THE DAY OF THE DEAD

Homecoming in Oaxaca

Story and Photos by Phil Saviano

For those who love to travel, there is an optimistic message in Mexico's Day of the Dead celebration: In the afterlife, you'll get to make an annual journey home, visit loved ones, and raise hell !

In the colonial city of Oaxaca, "Dia de los Muertos" is the most anticipated holiday of the year. Nestled in the Sierra Madre del Sur mountains, six hours by bus south-east of Mexico City, Oaxaca (pronounced wah-HAH-ka) is known for an indigenous population descended from the Aztecs and Zapotecs. Living in the villages of the nearby central valley, they speak some 12 distinct languages. Keeping the traditions of their ancestors alive, they bring their ancient beliefs to the festival, making Oaxaca's Day of the Dead celebration one of the most colorful in all of Mexico. From October 31 through November 2, the city is taken over by fireworks, altar building, native dance performances, religious street processions and midnight cemetery vigils.

On previous visits to Oaxaca, I'd been captivated by the warm personalities of its citizens, and inspired by the folk art carvings, weavings and ceramics I'd seen selling in the shops. I kept hearing about this rather bizarre holiday, so finally, I made plans to go down and see it for myself. On a tip from a fellow traveler, I phoned ahead and reserved a room at "La Casa de Luz Maria," a bed and breakfast on Morelos Street. It was close to the zocalo, yet away from the commercial hustle and bustle.

I arrived in Oaxaca, all set to honor the dead, but found myself staying with a very lively hostess. Her name was Luz Maria Gonzalez Esperon. An author of two books on Oaxacan art and traditions, she was a well-known figure in the city's political and cultural circles. I guessed her age to be about 65, but who knew for sure? When she was heading off to some event, all dressed up (with her hair fixed and false eyelashes in place), she looked much younger. Best of all, she spoke good English.

At breakfast each morning, her guests were an eager audience for her tales about protecting and promoting Oaxacan traditions. While handing out bowls of fresh-cut pineapple and papaya, she would tell us about her victorious letter-writing campaign, successful in getting "rock 'n rollers," banned from the historically peaceful zocalo. Then on another day, over huevos rancheros, (ranch-style eggs) she regaled us with stories about the potters and painters she had interviewed for her book about Oaxacan folk artists.

She knew how to hold an audience, if not always focus her thoughts. But she had lots to say about the Day of the Dead.

"Few places in Mexico are as enthusiastic about death as Oaxaca," she said, as her waving hand trailed smoke from a cigarette. " Here, we celebrate death! We adore it and embrace it. It is the ultimate equalizer, and whether beautiful or ugly, rich or poor, we are all equals. Sooner or later, we all end-up as skeletons and dust!" "La Señora" insisted there was much more to learn about this celebration. She encouraged us to sign up for a
Day of the Dead lecture at La Mano Magica, a well-known contemporary art gallery.

Every year, gallery director Mary Jane Gagnier de Mendoza gives a presentation called "Dia de Muertos: The Dead Come to Life in Mexican Folk Art." During her lecture, she puts ancient beliefs into context with the modern festivities, using many of the gallery's art pieces to illustrate her point.

"It may seem morbid," Mary Jane began, "but since ancient times, images of the dead, especially skulls and skeletons, have been an important element in Mexican art."

She cited the famed archeological ruins of Monte Alban that overlook Oaxaca from a nearby mountaintop. The one-time Zapotec capital city was at its peak from 300 to 700 A.D., but later abandoned to the Mixtecs. About 1,000 years ago, they turned the place into a city of the dead, filled with lavish tombs for their dignitaries. In one of them, Tomb 7, they left one of the most magnificent hoards of treasure ever discovered in the Americas. Unearthed in 1932, it included a remarkable human skull, inlaid with priceless pieces of jade, now on display in Oaxaca's Regional Museum.

After the Mixtecs, came the Aztecs. They too, paid tribute to death, incorporating the ominous "Wall of Skulls" into the side of their Templo Mayor, unearthed in Mexico City in 1978.

