I’m bidding a fond, but with a hint of “good-riddance to bad rubbish,” farewell to 2021. In truth, I’m trying not to view the recent piles of basura (garbage) in the streets and bloqueos (blockades) by the garbage collectors as a metaphor for this past year of pandemic, fires, floods, and general pandemonium in the world.
Long walks around the city sufficed to fill my need to “travel” until the spring when my world expanded — with untold gratitude to scientists for their work in developing vaccines to help protect us from worst case Covid-19 scenarios. After fourteen months, armed with the vaccine, cubrebocas (face masks), caution, and excitement, I began venturing out of the city (even up to el norte twice), spending time with family and friends, and actually attending activities and events in person, not just via Zoom. It was almost, but not quite, like normal — and it was good!
January 17, 2021 – Templo y Convento de San Francisco de Asís Oaxaca
February 7, 2021 – Tapete woven by Mario González Pérez; Sangre y Herencia exhibition at Hotel Casa Antigua.
March 8, 2021 – Busy street corner in the city.
April 2, 2021 – La Morada de Colibrí, one of my favorite stalls at Pochote Xochimilco Mercado Orgánico y Artesanal.
May 26, 2021 – Rooftop art in Barrio de Jalatlaco.
June 25, 2021 – Bike rally passing the ADO bus station — saying “No to violence against women” by students from Colegio Superior para la Educación Integral Intercultural de Oaxaca.
July 13, 2021 – Outside wall of La Mano Magica Gallery/Galería promoting the Shinzaburo Takeda exhibition.
August 1, 2021 – Guerreros baseball game dining at Estadio de Béisbol Lic. Eduardo Vasconcelos.
September 4, 2021 – Tree down on Czda. de la República after strong winds and very wet rainy season.
October 19, 2021 – “No Llores Por Mi” sculpture by a Santa María Atzompa artist — Día de Muertos exhibition at ARIPO.
November 1, 2021 – Neighbor weeding and cleaning the street in preparation for the evening’s Muerteada.
December 12, 2021 – In honor of the Virgen de Guadalupe, the last dance by Danza de la Pluma de Teotitlán del Valle, Promesa 2019 – 2021.
Feliz año nuevo y muchisimas gracias to all my wonderful blog readers for “hanging in” and for your encouraging comments during these challenging times — it means the world to me! May 2022 be kinder to all and bring you peace, joy, and health.
It’s been a crazy busy visit to el norte gratefully sprinkled with some fun with family and friends. However, now I’m getting ready for my return to Oaxaca and the hummingbirds in my Jalatlaco ‘hood.
The last image is a commissioned watercolor by Raul Baños hanging in my living room. How many colibríes (hummingbirds) can you see?
Oaxaca is getting ready for the annual arrival of her difuntos (souls of the dead), so a pause in the Day in the country posts is in order. Blue sky or grey, ran or shine, and village or city, they come…
Oaxaca City
Villa de Zaachila
Villa de Zaachila
They come to eat and drink…
Villa de Zaachila
Oaxaca City
Villa de Zaachila
They come to sing and dance, contemplate life and death, and be with loved ones.
Villa de Zaachila
Villa de Zaachila
Oaxaca City
Our hearts are filled with joy to welcome them to the fiesta we have lovingly prepared in their honor.
Thursday is market day in Villa de Zaachila. Thus, once we turned off the carretera, we crawled our way into town joining scores of other cars, trucks, tuk tuks, motorcycles, bicycles, pedestrians, dogs, and the occasional goat. The scenes were pure country village. Once parked, we meandered our way along the street stalls, stopping to examine their wares and chat with vendors.
However, our stomachs were grumbling and our trajectory was set — Zaachila’s mouthwatering barbacoa de chivo (goat) beckoned!
Once sated, we went in search of Zaachila’s beautifully decorated pan de muerto (Day of the Dead bread). It was still a little early in the season but, zigzagging up and down the bread aisles, we eventually found a couple of vendors and bought a few to be placed on our ofrendas.
Being members of the “clean plate club” and needing to walk off our very filling lunch, we walked toward the Templo de Santa Maria de la Natividad to begin the Muertos mural walk to the Panteón. However, before even reaching the church, we were stopped in our tracks by this massive and incredibly moving mural dedicated to the victims of Covid-19.
New Day of the Dead murals had been painted along calle Coquiza since I was last in Zaachila two years ago and I will post pictures later. In the meantime, next stop — a mezcal palenque in Zimatlán de Álvarez.
Opposite Santo Domingo, a bolero (shoeshiner) walks up Macedonio Alcalá to work…
As the faces on the wall cry out, “Because we people of Oaxaca have memory and dignity, we demand justice” for the missing Ayotzinapa 43 normalistas (student teachers).
Sometime last night, the recently inaugurated mural by the Tlacolulokos was defaced. And we are left asking, why?
The message, purportedly by anarchists (given the presence of their symbol) is calling the artists “Oaxaca indigenous traitors.” Due to their collaboration on the mural with the Canadian government??? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I am sad and angry at this attack on the right of artists to create without censorship or intimidation.
Update: The mural has been repaired. However, click HERE for a communiqué regarding why it was defaced.
Under the shade of the 361 year old Coquito de la Iglesia de Jalatlaco tree, onlookers (and bloggers like yours truly), dignitaries, media, and the artists of the Tlacolulokos collective gathered for the inauguration of the previously mentioned new mural in Jalatlaco.
“Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural in Barrio de Jalatlaco.
