Schaefer Revised

Portraits TOC

HUICHOL: BECOMING A GODMOTHER

Stacy B. Schaefer MY INTRODUCTION TO SPROUTING CORN

Nauxé, á ítsari, éna pu ta, éna pu ta. Look, your loom, put this here, put this here. Mükü pu ta, éna pu ta. Aixru pu áne. Put that there, put this here. That’s good. Pe ti kwa’á? Teté kwaní. Are you hungry? It’s time to eat.

hese were the first words spoken to me by a little four-year-old Huichol girl named Sprouting Corn, who was later to become Tmy godchild. Together, as godmother and goddaughter, we would develop an extraordinary relationship that would transcend the traditional role of anthropologist and young native informant. It was midday and we were sitting in the dirt patio of Sprouting Corn’s family rancho in the Huichol Indian Sierra community of San Andres Cohamiata, located on the pine-covered mesa of the Sierra Madre Occidental Mountains in the state of Jalisco. I was just beginning my long-term fieldwork researching backstrap loom weaving and the role of women among the Huichol Indians of Mexico. Sprouting Corn’s mother, Swift Rabbit, a master weaver, had agreed to teach me the ancient art of Huichol weaving. Although I was fluent in Spanish, I knew very little of the Huichol language—a language related to Nahuatl (spoken by Aztecs) and Hopi—which derives from the Uto-Aztecan language family. Thousands of years of separation have made it difficult for the speakers of these related languages to understand one another. So when this little girl, dressed in a bright print gathered skirt and shocking pink blouse with ribbons sewn on, with strands of blue, orange, and yellow beads circling her neck, started chattering to me as if I understood completely what she was saying, I nodded in confusion. She helped me tie up and put away my loom before we went into the adobe brick kitchen to eat the midday meal. Sprouting Corn’s father, White Star, had an axe in hand and was cutting the last piece of firewood from an oak tree he had cut down several months ago. In his white cotton pants and shirt elab- orately embroidered with dancing and sitting deer, rabbits, birds in flight, chickens, flowers, intertwining vines, and mandalalike geo- metric designs, he stood with a look of amusement on his face, watching his daughter help me put away my things. Grinning widely, he said in broken Spanish that it looked like I understood 3 4 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE everything Sprouting Corn had told me to do because I followed her instructions perfectly. I sighed with relief, glad that I had passed that little trial. Smoke was billowing from the grass-thatched roof of the kitchen, and Swift Rabbit stuck her head out the doorway, telling me in Spanish to come in and sit down. Inside she stood behind the mud brick hearth where a blazing fire was going. On top of the fire was a large flat clay disk, a comal, upon which she was cooking handmade blue tortillas. I commented that I had never seen blue corn tortillas. She replied: “We have blue, red, yellow, white, and speckled tortillas, depending upon what color of corn we use. This last year the gods brought much rain. Now we have lots of corn. I especially like the blue corn, which we call yuave.” I sat down on the freshly swept and watered-down dirt kitchen floor and ate a tortilla. The family cat, which they simply call mitsu (meaning “cat” in Huichol), climbed into my lap and sneakily batted at my tortilla with its paws, trying to grasp a piece to eat. In addition to the tortillas there were mesquite seed pods, squirrel stew, chile salsa, and pieces of deer meat. White Star had gone deer hunting last week with the men from their temple group. He and Swift Rabbit and their family had temple responsi- bilities, known as cargo, which they were obligated to fulfill over the next five years. There are five ancient temple compounds scattered through the countryside, where Huichol families for generations have performed ceremonies to ensure that the many gods were pleased and answered their prayers. Now, in February, it was the dry season, the time for deer hunting and pilgrimages to sacred places within and outside the Sierra, to Lake Chapala, where the goddess Rapauwiyeme lives, and to the Pacific Ocean, home of the goddess Haramara. The most important pilgrimage of the dry season is to the San Luis Potosí Desert, where Huichols go to recreate their origin myths, commune with the gods, and gather peyote, the sacred hallucinogenic cactus used in ceremonies. In the past, White Star told me, the men used to hunt the deer with deer snares and bows and arrows. Now they use rifles, but the rifles have to be blessed by the leading shaman, mara’akame, in order to sanctify the hunt. The shaman sings all night in front of the fire, calling upon Tatewari, Grandfather Fire, and Kauyumari, the great deer god, to help him find the deer so that the hunters will be successful the following day. In the meantime, the women have dream visions, and through their dreams ask the deer to give their lives. In return the women will care for the souls of the deer and make sure that they make it safely to the upper world. HUICHOL 5

The deer meat we were eating came from a large buck White Star had cooked in a covered pit under the earth in order to dry the meat for later consumption. Huichols do not have electricity, refrigerators, stoves, or running water, so they have learned to hunt, gather, and store their food accordingly. As we sat and ate, Sprouting Corn started to whimper and cry. I asked her mother what was wrong. Swift Rabbit said, “She is upset because according to our custom children cannot eat deer meat until they have reached five years of age. Before that time they are very vulnerable and do not have a complete soul. If they eat deer meat, the deer might make them sick; they might even die. When they are five years old their soul is complete; they are a complete person and can eat the meat.” I thought about this and decided that it made sense. The infant mortality rate for Huichol children is extremely high, at least fifty percent. Many die of diseases such as measles, mumps, whooping cough, pneumonia, tuberculosis, parasites, and debilitating diarrhea. If children live to the age of five, they have a greater chance of living to adult age. I called Sprouting Corn to come over and sit with me. She pushed the cat away and cuddled into my lap. Swift Rabbit and White Star glanced at each other and exchanged some words in Huichol. Then Swift Rabbit said to me, “Sprouting Corn really cares about you. I have never seen her take a liking to anyone the way she has to you. Would you like to be her godmother?” I was surprised by the question and thought about what being a godmother in Huichol tradition involved. I didn’t know what kind of obligations and ritual ties were established by becoming a godmother. I looked into the face of this little girl almost asleep on my lap, this little one who had been my constant shadow and helper ever since I arrived, and replied, “Yes, I want Sprouting Corn to be my goddaughter.”

