Mushroom collection and consumption in Mexico go back thousands of years, predating the Spanish conquest. The Sierra Juárez de Oaxaca, the mountain range between the coast and the valley of Oaxaca, is known for its wild mushrooms, edible, hallucinogenic, and poisonous (the latter two can be somewhat synonymous). It is estimated that there are 250,000 species of mushrooms in Mexico. Produce markets here in the Bahías de Huatulco might lead you to believe Mexico has only introduced button, crimini, and portobello mushrooms (all different life stages of the same species, Agaricus bisporus), and occasionally other cultivated varieties, such as oyster mushrooms. But the many wild mushrooms found growing in temperate forested highlands are becoming more and more popular when seasonally available, particularly in urban areas, including the gourmet markets in Mexico City.
Otomi In the State of Hidalgo, northeast of the state of Mexico, when conditions for growth are optimal during the rainy season, skilled, exclusively women, mushroom collectors known as nanacateras are busy. August is known as mushrooms month or hongosto (hongos = fungi, gosto short for agosto). The Otomi nanacateras (the Otomi are an indigenous group, with their own language, Otomi) apply their exceptional skills distinguishing the edible from the non-edible and teach the methods of both collection and preparation.
Elsewhere Other well known nanacateras are also from Hidalgo, including the pueblo of Acaxochitlán. These women offer workshops on identification, methods of collection, and preparation. San Lorenzo Tlacoyucan, a rural area southeast of Mexico City in a region known as the Milpa Alta, located on the steep slopes of an extinct volcano just east of the state of Morelia, is also known for its climate, ideal for wild mushrooms.
Sierra Juárez de Oaxaca We have passed through San Jose del Pacifico on our way to Oaxaca on numerous occasions and have seen signs posted for identification and collection workshops. We don’t know if these workshops are taught by nanacateras or other skilled collectors, but, like other snowbirds, we are never here during the optimum period, the rainy season.
The Convent The gardens are located behind the Church and Convent of Santo Domingo de Guzmán (the Spanish monk who founded the Dominican order) in Oaxaca City at the end of the Calle Macedonio Alcalá. This church and convent, now also a museum, was originally built as a convent beginning in 1551; the Dominicans’ finances and two earthquakes in the early 1600s that destroyed the city’s other Dominican convent (Templo de San Pablo) delayed completion until 1666, and resulted in the Santo Domingo complex housing both monks and nuns. The last addition to Santo Domingo was the chapel of the Virgin of Rosario, built between 1724 and 1731. Visitors can still observe the ovens where limestone was processed for the mortar / cement used in construction of the buildings, as well as a ceramic kiln, baths, a laundry, irrigation and drainage ditches, cobbled paths, food and fuel storage facilities, the former orchard (now the Ethnobotanical Garden) and other vestiges of daily life for the nuns occupying and operating in a 17th-century Dominican religious complex.
The destruction of the Santo Domingo, including the cathedral, began in the 19th century, when the complex was occupied by the factions that would bring on the War of Independence (1810-21). In 1859, the “Iglesias Law” reserved Santo Domingo for use by the Mexican army; in 1866, the Mexican government suspended Catholicism in the country. In 1902, the complex was returned to the Catholic church by Mexican President Porfirio Díaz. The former nun’s rooms most likely remained dormitories; and the grounds and buildings were converted into stables, munitions storage and other military facilities. The conversion of the area surrounding the main cloister to a museum began in 1962, and concluded with the restoration of the main atrium in 1974.
Botanical Gardens Various dictionaries define a botanical garden as “a place where collections of plants and trees are kept for scientific study and exhibition, [Collins];” also “a garden for the exhibition and scientific study of collected, growing plants, usually in association with greenhouses, herbariums, laboratories, etc. [Penguin Random House].”
Plants can be grouped by climate, color, growth form, and taxonomy. They are typically identified by their scientific and common names. An ethnobotanical garden features native plants in relation to the culture of the region, such as food, textiles, and structures. Whenever my husband and I travel, we try to visit local botanical gardens. Some are better than others; usually my complaints concern the lack of identification.
