Child vendor in Guadalajara. A UNICEF report cited the city, as well as Zapopan, Jalisco and Mexico City, as particularly unsafe zones for minor pedestrians.
An average of three children were killed in traffic accidents every day in the 10-year period between 2010 and 2019, according to the national statistics agency, Inegi.
Official data shows that 11,155 children aged 14 and under were killed during the period, making traffic accidents the leading cause of death among minors, ahead of choking incidents and drownings.
One-third of the children who died in vehicle accidents — 3,703 — were run over, while the remainder were passengers in cars, buses and trucks that crashed or were involved in motorcycle accidents. Of those hit by cars, 1,740, or 47% of the total, were aged 4 or younger; 27% were aged 5–9 and 26% were 10–14.
Walking to and from school poses a risk to children in Mexico, especially to those who live in urban areas with a lot of traffic.
According to a 2018 report by the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), 60% of children in Mexico City walk to school, the majority of whom belong to low-income families.
“The link between child poverty and road traffic injury is seen clearly in Mexico’s urban centers, where child pedestrians are most vulnerable,” the report said. UNICEF claimed that the “policy response” to the dangers children face has been “lacking.”
The report mentioned Mexico City as well as Guadalajara, and Zapopan in Jalisco as particularly dangerous urban zones for child pedestrians. In Guadalajara and Zapopan between 2008 and 2010, it said, 71% of the children 17 and under who died in traffic accidents were pedestrians.
Most children who died in crashes between 2010 and 2019 were passengers in cars, but 426 were killed in motorcycle accidents. Jalisco recorded the highest number of motorcycle accident fatalities among children, followed by Tabasco, Veracruz and Chiapas.
In its report, Streets for Life: Safe and healthy journeys for the children of Latin America and the Caribbean, UNICEF noted that younger children on motorcycles rarely use authorized helmets, in part because there are no authorized helmets for children under 3 years old, but also because they are not regulated or enforced.
Just over 39% of the children killed in traffic accidents during the decade, or 4,380, were aged 4 or younger. About 7%, or 765, had not yet turned a year old. Among children aged 5–9, there were 2,867 deaths, or 26% of the total. Among those aged 10–14, there were 3,908 fatalities, or 35% of the total.
One possible reason why there were more fatalities among those aged 0–4 is that many of the youngsters who died were likely not seated in appropriate infant car seats.
Inegi data shows that México state — the country’s most populous — recorded the highest number of deaths of children in traffic accidents with a total of 1,039. Jalisco was second with 1,010 fatalities, followed by Guanajuato (775), Puebla (620), Chihuahua (569) and Sinaloa (511). More than 40% of all the deaths occurred in those six states.
José Luis Cortéz with an example of his pottery. Marianne Carlson Feria Maestros de Arte
José Luis Cortéz Hernández is one of the most prolific of Jalisco’s famous burnished potters of Tonalá. With a career of over three decades, he is an acknowledged master in his field.
That’s quite an accomplishment for an “outsider.” Tonalá burnished pottery has centuries of history; its secrets are jealously guarded by families with generations of experience.
The pottery is distinguished by the fact that, instead of being glazed, it is rubbed with a stone before firing to give it shine. More obvious are the traditional decorative motifs with highly stylized images of animals, plants and fantastical creatures called naguals.
But Cortéz is not from a family of potters. He was born to farmers in the village of San José de Gracia in the Los Altos region of the state. It is a whole other world, and burnished pottery is unknown there.
Looking for a better life, the family moved to Guadalajara when he was only six months old. He began working as a teen, eventually with a full-time job at a plastics factory in Tonalá.
Cortéz with a nearly finished piece.
His life changed when he needed to get a commemorative plate made for a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. He went to the workshop of Salvador Vázquez Carmona, a renowned artisan who not only was from a pottery family but also studied under maestro Jorge Wilmot, who established high-fire ceramics in Guadalajara.
When Cortéz arrived, the maestro was painting fine lines on a large platter.
“It was the moment when I got hooked because I was fascinated by the emerging image of a bird coming from the hands of the artisan,” he says.
Cortéz ordered the plate, picked it up and gave it to the couple, but he did not stop there. He returned again to the workshop to see if he could work there as an apprentice.
It was a brave thing to ask since Tonalá family workshops almost never take on outsiders; they prefer to keep their techniques a secret. Fortunately, Vázquez was more open-minded.
