have them next week.

Day 6: Local Mercado Churubusco

Despite Carlota's skepticism, I nonetheless decided to ask the owners of the wonderful abarrotes shop in our local mercado if they had seeds of cilantro. To my surprise, Tonita nodded yes, then added, "Son bolitos" (little balls), before turning to look for them. I can definitively state that coriander is not in common use in Mexico City!

Tonita and her husband, Armando, must have searched for a full five minutes. I'd about given up, when approached the counter with a plastic bag full of a seeds.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

I had no idea, so I tentatively replied, "Medio?"

He looked at me as if I'd suddenly developed an embarrassing tic, then tactfully suggested, "I'll measure out 100 grams, and you can decide."

Keep in mind that I still struggle with the metric system. I know that a kilo is roughly two pounds (2.2 pounds, to be exact). I'm comfortable with cuarto (1/2 pound) and medio (1 pound). I felt quite proud recently when I heard a woman ask for tres cuartos (pound and a half) and realized the utility of tres cuartos, but grams...to ounces??? 

I had little clue how to respond, but I can now definitively state that 100 grams [3.5 ounces] of cilantro seed is, of course, more than I'll be able to use in about a hundred years. Maybe I can take some seeds up to our daughters.

When I got home, I realized that I had no idea how to dry roast the seeds. So I checked the Internet...and  an entirely new world opened before me!!!

"The Taste of Conquest" immediately pops into my mind. It's a fascinating account of the role the spice trade played in the Europeans' explorations of the world. My former next-door neighbor in Connecticut is not only a voracious reader, but an incurably curious one as well—and a superb cook, often using ingredients she's grown in her garden. So when she recommended this history of the spice trade, I knew it would be good.

The role of pimiento (pepper, capsicum) in global exploration is especially interesting, but cinnamon, ginger, cloves, cumin, nutmeg and allspice were all important items of global trade—and many spices are seeds that are dry roasted then ground to a powder or even mashed with mortar and pestle.

I had indeed hit the jackpot with the web search. What I found are several sites that discuss dry roasting  of a whole variety of seeds, starting with—you guessed it—coriander and cumin, two of the ingredients in my recipe.

Day 7: Coriander the Old-Fashioned Way by Roasting and Grinding Cilantro Seeds

Finding coriander had now morphed into a cross-cultural effort spanning the ENTIRE North American Continent: Mexico, United States and Canada. Gotta love it.

Back home, the next task was separating good seeds from the inevitable twigs and seed husks. After a laboriously slow start, I found that if I spread a couple of tablespoons of the seeds on a piece of wax paper and nudged them with a dinner knife, the good seeds would roll easily and could be herded by the knife into a custard dish. It took awhile, but eventually I had separated about half the seeds.

Next I got out and heated my faithful Calphalon deep skillet, tossed in the seeds and stirred them continuously for about five or six minutes while I waited for them to release their fragrance. Then I emptied them back into the custard dish to cool before grinding them in the coffee grinder.

Coriander: Roasted and Ground Cilantro Seeds
Photo: Butterfly Kitchen

I have to admit that when I added the cinnamon-ginger-cumin and freshly prepared coriander to the onions I was sauteing, the fragrance alone was worth all the effort. Served that night over couscous, the goulash was pronounced a success. Interestingly, it was even more flavorful the following day.

People sometimes ask us, "But what do you do in Mexico?" Perhaps this post gives a few hints. !Buen provecho!  Bon appetite!

Still Curious?

Related Jenny post: Saturday Market in Coyoacán.

How to Dry Roast Coriander Seeds (nee Cilantro Seeds). I also read that spice seeds are available in Natural Food Stores.

From AllRecipes.com Chicken-Garbanzo Bean-Pumpkin Goulash. After I'd already published, I decided to include the recipe. When I searched, I found all kinds of wonderful combinations, including a Tunisian adaptation that looks promising.

Ball Court Game in Mesoamerican Culture

What better introduction to the Mesoamerican Ball Court Game played on Mexican soil for nearly 4,000 years and to the land that introduced the rubber ball to the world than the Mexico Team's first-ever Olympic Gold in soccer—¡fútbol!

Mexico's Gold Medal Soccer Team at 2012 Olympic Games

Cambridge University classicist Nigel Spivey (The Ancient Olympics) argues that the Olympics were invented as preparation for war. For the young men of Ancient Greece, the quadrennial sporting tribute to the god Zeus was also rehearsal for armed conflict. The games equipped young men with a spirit of self-sacrifice and the stamina that underpinned Greek supremacy in battle.