SPROUTING CORN’S FAMILY, COMMUNITY, AND CULTURAL HISTORY

The light of the afternoon sun was beginning to fade as it crept down the mesa, leaving in its wake a brilliant hue of reds, pinks, purples, and then a deep, dark blue. Since it was the dry season, 6 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE the clouds were wispy white strands floating across the sky, reflecting the final colors of dusk. I sat with my back against the stone wall of the house that was also the family shrine. Inside was an altar where the family kept all of their sacred offerings—gourd bowls decorated with beads pressed into beeswax, prayer arrows, the sacred ears of corn, candles, and bottles of holy water from various springs, lakes, and the Pacific ocean. Also on the altar were the urukame, the arrowbundles containing rock crystals of the family’s deceased ancestors. All of these sacred objects rested safely within this little house with the doorway facing east to greet the morning sun. During the ceremonies the offerings were brought out as prayers to the gods for good health, rain, abundant crops, cattle, and success in the deer hunt. The ancestors, in their crystal form, were important participants in the ceremonies, and were fed with the blood from sacrificed cattle. I thought about what a privilege it was for me to be here with Sprouting Corn, her family, and the Huichols from this Sierra community. I reflected upon what I had read about Huichol culture and what I had been learning firsthand during my fieldwork. The Huichols number about twenty thousand, but, unlike most indigenous groups in North America, they have maintained the core of their old beliefs and practices dating back to pre-Columbian times. Living as they do in widely scattered small communities made up of ranchos in the remote mountains and valleys of this mountainous region in the states of Jalisco, Nayarit, Durango, and Zacatecas, the Huichols have been able to fend off the pressures of change better than many native peoples closer to the dominant Mexican culture. Little is known of Huichol origins. Some scholars have sug- gested that the Huichols have inhabited the Sierras for thousands of years; others propose that the ancestors of the Huichols once lived in the desert around San Luis Potosí and were a hunting and gathering tribe related to the desert dwelling Chichimec Indians.1 It is believed that sometime shortly before or after the arrival of the Spaniards, the Huichols migrated to the isolated Sierras, where natural barriers of cliffs as high as six thousand feet above sea level with sheer drops into river valleys as low as two thousand feet helped insulate them from the outside world. Based on my travels with Sprouting Corn’s family on the footpaths through this terrain, I could understand why it took so long for the Spaniards to penetrate these homelands, which are similar to the Grand Canyon in the United States. Until recently the natural fortress created by the mountainous environment has enabled the Huichols to carry on the traditions of their ancestors. In addition to hunting deer, wild pigs, rabbits, HUICHOL 7 birds, and iguanas, the men fish in the rivers for fish and crayfish. The women and children gather wild fruits and vegetables such as the leaves of the nopal cactus and its fruit, wild avocados, greens, roots, bromeliads, berries, and seeds. Huichol life revolves around the annual cycle that is divided into the dry season from December to May and the wet season starting in May and continuing through November. The wet season is the time for planting and harvesting crops of corn, beans, squash, and chile. I learned that the Huichols cultivate their fields by first cutting and slashing down all the old growth and burning it. (They need to watch the winds when they burn the weeds; otherwise forest fires can be started, one of which I witnessed later on.) Then the men plow the fields with a wooden plow pulled by horses, mules, or burros. The women follow behind scattering the seeds in the furrows, which are buried with the passing of the plow as it makes the next furrow. In steep areas, a long digging stick is used and both men and women plant seeds in the holes made by the stick and cover them over with their feet as they move along the clifftops. In Sprouting Corn’s rancho lived her parents, her brother, her sisters and their husbands and children. Members of her extended family included her mother’s brother and his two wives and children, her mother’s younger sister, and her grandmother. They also had houses in the rancho and lived there during certain times of the year. I was a little surprised to learn that some Huichols, such as Sprouting Corn’s uncle, practiced polygyny, and had anywhere from two to five wives. Both of her uncle’s two wives shared in rancho duties—taking turns cooking, cleaning, carrying water to the house, and doing other chores. All of their children played together, but each mother was responsible for her own children. Sprouting Corn’s grandmother, Beaded Skirt, was a shaman and specialized in fertility, pregnancy, and delivering babies. Even though there is a health clinic in San Andres, and more and more Huichols have accepted western doctors and medicine, Huichols still rely heavily on their traditional healers, the shamans, to cure illnesses that afflict both the body and the spirit of an individual. Occasionally Huichols would come to the rancho and consult with Beaded Skirt about their problems and ail- ments. To treat her patients, she would bring out her woven shaman’s basket, take out her feathered wands that she used for healing, and pass them over the patients. Then she had them lay down on their backs and lift up their shirts, and she would suck foreign objects, such as small pebbles, pieces of corn, or charcoal from an extinguished fire, from their abdomens. (She said the 8 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE gods or an evil sorcerer had placed the objects there to cause illness or disease.) She then would spray their bodies with holy water from her mouth, and pass her power feather wands over them again. Afterwards she would dream with the gods to learn the cause of the illness and what had to be done to balance the energies and health of the patients. I found it fascinating to watch Beaded Skirt at work. Who would think that even as the twenty-first cen- tury draws near there are people like the Huichols who still live a lifestyle rooted in the Mesoamerican past? The temple ceremonies and pilgrimages were other ancient traditions kept alive year after year by the selected cargo holders, who were chosen through the dreams and consensus of the shamans of the community. The ceremonies were performed to ask the gods, most of whom personify all aspects of nature, for their help. Through prayers, offerings, and the shaman’s song, the shamans and cargo holders call upon Father Sun and the rain goddesses, prepare the earth and corn goddesses for planting and harvesting, and ask Grandfather Fire and Grandmother Growth, who created the world and all living things, for their guidance. Sprouting Corn’s father was an important man in the community. When he finished his cargo as caretaker of the temple he would be eligible to become the next governor of the community. Every year the shamans have visions of who will fill tribal positions such as governor, second-in-command, mayor, treasurer, secretary, and police. All community members are potentially eligible to fill these positions; however, the more experience, community participation, and religious training people have, the more likely they will be selected. When a man becomes governor he and his wife are highly esteemed and are seen as sacred representations of power and authority, as symbolized by the staff of power the governor carries, his and his wife’s role in decision making in community and family affairs, and the importance of their presence in the ceremonies. In addition to temple and government roles, there are church cargos in the old adobe church that was built by Franciscan missionaries and is located in the center of the community. When the Spanish arrived in Mexico in the early 1500s they brutally con- quered and colonized the majority of the Native Indian cultures. Hundreds of thousands of Indians died, some in battle, others from famine, and even more from the devastating diseases brought by the Spaniards, against which the Indians had no natural defenses. Catholic missionaries accompanied the Spaniards to help pacify the indigenous population, convert them to Christianity, teach them the Spanish language and culture, and HUICHOL 9 turn them into laborers who would build the foundation for this new Spanish empire in its Golden Era. Various Indian groups rebelled against these newly arrived foreigners. The Huichols were among the tribes that resisted Spanish domination. They withdrew even deeper into their Sierra homelands, where they fought to maintain their autonomy until the 1720s (about two hundred years after the conquest of Mexico), when they finally succumbed to the encroachment of the Spaniards. Franciscan missionaries established churches in the region but were never able to completely convert the Huichols to Catholicism. Documents written by missionaries speak of the anger and frustration the clergymen felt toward the Huichols because of the continued alliance these indigenous people held to their old gods and religion. Some priests wrote of finding traditional shrines and god houses throughout the countryside, with idols made to represent the Huichol gods. Many of these structures were destroyed by the Spanish missionaries, but new ones were discovered regularly in remote caves, valleys, and mountain tops.2 When the war of Mexican Independence from Spain was fought in the mid-1800s, the missionaries were forced to flee the Sierras. Until the 1950s virtually no clergymen resided in the Sierra; even today only a few reside there. Near San Andres there is a Franciscan mission and boarding school. Few Huichols go there or send their children to school there, and priests are pro- hibited from living in or near the Huichol community. What is left from the era of missionary occupation is the old church, the Huichol version of a few Catholic ceremonies such as Easter, some carved wooden saints, and two figures of Jesus Christ, which are cared for by the Huichol families who are given this ritual cargo by the shamans. The church is abandoned most of the time. Only during the changing of the government and church cargo holders in January and the Huichols’ observation of Lent and Easter week does the church come to life.