Uniqueness of the Ethnobotanical Garden What struck me immediately in 2007 during the first of many visits to this garden was precisely that, the lack of scientific information. What, no plant names? The docent explained to us that the signs and labels would detract from the beauty of the garden, which had been designed and laid out primarily by the Oaxacan artists Francisco Toledo (see The Eye, November 2019) and Luis Zárate, a well-known Oaxacan painter from Santa Catarina Cuanana, although the roles of Zárate and others were disputed by the garden’s director, Alejandro de Ávila. What also struck me then, and continues to do so, are all the textures; the forms of plants in relationship to the setting; the use of different grades and colors of rocks, sand, and gravel; the specific layout of the water features; placement of art; and the special attention to light and shadows created by masonry and plants. Spectacular.
The Plant Collection Planning for the garden began in 1993, and planting in 1998. The garden represents the diversity of climates, geological formations, and types of vegetation that characterize Oaxaca, which has the greatest biological and cultural diversity of all of Mexico. The hundreds of plants in the garden represent arid and humid climates, lowland tropics, and temperate and cold mountainous areas.
To date 950 species (10% of the flora of the state of Oaxaca) have been planted, representing 118 families, 472 genera, and 7,500 individuals. The garden features a large collection of agaves (there are 157 species in Mexico, of which 71% are endemic), grouped in various locations.
Criteria for species selection included the origin of agriculture (see teosinte, below); traditional orchards; indigenous medicine; plants that are part of the artistic tradition of Oaxaca, such as fibers for textiles, dyes (cochineal), natural soaps, and resins used in metallurgy, silk production, and adhesives. From my perspective highlights include Matrimonio (Pereskia lychnidiflora) the only tree-like and leaf-producing species of cactus, various endemic species of Bursera (we have five species on the coast), and teosinte (the perennial ancestor of modern annual corn).
Teosinte, whose origin goes back an estimated 8,000 years, is part of a special section of the garden dedicated to species found in the Guilá Naquitz, a cave east of the archeological site of Mitla, where 6,000-year-old squash seeds were also found. Near the beginning of the garden tour is a section dedicated to cycads. Cycads are living fossils, and date back 230 million years to the Jurassic age of the dinosaurs. Oaxaca has more than 20 species of cycads, most of which are endemic. One particularly special cycad, Dioon purpusii, an endemic with a very limited range, was collected in the wild by Cassiano Conzatti, a botanist, who transplanted it to his home. Fifty years later his grandchildren donated it to the garden. Although of Italian origin Conzatti lived and worked in Mexico for most of his life and was an early authority on the flora of Oaxaca, especially ferns.
Landscape Architecture and Art Strikingly beautiful is the Espejo de Cuanana (mirror of Cuanana) designed by Luis Zárate. This is a fountain/canal lined on either side with the órgano cactus (Pachycereus marginatus), reflected in the water of the canal. The name of this landscape feature recalls Zárate’s original home.
The Patio del Huaje (the patio of the huaje tree, for which Oaxaca was named) and the fountain La Sangre de Mitla (the blood of Mitla) were designed by Toledo. The garden also features sculptures in wood and stone by the French/Mexican sculptor and architect Jorge DuBon, Oaxacan abstract plastic artist José Villalobos, and the Mexican sculptor Jorge Yázpik.
Tours Tours are conducted in Spanish, English, French, and German. For some reason the Spanish version is one hour long versus the two-hour English tour (we took the Spanish tour several times; it is also easier to get tickets). If you want to take the tour in English, get there early! For frustrated botanists like me, the director, still Alejandro de Ávila, has pointed out that the garden also includes a reference library, which was closed the last time I was there (January 2023). Next time! ¡Proxima vez!