Nor can commercial aspects of the modern Olympic Games be ignored. Updates of construction costs (jobs!) and revenues attributable to the Games appear regularly in the press.

None of this would have seemed strange to Mesoamerica’s early ruling elites. Ball games were spectacles enjoyed by all social classes. The economics of ball games included long-distance trade of the rubber balls prized for play. Not infrequently ball games involved high-stakes gambling—perhaps one way that power was negotiated between rival factions, since it was believed that the winner was chosen by the gods.

Ball games demanded skill and endurance from players and, yes, they also involved sacrifice. Natural forces were spiritualized in Mesoamerica. Civic life was deeply religious: official ceremonies conveyed symbolic, religious meanings.

Ball Game Played with Rubber Ball

Games of 'foot on ball' were played in England and Northern France in the eighth and ninth centuries. In England, players kicked around an inflated pig's bladder.

The rubber ball comes from Mexico and Central America. Rubber balls didn't arrive in Europe until the late sixteenth century—most likely introduced to Europe by the Spanish sometime after Hernán Cortés defeated the Aztecs in 1521.

The Olmec culture on the Gulf of Mexico in modern-day Veracruz State is the foundation culture of the cultures of Mesoamerica. In the Nahua language spoken by the Aztecs, Olmec means "people of the rubber". The Maya used rubber to develop weapons with handles, such as hammers or hatchets; the Aztecs developed medicinal uses for rubber; and both the Aztecs and the Maya used rubber to waterproof clothing.

The best rubber comes from tropical gum (rubber) trees that grow at elevations lower than 600-700 meters (2,000-2,300'), which makes it obvious that the oldest ball court found to date is located in the region of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, southern Mexico, on the Pacific Coast.

Its symbolic and practical values made rubber a valuable Isthmian product for trade into the highlands (Central Mexico). The Aztec rulers in Tenochtitlán demanded an annual tribute of 16,000 rubber balls.

Ball Courts

The earliest ball court found so far is located on the Isthmus of Tehuántepec at Paso de la Amada, which flourished from 1800 to 1000 BCE. Its ball court was 80 meters long and 7 meters wide (260' x 23'), bounded by long parallel platforms about 2 meters (about 7') high.

The first ball court we saw is located at Tingambatu, Michoacán, in the hills between Lake Pátzcuaro and the  mid-sized city of Uruapán. Tingambatu is of Chichimeca origin and means "Hill of Mild Climate".

Ball court at Tingambato, Michoacán
Photo: Reed

Chichimeca is the Nahua name for semi-nomadic tribes from the north and carries the same connotation as 'barbarian' in Europe. Over two hundred Mesoamerican ball courts have been found in the Southwest United States! This excellent description of ball courts has a photograph of the circular Wupatki ball court north of Flagstaff, Arizona.

Formal ball courts were long rectangles, averaging about 40 meters (130') long, though many were less than 20 meters (66') long. The Grand Court at Chichén Itzá was 150 meters (about 490').

Ball courts were oriented to the heavens, often in ways that marked the equinoxes or solstices. 

Grand Court at Chichén Itzá on the Yucatán Peninsula
Photo: Reed

"I"-shaped Ball Court at Uxmal, Yucatán
Photo: Reed

Formal ball courts were enclosed by sloping walls, but pick-up games could be played on any level surface.

Ball Court at Monte Albán, Oaxaca, with sloping walls and "I" end zones.
Photo: Reed

Ball Court at El Tajín, Veracruz—one of seventeen ball courts at the site!
Photo: Reed

How the Ball Game was Played

Two teams of one to seven players moved a rubber ball around a court. The action was somewhat like soccer. Players wore body protectors made of leather and wood. We know about these body protectors mostly from representations carved in stone found in the Gulf lowlands (Veracruz). Today's archaeologists call these items yugos ("yokes"), which weighed about 30 pounds (13 kilos) and fit snugly around the hips.

Other paraphernalia, also represented in stone, were hachas ("axes") and palmas ("palm stones"), so-called because of their shapes. Palmas were hand-held and may have been used to put the ball in play. 

The ball game was played in many ways. In the most common variant, players kept the ball aloft by hitting it with their hips and scored if the ball touched the ground of the opposing team's end of the court. Some courts featured rings embedded in the walls at the center line.

