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Posts Tagged ‘goats’

As I write, I should be winging my way from Houston to San Francisco.  But, alas, I am not.  An ice storm in Houston has postponed my trip until tomorrow.

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Goat at the bus stop

Luckily, United sent me an email on Monday advising that “travel disruptions” were possible in Houston on Tuesday and offering me the option of rescheduling my flights — without fees.  After checking several weather websites, I opted to make the change.

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Bougainvillea among the razor wire

And it was a good thing I did, as this morning’s Oaxaca to Houston flight was canceled.  So another day spent where sights like these are the norm, brighten my day, and warm my heart — even when a cold front has us all donning our wool socks and sweaters.

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Anafre with hot coals on the sidewalk

Sigh… I don’t think I’ll be seeing scenes like this on the streets of San Francisco.  But, on the upside, I will see family, friends, and the Pacific Ocean!

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Late afternoon and middle of the night thunder, lightning, gusting winds, torrential downpours, and gentle showers — the rainy season has arrived and appears to be hanging around.  This is good news, as there has been an Historical Drought in Oaxaca.  What a difference a month makes…

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Goats scrounging for food in Teotitlán del Valle – May 3, 2017

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Streams have begun running in Teotitlán – June 6, 2017

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Cerro Picacho and surrounding mountains have already turned green – June 6, 2017

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Splashes of green now dot the rocky landscape at La Cuevita in Teotitlán – June 6, 2017

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A green Teotitlán del Valle with a dam that is filling is a beautiful sight

This is good news, as this is an agricultural village and state.

 

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Another magical Domingo de Ramos spent in San Antonino Castillo Velasco.  Experiencing Palm Sunday in this small Zapotec village never fails to nourish the soul.

A band played outside the panteón as villagers, from niños and niñas to abuelas and abuelos, arrived bringing their biggest and most beautiful fruits and vegetables, breads and baked goods, carved wooden toys and embroidered clothing, not to mention, goats, chickens, rabbits, and even a pig or two.  Three silver-haired abuelas inspected each donation; their faces expressing gratitude and appreciation for each offering, as they affixed a price tag.  Following the procession to the templo and a mass, all would be sold to raise money for the work of the church.

These were offerings to San Salvador, who sat proudly atop el Señor del Burrito, who was up to his ears in produce and bread.

At 11:00 AM, after prayers were offered in gratitude and for continued abundance in this fertile valley, led by the beat of two tambors and the high-pitched lilt of a chirimía, a procession to the church began.  Palm crosses were distributed to villagers and visitors, alike, and many carried (or led, in the case of the livestock) the offerings that had been collected.

Once secured, it took twenty men to hoist and carry the bounty-laden anda, with San Salvador and the burro, a ritual reenactment of the Biblical story of Jesus entering Jerusalem riding on a burro to celebrate the Passover.  As the procession made its way to the church, the rhythmic sounds were occasionally overpowered by shouts warning the men of topes (speed bumps) and low hanging telephone wires that must be navigated, and then there were the stairs leading up to the church atrium.

I cannot begin to express how warm and welcoming the people of San Antonino Castillo Velasco were.  Countless times, as I was taking photos, officials encouraged me to come closer and villagers ushered me to the front.  How many magical experiences can one person have?

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A mile or two from the city are fields of corn; a recurring reminder of where the masa used to make tortillas, tamales, and other mealtime staples, comes from.  Livestock roam the hills and are often seen being herded down the streets of local villages.

Goats being herded down dirt road

And, at the foot of the stairs of my new apartment is a coyuche bush — the brown cotton plant that has been cultivated in this part of the world for thousands of years.

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The ripe buds of the coyuche have been harvested, cleaned, spun, and woven into huipiles and cotones (men’s shirts) by countless generations.  However, like many textile traditions, industrialization has taken its toll.  The cultivation and use of coyuche is literally hanging by a thread, mostly confined to the Mixteca and Costa Chica regions of Oaxaca.  As a result, besides just liking the design and color, I have a profound appreciation for and treasure this old huipil that was given to me a couple of years ago.

Embroidery detail of huipil made of coyuche

It’s in desperate need of repair.  My friend and Mexican textile collector and chronicler, Sheri Brautigam, advised me to take it to Odilon Merino Morales, who is from San Juan Amuzgo and leads an effort to revive the use of coyuche.  I will ask him if he knows of someone who could give my huipil some tender loving mending.

Living close to the source — there is something wonderful about the coyuche plant’s daily reminder of the origin of one of my favorite huipiles.

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