He told the young man that he could work for him, but Vázquez did not expect him to stay. It is hard work, and many who try don’t last a week. But Cortéz is made of sterner stuff and worked with the maestro for eight years.
Despite all that time, Cortéz says he really learned “only the basics” of molding and decorating. His road to becoming a master artisan would come through trial and error.
“I always focus on my kinds of pieces, wanting to make the next better than the last.” he says.
The basis of Cortéz’s work is traditional, especially the iconography that appears on his pieces — flowers, birds, other animals — because he believes it is important to preserve tradition; but he does add his own touches.
Cortéz’s work stands out because of the subtle changes he makes in both form and painting. He specializes in giant jars called tibores, platters, covered urns and other containers, the mainstays of Tonalá pottery.
Soon after leaving Vázquez’s workshop, Cortéz created his first innovation, squarish boxes, or “urns,” created by making the sides separately like tiles, then joining them together.
Another important innovation is the addition of traditional decorative elements in relief, created by making creatures like birds, fish and naguals in clay and attaching them to the main body of the piece. He likes the textural dimension that the relief gives.
Cortéz, right, winning the National Ceramic Prize of Tlaquepaque in Jalisco in 2013, handed to him by former Mexican president Enrique Peña Nieto, center. Marianne Carlson, Feria Maestros del Arte
His work has been regularly available in fine outlets in Guadalajara and other parts of Mexico and has been exhibited in the United States, France, Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, Japan and India. He has also had a longstanding relationship with the Feria Maestros del Arte, one of the most important folk art events in Mexico.
The connection with the Feria began about 14 years ago when a buyer offered to introduce him to the fair’s founder, Marianne Carlson. After seeing his work, she immediately offered him the chance to sell, and he has been a regular at the event ever since.
Carlson says that Cortéz “…has risen to become a true master of bruñido [burnished] pottery. His work won the National Ceramic Prize of Tlaquepaque in 2013.
Feria Maestros del Arte predicts a bright future for this creative artist whose face comes alive as he speaks of his craft. However, the maestro says that it is more satisfying to have people come into the workshop and appreciate the work that he does. Before the pandemic, he regularly had visitors from tours set up by local hotels, with some people staying for hours as they watched him work and explain his process.
Leigh Thelmadatter arrived in Mexico 18 years ago and fell in love with the land and the culture in particular its handcrafts and art. She is the author of Mexican Cartonería: Paper, Paste and Fiesta (Schiffer 2019). Her culture column appears regularly on Mexico News Daily.
Formally employed workers registered with the Mexican Social Security Institute (IMSS) can receive assistance from the housing institute Infonavit to buy or build small, affordable homes. (Casas Infonavit)
A businessman accused of looting 5 billion pesos from the national housing fund has been arrested in Xochitepec, Morelos.
Teófilo Zaga Tawil was apprehended Friday morning for organized crime and money laundering relating to contracts between his company and the National Workers Housing Fund (Infonavit), a state run fund which helps people gain access to mortgages.
The public prosecutor’s office believes that the contracts and payouts between his company, Telra Realty, and Infonavit were illicit because they were awarded without any bidding process, and the company did not not have the capital, professional experience or infrastructure to carry out the work.
It also says Infonavit officials simulated the mediation process.
Early termination of contracts forced Infonavit to pay 5.88 billion pesos to Telra in compensation in 2017.
His brother, Rafael Zaga Tawil, and nephew, Elías Zaga Hanono, are also being sought.
Several business groups and local landowners have warned that they won’t allow the creation of a natural protected area (ANP) in the Bacalar lagoon area of Quintana Roo.
Groups that include the Bacalar chapter of the Mexican Employers Federation and the southern Quintana Roo branch of the Business Coordinating Council (CCE) as well as owners of land in the municipalities of Bacalar and Othón P. Blanco held a press conference this week to express their opposition to the designation.
They argued that there are already legal instruments to regulate “sustainable rustic growth” in the Bacalar lagoon region, an area popular with tourists located about 40 kilometers northwest of Chetumal.
The press conference came after the Quintana Roo ministries of Tourism and the Environment made the decision to fund a tourism management program for the Bacalar lagoon area, a move seen as a step toward an ANP designation, which would severely limit or prohibit further development.
The business groups and landowners claimed that the Amigos de Sian Ka’an, an environmental, conservation and sustainable development NGO, and other environmental groups have “bought” scientific opinions to support the creation of a new ANP.
Eloy Quintal Jiménez, the local president of the CCE, said the environmental organizations that are pushing for the designation on the grounds that there are high levels of pollution due to tourism did the same thing in 2017 because “they want to control the lagoon and generate economic resources for their own benefit.”