HOLY WEEK: THE PRELUDE TO THE BAPTISMAL CEREMONY

Easter week, known throughout Mexico as Holy Week, Semana Santa, is the time when the greatest number of Huichols and foreign visitors come together in the community. Ever since the 10 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE

1960s, when the Mexican government built a dirt runway and a road linking San Andres to the nearest Mexican town, more and more outsiders descend upon this remote Indian center to watch the Easter ceremony.3 People come from Mexico City, Guadalajara, and other Mexican cities; the United States; Canada; Europe; Latin America; Russia; Israel; and even as far away as Japan. All the outsiders must first ask the Huichol governor and tribal authorities for permission to stay for the ceremony. Some years members of the governing body are opposed to the intrusion of outsiders; other years they are more open to their presence. If the visitors are granted permission, they must pay a fee that will go toward the community fund, and they must obey the ceremonial rules. The Huichols celebrate Easter week as an unfolding drama in which they symbolically reenact the death and resurrection of Christ. Sprouting Corn’s mother explained to me that the ancestors used to have a ceremony around this time of the year in honor of the Sun God. Even now the Huichols pay special tribute to the sun. I remembered that in pre-Columbian times the Mesoamerican Indian cultures also had ceremonies to celebrate the spring equinox, the day when the hours of daylight equal the hours of night. From that time on until the summer solstice in June, the days are longer. The ancient Mayas and Aztecs built special architec- tural structures to measure this passing, an astronomical feat found in the layout of Huichol temples. The Holy Week ceremony officially begins when the Christ figures and saints are laid to rest on the dirt floor of the church. They are covered with yards of fabric, and the cargo holders watch over them with candles and copal incense burning throughout the days and nights. The symbolic death of Christ signals a time of chaos, when the devils, played by boys and young men, come out and wreak havoc on the community. These devillike characters are called Judios, meaning Jews. Although Huichols know virtually nothing about Jewish culture and religion, this tradition is carried over from the time of Spanish colonization. During this period there was an inquisition that sought out people who were not Catholics—the targets were Jews and Muslims. If these people did not convert they were imprisoned and burned at the stake. What I was watching, with Sprouting Corn by my side, was how the Huichols centuries ago had interpreted these teachings of the Franciscan missionaries and had turned these characters into mythical beings. And during the Holy Week ceremony, the boys playing the role of the Judios had great fun with all their antics. Sprouting Corn, like many Huichol children, believed these devils were real, and was terribly frightened of them. Every time one of HUICHOL 11 them passed by she hid in my skirt until she felt it was safe to come out. Aside from the antics of the Judios, no music, laughing, or loud behavior is allowed. It is a sacred time, and any person, Huichol or foreigner, who violates the rules will be put in jail. Beginning at dusk, for two nights, a candlelight processional cir- cles the community, carrying the Christ and saint figures, and returns back to the church. On the second night the shamans and members from the temple groups initiate a ceremony that revolves around their pilgrimage to the peyote desert. The shamans sing all night long, and in the morning, with the first rays of light, everyone enters the church to inaugurate the resurrection of Christ. I remember crowding into the church with everyone. Candles were lit and billows of clouds from musky smelling copal incense filled the church. Sprouting Corn stood too close to a candle, her hair was singed and wax melted onto some of her locks. I picked her up so that she could see the activities. The Christ figure and all the saint figures are uncovered and put back in their places. From this point onward cows, bulls, and calves are dragged into the church and ritually sacrificed. Feet tied together, each one is taken to the center of the dirt floor, where lies a hole that is the opening to the other world where the gods live. The animal’s neck is placed above the hole, and with the quick, deft slash of a knife, blood spurts from its neck and is collected to anoint all the offerings that have been made. Some of the offerings are votive gourd bowls, arrows, candles, and the shamans’ feathered power wands. The Huichols believe that blood holds a life force, and in order for the gods to hear their prayers they must “energize” their offerings with animal blood. Afterwards the animal is taken out to be butchered for food and another live one is dragged in. The festivities continue through the night with the shamans’ chants and into the next day, at which point the Huichols baptize children. At this time I would have an active part in the ceremonial events; it would be a time that would spiritually unite Sprouting Corn, her family, me, and my family for the rest of our lives.

