Terranova Institute students commemorated International Women’s Day by sharing examples and opinions regarding the violence they suffer throughout the country. Screen copy.
D.Arturo Ortega (Chapala).- Students stood on the terrace of the Terra Nova Institute demanding the respect that is due them from a society that has owed them since the beginning of time.
Student, Julieta Ortega spoke of the cases of Renata from Oaxaca, Karina from Chiapas and a 14-year-old girl from Jalisco who were all victims of femicide.
«What fear, what rage, what terror! I am sick of living in a place from which I leave my home, but to return is a privilege. I leave with little hope of returning — not only me, but my friends, my teachers, my mother and my sister,» said the outraged high school student.
The young woman shared the results of a 2021 report where the national authorities reviewed 275 cases of femicide and macho violence examining the reason for the irrational hatred of one gender towards the other. Forty-eight percent of the aggressors committed violence because the victim did not want to have sex, and the other 52 percent because the woman disobeyed. This type of violence against women afflicts all 32 states of Mexico.
Julieta reflected: «they are killing us for being women, and every day we suffer intimidation, harassment, threats, resignation, silence and fear.» She said these are reasons not to “celebrate” International Women’s Day but to march to be respected, valued, heard, and to fight against hatred, violence, lack of equity and justice towards the female gender.
«If they kill me and if they find me, this body marked by violence will be the hands that remove the blindfold from people’s eyes. And if they kill me and if they find me, may my death give strength to raise my voice, to remove the ropes from the mouths of my sisters who are still there,» were the poetic words with which Julieta concluded her message.
Terranova Institute celebrated International Women’s Day with conferences, reflections and denunciations from its students.Also present at the meeting were special guests Anabel Lechuga and Erika de la Cerda. The photographer, María Di Paola, gave a presentation of the history of achievements and examples of courageous women whose contribution and sacrifice have allowed us to reach the moment we live in.
Translated by Nita Rudy
The march for women’s rights in Chapala advanced with the cry «The oppressor state is a male rapist.» Even children participated in the march.
Jazmín Stengel (Chapala).– More than 200 women who demonstrated on Tuesday, March 8, International Women’s Day, used the facade of the Chapala City Hall as a forum to expose the children of former public officials, teachers, among other aggressors of women in the municipality.
The march began after 8:00 p.m. and proceeded along Francisco I. Madero Avenue. Protesters closed the road at the intersection with Morelos Street and Hidalgo Avenue for a little more than ten minutes, and then went to the front of the City Hall. Posters with feminist messages had been pasted on its façade starting two days earlier.
There, different women, especially young women, spoke of cases of harassment, rape and violence committed by the children of former public officials, current public officials, teachers and private individuals, in order to publicize the names and thus avoid further harm to women.
«As long as there is no justice for the people there will be no peace for the government,» declared one of the signs of the young women protesters who on more than one occasion accused the government of protecting the aggressors. They also claimed they were ignored by the authorities when they filed complaints with the Public Prosecutor’s Office.
«I am here for those that my municipality wants to erase and silence. No more impunity!» and «What does a country that sows bodies reap?» read among some of the signs carried by the protesters.
«We are the cry of those who have no voice» said another poster, referring to the 13 women who have disappeared in our municipality. An altar for these women was placed in a door to the building with the message «Sorry for the inconvenience, they are killing us.”
Amid tears and shouts of encouragement such as «you are not alone» and «I believe you,» the women who dared to speak out told the tragic stories of the abuses they have suffered. Those who did not speak publicly shared their stories anonymously on the Instagram group @Isonomia.chapala.
The most important issues besides the accusations were the freedom to dress as they please and the insecurity to which women are exposed. «The length of my skirt does not define the respect I deserve,» wrote a protester. Signs read «Quiet mom today I’m not going home alone» and «I can’t die yet.»
Women were not alone in demanding their rights. Some were accompanied by men carrying with signs that read: «I like women and I don’t harass them.»
The case of Chuyito was also presented. This young boy suffered rape by his stepfather and physical and psychological violence until the day of his death. All women expressed their solidarity with this situation, demanding that the guilty be found and that the case not go unpunished.