“The most offensive thing is that these people, outsiders mainly, are seeking to shut down investment opportunities and sources of employment, as has happened in Chilaquilá, Holbox, Xcalak and Felipe Carrillo Puerto,” he said, referring to other destinations in Quintana Roo.
Quintal also said the lagoon is recovering from recent pollution — which some people say was caused by runoff of rain rather than tourism — “in contrast to the forecast of those who promote the creation of an ANP.”
The business groups — among which are also the Bacalar Hotel Association, the Quintana Roo branch of the Mexican Chamber of the Construction Industry and the Chetumal-Tulum chapter of the Mexican Chamber of Commerce — and the landowners said they are committed to sustainable development but not in a way that benefits just a few people.
They argued that there are already environmental regulations to guide sustainable development and therefore an ANP designation is not needed.
They also called on mayoral candidates in Bacalar and Othón P. Blanco — adjoining municipalities across which the lagoon area is located — to commit to a comprehensive environmental and land-use agenda that protects the lagoon but allows the surrounding forested area to be used in a sustainable way.
Quintal noted that the state government reached an agreement with landowners and business groups in 2017 that there would be no ANP in the area.
Despite that, the government — led by Governor Carlos Joaquín since 2016 — has funded the tourism management project that could lead to an ANP, he said before reiterating that the business groups and landowners won’t allow it to happen.
Haitian migrants register at Mexican immigration offices in Chiapas.
Thousands of Haitian migrants are stranded in Tapachula, Chiapas, after large numbers of people from the Caribbean country crossed into Mexico via the southern border with Guatemala this week.
The newspaper Milenio reported that there has been a massive influx of Haitians in recent days and that some are sleeping on the streets of Tapachula because migrant shelters are full.
Since Monday, numerous groups of up to 60 Haitians have reached the southern border town of Ciudad Hidalgo after crossing the Suchiate River on rafts from Tecún Umán in Guatemala.
Taking advantage of the Haitians’ lack of Spanish language skills and their fear of being detained by authorities or attacked by criminals, raftsmen have charged the migrants five times the normal price — 100 pesos per person instead of 20 pesos — for transport across the river, Milenio said.
The migrants travel the approximately 40 kilometers from Ciudad Hidalgo to Tapachula on public transit. In Tapachula, the Haitians are applying for humanitarian visas at the Mexican Commission for Refugee Assistance (Comar) with the hope that they will be able to stay in Mexico legally and access economic help from UNHCR, the United Nations refugee agency.
This latest wave of migrants is new, but the problem isn’t: Haitian migrants in 2016 crossing the Suchiate River from Guatemala into Chiapas.
Milenio said approximately 1,000 Haitians arrived at Comar offices in Tapachula every day between Monday and Thursday and estimated that some 4,000 migrants from Haiti, the poorest country in the western hemisphere, have crossed into the country this week via the southern border — which is ostensibly closed to nonessential traffic.
Among the migrants are many young men but also women and children, all of whom are exhausted when they reach Tapachula after long journeys from Central America, where they arrived on flights from Haiti. While they wait for their refugee applications to be processed, they are effectively stranded in Tapachula, which is straining under the pressure of the influx.
According to the president of an association that provides assistance to migrants, more than 11,000 — many of whom are Haitians and nationals of African countries — have been stranded in Tapachula since August last year.
“They’re waiting to be given asylum or refuge. They’re looking to stay in Mexico, but there is a delay in giving them a response and it’s causing a humanitarian crisis in Tapachula,” Jesús Cruz Buenrostro said.
More than 17,400 migrants were registered by Mexican immigration authorities in March, a monthly record. More than 3,100 accompanied minors were also registered by the National Immigration Institute (INM), which last week pledged to establish 17 additional shelters on the southern border in Campeche and Chiapas to provide temporary housing to migrants, including thousands of children.
The need for more shelters in Tapachula is clear. After arriving in the city, migrants from Haiti, Central American nations and other countries trudge through the downtown streets looking for cheap or free accommodation, but not all of them are successful.
The local newspaper El Orbe reported that shelters in Tapachula are full and that some 2,000 migrants are sleeping on park benches, city sidewalks or “wherever the night takes them.”