BECOMING SPROUTING CORN’S GODMOTHER

The practice of uniting adults and children as godparents and godchildren is known as compadrazco. It was introduced to the Indians by the missionaries as a way to integrate generations of 12 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE families under the Christian faith. Compadrazco was quickly accepted by many Indian communities because of the drastic decline of the native population. Before the Spaniards arrived the social structure of all native cultures revolved around family and kin groups. This intricate form of networking was all but destroyed with the decimation of family lineages and kin groups. The system of compadrazco enabled Indian communities to form new social and economic ties with individuals who were not family members, but were so intimately bonded that they could be called upon to help each other in whatever capacity they were needed. Swift Rabbit explained to me that Huichols still have traditional ways of establishing special ties between children and adults who are related. One example is the practice of naming children. Whoever names a child has a unique, lifelong relationship with that child. Sprouting Corn’s grandmother gave her the name of Sprouting Corn because she was born around the time of year when corn plants begin to grow. Special relations are also formed if an adult and child become ritual partners in the temple ceremonies and go on the sacred pilgrimage to the peyote desert together. Nevertheless, the practice of compadrazco has an important place in the structure of family and community rela- tionships. Sprouting Corn’s mother and father were godparents to numerous children, and all of her older sisters and her older brother had godmothers and godfathers. Sprouting Corn did not have a godparent; at least not until this day. Before Holy Week Sprouting Corn’s mother told me everything I needed to do to prepare for the compadrazco ceremony. First, I had to buy two meters of fabric and a handkerchief. Then I bought two candles, soap, a bowl, salt, candy, cigarettes, and beer. In addition, I bought extra fabric and handkerchiefs so that Sprouting Corn could have a new outfit to wear on this special day. She was thrilled when I unwrapped the goods and handed them to one of her older sisters to sew. Sprouting Corn’s sister measured her, meticulously tore the material to the correct pro- portions with her teeth and hands, and neatly sewed by hand a skirt with blue flowers on a red background and a matching bright red blouse with yellow and blue ribbons and rickrack trim. The two blue handkerchiefs were sewn together and trimmed with red ribbon. A space was left for Sprouting Corn’s head to fit through so she could wear the handkerchiefs as a poncho or headcovering.4 I, too, had a new Huichol outfit made to wear for the occasion. HUICHOL 13