Though the march was peaceful, a patrol of the Municipal Police and three state police were present at all times. Traffic police helped drivers who were not part of the demonstration to find an alternate route.
Translated by Elisabeth Shields
Francisca Lomelí Rodríguez is 96 years old and has retained all her vivid memories that describe the San Cristóbal of her childhood. Photo by: María Reynozo.
By: María del Refugio Reynozo Medina
Francisca Lomelí was orphaned at the age of eight. School was her life. In the San Cristóbal Zapotitlán of her childhood, classes only went up to third grade. She attended school and she remembers the name of her teacher, Trina.
The school was made of adobe and reed. It was not surrounded by a wall, but by a “wall” of huizaches and nopales (native trees and cactus). In addition to learning how to read, the girls learned how to sew and embroider napkins. They spent a lot of time at school because at noon they went home for lunch and then returned to continue the afternoon’s classes. At the end of the school year, the municipal president, accompanied by the town delegate, would go to see the students’ final work. The teachers would place a sample of the student’s embroidered napkins on display.
Corporal punishment was given by wooden ruler. When students did not finish their homework, they were given a few slaps of the ruler.
The teacher wrote lessons in chalk on a blackboard, using a cloth as an eraser. There were no notebooks. The students would buy a sheet of brown paper and tear it into four parts, and when the pages were worn out on both sides, they would buy another sheet.
Francisca remembers the delegate of that time, Beatriz Chavez’s father. He used to openly carry a gun every day. He was a man who was respected. He paid to have a cobblestone pavement installed in town. Despite looking different today, the plaza was the place to go for prominades and serenades.
Chica, as Francisca is known to the townspeople, remembers the nights of music and the women and men milling around. Some women would carry a “chiquihuite” or palm basket with flowers from their garden and sell them for pennies. It used to be very common for there to be fights on holidays. Men would go around armed with guns or knives. Sometimes as many as three or four people were killed, who were left lying around while the aggressor escaped, as there were no police as there are now. The police, who sometimes appeared, were called «Los Charros» by the people.
The women were guarded carefully by their male siblings and parents, although some, when there were weddings, carried a bottle of punch and danced to the music of the harp.
-We waltzed,» they would say.
Chica remembers “El Vapor,” which was a very large boat that came from Chapala. In the morning, very early, it arrived for the passengers and returned in the afternoon. On its journey over the waves of the waters of Chapala, El Vapor, emitted a high-pitched noise that reached the ears of the locals. It was a strange noise, like in the famous song «La Llorona,» the locals said.
People would come to the shore in the morning to say goodbye to their relatives and watch the boat floating in the water, until it was gone from view. In the afternoon, they would also come to the shore to receive the passengers, who came loaded with packages from errands in Chapala.
The steamboat was the only way out, since there was no highway around the lake in those times. The first streets that were made were called caminos. Everything was surrounded by mountains, so it was difficult traveling over them.
In town of San Cristobal, there was not much to buy. There was a store owned by Arnulfo and Lola Aceves. Everything could be bought by centavos: a centavo of butter, a centavo of salt, a centavo of cheese.
Another man was called Tacho. He sold meat, but not every day. When he was going to slaughter an animal, he would announce himself by standing in the middle of the street rubbing his knives against each other. The sound could be heard for many blocks and people knew that there would be fresh meat that day.
“Tacho is sharpening his knives,» people would think, and they would prepare to go shopping. Pigs and chickens were raised in the houses. On special days people would slaughter the pigs that they had raised. Chica remembers the whiteness of the lard and the smell of pork rinds from the houses, as there is no other smell like it. The pigs roamed the streets and none of them got lost. They could roam all day long and return home in the evening to sleep. Sometimes the sows were heavily pregnant and returned home, accompanied by the piglets walking alongside their mother. The chickens were also on the loose, going to and from their homes.
The water of the lagoon was so clean that the people could drink it. The townspeople went with pitchers to bring it back in order to prepare food and also to drink. Chica remembers that her grandfather had some beehives and extracted a lot of honey from them. He would invite the neighbors to bring a small pot to share his honey with them.
There was an «old boy» (that’s what they called him because he never married), but he was a older man. He sold bread in town.
