A Mexican Fiesta Written and photographed by Jennifer Lee O’Donnell
I could start this off on a self indulgent rant about the state
of my emotions. I could begin with a story of trust that ended
in complete shamble. I could talk about grown men who lie, cheat
on their wives, spread rumors, skip town. I could talk about misinterpreted
intentions, horrible Americans. I could talk about Brown Recluse
bites, a cancer scare, feeling down, and cold showers.
But all of that is too long and too personal and can probably
only share a bit at a time.
So why dwell on it.
This 3 day weekend my friend Roxana and I went traveling through
Mexico. We started in Catemaco, a very unusual community situated
in the state of Veracruz. The town lies on the shoreline of a
crater lake and therefore much of the city depends on gifts from
the water for survival.
What really makes this a unique place is the strong influence
of mysticism that permeates throughout the town. Every March,
there is a gathering of brujos, witches, shamans, and the like
from all over the world, who believe this to be one of the major
power places on the planet. Like New Orleans, the town hosts local
palm readers, crystal ball peddlers, rainy nights, winding streets,
and arched trellises.
Here Roxana and I took a boat ride around the lake and explored
an island inhabited by baboons. Along the lake, palapas are set
up serving fresh fish where I had a rich Pescado al Mojo de Ajo
- a filet with garlic and butter, tortillas, rice and salad.
Later that evening we went to a Temazcal, a mock ritual ceremony
that is celebrated among indigenous cultures for therapeutic cleansing.
Volcanic rock was heated until red-hot and was placed in an igloo-type
construction, where our group convened. After the initial ceremony,
a concha shell was sounded, signaling the beginning of the Temazcal
bath. The group got comfortable inside the Temazcal and the stones
were called for. The door was closed, sealing off all light and
sealing in the heat. Herbs were thrown on the stones to create
a vapor, heating the Temazcal to high temperatures. It is said
the body temperature rises to 104°F (40° C) during the
Temazcal.
Temazcal is an ancient spiritual practice from the native habitants
of the Americas; a sacred ritual for healing and purification.
For thousands of years prior to the arrival of the Spanish in
1519 the people of Mesoamerica developed a highly advanced civilization.
Herbal medicine and natural health practices were acceptable forms
of health care. Temazcal, the herbal steam bath, was a vital part
of Indigenous and was used for well being, treatment of many ills
and as a religious ritual.
Sitting in the dark, amongst strangers taking part in this mock
ritual, I was able to let go of many things that happened to me
in the previous week. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed in my concern
for what others think of me that I forget what I think of myself.
It is wonderful to be able to remind yourself who you are..where
you’ve been…where you’re going.
After my indigenous satori, we headed to a town called Tlacotalpan.
It was a perfect night because we landed amidst a huge town fiesta.
Mexican fiestas differ greatly from common United States street
fairs. The fiesta in Mexico is sacred, literally or figuratively,
and above all it is the initiation to the bizarre. It is administered
by its own special rules which set it apart from other days. Consequences
disappear. Men kill for jealousy, women seduce lovers, children
rule in packed mobs.
According to Octavia Paz, “Thanks to the fiesta, the Mexican
opens out, participates, communes with his fellows and with values
that give meaning to his religious or political existence.”
From about 3 pm to 4 am, Roxana and I were never without beer,
an ear shot of Mexican Cumbia, hombres calientes, bull shit- from
a running of bulls’ ceremony, food, conversation, dance
and gathering.
By the end of the evening we had each drank our weight in beer,
went to 3 Salsa clubs -one with a 75 year old retired Cuban baseball
player, one with 3 sixteen year old boys from Mexico City, and
one where we met a beautiful man named Noel who walked us home,
drunken in a rain storm.
I am not going to end this in details of the weekend any more
than the ones I left above. Was there sex, adultery, arguments,
intoxication, coffee, fire works, hotel rooms, gossip, a wife,
intimate talks, a wedding, misunderstandings, reconciliations…well,
it wouldn’t be a Mexican if not, and only Mazacaltoci now
holds my suffering.
Join Lusine Stepanian as she reveals the history of Mayan
Cenotes.
Before moving to Mexico, Jennifer
Lee O'Donnell had been living in Manhattan and teaching
photography and journalism to high school students in Brooklyn,
New York. During this time she was conducting research for
a documentary photography project that focused on developing
communities in Haiti, Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and
Mexico. Currently she teaches English and Linguistics at The
University of Papaloapan, in Tuxtepec, and is working on a
photo/linguistics project that examines the Chinanteco communities
that reside along the Papaloapan River in Northern Oaxaca
State.