Goal Ring at Chichén Itzá's Grand Court
Photo: Wikipedia Free Library

Ball Game Ring in the Garden at the Frida Kahlo Museum, Coyoacán.
Photo: Reed

Passing the ball through these rings would have been extremely difficult but players who scored were accorded not only gifts but extremely high honor.

El Tajín: Ball Player (left) receiving Staff of Honor for superior play
Photo: Reed

Why the Ballgame?

Trying to understand the Mesoamerican ballgame highlights an interesting cultural phenomenon: the appearance of something seemingly familiar in a totally new cultural context introduces meanings so different that the familiar becomes distinctly unfamiliar. The Mesoamerican ballgame is a good example: it carried meanings far more finely nuanced than any modern game of soccer.

Formal ballgames were religious and political occasions, recreating sacred events related to the fertility of the earth, while at the same time providing an opportunity for lavish feasts intended to  demonstrate a ruler's wealth and power in ways that made it possible to cement political alliances.

Mythic Meanings

Early Mesoamerican peoples believed that spiritual forces inhabited both physical geography and biota (flora and fauna). They revered things that exhibited the constant movement that signified the Life-force—reflecting mirrors (obsidian), feather-work banners that ruffled in the breeze, shining metal that cast glints of brilliance.

In this context, latex (rubber) was valued not merely for its practical qualities (medicinal applications, waterproofing clothing), but for its sacred essence as well. The flow of latex from gum trees was associated with the flow of blood, which was held to be the single most important offering that humans could make to the gods. In both Aztec and Maya creation myths, the gods sacrifice themselves by shedding their own blood to create humanity.

El Tajín: Ball Player performs an act of bloodletting; his stream of blood feeds the Fish God (bottom left).
Click to enlarge. Photo: Reed

In Nahua, the word olli means rubber, and the Nahua word ollín means motion or movement—the movement that represents the Life-force itself. When put into play or motion, the rubber ball would have represented the vital Life-force inherent in all things that move.

The ball court in Mesoamerican cosmology assumed symbolic functions. The alley represented the sun’s path; specifically, its nightly travel through the Underworld. Round markers in alleys of Maya courts frequently bear a quatrefoil cartuche, representing an opening to the Underworld.

In the Maya Popol Vuh, the mythic Hero Twins descend to the Underworld to play ball against gods of the Underworld. The game becomes the metaphor of Life, Death, and Regeneration, as the Twins resurrect their father, now reborn as the Maize God, from the court of death.

Yaxchtitlán, Chiapas: On the entry stairs to the Great Temple is this depiction of the mythical Ball Game; dwarfs from the Underworld play with Lord Bird Jaguar IV (at left). Stairs have liminal value as places between This World and the Other World.
Click to enlarge. Photo: Reed

Detail: Behind (left) Lord Bird Jaguar IV, the ball rolls down the stairs, which symbolize passage through the liminal zone—the zone that exists between chaos (world of nature, which ends in death) and cosmos (world of gods, which is endless movement, ollín, Life-force).
Photo: Reed

The two teams respectively personified the forces of light and darkness that conflict at dawn and at dusk. It was believed that time elapsed only with human activity, so it was through the ritual of the ball game that individual ties were established with the cosmic order.

Ritual ballgames were carried out to ensure the continuity of the natural cycles—first and foremost, the sun’s daily cycle: sunset, death and rebirth at dawn. But the ballgame ritual was also carried out to ensure continuity and success of the annual agricultural cycle, which was based not only on the daily regeneration of the sun but the seasonal regeneration of the corn, maize, as well.

• Spring Equinox: Ballgames were part of the ceremonies related to the burning of fields and other activities connected with the approaching end of the annual dry season and preparation for planting.
• Summer Solstice: Ball games announced the arrival of the rainy season.
• Autumn Equinox: Ball games celebrated the harvest.
• Winter Solstice: Ball games held at the beginning of the dry season signaled the start of trade to distant territories and preparations for war.

Sacrifice

In Mesoamerica's difficult geography (Mexico and Central America), prosperity was attributed to the spiritual efficacy of rulers (god-kings) charged with mediating on behalf of their people with the powerful ‘otherworld’. Ball game imagery is filled with themes of fertility, including sacrifice in the service of fertility.