The church was an old building, made of adobe and tile. Father Prisciliano Michel contributed to its improvement. Chica remembers, when she was a child, that after mass they would bring sand from the cemetery. Everyone cooperated, young and old, with whatever they could, and if they could bring a brick, they contributed.
The villagers contributed to the construction of the temple. There was a lot of religious fervor during Holy Week, remember that the women only made hats until Wednesday because Thursday, Friday and Saturday were days of mourning and fasting. The images hanging on the walls were covered with purple cloth as a sign of mourning. No music was played, and many went to church on their knees in the street. Nor did people ride horses; if they passed a cross, they crossed themselves with reverence and the men took off their hats.
In the town there was no Health Center; Daniel Cervantes was everyone’s doctor, he gave injections, he was very good at curing people. Then a doctor Ureña started to come, and another one was called Dr. Cuervo.
From her bed, Francisca continues talking about her childhood and youth.
It was nice,» she says with a smile.
When I ask her about her husband, she says:
“He was my first and last boyfriend.”
José Reynoso and she never talked, they shortened the distance with messages sent through friends, or with José’s whistles from the street informing her that he had been near. On some occasions her friend Margarita Solano, warned her.
-Chirin, chirin!
She would exclaim from the door and Chica would come out to greet her and raise her hand, while behind her friend’s back, Jose would return her greeting from a distance.
Translated by Colleen Beery
Lago de Chapala. Foto: Héctor Ruiz.
Por: Daniel Jiménez Carranza
La información sin duda, es y ha sido un elemento esencial para la cultura y la adecuada toma de decisiones en cualquier actividad humana; en nuestro país, en la época prehispánica, existían los Códices en donde se reproducían con pinturas vegetales, los hechos relevantes de la época en pieles de animales, hojas de henequén o de amate,; la comunicación entre lugares distantes, la enlazaban a través de un sistema de “postas” que realizaban “los Paynanis”, “Chasquis”, y los “Icluchcatitlantis”, corredores entrenados, que operaban a semejanza de la carrera de relevos, en donde existían postas o albergues llamadas “Techialoyan”, situadas a una distancia promedio de 10 kms. entre una y otra en donde se llevaban a cabo los relevos, pues en América, previo a la llegada de los españoles, no existían caballos, en esta forma, fue como Moctezuma se enteró de la llegada de los españoles; posteriormente en la época de la conquista, continuó utilizándose este medio de comunicación, viéndose complementado con los Pregoneros, quienes se instalaban en plazas o sitios importantes anunciándose con pífanos y tambores para informar sobre fiestas, procesiones, venta de sus productos, o comunicaciones del gobierno virreinal,
Ya en la época de Independencia, la importancia del periódico y el correo jugaron un papel determinante en la consumación de este movimiento. Miguel Hidalgo fundó el periódico “El Despertador Americano” que le permitió propagar su ideario insurgente, así como dar a conocer los abusos del poder español en nuestras tierras.
De esta manera el sistema de comunicación inició su desarrollo en nuestro país, pasando por el telégrafo, la radio, sin olvidar los corridos, género musical de México, que difundía historia de personajes míticos o reales cuya relevancia en la época de la Revolución consistía en relatar los hallazgos y aventuras de sus líderes, llegando así hasta nuestros días, con el acceso a una multiplicidad de escenarios, gracias a la tecnología de internet, que ha ampliado hacia el infinito la expresión de contenidos, en donde la participación se ha desbordado en manifestaciones disonantes donde algunas de ellas llegan a expresar primitivos embates de todo tipo hacia la razón, paralelamente también, existe el acceso a espacios altamente reivindicativos de la cultura y el conocimiento, en donde el consumidor de toda esta información, puede llegar a perderse, particularmente niños o jóvenes cuando no cuentan con un adecuado criterio o formación sólida y ética que les permita realizar una saludable selección de los contenidos.
En suma, es de vital importancia, poder distinguir el contenido de la información entre las noticias, y los comentarios, que representan el punto de vista de quien escribe, distinguir el contenido que alimente el espíritu y no que horade y denigre nuestra persona. Todo ello depende de la decisión del receptor / lector.
Francisca Lomelí Rodríguez tiene 96 años y todos sus recuerdos vivos que dibujan el San Cristóbal de su infancia. Foto: María Reynozo.