In the center of town the Easter festivities were coming to a close, and it was time to go to the church to have our little ceremony. This was it, I thought with great excitement, while I, Sprouting Corn, and her mother waited for her father to bring her great uncle, Young Arrow, to act as officiating shaman over the rites. I was told that either a visiting Catholic priest or a Huichol shaman could perform the ritual. We all decided it would be better to have a shaman who was a specialist in Huichol religion and customs. Finally her father arrived with her great uncle. Young Arrow, a dignified man of medium build, was an impressive sight. He was dressed in a brilliantly embroidered outfit and had squirrel tails and parrot and eagle feathers attached to his hat, which wafted in the slight breeze. He had been on the peyote pilgrimage and for this reason wore yellow face paint made from the ground root of a plant that grows in the desert. Young Arrow had spirallike mandalas painted on each cheek. I later learned that not only does the yellow face paint indicate that someone has gone on the pilgrimage, but it also is a way for a person to greet and communicate with the Sun God. Young Arrow told me to wrap Sprouting Corn up in the two meters of cloth and carry her into the church. I followed behind him, Swift Rabbit and White Star at my side. The church was somewhat dark inside because it had no windows; the only light came from the open doorway. As we approached the altar I noticed that there still was blood all over the dirt floor from the animal sacrifices the day before. At that moment a foreigner entered the church with a tele- photo-lens camera mounted on a large tripod. He had arrived at San Andres earlier, and from the moment he arrived he had been taking pictures of everyone and everything. He had not asked permission from the authorities to be there, nor to use his camera. And now, in the church, he did not speak to us; he just flashed the camera around the church, shooting photographs as quickly as the automatic advance on his camera allowed. Then he packed up his gear and walked out to continue his photo-taking session. After this disturbance it took us a few moments to get our bearings before we commenced with the ritual. We climbed up onto the platform where the Christ figures were mounted. They had been covered with blood by Huichols who had anointed them with their candles and feathered power wands. Some women had stuck miniature bead-covered wax figures represent- ing children onto the large Christ figure as prayers to protect their children from illnesses and death. The shaman asked me for 14 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE some coins—Mexican pesos. I searched my purse and pulled several out and gave them to him. He prayed, and placed the coins in a cavity carved into the upper right rib of one of the Christ figures. Swift Rabbit had told me earlier that Huichols used money for offerings because the design on one side of all the coins depicts an eagle with a snake in its mouth. This, she said, symbolized an important myth about the eagle and the creation of the world.5 While holding Sprouting Corn wrapped in her cloth like a large bundled baby, the shaman pulled out his feathered wand and began to pray out loud. He passed the feathers of his wand over Sprouting Corn’s head, then mine. After that he circled a bowl of salt above our heads. Salt, something essential for all human beings, is a very precious resource for Huichols. In ancient times they had to travel far away to the desert or the Pacific Coast to get salt, and may in fact have been salt mer- chants, who traveled the trade routes bartering salt from one tribe to the next.6 The shaman put the bowl down and picked up a bottle that contained holy water. He dipped a large flower into the water and sprinkled the top of my head with the water. Then he gave the flower and sacred water to me so I could anoint Sprouting Corn’s head. Throughout the ritual she was very quiet and wide-eyed, but did not cry or fear what was being done to her. It was obvious that despite her shyness she felt secure in her element with her parents, her shaman uncle, and me. Then it was done and Young Arrow led us outside. We stood in front of the church, and the shaman instructed me to open the bags of candy and packages of cigarettes I had bought and throw them to the eager children who were gathered there. I threw handfuls to the waiting crowd of youngsters. The candies were quickly unwrapped and eaten; the cigarettes were saved for parents. Tobacco smoking among Huichols has ritual significance. Huichols grow a special tobacco extremely high in nicotine content that is used in deer and peyote hunt ceremonies. Commercial tobacco cigarettes complement this tradition and are used as ceremonial gifts. Young Arrow opened a Coca-Cola bottle filled with strong distilled alcohol and emptied a small amount into a bottle cap. He anointed his feathered wand with these “spirits” and waved his wand in the cardinal directions. He instructed me to place the handkerchief I had bought for the occasion on a flat rock. On top I put the two candles and bar of soap. These would be kept by Sprouting Corn. Another thing I gave Sprouting Corn was a new name. Her mother had told me that I HUICHOL 15 must choose a name to baptize my goddaughter. For this occasion most Huichols chose Spanish names. I thought long and hard about this and came up with the name Cristalina, meaning crys- talline, like cool, clear, fresh water. Everyone was pleased with the name, especially Sprouting Corn. Young Arrow told me that from now on there would be a special handshake between me and Sprouting Corn’s parents, in which we would touch our right hand to each other’s right shoulder and then shake hands. We practiced our new handshake and sat down on the side of the church so that others who were baptizing children could enter. Young Arrow instructed me to put one of the beers I had bought on the handkerchief. I was to open it, and move my hand in the air above it in the four directions. Swift Rabbit did the same with one she had bought. Then I was given her beer and she mine, and we drank. We both put packs of cigarettes on the handkerchief for whoever wanted one. We repeated the ritual beer exchange five times. I was relieved to learn that if one cannot drink all the alcohol offered he or she can give it to one of the family members or friends waiting around to be invited to join in the celebration. Suddenly the head nun of the Franciscan mission marched up to us. She and several other nuns had recently been given permission to live near the church because they provided medicines and medical treatment when the doctor from the government-run clinic was not around. She began a heated monologue, repri- manding all of us for not having one of the visiting priests perform the baptism ceremony in the church. She said in an angry tone, “This child is not baptized; only a priest can do it properly. The real reason for baptizing is because before one is baptized he or she is ‘black,’ but after this holy ceremony the person becomes ‘white’ and pure. You are not pure.” When she finished her long- winded speech, there was silence. No one said anything; all of us had our eyes to the ground. When she walked away, we looked at each other, smiled, and began the celebration in earnest. Later that afternoon we started back to the rancho. On the outskirts of town, sitting on the dirt runway, was the foreign photographer who had taken our pictures in the church. I spoke briefly with him. He was sullen and downcast because the tribal authorities had arrested him for not having asked permission to be there and demanded he pay a fine. Then they banished him from the community, so now he was waiting for any mode of transportation to take him away. I thought to myself, “This guy did not receive such bad treatment.” In some cases people— 16 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE

Huichols and foreigners alike—who break the tribal laws are put in the flea-infested jail. On some occasions, they are even forced to put their feet in the heavy wooden stocks. This form of crimi- nal punishment was introduced to the Huichols by the Spaniards over two hundred years ago, yet Huichols still find it quite an effective device for law enforcement. I gave the photographer my address and asked him to send me photos of the baptism ceremony. I didn’t think I would hear from him again, but six months later I received the photographs, and gave copies to my Huichol family. That night Cristalina slept with me in the bamboo house on stilts in the rancho. The full moon shone in through the slats in the wall and made designs across our bodies in the wee hours of the morning. I do not have any children, and don’t know if I ever will, but I felt overjoyed at seeing my little goddaughter fast asleep by my side. I would hold her dear to me, like a daughter, for years to come. In the morning, while we were all drinking a special nutri- tional breakfast gruel made from blue corn and smut, a mush- roomlike fungus that grows on the ears of corn, Swift Rabbit told me that Cristalina and I were now united until death. She said it is important to have godchildren because when it is your time to pass on, they will help you with your journey to the other world. The soap I had given Cristalina would be reciprocated when I died. She would buy a bar of soap and wash my face, hands, and feet to prepare me for burial. The same applied to the two meters of cloth I wrapped her in for the ceremony. But the cloth she would buy for me would be used as a shroud. As for the two candles, Cristalina would light one of them to see my soul off during the funeral ceremony. Huichols believe that when a person dies, his or her soul retraces its life and follows the journey of the sun. Along the way it stops in sacred places where Huichols have gone to leave offerings. Before the soul reaches the ocean and is swallowed up by the Goddess of the Sea, the shaman calls the soul to come be with its loved ones, so that final farewells can be said. Swift Rabbit said that the soul returns for a short while in the form of a fly, is caught by the shaman, and then is sent off to take its place among the gods in the sky.7 I hated to think of the time when any of us would leave this world and pass on to another. One really does not like to contem- plate human mortality. So instead I put my arms around Cristalina and just felt glad to be there, sitting around the breakfast fire, alive, and sharing the present and whatever the future would bring. HUICHOL 17