Ball Court at El Tajín: The bare spot in the grass is in front of the wall where visitors have stopped to study images of the ball game ritual carved into the stone (see below). Click to enlarge. Photo: Reed

El Tajín: At left, Ball Player receives charge from Priest, with symbol of ollín (Life-force; intertwined ribbons) at their feet. At right are a Jaguar God and God of Death. Click to enlarge. Photo: Reed

Representations of the sacrifice of individuals in association with the ball game have given rise to the notion that losers were ritually dispatched at the end of each game. This would certainly have been the case in official ball games, which had symbolic value. At the end of the game, the losers—and apparently sometimes, the winners—were killed with the obsidian knife highly sharpened to assure a clean cut.

El Tajín: The Ball Game ritual reenacted the sacred battle between the cosmic forces of creation and destruction. The God of Death presides (left margin) over sacrifice of Ball Player (loser and possibly the winner).
Click to enlarge. Photo: Reed

Negotiation of Power / Conflict Resolution

The ball game also provided political rivals an arena for resolving conflicts. Players representing rival factions contested on the ball court at auspicious dates on the ancient calendar. It was assumed that the gods chose the winner and the loser, who was sacrificed at the conclusion of the contest.

Archaeologists analyzing the number of ball courts in the Central Highlands of Mexico and in the Valley of Oaxaca have concluded that many early communities had ball courts during periods of political fragmentation, when the need to resolve conflicts was presumably high. Conversely, during periods of political centralization, ball courts were found only in the larger capitals.

The appearance of the massive ball court at Chichén may have been one of the means by which the Itzá rulers indicated their larger goals of making their capital the premier political center on the northern Yucatán Peninsula. Conversely, the absence (to date) of a ball court at Teotihuácan may be an indicator of their ability to control by other means, such as by means of their extensive trade routes.

Ball Games as Spectacles and as Demonstrations of Economic Power

The ball game was a spectacle enjoyed by commoners and aristocrats. Aztec kings ranked the ball game high as a leisure activity. It is known that some kings sometimes played. Certainly they watched the action of the game and gambled on the outcome. Kings wagered valuables like jewelry, slaves, land and houses, and quantities of cacao beans.

Aztec rulers also understood the entertainment value of the ball game and staged such events when:

'the common folk and vassals were very fretful ... [in order] to animate the people and divert them. He commanded the majordomos to take out the rubber ball, and the girdles, and the leather hip guards, and the leather gloves with which the ruler's ball players were dressed' (Sahagún 1979 [1569]: 58).

Note: Bernardo de Sahagún (1499-1590) was the first anthropologist in the Western Hemisphere. A Franciscan friar, he spent fifty years interviewing the priestly and educated Aztec elite in order to record their culture. The evangelical intent was to replace ancient rites and rituals with Christian devotional activities, but Sahagún's work is widely respected today as a primary ethnography of Aztec culture.

Like today's Olympics, ball games not only provided entertainment but they also served to reinforce the economic power of rulers. Bumper crops, dependent on adequate rainfall, impressed both potential followers and rival factions. The annual arrival of the rains was arguably the ruler's most basic demonstration of spiritual efficacy, followed closely by command of resources (closely related to surpluses arising from bumper crops) for the construction and maintenance of ball courts and for hosting ballgames accompanied by lavish feasts.

Hence the ball court can provide a clue to chiefly power. Abandonment of the ball court at Paso de la Amada, for example, is taken to be an important indicator of the decline of the ruler's power.

Summary

Throughout Mesoamerican culture history, the ball game played not only a key role in community life,
but was also a crucial social tool for mediating relations between communities.

Still Curious?

This post is indebted to two classic archaeological works:

• Susan Toby Evans encyclopedic work Ancient Mexico & Central America: Archaeology and Culture History, which was written originally to be a college textbook.
• Mary Miller and Karl Taube's An Illustrated Dictionary of The Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya--what Reed and I call "the god book"!

Jenny's Travel Journal:

• Guadalajara and Jalisco includes a brief description of Guachimontones;
• El Tajin I: Beauty and Mystery includes photos of some of El Tajín's seventeen (!) ball courts, by far the most found at any other site.

In addition to the Grand Court, the religious center at Chichén Itzá had twelve other, normal-sized Maya ball courts. Slides 9-11 of this walking tour of Chichén Itzá show the temples at each end of the Grand Court with its "I"-design.