María del Refugio Reynozo Medina .- Francisca Lomelí quedó huérfana a los ocho años. La vida fue su escuela; en el San Cristóbal Zapotitlán de su infancia, las clases llegaban hasta tercero de primaria, ella asistió; recuerda el nombre de su maestra, se llamaba Trina.
La escuela era de adobe y carrizo, no estaba rodeada por un muro sino por un monte lleno de huizaches y nopales. Además de leer, las niñas aprendían a hacer costuras, bordaban servilletas y transcurrían mucho tiempo en la escuela, pues al medio día iban a comer a casa y volvían para continuar la jornada de clases. Para el fin de ciclo escolar, el presidente municipal iba a ver los trabajos finales acompañado del delegado del pueblo; sus maestras colocaban como galería una muestra de las servilletas para la exhibición.
La disciplina se aplicaba con una regla de madera, cuando no terminaban con las tareas les daban unos cuantos reglazos.
En el salón, había una pizarra negra donde la maestra daba las lecciones con la tiza y una tela como borrador. No había cuadernos, les compraban un pliego de papel estraza y lo partían en cuatro partes, cuando las páginas estaban gastadas por ambos lados, compraban otra hoja.
La plaza era solo un espacio parejo de tierra, Francisca recuerda al delegado de entonces, era el papá de Beatriz Chávez; diario traía pistola, era un hombre que se respetaba. Él mandó hacer un empedrado. Aún sin la forma que hoy tiene la plaza, en aquel entonces era el lugar para la reunión de las serenatas.
Chica, como es conocida por los vecinos del pueblo, recuerda las noches de música y las mujeres y hombres dando vueltas. Algunas mujeres llevaban un chiquihuite con flores de su jardín y las vendían a centavo. Antes era muy común que hubiera pleitos en los días de fiesta, los hombres andaban armados con pistola o con navajas. A veces resultaban hasta tres o cuatro muertos, que quedaban tirados mientras que el agresor escapaba, no había policía como ahora. A la policía, que a veces comparecía, la gente les decía los charros.
Las mujeres tenían una vigilancia muy rigurosa por parte de sus hermanos varones y padres, aunque algunas, cuando había bodas, llevaban una botella de ponche y bailaban con el arpa.
-Anduvimos valsando- decían.
Chica recuerda El vapor, que era una lancha muy grande que venía de Chapala. En la mañana, muy temprano, llegaba por los pasajeros y regresaba en la tarde. En su recorrido sobre las olas de las aguas de Chapala, El Vapor, emitía un ruido agudo que llegaba a los oídos de los lugareños. Era un ruido extraño, como la llorona, decían los pobladores.
La gente se acercaba a la orilla en la mañana para despedir a sus familiares y ver flotando en el agua la lancha, hasta que se perdía. En la tarde, también acudían a la orilla para recibir a los pasajeros que venían cargados de mandado que traían de Chapala.
El vapor era la única vía para salir, pues no había carretera aún; a las primeras calles que se formaron les decían camino. Todo estaba rodeado de monte.
En el pueblo, no había mucho donde comprar; había una tienda de un señor llamado Arnulfo y Lola Aceves, todo se podía comprar por un centavo. Un centavo de manteca, un centavo de sal, de queso.
Tacho le decían a otro señor, él vendía carne, pero no todos los días; cuando iba a matar se anunciaba parándose a media calle restregando los cuchillos, uno con otro. El sonido se escuchaba a muchas cuadras y la gente sabía que ese día habría carne fresca.
-Tacho ya está tronando los cuchillos- y preparaban sus platos para ir a comprar. En las casas se criaban puercos y gallinas. En días especiales las personas mataban a sus puercos que habían criado por mucho tiempo; Chica recuerda la blancura de la manteca y el olor a chicharrones de las casas como ya no hay otro igual. Los puercos andaban por las calles y ninguno se perdía, podían andar durante todo el día merodeando y volver caída la tarde a dormir a casa. A veces las puercas iban cargadas con sus crías en el vientre y regresaban acompañadas con los cerditos caminando. También los pollos andaban sueltos, iban y volvían a su casa.