CRISTALINA LEARNS THE HUICHOL WOMAN’S PATH

Over the past eight years I have watched Cristalina learn the val- ues and skills that Huichol girls need to know. I became, in many ways, her shadow, as she showed me the basic skills necessary to survive in this rugged environment. Every morning at sunrise we helped her mother and the other women prepare the morning meal. She and I went down to the stream with buckets and large hollowed plant gourds to get the water. On the bank of the stream a deep hole was carved out and lined with stones, and water seeped from under the earth to fill the hole. This was the best water for drinking because it was not likely to be contami- nated by animals passing through. However, it did contain microscopic parasites that occur naturally in still water. Drinking untreated water like this is just asking for a bout of “Montezuma’s revenge.” No matter how much I explained to Cristalina, her mother, and the others the importance of boiling the water before drinking it, I was never successful in convincing them to do so. They said they couldn’t see any “little animals,” and besides, with the elevation so high—six thousand feet above sea level—it takes longer for water to boil; they would be at it all day, and it was not worth the time and energy it would take. I gave up on convincing them, but tried to boil all of my own drinking water. Needless to say, Cristalina, like all the children, and some of the adults, had stomach problems often. At the water hole we scooped the water up with a cup and filled the buckets and drinking gourds, pulled some large leaves from plants nearby to use as stoppers in the gourds, and then carried the water back on our heads. Back at the ranch I helped Cristalina grind the corn for tortillas. Almost every night her mother instructed her to get the corn ready for the morning tortillas. Cristalina shelled the corn kernels from the cobs, put the kernels in a bucket of water, added lime—a powdery mineral substance—and placed the bucket on the fire to boil—just long enough for the outer surface of the corn to soften with the help of the lime. Then, in the morning, Cristalina and I took turns putting the softened corn kernels in the metal grinder her mother had purchased in town, and turned the handle around and around until the corn became a coarsely textured dough. Both she and I developed strong arms from doing this two, sometimes three, times a day. 18 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE

It was not until Cristalina was seven years old that her mother taught her to make tortillas. Swift Rabbit showed Cristalina how to grind the dough finer on a grinding stone, put a dough ball into the metal tortilla press, flatten it, and slap it on the hot comal to cook. The first time Cristalina made tortillas I watched her intently, and smiled to myself when her tortillas stuck and burned, causing her to cry from shame and embarrass- ment. Within a year she was expertly making tortillas for everyone in the family. With her mother’s encouragement Cristalina made tortillas for me at mealtimes, and always wrapped some freshly made ones in a handkerchief for me to take along when I flew back home. As my little goddaughter learned more about the surround- ing environment, she taught me. She took me into the woods to gather sour berries, called upapari, and a variety of edible wild mushrooms. The adults in the rancho had taught her to distin- guish the edible mushrooms from the poisonous ones. Some mushrooms are so toxic that eating just a few of them could kill you. Cristalina taught me how to watch for snakes, such as rat- tlesnakes, and scorpions, whose sting is so venomous that it can kill children and temporarily—and sometimes permanently— paralyze adults. I was so glad to have Cristalina to teach me these valuable survival skills. We also sang songs together. She taught me various Huichol songs, and never tired of repeating a line over and over—something the adults had little patience for— until I got it right. One of my favorite Huichol songs is a simple song about the morning dove. The words are as follows:

kukuru patsuaka kálili pe hekua dove cries dawn arises

“The morning dove calls because dawn is upon us.” The tune imitates the haunting tone of the morning dove’s call. When Cristalina turned seven years old, her mother insisted that she spend more time helping take care of her younger brother and sister. Swift Rabbit would tie a sling holding Cristalina’s baby sister around Cristalina’s back, and Cristalina carried her sister around in this manner wherever she went. Her little brother was always near her side, too. Cristalina quickly learned to care for her younger siblings and tend to their needs. Otherwise they cried and her mother scolded her. I was impressed by how adept she became at being a “little mother”; she seemed to know more about taking care of babies than I did! HUICHOL 19