Wikipedia:

• Mesoamerican Ballcourt;
• Paso de la Amada is the site of the earliest Ball Court found to date;
• Short history of Medieval Football in Northern Europe.

This Soccer History Timeline gives an interesting global overview of multiple 'games played with the foot' and credits Mexico and Central America as the origin of the rubber (latex) ball, but its dates of "600-1600 AD" are off. Archaeological research puts the dates from 1800-1000 BCE.

Mike Schepker's highly readable paper on Mesoamerican Ball Game has interesting material.

New York Times: The Greater Meaning of the Olympic Games Can Depend on Where You Live.

Mexican Professor: How Legal "Fines" in U.S. and Mexico Reflect Different Attitudes Toward Rule of Law

Recently, I have published a series of posts about rule of law in Mexico. Today I came upon this article [my translation] in La Jornada, a leading Mexican newspaper. The article is titled "Fines as a Teaching Tool".

Jorge Durand, professor of anthropology at the University of Guadalajara, draws on his experiences as a Visiting Professor at UCLA to explore in a light-hearted and humorous way, differences between U.S. and Mexican cultural attitudes toward the rule of law. Dr. Durand's informed Mexican point of view is insightful. 

La Jornada - Mexico City - July 29, 2012: A number of years ago, I had an opportunity to cross the international bridge between Ciudad Juárez and El Paso, Texas. Finally, there I was on the famous Paso del Norte, that I had read about in so many chronicles of the border. And while I was reveling in memories of fictional and news stories about the border, the driver of the van brought me back to reality.

When we reached the middle of the bridge, the driver from the College of the Northern Frontier buckled on his seat belt. He knew exactly what he had to do. Wearing his seat belt in the United States was mandatory and if he didn't do it, he would be fined. It wasn't that maybe the fine would be applied, he knew for certain that he would be fined.

As we returned from El Paso, after having enjoyed a brunch, the driver drove us back to Ciudad Juárez. He drove back across the bridge, then once he was on the Mexican side, he unbuckled his seat belt. This is what some scholars might call a "transnational" behavior or practice by someone who knows very well how to handle situations in two different cultures, each with its own distinct norms, values, perceptions and customs.

The solution to the question of why Mexican migrants do not throw garbage on the street in the United States; why they cross at the corners [instead of jaywalking]; and why they respect stop signs and traffic lights [when in Mexico they are nothing more than 'strong suggestions'] is very simple: there are tickets, and those fines are paid.

In Mexico, who knows. One arranges matters with the police, or eventually the possibility remains open, in both directions. Nor are the accounts very clear. They might turn off the electricity if you don't pay, but you can hang a diablito [illegal tap] from the electrical grid....

The difference goes beyond language. It is a practical matter, and the Americans are experts in the practical. In Spanish we say "we will apply the law strictly" or with the "full weight of law", sometimes adding "and he may fall whoever may fall" [from application of the law]. But at the crucial hour, nothing happens.

The English expression, "The law is enforced" is used daily. There is no question of a 'potential' enforcement of the law--of an "it will apply"; it is certain that the fine is set and paid. There is no choice, no discussion, let alone negotiations with law enforcement, be it traffic police, civil servant, or police officer. Later, if you disagree you can go to the judge to settle the dispute.

The statement, It is the law, ends all discussion, even though the regulations can be ridiculous. They go so far that in many supermarkets and bars, in public places like airports, people are required to show proof of age [to buy alcohol or cigarettes]. And in case a waiter or bartender fails to ask for proof because they can visually check the age, the employee may be subject to a fine or simply fired. This doesn't eliminate the possibility that all adolescents might have false credentials; the fact is they have to present it at the entrance of the bar.The employee cannot verify the validity of the document.

When I lived in LA for a few months, as a professor at UCLA, I got three parking tickets. The first was because the car was parked about eight inches ahead of the yellow line; the second because I fell asleep and did not move the car on time for the street sweeper to pass on Thursday; and the third because I was in a hurry, so I parked in front of my building but I did not park it correctly. On that last occasion I met with the officer, explained the situation and nothing. Each time the fine was $60, if it was paid on time. And I had to pay the fines, with the pain of my wallet. One doesn't know where or how they do it, but they always appear. It is a system of persecution, indeed, but it works.

In Mexico, the cops consult their rule books and, obviously, they should be writing tickets, but if they ticketed all the illegally parked cars it would never end. In Mexico, Enforce the law is when the tow truck arrives, but even in that situation one can negotiate.