We learned from Mary Jane that the Aztecs believed in many gods, worshipping them through songs, dances and festivals. There was neither heaven nor hell in their culture. Instead, they believed in a place called "Mictlan." "It was an underworld," she said. "A land that the spirits traveled to in death." They buried their loved ones with cacao beans, a prized crop which paid the toll to get to the other side.

But death's final blow was softened by the Aztec's belief that once a year, the spirits were able to travel back to the tangible world.

After the Spaniards conquered the Aztecs in the 1500s, they melded their Catholic observance of All Saints Day with the beliefs of the indigenous peoples. Thus, the Day of the Dead festival that exists today is a combination of pagan fervor and Christian reverence. It is a ritual unique to Mexico, yet it varies from city to city. "To us in Oaxaca, it's even more important than Christmas," said Mary Jane. In tribute to their lost loved ones, Oaxacans decorate the graveyards and build elaborate, colorful altars in their homes. They spend two full days communing with the dearly departed in an outpouring of emotion. A time to rejoice and remember, this annual gathering of the living and dead is the ultimate family reunion. There is commercial aspect of the fiesta, too, and it's of great importance to the farmers, potters, bakers and artists of Oaxaca. In the last days of October, the markets are brimming with food, flowers, candles and other decorations needed for the holiday. There is lots of shopping to be done, and it is impossible not to get caught up in the excitement.

Oaxaca's biggest market is the Central de Abastos on the south-west corner of the city.More convenient for tourists, just two blocks south of the zocalo, is Mercado 20 de Noviembre. I arrived there early in the morning of October 30. Along the rust-colored outside wall of the stone building, women from nearby villages had laid out bales of dazzling flowers destined to decorate the graves and the altars. Dressed in hand-woven huipiles as colorful as the blossoms, they sat amidst piles of orange marigolds, the most popular flor de muertos. There were also bales of purple, clover-like confitillos, stacks of velvety, magenta borrlas de Santa Teresa, and fragrant May lilies. For just three pesos, you could buy a bunch; with about $2 U.S. you could buy an armful!

Stepping inside the market building, I saw tiendas stacked with crusty pan todos santos. I was told that no Day of the Dead altar was complete without a few of these round, sweet dough breads. Many of them were decorated with the painted pasta faces of religious figures or other symbols. Other booths were piled high with hand-dipped beeswax candles, some decorated with intricate wax flowers or cherubs. Brasiers and incense were also big sellers, too.

But the most fun and suggestive items were delicate sugar skulls decorated with shiny foil eyes. They were called calaveras de azucar, and many of them had names inscribed in icing. Placed on the altar or grave, they made a sweet gift for the returning spirit. I looked for one labeled "Phil," thinking "ah yes, my future awaits me!" There were baskets of tiny floral wreaths and coffins for sale, too. They were also made of sugar, and filled with sweet syrup.

It was there, in the crowded aisles of the market, that I met Delores Morales, the gregarious, well-known columnist for the city's El Imparcial newspaper. With a purse slung over one shoulder, and a crusty muertos bread locked under her arm, she was maneuvering through the aisles looking for hand-painted ceramic skeletons. She saw me viewing the scene through the lens of my camera, and cautioned me not to use up all my film. "Save it!" she advised. "There will be so much more to take pictures of tonight!"

She was so right. At times, it was hard to keep up with it all! At dusk that evening, Oaxaca's famous Guelaguetza dancers performed on the courtyard in front of the magnificent 16th century Santo Domingo Church. Balancing towering, feathered headdresses, they twirled, kicked and jumped, performing ancient songs and dances from their remote villages.

Later, after dark, I was captivated by the sight of a dozen sunken-eyed ghouls rising from a cluster of makeshift graves on a grassy slope behind the church. It was the dramatic, opening scene of the annual "Dia de Muertos" performance by El Ballet Folklorico. After re-uniting with their loved ones for a joyous picnic, the spirits were joined by a trio of 18-foot tall papier-mache skeletons that danced with them across the yard. The performance ended with a dazzling display of fireworks and a waterfall of sparks cascading off the roof of the church.

About 10:00 p.m., I wandered upon a candlelight procession of the Madonna statue. It had been taken from a tabernacle at Santo Domingo for its annual walk around the block. The tradition of carrying the clay figure through the streets on a bed of flowers dates back to 1831. A flock of parishioners formed a parade behind the statue, carrying flickering candles, hoisting 10-foot tall velvet banners, and singing songs in her praise.