El agua de la laguna era tan limpia que podía beberse, iban con cántaros a traerla para preparar la comida y para tomar. Recuerda que su abuelo tenía unas colmenas y sacaba mucha miel, salía por su puerta de golpe para invitar a los vecinos que trajeran una ollita para darles tacos de miel.
Había un “muchacho viejo” así le decían porque no se casó, pero era señorito. Él vendía pan.
El templo era una construcción viejita, de adobe y teja, hasta había alicantes alrededor y tecolotes merodeando.
El padre Prisciliano Michel, contribuyó a su mejora.
Recuerda Chica, cuando niña, que saliendo de misa iban a traer arena del rumbo del panteón. Todos cooperaban, chicos y grandes, con lo que podían, si se podía llevar un ladrillo, eso se aportaba. También trabajaron el soyate para hacer la trenza, el chicote, copa, ribete, falda y forro, que eran las partes para armar sombreros.
Los pobladores contribuyeron para la construcción del templo. Había mucho fervor religioso, durante la Semana Santa, recuerda que las mujeres solo torteaban hasta el miércoles porque el jueves, viernes y sábado eran días de guardar luto y se ayunaba. Las imágenes que colgaban de las paredes se cubrían con alguna tela morada en señal de duelo. No se escuchaba música, y muchos acudían al templo avanzando de rodillas por la calle. Tampoco se montaba a caballo, si se encontraba uno con una cruz, se persignaba con reverencia y los hombres se sacaban el sombrero.
En el pueblo no había Centro de Salud; Daniel Cervantes era el médico de todos, ponía inyecciones, era muy bueno para curar. Luego ya empezó a venir un doctor Ureña, y el doctor Cuervo le decían a otro.
Desde su cama; Francisca, sigue conversando de sus días de infancia y juventud.
Cuando le pregunto de su esposo, dice:
-Fue mi primero y último novio-
José Reynoso y ella, nunca platicaron, acortaron la distancia con recaditos que se mandaban a través de amigos, o con chiflidos por parte de José desde la calle que le informaban que había estado cerca. En algunas ocasiones su amiga Margarita Solano, le avisaba.
-¡Chirin, chirin!
Exclamaba, desde la puerta y Chica salía a saludarla y levantaba la mano, mientras a espaldas de su amiga, José le regresaba el saludo a distancia.
Luego se metían corriendo para no ser descubiertas.
-Dicen que me parezco a mi abuela Heliodora- me dice Chica que no se cansa de contar.
Yo no sé cómo era Heliodora, pero lo cierto es que Chica tiene unos ojitos vivaces que me recuerdan a mi abuelo, sobre un rostro encendido labrado de arrugas que cuentan mucho.
Sus añoranzas están vivas y dibujan el pueblo que fue, aunque ya no pueda recorrer caminando los patios que de joven convirtió en veredas floridas.
Front wall of the Romero Pérez brothers’ home is illustrated by masked Sayacos, created by Aarón, one of the brothers. Photo by: María del Refugio Reynozo Medina
María del Refugio Reynozo Medina (Ajijic).- José de Jesús Romero Pérez still has the first hermit-like sayaco mask he made 15 years ago. The dark brown, immobile, sharp face is made of copal, a wood that he brought from the hills. The hollows of the eyes and the slightly open mouth are decayed. The eyebrows, beard and straw-colored mustache are made of a fiber obtained from coffee sacks.
Making a mask can take José de Jesús about two and a half weeks, working in the afternoons after his usual workday. Although he does not make them for commercial purposes, the unique masks which bear his signature, can sell for up to three thousand pesos. The masks that depict women (sayacas) are colorful, with embossed or painted eyelashes and eyelids splashed with glitter. Once carved with a chisel, vinyl paint is used to outline the eyebrows, eyes and eyelashes. The lips and cheekbones are painted deep red circles.
The male masks of the sayacos are made of natural light or brown wood, with long beards, bushy eyebrows and moustaches made of horsehair. Romero Pérez’s masks are instantly recognizable. The images flow, as he chisels each feature. A face will emerge unexpectedly from the wood. He knows perfectly well the type of wood needed to design each face. In addition to wood from the native copal tree, he uses native tecomaca wood, which is soft and light.