It isn't that Americans are well educated, clean and law abiding. Their cars are full of rubbish and food scraps. The difference is that they put the trash on their property, and we throw it in the streets and nothing happens. The 'fine' as teaching tool works well as social therapy.

Nor is it a cultural thing or that we Mexicans are dirty or careless. First, it happens that we almost never pay the fine; second, there is no social sanction, which itself is cultural. In the United States, if you throw trash on the street or don't clean up the dog poop, someone comes along and tells you.

It is quite possible that this may have derived from a litigious society, where one can sue for anything. Once a neighbor scolded me because I did not like the trees. I did not understand what she meant. Finally she said she was going to water the tree in front of the house because I had never done so. It was a gigantic poplar that didn't need a bucket of water.

Indeed, in America there is an excessive tendency to control, which has in many cases gone to extremes. The persecution of smokers has been relentless, but there is a growing tolerance for potheads. There is a fascination with speed, but daily it is limited to 65 miles per hour.

The zero tolerance policy handles some things. A broken glass invites breaking another; one illegally parked car means another behind it; a corner with garbage encourages more trash. this is when a 'fine'  and systematic persecution are effective, but in our case we have found other ways.

I remember seeing amazing transformations on corners where they used to throw trash, but it occurred to someone to put, right there, an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe and holy remedy. No more mess, now they put flowers. Spanish original

Still Curious?

Related Jenny's posts:

• Civil Society, Rule of Law and Personalismo in Jenny's Neighborhood describes what is happening now that our rental contract has come up for renewal;
• Partying With Impunity is an illegal salon de fiestas, 'party house', next-door to Jenny's apartment; 
• Bureaucracy: Labyrinths of Power is introduced by our experiences trying to move our bank account from Pátzcuaro to Mexico City;
• What Makes Mexico's Legal System So Different? is the question we had to answer when trying to renew our Mexican resident visas. 

A Walk Around Jenny's Neighborhood: Parque San Andrés, Coyoacán

In this post, let me take you on a tour of our neighborhood, Parque San Andrés, Coyoacán, in Mexico City. The 'parque' is actually a number of small, pocket parks.  The one shown below is a block from our house.

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The streets in our neighborhood are named after Anglo countries and states.  Our two-block street, Dakota, is bounded by Escocia (Scotland), California (!), and Irlanda (Ireland).

This photo was shot looking down the sidewalk of Escocia.

This shot (below) looks down the sidewalk on Irlanda. The pruned trees are ficus trees, which we have seen in parks in many parts of Mexico--always pruned the same way.

As Reed shot the photo, a woman opened the gate to the house on the right. She smiled in a friendly way, so we told her that we are new neighbors. She asked what number and welcomed us to the neighborhood, providing yet another example of the friendliness we're encountering.

Houses in Parque San Andrés range from private houses to upscale condos to apartment buildings.

One of the most notable features of any Mexican neighborhood are the omnipresent walls and gates designed to enclose private spaces.

Sometimes the house is designed around an inner patio; at other times, it encloses a garden space. As we walk by, we sometimes hear lawn mowers and smell fresh-cut grass, so we deduce the presence of lawns in some of these gardens. The house behind the gate (above) has been set back some distance from its inviting pedestrian gate graced by mature vines.

This graceful, older house is distinguished by
the carved wooden doors and traditional grillwork.

Another handcrafted wood door on an older home. The richness of the stained and oiled wood is warmly elegant, understated and inviting.

Doors pique our curiosity. We are constantly alert to get a peek inside
when a car is entering or leaving a property. Notice the pedestrian door to the right.

We don't have a picture of the massive door from the street to this townhouse complex, which is next door to our favorite local family restaurant (see photo below).

Last night the gate was open to receive deliveries from Liverpool (I kid you not!), a high-scale Mexican department store.

Reed asked the guards for permission to take this picture 'for our family'.  Notice the garages at ground level; the living spaces are a flight up.

                                                                                                       



Here's the restaurant. Open pit barbecue is prepared in this front area, so the area is open to the fresh air through the iron bars.

No -- we don't order barbecue.  We stick to the  delicious chicken dishes that are also on the menu!

This couple was sitting on an iron bench last night outside the restaurant. The woman's bright red hair is quite the fashion; it certainly makes a dramatic image!