One rough-sleeping migrant who spoke with the newspaper said the INM is treating foreigners poorly and denigrating them for the situation they find themselves in. He said he had been sleeping on a bench near a shelter for almost two months, waiting for a bed to open up. However, shelters have reduced the number of migrants they are accepting due to the risk of coronavirus infection, which makes finding a bed even more difficult.
The migrant, identified only as Leonardo “N.,” also said there have been cases in which authorities have issued migration documents only to subsequently claim that they are invalid or false.
There are few work opportunities for migrants stuck in Tapachula, but some who have found jobs have been paid less than the minimum wage despite working long hours, he said. “There have been times when the employers refuse to pay … and threaten to call immigration,” he added.
Congress has passed a law to combat “revenge porn” — the publication of private sexual videos, images or audios without the consent of those depicted — with punishment of up to six years in prison.
The law, which had already been approved by the Senate, swept through the Chamber of Deputies with 446 votes in favor and one against, and now goes to the president to be signed into law.
The measures are widely known as the “Olimpia Law,” named after Olimpia Coral Melo, a Puebla woman who was an 18-year-old victim of revenge porn in 2013 and campaigned for their introduction.
Since 2013 Melo has founded Women Against Gender Violence and the National Front for Sorority to prevent online abuse and support women who have experienced it.
In March 2014 she presented a bill before the Puebla Congress, which four years later led to sanctions being introduced against revenge porn.
The federal measures strengthen the law to protect women against violence and enter into the penal code.
Twenty-eight of 32 state legislatures have already passed their own strictures against revenge porn.
The Mexican economy registered growth of 0.4% between January and March this year compared to the previous quarter, with figures adjusted for seasonality, according to an estimate by the national statistics agency Inegi.
Mexico will have seen six consecutive quarters of contraction and a 2.9% contraction over the past year if the projection is confirmed in final GDP data, scheduled to be released on May 26.
Inegi’s estimate exceeds a Reuters forecast, which predicted zero quarterly growth and a 3.5% annual decline in gross domestic product.
Detailed information from Inegi shows that GDP performance was supported in the first quarter by tertiary activities in the services sector.
The director of Banco Base, Gabriela Siller, highlighted on Twitter that the accumulation of six consecutive quarters of negative growth is something not seen since the third quarter of 1982.
Chief economist for Latin America at Credit Suisse, Alonso Cervera, also expressed concern. “It’s worrying that industrial GDP in Mexico has not grown when consumption in the United States grew more than 10%,” he said.
President of Inegi, Julio Santaella, said the second wave of the Covid-19 pandemic slowed the economy’s recovery during the first quarter. Last year, due to restrictions, the economy suffered its worst performance since the Great Depression.
Responding to the growth report, President López Obrador expressed confidence Friday morning that 2021 growth would fall between 5% and 6%, which is only slightly higher than most analysts are predicting.
General Motors will only manufacture electric vehicles at Ramos Arizpe plant by 2024. (GM)
General Motors announced Thursday that it is investing more than US $1 billion to open a new paint plant in Coahuila this June and to prepare to manufacture electric vehicles in the same state starting in 2023.
The company said in a statement that it will open a new paint plant with “innovative technology” at its manufacturing hub in Ramos Arizpe, located just north of the state capital Saltillo. It also said that it will upgrade general infrastructure at the 40-year-old plant, including dining areas, medical services and recreational spaces.
GM said that part of the “initial investment” of more than $1 billion will go to an expansion of the same manufacturing complex that will allow it to become the company’s fifth electric vehicle production site in North America. The existing plants that manufacture electric vehicles are located in Spring Hill, Tennessee; Detroit-Hamtramck, Michigan; Orion, Michigan; and Ontario, Canada.
“General Motors Ramos Arizpe has begun the construction work on its new facilities within the [manufacturing] complex, where GM-brand electric vehicles will be manufactured starting in 2023. Batteries and electric components will also be produced starting in the second half of 2021 with the manufacture of ‘Drive Units’, the propulsion system that drives electric vehicles,” the statement said.
Francisco Garza, president and general director of GM México, said the Mexican subsidiary is “very proud” to contribute to the company’s “zero crashes, zero emissions and zero congestion” vision with the manufacture of electric cars.
“We’re grateful to the federal government and the Coahuila government for driving this investment. It’s great news,” he said, adding that it is indicative of the company’s commitment to Mexico.
Garza also said that he was confident that economic conditions will eventually allow GM to increase its workforce at its Coahuila plant and add an additional shift in some areas.