He has sold eight masks. Buyers do not necessarily wear them in parades. They are purchased by collectors as unique pieces, inspired by the sayacos.
The Romero Pérez brothers Abel, José de Jesús, Gaspar, José, Aarón and Modesto, each year transform themselves into sayacos mainly to inaugurate the carnival. They also attend other celebrations throughout the year.
On a wall outside their home there is an unfinished mural painting drawn by Aarón. The image shows a dancing female sayaca dancing wearing a yellow dress trimmed with colored ribbon and brown booties, accompanied by two male sayacos. One is dancing wearing a brown jacket, denim pants and booties. The other sayaco has a black dress with white dowels as buttons. All of them have long faces, although their appearance in the parades brings smiles and laughter.
“The sayaco is a very old character in the life of the people of Ajijic”, says Abel. They used to be called sayacal. Now they are called sayacas and sayacos. It is that mocking character that appears mainly in the carnival. They throw confetti and sometimes flour. Sometimes the flour is delicately smeared on their cheeks.
One of the main dances of the sayacos is called the dance of the «papaqui» which is accompanied by wind instruments. Sometimes they are invited to perform their dances at weddings or quinceañeras, the celebration of a girl’s 15th birthday. Abel remembers as a child watching the sayacos in the daily festivities. He and his siblings would race through the cobblestone streets following and teasing the sayacos amidst happy laughter.
The carnival parade is open to the entire population and a diversity of characters appear. The traditional attire is wooden or papier-mâché masks, sacks, shirts with dowels, booties, and hats. The sayacas wear bright printed dresses.
There is pride in being a sayaco. It is a nice, mocking, very old character who makes people laugh. The sayacos are mainly men. Even the sayacas are usually men because of the pushing, shoving, brawling atmosphere.
Behind the masks of tough men or picturesque red-cheeked women are the Romero Perez brothers. They appear in the parades and processions so that the legendary figures of the sayacos do not die and because Abel says «behind the wooden masks is the inner child.»
Translated by Nita Rudy
Las Sayacas bailaron e interactuaron con espectadores en múltiples ocasiones durante el recorrido.
Redacción.- Luego de un año de ausencia y por motivos de la pandemia, el carnaval regresó al Pueblo Mágico de Ajijic con todo su colorido, creatividad y tradición, por lo que Semanario Laguna te comparte una galería de imágenes de Sofía Medeles que muestran cómo han sido los primeros tres días del Carnaval que en ausencia de los carros alegóricos, las Sayacas y Sayacos se han lucido como nunca.
For the fourth consecutive year, the Local Congress has presented the recognition to outstanding women of the State.
Héctor Ruiz Mejía (Jocotepec).- For the fourth consecutive year, the Jalisco State Congress will recognize women who have stood out for their work and struggle for their rights. This year it will seek to open the call to the interior of Jalisco.
The «Hermila Galindo Acosta» award, established in honor of the Mexican writer, politician, suffragette feminist and journalist, seeks to recognize those who work to protect the rights of domestic workers, for gender equality, and against violence, as well for as environmental issues, among other areas.
The Deputy for District 17 and President of the Legislative Commission on Substantive Equality and Gender, María Dolores López Jara, said that this year they will seek to extend the call for entries beyond the Guadalajara Metropolitan Area, with the intention of diversifying the profile of applicants.
This means that women from all municipalities of Jalisco will have the possibility of being recognized, including all those women inhabitants of the Chapala area, who have highlighted, promoted, innovated, or led the way in favor of women’s rights.
The dates for submitting applications will be from February 4 until February 25; the applications must be sent to the Commission for Substantive and Gender Equality, along with the corresponding documentation, by e-mail to: dolores.lopez@congresojal.gob.mx
The recognition will be granted as part of the commemoration of the International Women’s Day, on March 8, at 11:00 a.m. in Plenary Session, in the Congress of Jalisco.
Translated by Kerry Watson
Guadalupe Arias Ibarra is a lawyer and chronicler. He has written three books on the history, events and legends of Jocotepec. Photo: María del Refugio Reynozo Medina.