There, at the front of the procession, I once again encountered Delores. She was walking arm in arm with the pastor!

I followed the procession back to the Church, then Delores invited me to go with her to a friend's home. "It's a good chance for you to see a private family altar," she said. "Besides, we can enjoy some muertos bread and hot chocolate!"

Her driver swung by in a pick-up truck and whisked us off to the outskirts of the city. We parked in front of a modern, stucco home, and Delores and I jumped out of the cab. I saw a trail of bright orange marigold petals that ran from the edge of the sidewalk, up the driveway and into the garage. "This trail is very important," she explained. "It guides the spirits home to the altar!"

Like Hansel and Gretel, we followed the petals through the garage, past the kitchen and into the living room. The trail led to a wide bookcase draped with a white lace cloth. Hanging on the wall above was a large framed painting of the crucifixion, surrounded by photos of deceased relatives. Branches of palms, wrapped with garlands of tangerines and small yellow plums called nispearos, formed an arch over the images.

Laid out on the altar below were all sorts of edible treats. There was a large loaf of that crusty bread, a stack of tortillas, apples, some candied pumpkin, bars of black chocolate, a roasted chicken, and a special type of Oaxacan tamales, a mixture of corn meal, prunes and mole, wrapped in banana leaves. For adventurous spirits, there was also tobacco and a jug of Mescal, the locally-made liquor.

"After their long journey home," Doris explained, "the spirits will be very hungry and thirsty. They'll be glad to find this!" I had visions of the spirits hovering over the altar for hours, feasting on the sight and scents of the food below.

I noted that the trail of marigold petals continued on to a second, smaller altar set back against a far wall. This, I was told, was an altar for ninos angelitos -- relatives who have died as infants. As if for a doll house, it was decorated with tiny plastic and clay replicas of various foods and sweets.

My host told me that the angelitos arrive at 3 o'clock in the afternoon on October 31. The belief is that the baby spirits stay for only 24 hours, departing just when the adult spirits arrive at 3 o'clock on November 1st. On November 2, after the adult spirits have also left the world of the living, the family can enjoy whatever food is left on the main altar.

Exploring the city over the next few days, I saw colorful altars on display in nearly every restaurant and hotel I visited. They were competing in a citywide contest, the Concursos de Altars de Muertos that would be judged by members of Oaxacan Folklore Association. The altars varied in style, but they all had arches of flowers and plums. Many of them also had beautiful murals laid out on the floor in front of them. Called tapetes de arena, they were made from dyed sawdust, sand, multicolored seeds, flower petals and powdered lime.

By tradition, tapetes are made in the home when there is a death in the family. The design usually includes a cross, the initials D.E.P. (Spanish for "rest in peace") and the name of the deceased. The tapete remains on display in the home for days after the body is buried. On the morning of the ninth day, after an all-night family vigil of prayers and songs, the tapete is swept up, deposited in an urn, and taken to the cemetery. There, it is placed in the tomb along with the body. The solemn ceremony is called the "levantada de cruz," and is considered a "second burial." Only then, it is believed, does the spirit leave the home, and journey to the afterlife.

The tapetes made for the Day of the Dead were vivid examples of what Mary Jane Mendoza had called "ephemeral art." They were created with much thought, work and detail, but meant to last no longer than the fiesta itself. The colorful papel picados, the fragile tissue paper cutouts that decorated many altars, were another example.

The most amazing tapete that I saw was displayed inside the Temple of San Francisco. Here, a masterpiece, created from flowers, seed and sawdust, outlined by flickering votive candles, stretched along the entire length of the main aisle. Erected under the supervision of the pastor, Juan Pedro Murillo, and paid for with donations from the parishioners, it was said to express the love the Franciscans have for God and their native city. The entire display was constructed overnight by volunteers working through a 12-hour creative frenzy. The doors were opened to the public at noontime on November 2nd, when Fr. Juan Pedro presided over the traditional mass of the Day of the Faithful Departed. The tapete, a work of both cultural and spiritual significance, remained on display for one week only.

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