Because I spent much of my time at the rancho learning to weave on the backstrap loom, Cristalina became very curious about this ancient craft and insisted that her mother set up a little makeshift loom for her. Swift Rabbit did just that, and by my side Cristalina watched and imitated me weaving. Although she was too young to actually be able to weave, her motivation to learn was a good sign that she was on the right path to learning the women’s ways, according to her mother. Learning to weave is an important part of becoming a woman in Huichol society. Swift Rabbit also taught Cristalina to embroider and make gourd bowls and wood-carved snakes decorated with beads pressed into beeswax. All of Cristalina’s family members were excellent artists, and when time permitted they took their artwork to Mexican cities to sell to tourists and store owners. With the money earned her mother bought goats, sheep, and if especially lucky in sales, cows, which provided milk, calves, and, eventu- ally, blood and meat for a ceremony. I remember well the ceremonies in which we participated at her parents’ temple, seven hours away by foot. Swift Rabbit and White Star had the important five-year cargo of caretaker of the temple. It was a beautiful walk to the temple, through a dense pine forest and river valleys. Pack horses and mules carried our belongings; sometimes we had to take many supplies because we stayed at the temple up to a month at a time. Cristalina usually rode one of the horses, holding on to her little brother, who sat on the front part of the saddle. She liked this arrangement because she didn’t tire from traveling, and did not have to brave the trip barefoot. I always made a point of providing her with huaraches, leather sandals, but inevitably they broke or got lost, or she grew out of them quickly. There were times that her feet were so cut up, raw and bloodied from not wearing shoes, that it was extremely painful for her to walk long distances. As she grew older her feet got much tougher, and she made a greater effort not to lose her shoes and to repair them when necessary. The temple compound was made up of a large circular temple of adobe brick with a grass-thatched roof and five small stone godhouses circling the front of the temple, which faced east. The first time I accompanied Cristalina and her family to the temple I was astounded by how ancient this sacred building was. We took our belongings inside, where we would live and sleep for the duration of the ceremony. Inside the temple were two large wood poles and a frame supporting a very high ceiling, a crackling fire on a raised dirt mound, and a wood and bamboo altar in the 20 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE back, with a multitude of bags containing the temple members’ offerings. Sacrificial deer masks hung from the two wood posts, and deer antlers lined the walls of the interior. White Star indi- cated which antler marked our place, and we settled down to wait for the ritual events. Cristalina, knowing that I liked to draw, pointed at the mud wall behind us. It was smoothly plas- tered and designed with incised drawings of simple sticklike human figures carrying bows and arrows, hunting large antlered deer. The drawings reminded me of prehistoric cave paintings that I had seen in books.8 The ceremony for which we had come was the last in a series of ceremonies to celebrate the return of the temple members who had gone on the peyote pilgrimage. The ceremony was also intended to appease the gods, so that there would be a lot of rain and abundant crops in the months ahead. The leading shaman, called Venus, the Morning Star, began the ceremony at about 10:00 P.M. and sang throughout the night. He sat in a special bamboo and deer-hide chair, with his power wand in hand. Two men, one sitting on either side of the shaman, helped him during the night vigil. White Star was one of these assistants. Cristalina, her younger siblings, and I lay on our blankets and listened for as long as we were able to stay awake. The shaman’s song had an eerie, mesmerizing tone. Cristalina, who was sleeping by my side, would stir occasionally, usually when the shaman sang a deep, resonating melody that seemed to make the air vibrate. After he sang a phrase his assistants repeated what he had sung. It was such a powerful, repetitive tune that even when I dozed, in the early morning hours, the shaman’s song was with me in my dreams. At dawn everyone stirred. Cristalina helped me light my candle. People gathered their offerings, and with the rising sun the men and a few women left, taking a bull with them to sacrifice deep in the ravine. They went to a sacred place called Taupa, where Huichols say the sun was born. There they sacrificed the bull, to calm the sun so the rain goddesses would be able to come. Afterwards the people went high up on a mountain top and sacrificed a black ewe so the wind god would bring the wind. Cristalina told me that black sheep are used in this ceremony because they represent the color of dark rain clouds. When the temple members returned, the shaman and others sang for two more nights. The morning of the third day there was one final animal sacrifice. This one was a five-month-old calf. It was deep chocolate brown with a splotch of white on its fore- head, and it belonged to Swift Rabbit. The officiating shaman had HUICHOL 21 said that the gods had visited him in the night and told him that Cristalina’s family had to sacrifice this particular calf. Cristalina’s little brother had become gravely ill several months ago. His lungs had been so congested with fluid, and his body so dehy- drated from fever and diarrhea, that few people thought he would survive. The shaman had sung for him, and had told White Star to fast for a week so that the little boy would recover. In addition, the shaman told White Star to go to the Pacific Ocean, to the Sea Goddess Haramara, and leave offerings of a candle, a decorated gourd bowl, and an arrow with a miniature bow and sandals attached to ensure that his son would be a strong, swift hunter. Cristalina’s little brother miraculously recovered. Now her family was indebted to the gods for the recovery, and this calf was to repay the debt. The shaman selected Cristalina to take the role of Ha’Keli, the angellike mes- senger who would help with the animal sacrifice. A woven belt with a plumed arrow was tied around her head, and she followed the singing shaman to the calf. It was tied to the post of one of the godhouses in the temple compound. Around its head was a ribbon with tissue-paper flowers. The shaman, with his power wand, sang to the calf. Several men crept around, and at the shaman’s cue they threw the calf to the ground, tied its feet together, and carried it to the hole that was situated in the freshly plowed cornfield in front of the temple. The hole was supposed to lead to the moist earth goddess, Yurianaka. When the calf was laid on the ground with its neck above the hole, the shaman instructed Cristalina to put a piece of chocolate in its mouth so it would be happy and make it safely to the other world. She did so, and could not resist giving her mother’s calf one last pat on the head. Her father gave her the sacrificial knife, which she held while the shaman blessed it, her, and the calf. Then she gave the knife to her father’s cousin, who plunged the knife into the calf’s throat. The calf jerked, twisted, turned, and looked around, moaning and calling for its mother. Tears came to Cristalina’s eyes, and to mine, too. Two Huichol musicians played the violin and guitar to sing the soul of the calf up to the sky. It was a sad but important occasion—the life of a young calf was given to the gods in exchange for the life of her younger brother. Everyone was pleased with the ceremony. Swift Rabbit and White Star told me that Cristalina was a good Ha’ Keli and that everyone would be healthy and there would be abundant rain for the crops. All was as it should be; the forces of nature were in bal- 22 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE ance. Cristalina sighed with happiness and satisfaction, and took my hand to lead me to a choice spot where she had seen green clover growing. She wanted to pick some so we could eat it sprinkled with a little bit of salt that she had brought along. At that moment dark, ominous clouds rushed in around us. Thunder could be heard in the distance and flashes of lightning illumi- nated the sky. Cristalina grabbed my arm and led me to shelter in one of the godhouses. She said with a mischievous look on her face, “I have a new song to teach you. It’s called haxu uyaya, and is about the crocodile’s wife.”