When Reed asked to take their picture, they agreed. While showing them the photo, he offered to email a copy to them if they'd give him their email address.

This exchange led them to ask the usual questions: who we are, where we're from, why we're here. Reed explained, as we always do, that we're in Mexico City because after three years living in the tranquility of Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, we can no longer ignore the negative consequences of certain U.S. policies toward Mexico, our host country.

We're here to work with the Americas Program to raise awareness about these issues among our countrymen and women. Immediately, the woman responded, "Arms sales. The flow of arms into Mexico is bringing great violence to the Mexican people."

The man said he'd give us their email address later. We'd forgotten about it, but when we left, he came running down the sidewalk after us. After he'd given us his email address, I asked him who the woman is and where she's from. It turns out that she is Mexican of Italian descent from Sinaloa. You may have heard about Sinaloa, probably in the context of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel. Her familiarity with Sinaloa lends special urgency to her comment about arms sales.

Talk about living embedded!  We have seen no other foreigners in our neighborhood.  When we walk out the front door, we speak only Spanish.  The Mexican people we have met--all levels, from shopkeepers and taxi drivers to this obviously middle-class couple--show intense curiosity about us.

Without exception, our new acquaintances become serious, thoughtful, even respectful, when we explain what we're doing. Then, as this woman did, they often share their own experiences. Their willingness to take us into their confidence by sharing validates the importance of what we're trying to do.

These new acquaintances are the people, the pueblo, that I write about in the post, Encountering the Pueblo in Mexico City.

Mesoamerican Culture: Alive in Modern Mexico

A few months ago, I came upon a remarkable article posted on CNNMexico (January 1, 2011).  The cultural richness is so striking that I'd like to share it with you.

Back to Basics

Ancient Mesoamerican civilization rests at the heart of the major work of Mexican anthropologist Guillermo Bonfil Batalla—México Profundo: Una civilización negada. In Bonfil Batalla’s words, Mesoamerican civilization is "...one of the few original civilizations that humanity has created throughout all its history."

The anthropologist set out to investigate how Mesoamerican culture survives today not only as an “internally cohesive culture” in the country's numerous indigenous pueblos, but as a "multitude of isolated traits distributed in different ways in [Mexico's] urban populations".

Poking around on Amazon.com to see if the work is available in English (happily, it is: Mexico profundo: A civilization reclaimed translated by Philip A. Dennis), I came upon this translator's statement on the back cover:

"An ancient agricultural complex provides their [indigenous communities'] food supply, and work is understood as a way of maintaining a harmonious relation with the natural world. Health is related to human conduct, and community service is often part of each individual's life obligation. Time is circular, and humans fulfill their own cycle in relation to other cycles of the universe."

From CNN Mexico

The notion of community service as an obligation sets the stage for the CNNMexico piece. Here's my translation from the Spanish of what happened:

Leandro Hernández was elected Mayor of his municipality [pueblo] without even knowing it. One day when he was Mexico City participating in a course on human development, his cell phone rang. 

It was a call came from his pueblo, where the elders were meeting: “Leandro,” they said, “we are meeting in assembly at the pueblo, and all of us have decided that you are the next Mayor.”

Don Hernández said that the notice came like a bucket of cold water, because he hasn’t lived in Santiago Zacatepec (in Oaxaca’s Mixe region) for 56 years. 

“It is a great responsibility,” he commented, especially considering that his plans for 2011 did not include returning to the community that he left when he was only eleven years old.  

The article goes on to explains that the “System of Uses and Customs” employed in a majority (418) of Oaxaca’s 570 indigenous municipalities allows mayoral elections to proceed in assemblies of the municipalities’ governing officials (elders)—without either the presence or desire of those chosen to serve. Reportedly, the inhabitants of the 418 pueblos fear being chosen, because the mayor serves without pay. At most, the mayor might receive a bonus at year’s end.

This situation is in marked contrast to Oaxaca’s other 150 municipalities, in which mayoral candidates launch formal election campaigns to win the people’s vote. In these pueblos, the mayor receives about 50,000 pesos monthly [about $4,100 USD]—a significant amount of money in rural Mexico.

Don Leandro Hernández considered the possibility of refusing, but the elders told him that he was the best they had and, besides, “…serving as Mayor is a form of giving back to the community that which it has given to you.”