Tenochtitlán was the capital of the Triple Aztec Alliance empire (formed in 1428 and ruled by the Mexica, the empire joined together the three Nahua states of Tenochtitlán, Texcoco, and Tlacopan). There is not enough space in this column to write about all the marvels of the Tenotchtilán itself, a magnificent city built on the five inland lakes in the Valley of Mexico. The Aztec empire was at its peak when Tenochtitlán was substantially destroyed by the Spanish Conquest in 1521.
Two of the most intriguing aspects of this civilization were its systems of agriculture/food cultivation and water management (they are of course intertwined), especially how these systems were constructed. For those readers interested in more detail, Barbara Mundy’s exhaustively researched and superbly written book is referenced below.
The Valley of Mexico
The basin that comprised the Valley of Mexico had five lakes: Zumpango, Xaltocan, Texcoco, Xochimilco, and Chalco. They were endorheic, i.e., they had no outlet, were hydraulically connected, and formed one enormous lake when flooded. The lakes were shallow, with a depth of no more than 150 ft (45 m); water quality varied. The more isolated southern lakes of Xochimilco and Chalco were higher and protected by the high peninsula formed by Cerro de la Estrella on the east and a “lava plug” to the west; the lakes were fed by springs and rivers, and so held fresh water. Drainage from the higher lakes flowed north to Texcoco (the largest lake), Zumpango, and Xaltocan; the waters of these lakes were brackish (saltier).
Following the discovery of a freshwater spring in Lake Texcoco at what came to be called Chapultepec (“grasshopper hill” in Nahuatl – chapulin = grasshopper, tepec = place), the rocky island of Tenochtitlán was settled on June 20, 1325. The brackish waters supported salt-tolerant aquatic life and were harvested for a species of algae made into edible patties. Flooding during the rainy season not only joined the lakes, but the backwash could threaten the innovative Aztec agricultural system known as chinampas.
Chinampas
The chinampas were rectangular gardens located in the southern lakes. Swampy land was dredged, creating navigable channels between islands. These islands were constructed with logs, reeds, and sticks woven into frames and covered with the muck of soil, mud, roots, and other dredged plant detritus. Whether or not these farmed rectangular parcels floated, as do the modern Floating Gardens of Xochimilco, is still subject to scholarly debate, although the establishment of willows would anchor them. While more investigation might reveal the actual materials, I would guess that the “reeds” included species of cattails (Typha spp.), bullrush (Scirpus spp.), and reeds (Cyperus spp.), all of which grow in standing water or saturated soils and are supple enough to weave. Ahuejote (Salix bonplandiana), an erect willow resembling a poplar, grew on the drier shores, along with ahuehuete (Taxodium mucronatum), aka sabino and Montezuma bald cypress. Ahuejote is derived from the Nahuatl word ahuexotl (atl = water, huexotl = willow). The Spanish word for willow is sauce; think of Sausalito, California, near San Francisco, meaning little grove of willows.
Young, flexible branches of willows were used in constructing the chinampas, and live cuttings were planted for eventual shade and to stabilize the structures through their vigorous and extensive root systems. (The bark of this versatile plant produces salicylic acid, the active ingredient in aspirin, and was no doubt an herbal Mexica pain reliever). The dense and durable wood of the ahuehuete was most likely used as posts for the multi-functional causeways called calzadas (more about them in a minute).
According to the noted archaeologists Pedro Armillas and William T. Sanders, the swampland converted into chinampas was estimated to be about 12,000 hectares, enough to support a population of between 117,000 – 200,000 with an annual consumption of 160 kilograms of maiz (corn) per head. What else grew on these islets? Chia, beans, squash, tomatoes, avocados, amaranth, cacao (chocolate), chilies, cotton, and a variety of flowers including marigolds, which are native to Mexico. The Mexica fished and also consumed the endemic salamander, the axolotl (Ambystoma mexicanum), named after the Aztec god of fire and lightning, Xolotl. The axolotl was important in the diet of pre-Hispanic residents of the city, along with ducks and other waterfowl that were trapped in nets.