MY GODDAUGHTER’S FUTURE

Cristalina is now twelve years old. It is hard to imagine that eight years have passed since I became her godmother, and it is even more difficult for me to imagine my life without her. She still takes care of her younger siblings, at present count they total five. She has gone on the peyote pilgrimage with her mother, father, little brother, and baby sister, and has eaten the sacred hallucinogenic cactus. Peyote is considered a sacrament and is used to get close to and communicate with the Huichol gods. It is used in a ceremonial context which serves to unite family and community, and is an integral part of Huichol culture.9 Children are introduced to peyote at a young age, first through their mothers’ milk, then in small amounts taken orally. No child is forced to take peyote, but most want to so that they can share in the religious experience. When I spoke to Cristalina about her experiences with the peyote, she told me that the gods came to talk to her. They brought many beautiful designs in bright colors and geo- metric shapes, constantly in motion. With felt-tip pens that I had given her, she drew some of these mandalalike designs, and told me that they were gifts that the gods had given her and she would always treasure them. The peyote has contributed to her learning about nature and Huichol religion, and has influenced her sense of style in the beaded and embroidered art she makes. The designs and color combinations she chooses are vibrant, and make the objects she crafts come alive. Cristalina is on her way to becoming an excep- tional artist, and even sells her artwork when the family goes to the Mexican cities. I am teaching her some words in English so HUICHOL 23 she can help her family communicate with the foreign tourists when making sales. Cristalina attends the elementary school in San Andres. It is a bilingual school, and the teachers are all Huichols. In kinder- garten Cristalina learned to write down language sounds and to form words and sentences in Huichol. When she understood those concepts, she was taught Spanish, the primary language used for most subjects. Her mother still needs help around the rancho, so Cristalina is not able to attend school on a regular basis. Nevertheless, I have encouraged her to keep learning. I bring her notebooks, pencils, and pens, and we spend some after- noons working on reading, writing, and arithmetic. She loves to learn, and thoroughly enjoys these hours spent together. The last time I visited Cristalina, she was waiting for my plane on the runway, and she helped carry my things back to the house. Her entire family had gone off to a ceremony, but she had stayed behind to await my arrival. We sat on the bed joking and catching up on things, and I complimented her on how much she had improved in speaking Spanish. When I leaned back and closed my eyes for a few moments, she slyly pulled out the last letter I had written the family and began to read it out loud in Spanish. I opened my eyes and sat up abruptly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and seeing. My little goddaughter, Sprouting Corn, whom I had named Cristalina, was actually reading, and she was doing it extremely well. I hugged her tight and thought back to that day years ago when she could not speak any Spanish, but insisted on communicating with me in Huichol as she helped me put my loom away. That seemed like a lifetime ago. For me Cristalina is a mirror that reflects the life of all Sierra Huichols, a life in which the Huichol culture is challenged more than ever by the encroachment of the outside world. I see great hope in Cristalina. She has been raised within the context of Huichol traditional beliefs and practices, yet she is learning to be bilingual, bicultural, and, with my influence, tricultural. She has been teaching me, too, about life, survival, and kinship. We have learned so much from each other; we have transcended geo- graphical and cultural barriers. I wonder how our relationship will influence the future of her family and community. I hope we can work together to foster greater cultural understanding, which in turn would help Huichols direct the path of their own lives, and if they so desire, maintain the autonomy they have had since ancient times. 24 PORTRAITS OF CULTURE

NOTES

1. Phil Weigand suggests that Huichols have inhabited the Sierra Mountains for thousands of years. See Phil C. Weigand, “Differential Acculturation among the Huichol Indians,” in Thomas B. Hinton and Phil C. Weigand, eds., Themes of Indigenous Acculturation in Northwest Mexico (Tucson: The University of Arizona Press, 1981), pp. 9–13. Peter T. Furst proposes that the ancestors of the Huichols were originally related to Chichimec Indians in the San Luis Potosi Desert. See Peter T. Furst, “Myth as History, History as Myth: A New Look at Old Problems in Huichol Origins,” in Stacy B. Schaefer and Peter T. Furst, eds., People of the Peyote: Huichol History, Religion, and Survival (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995). 2. This was the general policy among the early Christian missionaries. A few, however, documented the traditional Indian cultures and their religions before they destroyed them. See Bernardino de Sahagun, Florentine Codex: A General History of the Things of New Spain, rev. ed, trans. Charles E. Dibble and Arthur J.O. Anderson (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1969). 3. For more information on Huichols and the changes brought about by the Mexican Bureau of Indian Affairs, Instituto Nacional Indigenista (INI), see Karen Reed, El INI y los Huicholes (Mexico: Instituto Nacional Indigenista); and Salomon Nahmad Sitton, “Some Considerations of the Indirect and Controlled Acculturation in the Cora-Huichol Area,” in Thomas B. Hinton and Phil C. Weigand, eds., Themes of Indigenous Acculturation in Northwest Mexico (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1981), pp. 7–8. 4. This poncholike garment is known as a xikuri, and is a traditional form of clothing worn by many indigenous women before conquest times. See Stacy B. Schaefer, “Huichol Indian Costumes: A Transforming Tradition,” Latin American Art Magazine 5 (1993): 70–73. 5. The eagle and snake were important symbols for the Aztec Indians, whose origin myths tell of finding an eagle perched on top of a cactus devouring a snake. There they founded the ancient city of Tenochtitlan, now Mexico City. 6. See Phil C. Weigand, “Differential Acculturation among the Huichol Indians,” in Thomas B. Hinton and Phil C. Weigand, eds., Themes of Indigenous Acculturation in Northwest Mexico (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1981), pp. 11–12. HUICHOL 25

7. For more description of Huichol funerary practices and beliefs about the soul, see Peter T. Furst, “Huichol Conception of the Soul,” Folklore Americas 27 (1967): 39–106; and Michel Perrin, “The Urukáme, a Christallization of the Soul: ‘Tradition,’ Death, and Memory,” in Stacy B. Schaefer and Peter T. Furst, eds., People of the Peyote: Huichol History, Religion, and Survival (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995). 8. For further information on Huichol temples, see Stacy B. Schaefer, “The Cosmos Contained: The Temple Where Sun and Moon Meet,” in Stacy B. Schaefer and Peter T. Furst, eds., People of the Peyote: Huichol History, Religion, and Survival (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995). 9. Additional literature on the importance of peyote in the Huichol culture includes Peter T. Furst, “To Find Our Life: Peyote among the Huichol Indians of Mexico,” in Peter T. Furst, ed., Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of Hallucinogens (New York: Praeger, 1972), pp.136–184; Barbara G. Myerhoff, Peyote Hunt: The Sacred Journey of the Huichol Indians (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1974); and Stacy B. Schaefer, “The Crossing of the Souls: Peyote Perception and Meaning,” in Stacy B. Schaefer and Peter T. Furst, eds., People of the Peyote: Huichol History, Religion, and Survival (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995).