To this day, reports Bonfil Batalla, the top priority of indigenous communities remains the protection and preservation of the community. Networks of mutual obligation, like the one that tugged so effectively at Don Leandro Hernández, bind community members together. But here's the cultural kicker: 

In response to a reporter’s question, Don Leandro replied: “I felt nervous and worried; I kept thinking about how to reply, but I saw that I had no other choice, so I said ‘yes’.”

Ladder of Communal Responsibility

In traditional communities to this day, children, youths, young people and older adults are presented with tasks of increasing responsibility for protecting, preserving and maintaining the community. Additional responsibility and authority is awarded to those who demonstrate that they are aware not only of what ought to be, but how communal tasks are to be performed, even—perhaps especially—when the community faces new situations. It is this latter quality, of course, that assures the pueblo's ability to adapt to changing conditions as they evolve over time.

Assumption of increasingly important cargos (charges, responsibilities) carries significant prestige for the entire extended family.

Born in Santiago Zacatepec in 1944, Leandro Hernández left the pueblo at age 11. Originally he planned to study for the priesthood, but he later changed his vocation and married. He and his wife have two adult children, both professionals. Since 1977 he has worked for the state government in the office of Social Communication, first for the ruling PRI [Party of the Institutional Revolution], then for the State of Oaxaca, and finally in the Congress.

Founder of the Organization of Mixe Race that awards scholarships to support university education for young people from Oaxaca’s Mixe region, Don Leandro says that he has never forgotten his origins. As he explains, “There was a lack of resources to help young people continue their studies, so I arranged these things for my people, but now I will have to raise my support.”

Don Leandro's recognition of the ties of mutual obligation occasioned by his Mixe birth is evidenced by his early resolve to initiate action to fulfill his responsibility to "give back" to his birth community. In ancient times, the Mesoamerican Divinatory Calendar not only described and fixed the fate of newborns, but instructed them how to live as they matured.

Don Leandro's acknowledgment that "now I will have to raise my support" signals his acceptance of the added obligation to accept the cargo awarded to him by the pueblo's elders to serve as Mayor and thus to contribute to preserving and maintaining the community. 

"This past December 31, with suitcase in hand Don Hernández caught the bus to Santiago Zacatepec with its 3,200 Mixe-speaking inhabitants, nestled in the foothills of Cempoaltépetl—at 11,122 feet one of Oaxaca’s three highest mountains.  On the morning of January 1, he received the Bastón de Mando [ceremonial mace] from Leovigildo Santos García, Zacatepec's outgoing mayor.

"Nearly two feet long, the Bastón de Mando symbolizes the authority of Oaxaca’s indigenous pueblos. On the day Don Leandro Hernández assumed its possession, the top part of the bastón was adorned with red, green and white ribbons—the colors of the Mexican flag.  After the ceremony, the bastón was returned to its special place at City Hall. The mayor carries it only on special occasions—to town meetings, for example, or to resolve a local conflict.”

Bird Jaguar IV, ahaw or lord of Yaxchilan (752-768 A.D.) passes el Bastón de Mando to his son, Sky God Jaguar (769-780 A.D.) 

Bastón de Mando

The Bastón de Mando is a very powerful and ancient Mesoamerican symbol (see photo above). Some bastónes resemble an ear of the corn that was the bedrock of Mesoamerican civilization. The surplus of maís (corn) enabled development of a non-laboring ruling class.  

It was the ruling class that constructed the city-states throughout Mesoamerica (Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, etc.) and developed the cultural practices that gave birth to Mesoamerican civilization. The well-known Mexican dicho (saying) expresses it best:

"Sin maís, no hay país” (Without corn, there is no country).

The CNN Mexico article concludes:

“Don Leandro Hernández’s original 2011 New Year Resolution was to practice yoga and care for his body, but he must now leave that resolution behind, because from January 1, 2011, his principle goal is to consider how to govern wisely the Mixe pueblo of Zacatepec.”

Conclusion—More or Less

Let me end this post by recalling Bonfil Batalla’s investigative goal—to discover

“…how Mesoamerican culture survives today not only as an 'internally cohesive culture' in the country's numerous indigenous pueblos, but as a 'multitude of isolated traits' distributed in different ways in [Mexico's] urban populations."

This account of the response of an educated, urbanized, sophisticated indigenous man summoned by his pueblo's elders to assume a traditional obligation provides powerful testimony to the ongoing strength of Mesoamerican cultural traits in modern-day Mexico.