Calzadas
Construction of the calzadas, the system of dikes and watery causeways, was begun in the 1420s, initially to separate the brackish from the fresh water. They most likely had openings to manage flows, similar to an agricultural sluice gate. The calzadas averaged five to seven meters wide and eight km (about 4.8 mi) in length. To form the dikes, wood posts, perhaps from the locally available black cypress or pine/oaks in the surrounding forests, were anchored in the shallow lakes and back filled with layers of rock, clay, and a mortar of mud and calcium carbonate (limestone). They required constant maintenance.
Netzahualcóyotl, the tlatoani (leader) of Texcoco – and a scholar, philosopher, warrior, architect, and poet to boot – vastly improved on this system of water management. Aside from his military victories, governmental prowess, and poetic skills, he was a superb engineer. According to Wikipedia, “He is said to have personally designed the albarrada de Nezahualcóyotl (dike of Nezahualcóyotl) to separate the fresh and brackish waters of Lake Texcoco, a system that was still in use over a century after his death.”
The construction of the calzadas took place at roughly the same time as the aggressive expansion of the Triple Alliance empire, which handily had 50,000-plus solders available from Nezahualcoyotl’s army. The calzadas also served as roadways, which ironically contributed to the conquest of the city as the Spaniards cut off supplies, particularly the aqueducts conveying water (see below for this third triumph of ancient engineering), from the mainland. The calzadas were the avenues of trade and contributed to the enormous wealth of the city, as the groups conquered by the Triple Alliance, which extended to Guatemala at its height, paid tribute to the capital.
The aqueducts
In 1466 Nezahualcóyotl began the construction of another important hydraulic work, the Chapultepec aqueduct system. It supplied fresh spring water to Tenochtitlán. Before the aqueduct system was built, water was supplied by canoe from the springs at Chapultepec (now a large park in the middle of modern Mexico City). Water was distributed through apantles (open pipes) to public fountains and noble houses.
A second aqueduct was built by Nezahualcóyotl’s successor, Ahuítzotl, around 1500. Although Ahuítzotl had supervised a huge project to rebuild Tenochtitlán, completing the Temple Mayor (the Great Pyramid), the aqueduct project didn’t go so well. At the springs of Coyoacán, Ahuítzotal had a dam and two holding tanks built at elevations necessary to create enough pressure to send water into new aqueducts that joined the existing system. As the story goes, about 40 days after the Coyoacán aqueduct opened, it began to rain. It continued to rain. It poured. The elevated design sent high-pressure floodwaters throughout the city, Ahuítzol took refuge in the Temple Mayor, hit his head on a brand new rock, and died shortly after.
Where we live, in Reno, Nevada, we consider rabbits a nuisance. (Nevada, by the way, means snow-covered, and the Sierra Nevada are snow-covered mountains – certainly so in December 2022). Rabbits eat a lot of grass and they reproduce rapidly and frequently. They deposit concentrated calcium from their urine and solid waste right where they forage, further stressing the grasses on which they continue to graze. On the other hand, rabbits are essential food for predators such as coyotes and birds of prey.
In Huatulco, we live in Residenciales Conejos, the subdivision with a symbol of a rabbit at the entrance, located on the Bahia de Conejos. So, I said to myself when we bought the lot, hmmm, bunnies. After 13 years in Res. Conejos, we do see an occasional bunny and/or their sign (pellets), but no hares (liebre, in Spanish) and our small patch of grass is not suffering from their presence.
What makes a rabbit a rabbit? First, they are mammals. In general, they have long ears (this varies considerably), a short tail, long hind legs, and continuously growing sharp incisors. Most species are gray or brown and range in size from 10 to 18 inches (25 to 45 cm) long and weigh 1 to 4 pounds (0.5 to 2 kg). They feed primarily on grasses.
There are four species of rabbits and one hare (a type of jackrabbit) found in the selva seca, or dry jungle, of Mexico (see Julie Etra’s article on the selva seca in Huatulco in the December 2022 issue of The Eye). Two of the rabbits are endemic, one of these is threatened and endangered, and the hare (Lepus flavigularis) is considered very rare.