By María del Refugio Reynozo Medina
Guadalupe Arias Ibarra acquired his taste for listening to and rescuing local stories from his mother, who told him many tales, which he in turn recovered from local oral tradition.
He is a lawyer by profession, a graduate of the University of Guadalajara as well as a storyteller by vocation. While still young, he began to treasure in his memory the stories and landscapes of old Jocotepec, as well as the characters that inhabited it.
As municipal chronicler (1988), one of his most-revered stories is about the origin of the two Christs of Jocotepec – the Lord of the Mount and the Lord of the Huaje, whose existence dates to the wife of Mateo Lucas. She saw a light in the mountain, at the spot of the tree from whose trunk the images emerged. This story is documented in the book, “The Two Christs of Jocotepec. Origen y evolución de su culto y de sus fiestas,” by Francisco Javier Velázquez Fernández and Cristina Alvizo Carranza.
A 1974 television program also stimulated his interest in local history. The municipal president was invited by Channel 4 to bring on a chronicler who could talk about the history of Jocotepec. Arias remembers the person they invited said very little about the founding of the municipality. Because the person’s lack of knowledge was more than evident, Arias set out to be a connoisseur of the memories and history of his town.
In his first inquiries he realized that the most complete archives are those found in the parish, being the least vandalized during the episodes of guerrillas and rebellions.
He says there are important steps along the path of the chronicler. First is necessarily having an interest in the rescue of history and love for the land. Then a sharp observation of reality, taking good notes of one’s findings, delving into subject development and revisiting the texts.
Guadalupe Arias is the author of “Jocotepec, historia de un pueblo” (1988); “Jocotepec. Sucesos, leyendas y algo más” (2019); “490 Aniversario de la fundación de Jocotepec 1529-2019” (2019); and “Semblanza de la Escuela Preparatoria Regional de Jocotepec” (2013).
He was one of the founding teachers at the Preparatory School of Jocotepec. He was invited to be part of the faculty during the administration of Mayor María Guadalupe Urzúa Flores, teaching philosophy and history, as well as classes in the social and political areas.
“I’ve been there 29 years, three months, ten days,” he says with a peaceful smile.
Another of his passions is hunting, which has allowed him to explore areas such as Zacatecas, Coahuila and Durango. He has also been playing soccer since he was 10 years old. He belongs to the Super Veterans League of Jocotepec.
For lawyer Arias, it is fundamental for citizens to know the culture and customs that give identity. “The best way to rescue the memory and oral history is by trapping it in letters,” he said.
Translated by Mike Rogers
Doña Irene prepared the eggshells with confetti weeks before
María del Refugio Reynozo Medina (Ajijic) – January 20 is the most awaited day for the devotees of San Sebastian.
Doña Irene is 82 years old. As a child, she accompanied her parents to the celebration of San Sebastian. She has lines of time on her face; most of them are hints of a smile, because Doña Irene smiles a lot. Her chatter is a contagious melody. She welcomes the visitor as if she had seen him yesterday and as if she already knew him. “Let’s have a little refreshment,» she says. Her conversation invites you to stay and contemplate the afternoon by the cobblestone street.
Although now it is not like other years, she is looking forward to the feast of San Sebastian with joy and she is providing almost 30 chickens for the mole.
Irene Martínez Cervantes lives in the San Sebastián neighborhood in Ajijic.
She remembers her parents’ veneration for the patron saint San Sebastian, whom they celebrated every year on January 20. Her family used to organize this celebration and she decided to continue it, despite the Covid-19 pandemic restrictions.
Seventy-five-year-old Don Antonio Arceo, another of the organizers, follows the tradition of his ancestors. He remembers that in the past, the sponsor of the festival was by invitation.
Two or three months before the festival, those who had been in charge the previous year would select another person to continue the tradition. The previous organizers would visit the new person, bringing a carafe of tamarind or pomegranate punch as a gift. They would bury the tightly closed punch for up to two months and add pieces of quince when it was unburied. When the drink was ready, the new sponsor agreed to assume the responsibility of covering the expenses of the drink, the food, the music and the tachihual bread (a traditional bread loaf). The new sponsor recruited ten to twelve people to help him. The following year he would make the same invitation to another acquaintance.