In addition to making electric vehicles, the Ramos Arizpe plant, which currently employs 5,600 people, will continue to manufacture Chevrolet Equinox and Chevrolet Blazer SUVs, GM said. The plant currently makes vehicles for the domestic market and more than 40 export markets.
GM has been operating in Mexico for more than 85 years and employs more than 21,000 people here. In addition to Coahuila, the company manufactures vehicles in Toluca, México state; Silao, Guanajuato; and San Luis Potosí city. It has corporate offices in Mexico City.
Governor Murat announced the highway's completion date during a tour of the project on Wednesday. depositphotos
After 20 years of delays and broken promises by past presidents, a new highway that will significantly reduce travel time between Oaxaca city and the southern state’s Pacific coast will finally be ready next March, according to Governor Alejandro Murat.
The governor said Wednesday that the Oaxaca-Barranca Larga-Ventanilla highway, which will link the state capital to the popular tourist destination of Puerto Escondido, will be completed by March 21, 2022.
While inspecting the construction work, Murat said the highway is 65% finished. The project will cut travel time between Oaxaca city and the coast from six hours to 2 1/2. President López Obrador will inspect the highway during a visit to Oaxaca on June 8, Murat said.
Past presidents Vicente Fox, Felipe Calderón and Enrique Peña Nieto all failed to fulfill their promises to complete the highway.
Murat said 1.5 billion pesos (US $74.8 million) has been invested in the highway section that runs between Barranca Larga in the Central Valleys region of Oaxaca and Ventanilla, a community near Puerto Escondido.
Construction of the 104-kilometer, four-lane section, which includes six bridges and three tunnels, is generating 10,000 direct jobs and 5,500 indirect ones, the governor said, explaining that three different companies are working on the highway. The project is benefiting more than 100,000 residents of 11 communities, he added.
New educational, health and drainage infrastructure has been built in municipalities though which the highway passes, among which are San Vicente Coatlán and San Pablo Coatlán.
Murat said that completion of the highway will boost tourism not only in Puerto Escondido but also in other coastal destinations such as Puerto Ángel, Mazunte and Huatulco.
A Rarámuri woman in Cusárare enjoys Holy Week festivities. all photos by Matt Reichel
Drumming is heard in the distance like a war cry. It is a pounding, trancing rhythm set amidst an otherwise quiet scene.
A few gusts of wind blow sand swirls around a large, somewhat empty courtyard. This area soon fills with vivid colors — women and young girls in elaborate ruffled patterned dresses. The drumming intensifies.
The courtyard soon reveals the drummers, men and boys moving in swift procession. The leaders at the front don bandanas around their heads and a bow and arrow adorned with raccoon skins. Behind them are young men in hoodies and sunglasses with kerchiefs around their faces.
Some of them hold intricately painted swords. Their expressions are stoic and focused. The procession stops just outside the church as groups of the vibrantly dressed women gather swiftly inside a striking church, a misión filled with intricately designed murals.
Prayers are said, and then as quickly as they entered, the group filters out of the church. The drumming picks up pace, and intensity once more, as the procession of both men and women flows out into the village again, this time with wooden statues of Jesus and Mary thrown over the shoulders of the pack in front. Jesus is dressed in a flannel shirt with a backward baseball cap, much like many of the town’s millennials.
Women and girls gather in church during the celebrations to say prayers.
This is a typical scene during Santa Semana or Easter Holy Week, in Cusárare, located near the rugged Copper Canyon in Chihuahua.
Cusárare is one of many Tarahumara or Rarámuri villages that celebrate the religious holiday period throughout Mexico. The celebrations combine traditional cultural practices, pre-Hispanic traditions and Catholicism.
“It is among the most important festivals for the indigenous people of Chihuahua,” says Jaime Aventura, a Rarámuri reporter for the state government and a tour guide. Holy Week in the mountains of northern Mexico is a spectacle to witness. Outside the famous Copper Canyon is this network of vibrant indigenous communities who celebrate Easter unlike anywhere else.
Rarámuri means “runners on foot.” This group is most famous for being endurance runners, having won ultramarathons wearing nothing but sandals made out of tires. They are also known for maintaining their traditions, identity and customs. The group is insular with some members still living isolated in caves in the northern mountains.
According to local anthropologist Guillermo Ortiz, “their population is approximately 75,000 in the mountains. It is over 100,000, including those who have moved out to cities.”
In recent years, an increasing number of the population has moved to urban areas like Creel for employment due to climate change’s impacts on their farming capabilities or due to violent drug trafficking. Working for cartels has sometimes been necessary for survival.