Rabbits in the Jungle
The bunnies or cottontails found in the selva seca include the common tapeti cottontail (Sylvilagus brasiliensis), also called the Brazilian cottontail or forest cottontail. It is a small- to medium-sized bunny, with an expansive range from Tamaulipas to southern Mexico, through Central America, and as far as central Brazil. It has a small, dark tail, short hind feet and short ears. The tapeti cottontail is nocturnal and solitary
The Mexican cottontail (Sylvilagus cunicularius) is endemic to Mexico and the selva seca. This is the dude or dudette(s) (macho y hembra) we would be lucky to see in Huatulco. It is the largest of the Mexican rabbits. Preferred habitats include temperate, subtropical or tropical dry forests, and pastureland. It is a common bunny and is found from Sinaloa south to the states of Veracruz and Oaxaca. It breeds year-round, but particularly in the wet season when there is more quality forage available. Although this bunny is pretty common, it still faces the threats typical for rabbits (and other wildlife), including loss of habitat through land use conversion (grazing, agriculture, urban development), hunting, and predation.
The eastern cottontail, Sylvilagus floridanus, is the most common cottontail in North America. Interestingly, it’s not the cottontail that forages on our meadow and lawn in northern Nevada – that’s the mountain cottontail (Sylvilagus nuttallii). The eastern cottontail has a short lifespan due to high rates of predation by numerous predators, rarely living past the age of two. It issues a creepy scream when injured (as does the mountain cottontail).
Sylvilagus graysoni is endemic to Mexico and is in danger of extinction. Its common name is the Tres Marías cottontail, as it is endemic to the Tres Marías Islands off the coast of Nayarit, where it was previously abundant. It is not found along the selva seca of Oaxaca or other dry tropical forests in Mexico. Given its limited range and occurrence, it only has three known wildlife predators: the Tres Marías racoon (Procyon lotor insularis), a subspecies of the common racoon, and two birds of prey, the red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) and the crested caracara (Caracara plancus), the latter being common on our coast. The Tres Marías cottontail is also threatened by hunting. Although not a lot is known about their behavior, given the remoteness of the Tres Marías Islands and the low number of predators, the rabbit is purportedly not wary of humans. As with other rabbits in similar habitats, its diet changes from herbaceous vegetation in the rainy season to sticks and bark in the dry months of winter.
The Hares of the Isthmus
Lepus flavigularis is endemic to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, more specifically the Gulf of Tehuantepec, and in fact the common name is the Tehuantepec or tropical jackrabbit. Historically it was found from Salina Cruz in Oaxaca to Tonalá just over the border in Chiapas, but has not been seen that far east in recent years. Currently there are four small populations, all located around the Upper and Lower Lagoons of the Gulf of Tehuantepec – Salina Cruz is the major population center on the Gulf.
This very large-eared (up to 5 in, or12 cm), slender-bodied hare is well adapted to its often arid and hot environment. The large surface area of its ears helps regulate its temperature; the size of the ears enhances its hearing and ability to detect predators. The hind feet are large and well developed, allowing for rapid escape from predators. In general, adults weigh from 7.7 to 8.8 pounds (3.5-4.5 kg), with a body that measures 22-24 inches long (55-60 cm) and a tail 2.5 to 3.5 inches (6.5- 9.5 cm) in length. This jackrabbit reaches sexual maturity at six or seven months and is polygamous; they typically reproduce during the rainy season when there is an abundance of forage. After around 32 days of gestation, the mother hare gives birth to one to four kits.
The Tehuantepec jackrabbit is crepuscular, meaning active at dusk, and nocturnal when the ambient temperature drops. Habitat and diet are grasslands, where they prefer to forage native rather than introduced grasses. Threats to this species are typical for many species of wildlife: habitat loss due to urban encroachment and agriculture; introduction of non-native species, particularly annual grasses; hunting; and predation by coyotes and foxes. For more detail check out the following link: https://www.lifeder.com/liebre-de-tehuantepec/.