The mural, “Nuestro sol se ha ido” (Our sun has gone) is a collaboration between Rolande Souliere of the “Anishinaabe” people in Canada and the Zapotec Tlacolulokos urban art collective from Oaxaca’s central valley.
Indigenous Encounter Canada/Mexico, “Our sun has gone” by Tlacolulokos and Rolande Souliere.
Media and dignitaries gathered in the atrium of the Templo de San Matías Jalatlaco.
Unfortunately, Rolande Souliere could not travel to Oaxaca. However she described some of the symbolism of the mural: “We decided to portray the mythological beings of the Canadian thunderbird and the Zapotec deity of the Cosijo throne, these fantastic beings are responsible for the thunder and rain that the world experiences and that come together thanks to the clouds…. symbolic imageries such as Zapotec patterns, the route of thunder and the four directions of the first nations represented by the colors red, black, yellow and white… important signifiers in both communities since they represent the continuation of indigenous culture in contemporary society.”
Inaugural ribbon cutting (Canadian Ambassador wearing white shirt in center and artist Dario Canul on the far right) for the “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.
Dario Canul, representative of the Tlacolulokos colective further explained, “The mural, ‘Our sun has gone,’ is a representation of celebration, life, rain, thunder, and tears that all indigenous peoples have shed over time.”
Drone filming the inauguration of the “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.
The inauguration launched the 2-1/2 week long Encuentros indígenas: Canadá-Oaxaca 2021 (Indigenous encounters: Canada-Oaxaca 2021) — a series of activities in Oaxaca city and surrounding villages — that runs from September 20 to October 8, 2021.
Tlacolulokos artists in front of the mural, “Nuestro sol se ha ido” mural.. Dario Canul (center).
In remarks by Graeme C. Clark, the Canadian Ambassador, at the inaugural event and reports from this article, the collaboration seems to be an expression of the mea culpa by the Canadian government with regard to their historic treatment of the first peoples of the territory that is now called Canada. Better late than never. The indigenous peoples of the USA are still waiting.
Today, I decided to change up what has become my Friday shopping routine. Instead of walking north to the fruit and veggie vendor, I headed south to explore the Friday tianguis — relocated from Llano Park a couple of years ago and now residing near the Polideportivo.
And, what an excellent decision it was! Only blocks from home, I came across a massive mural in progress on Calle de la Noche Triste at the corner of Calle Ignacio Aldama.
With scaffolding and tools of the trade in place, men were at work.
The style looked familiar, so I stopped to ask, and discovered they were the Tlacolulokos – my favorite artist collective from Tlacolula de Matamoros!
I think the guy I spoke to was a bit taken aback to find that this gringa was quite familiar with their work — including the murals for the Downtown Central Library in Los Angeles, California. Stay tuned…
In the first chapter of The Labyrinth of Solitude, Octavio Paz reflects on the face of an old man… “features are seen as a face, and later as a mask, a meaning, a history.”
Mural seen on Calle de Narciso Mendoza in Barrio de Jalatlaco.
And John Dalberg-Acton wrote, “History is not a burden on the memory but an illumination of the soul.”
Unsurprisingly, on Monday Oaxaca went back to Covid-19 Semáforo Naranja (orange traffic light) — meaning there is a high risk of contagion of the virus. On Wednesday, it was reported there were 479 new COVID-19 patients, the highest figure of the year.
Unfortunately, having had to run a few errands over the past few days, I haven’t seen any changes in people’s behavior, business/government/museum closings, nor enforcement of the mask wearing mandate — only an announcement by the archbishop that churches would be limited to 25% capacity.
It is demoralizing and infuriating and all I can do is continue to wear a cubreboca (face mask) whenever I’m out and about, practice social distancing, and try to stay sane. As for the latter, I’m choosing to concentrate on and appreciate my favorite things.
People, real and imagined, waiting for the bus on Av. Benito Juárez.
Ensalada de pulpo (Octopus salad) at Barrio de Jalatlaco Restaurante.
A turquoise building, meters, and mural on Calle La Alianza in Barrio de Jalatlaco.
Water lily in the pond of Museo de Filatelia de Oaxaca (Stamp Museum).
We are all tired. However, unless people take this extremely seriously, get vaccinated, and continue to mask up and practice social distancing, “normal” will not return and our fellow humans (including loved ones) will needlessly continue to suffer and die. As a current meme suggests, let us all practice humility, kindness, and community.
In Oaxaca, murals, stencils, and other forms of street art are ubiquitous — and often with cultural and political themes.
The same is true for San Francisco and her neighboring cities of Oakland and San Jose — primarily thanks to significant populations of color and the cultural expressions they bring.
However, in my white-bread hometown of Mill Valley, it’s only in the past several years that murals have begun popping up and they have seldom addressed social and political issues — until now.
In response to the killing of George Floyd and a controversy in the town regarding the tone-deaf attitude toward the Black Lives Matter movement and its own issues of racial discrimination and profiling, artist Wesley Cabral painted these two murals which now adorn a prominent wall in downtown Mill Valley.
Looking up never ceases to make me smile, especially when papel picado (cut paper) garlands flutter in the breeze — images with holiday themes, celebrating rites of passage, and advertising local products.
They are even imprinted on walls.
We are in the midst of Cuaresma (Lent), though pandemic restrictions have canceled most public celebrations, we have the Liturgical colors of violet and white papel picado to remind us.
Even the neverías of Jardín Sócrates have gotten into the act.
Mexican Peso Converter
View From Casita Colibrí 