Men will prepare for the celebrations by marking their skin with speckled white spots. This signifies Earth.
During Holy Week, the Tarahumara will dance from dawn to dusk to the rhythm of the drum, which they will play exhaustively without rest. The dances signify a clash between good and evil.
With each footstep, they believe they are weakening the Devil and thanking God. There are references to Christ’s death, crucifixion and resurrection. Here, Judas is burned.
Santa Semana is a time for the group to be close to God.
Distance plays a role in how the traditions are maintained.
“Each community’s customs have changed depending on how remote they are,” says Aventura. “Places further away from mestizo areas keep more of the old traditions alive, versus communities near population centers that fall under greater influence from the mainstream Catholic church.”
Some of the more remote mountain villages closed their doors completely this year to outside visitors because of the pandemic.
Moving to the seemingly eternal beat.
Almost 75 km away, a similar but different scene plays out. Various communities around Norogachi travel from deep around the Sierra Madre mountains for a large collective Santa Semana celebration. The men here dress in traditional costumes — a tagora, or a long, white cloth tied at the waist that’s subtly patterned at the edges, revealing only a slight covering of the legs.
The tagora links together with a long ribbon, a kovera they wear around their head.
At the beginning of Easter weekend, the participating males will prepare for the celebrations by marking their skin with speckled white spots. This signifies Earth. In Norogachi, one group begins dancing rhythmically.
This same group kicks off the procession with various village members. As the day progresses, different groups join the march until hundreds of people have filled the town square.
The procession scene is vibrant and full of various characters, the dancers, drummers, flautists and captains with flags. The front of the line includes a village woman who bears a large banner of Jesus, a man wearing a large conical hat resembling a piñata, and various mestizo ladies carrying crosses made from palm branches and statues of Mary and Jesus. The remainder of the village, the women, follow the dancers and drummers in colorful streams.
The procession walks around the town repeatedly with more and more members joining. Some of the men start to gather firewood for large bonfires. The evenings are cold, and the fire is necessary to keep dancing and drumming.
A wrestling match where the chamucos, representing the righteous, are pitted against the morocos, the devils.
And the dancing is endless. It goes into the night and the days that follow. At nighttime, the dancers look zoned out, but their bodies move relentlessly through the unending beat. They essentially have danced themselves into a trance. Families at home will cook continuously, making hundreds of corn tortillas to ensure the dancers are fed.
Their primary source of strength comes in the form of a cigarette or a can of Tecate beer. According to villagers in Cusárare, “beer gives the participants energy” and “more of a kick to continue dancing.”
Villagers also drink jugs of homemade corn beer called tesgüino.
As sunrise envelops the valley, the dancers retreat for a brief rest. The courtyard is strewn with visiting community groups who are still asleep, empty cans of Tecate and the remaining burning embers of the bonfires from the night before. Outside visitors, mostly media and some domestic tourists, congregate at Hostal de Elba, located in the middle of town.
Later that morning in Cusárare, the same courtyard appears empty at first, but the drumming is intense as ever.
The doors this time to the misión are closed. Similar to the day prior, the courtyard eventually starts to fill with the same vividly dressed women. They gradually shift to a hillside overlooking an expansive acre of farmland as the procession of drummers makes its way into this field.
Rarámuri celebrations combine traditional cultural practices, pre-Hispanic traditions and Catholicism.
It’s time for the penultimate event of the Santa Semana celebrations: the lucha, or the ultimate struggle. This is a throwdown — a symbolic display of good versus evil, with evil being pushed out.
In the most traditional celebration, villages would be split into groups — chamucos, representing the righteous, and morocos, the devils.
For 10 minutes, villagers clasp each other’s backsides and wrestle while an excited crowd cheers and overlooks. The scene is chaotic — multiple matches going on, stumbling bodies succumbing to the pressure of weight and limbs and legs being thrown down on the sand.
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Dust is thrown up in the air constantly, and the scene becomes progressively blurrier. Some of the matches appear friendly and full of laughs; others settle or create new scores.
Once again, as quickly as the prayers started and ended, so does the fight. The villagers gradually clear out of the fields and stream back outside the church’s main square to engage in vibrant chatter. After days of dancing and processions, there is not a hint of fatigue on anyone’s face.
The men and boys rush back to drumming. They walk around the town for one final spectacle, a testament to their most celebrated religious celebrations, their resilience and their strong ties to their culture.
It is a magnificent end to another spiritual year, and they can finally rest.