Since their primary diet in the rainy season is grasses, why is Bugs Bunny always munching on a carrot? What’s up with that, doc?
How many times have you heard a newbie’s surprise upon arriving in Huatulco in the dry season, which corresponds with the high tourist season, wondering what happened to the lush tropical green jungle shown on glossy brochures and websites?
What is the Selva Seca?
Welcome to the selva seca, the “dry jungle.” Huatulco has a caducifolio, or deciduous, ecosystem, an unusual semi-tropical forest in which most trees lose their leaves. Although not unique to Mexico, it is best represented in this country, and it occurs in a number of Mexican states, in particular along our beautiful Oaxacan coast. The selva seca occupies approximately 11.7% (226,898 km²) of the total area of Mexico, along the Pacific coast from southern Sonora and southwestern Chihuahua to Chiapas, continuing to Tehuantepec with small portions in the extreme south of the Baja California Peninsula and in the north of the Yucatan Peninsula. Selvas secas are generally found from sea level up to 1,500 meters, and occasionally to 1,900 meters above sea level in very dry areas.
The selva seca is described as warm-subhumid tropical – it gets HOT. As any Huatulqueño can attest, this warm climate has an average annual temperature of 27ºC (80.6ºF), a bit lower in the ‘winter’ and dry months, with approximately 330 sunny days a year. The rainy season, which dumps an average of 100 cm (over 39 inches), ends around November/December, and starts again in late May/June, preceded by a very hot, humid, and buggy period in mid-to-late April until the rains begin. Soils are typically rocky, with a poorly developed layer of organic matter.
This ecosystem can be further divided into subcategories; the selva seca on the Oaxacan coast, about 66,492 sq. km (about 24,670 sq. mi.), is described as selva baja caducifolia or selva baja espinosa caducifolia, with espinosa meaning “spiny,” as we do have a number of spiny plants and many species of cactus. In English it is also referred to as low (the baja part) deciduous forest, tropical deciduous forest, low deciduous forest, or sub-humid forest. These forests are considered evergreen when less than 25% of the species lose their leaves, sub-evergreen when 25 to 50% of the species lose their leaves, sub-deciduous (50 to 75% of the species lose their leaves) or deciduous (more than 75% of the species lose their leaves). Since more than 75% of the coastal trees lose their leaves, the coast of Oaxaca is best defined in English as deciduous.
Plant Life of the Selva Seca
This forest has approximately 6,000 species of plants, of which almost 40 are endemic, meaning they are only found in these ecosystems and are adapted to drought.
The height of the dominant woody vegetation is often 15 meters or less (under 50 feet) for the selva baja. In addition to trees, this ecosystem supports a variety of shrubs, lianas (vines), epiphytes (the pinkish pineapple-like piñuela seen in the planting beds of many of the medians on major roads) and agaves.
Small trees include the huaje or guaje (Leucaena leucocephala), for which Oaxaca was named (it means “place where the huaje grows”), which produces a pea-like pod replete with peas. Some trees like the cuachalalá or cuachalalate (Amphipterygium adstringens), whose bark is used for medicinal purposes, drop their leaves at the very beginning of the dry season – snowbirds never get to see the leaves.
The guanacastle or guanacaste (Enterolobium cyclocarpum), Huatulco’s magnificent huge shade tree, welcomes visitors and residents en route from highway 200 to Huatulco, along the median just south of the Fonatur logo. In early to mid-April, the guanacastles exhibit new bright green leafy growth, having detected the increase in ambient humidity.
There are at least five species of copal (Bursera spp.), all of which drop their leaves in winter. One species, known commonly as mulato, has the gorgeous flakey red bark so visually outstanding in the native forest. Copal trees produces a resin which hardens into incense used in spiritual ceremonies for centuries; the bark apparently also produced pigments for painting the ancient ruins of Mexico. Most people who visit Mexico, however, will encounter the wood of a copal tree when they purchase an alebrije, the colorful, fanciful figures carved and painted by Mexical folk artists.