A handshake, a shared drink of punch and a word as a guarantee was enough to close the commitment. So says the song that is engraved in the memory of the faithful, by dint of repeating it every year during music and confetti.
This charge I give them
to those who remain.
So that they never forget it
and that they pay for it.
Weeks before January 20, Doña Irene starts to paint eggshells and fills them with confetti for the papaqui (the throwing of eggshells and confetti to the rhythm of the song of San Sebastian) That is why one of the mischievous stanzas says:
Poor San Sebastian
who never knew underpants.
The first ones he bought
he exchanged them for eggshells.
On the day of the procession Doña Irene is sitting inside the courtyard with some of her co-workers and close friends. She watches with pleasure the parade of men, women and children who come for the plates of food. Women and children carry towers of plates of mole, beans and rice to their homes. Some men take their rations and packages of tortillas to eat sitting on the sidewalks.
At the corner of Emiliano Zapata and Marcos Castellanos streets sits the altar to San Sebastian. There are two figures. The smaller one measuring approximately one meter and brought from the church the previous day. The other is one about a meter and a half that Doña Irene had sculpted. They are in the middle of a large arch of red carnations and chrysanthemums, on a table covered with white tablecloths.
“There are few people now,» says one of the attendants. Before the pandemic, food was served at tables set up along the street, and casseroles with rice and mole accompanied the procession.
Music has been playing since last night at San Sebastian. Not just one band, «it’s a group,» a young man tells me. Members of different bands come to play for the patron saint.
One woman and seven men make up the cast to liven up the procession. After three o’clock in the afternoon, they begin to prepare the small wooden platform where the smallest sculpture of San Sebastian, loaned from the parish, will be placed. He has starred in the festival for as long as they can remember.
Saint Sebastian is shown with one arm backwards tied to a pole and the other bent towards the heavens. His right index finger is missing. He has a taciturn look, curly shoulder-length hair, a mustache, thin outlined eyebrows and a cracked chest and arm. Five arrows are embedded in his body, which, according to the history of the saints, recall the rain of arrows he received in his martyrdom.
Doña Irene approaches with her companions to see him off, they surround him and talk in his ear, because he will not visit them again until next year. Little by little about 50 people arrive. The band begins to play. Suddenly the first sayaco (traditional, cross-dressing, masked characters who throw confetti or flour) appears wearing a work shirt, khaki colored jacket, boots, hat, and a backpack. He wears a long raw-colored wooden mask, from his cheeks emerges a long beard, bushy eyebrows and a straw-colored mustache.
Six more sayacos arrive dressed as exotic women. One of them, aided by a pair of balloons, shows off her bulging breasts under a flowered blouse. Another wears a blouse of gold and black threads with a tiara of sequins. The youngest sayaco looks like a teenaged girl wearing a scarf over her crimson-plated mask and a black dress edged with blue lace. She stomps her booties on the uneven streets.
The sayacos lead the procession dancing and waving their circular skirts non-stop, followed by the band. The sculpture of San Sebastian follows, carried on the shoulders of four men. As it passes through the elementary school, the students come out to watch through the entrance gate. The sayacos bring their masks close to the gate while the little ones laugh.
San Sebastian is returned to the parish amidst cheers and applause. The sayacos do not enter the temple and they wait outside to return in procession with the music of the band.
Now the Sayacos are the absolute masters of the parade, they take out fists of confetti from their backpacks to throw at the women. Up on a balcony a little girl hides between her mother’s legs, a sayaco jumps to scare her, the little girl cries and the woman laughs and hugs her. A group of about 30 children taunt the sayacos, run and urge them to chase them. Upon their arrival in the heart of the neighborhood outside Doña Irene’s house, the music continues to play and the Sayacos dance a little. Less than 30 attendees begin to break shells filled with confetti on their heads while the music plays. There Bertha Baron intones with two accompanists the traditional song to San Sebastian.
Say goodbye to the meat
and also to the sausage.
Because Ash Wednesday is coming
Ash Wednesday is coming.
And so, ends this celebration in which many collaborate, where adults play like children in a rain of confetti, all singing the traditional, fervent and irreverent song.
Translated by Nita Rudy
© 2016. Todos los derechos reservados. Semanario de la Ribera de Chapala