What Stays Green in the Selva Seca?
Of course, not all our native species fall into the 75% deciduous category (by the way, coconut palms are not native, but we do have a native palm, the sabal Mexicana whose pencas (fronds) are used in palapa construction). Riparian corridors stay green, the shrubby ocotillo (Fouquieria splendens or madcogalii), with its white or red flowers, respectively, is barely deciduous, and the ceiba tree, also called pochote, can look a little ratty, but not for long.
The Best of the Selva Seca
What I especially love about the dry season is the number of trees that flower! We have three species of macuil (Tabebuia rosea) with their big, showy purple, pink, and yellow flowers, the guayacán (Guaiaccum coulteri)with its yellow-centered purple flowers, and the magnificent cojón de caballo or cojón de toro (Tabernaemontana donnell-smithii), its large yellow flower appearing early in the winter, contrasting with its smooth white/silvery bark. Translated, as you might guess, as the horse- or bull-ball tree, it is named for the shape of its fruit, which grows in pairs.
The final benefit of being in the selva seca in the dry season is the birdlife, both residents and winter migrants. They are so much easier to see and identify in the less leafy landscape, making this area a winter birder’s paradise!
I knew nothing about Sandra Cisneros when my Spanish teacher in the United States suggested I read La Casa en Mango Street (The House on Mango Street). Cisneros is a Chicago born Chicana, so the 1984 book was originally written in English when Cisneros was 30. I read it in Spanish as part of my ongoing study of Mexican culture and language; there have been at least three Spanish translations – one in 1994 by the renowned Mexican writer Elena Poniatowska. Coincidentally a great article and interview with Cisneros was recently published in the The New Yorker in September of this year http://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/sandra-cisneros-may-put-you-in-a-poem). To save you from fighting with The New Yorker’s paywall, I’ll be quoting from the article.
Cisneros is perhaps best known for her poetry, although I am a fan of both Casa and the collection of short stories Woman Hollering Creek and Other Stories (1991; translated by Liliana Valenzuela in 1996 as El arroyo de la Llorona y otros cuentos).
Although I read both of these books in Spanish, Cisneros has the unique bilingual knack of bridging the two languages, inserting Spanish translations of the English. The 2021 bilingual paperback Martita, I Remember You/Martita, te recuerdo, is written in English on one side but the reader can flip the pages to read the Spanish translation. Clever.
Technically speaking, Cisneros is not a Mexican writer since she was born in the United States. She grew up in a poor neighborhood on the west side of Chicago, the only daughter of a Mexican father and Mexican American mother, surrounded by six brothers. According to Cisneros, she felt isolated as a child and was lumped in with her brothers, described as siete hijos instead of seis hijos y una hija (seven boys instead of six boys and a girl) by her father. Her father was an upholsterer, her mother a book lover.
Throughout the 1960s and 1970s her father took the family back and forth to Mexico on a frequent basis; thus she developed the self-identity schism between the two cultures. This was further exacerbated when in 1976 she entered the writer’s program at the Iowa College of Liberal Arts and Sciences where she continued to feel like a misfit. She went on to write Casa and then began teaching in San Antonio where she lived for 15 years and founded the Macondo Writers’ Workshop, named after the fictitious town in Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967).
Cisneros never married nor had children, her rationale being that she did not want to be distracted from her writing and that she was a bit old fashioned in her belief in the sanctity of marriage in that she didn’t want to have a future divorce. According to The New Yorker, she is relieved and apparently happy that she never selected the wrong guy: “It’s hard to live with someone, and it’s hard to live alone. But I prefer living alone. … I’ve never seen a marriage that is as happy as my living alone. My writing is my child and I don’t want anything to come between us.” She has said that the greatest love of her life was her dog Chamaco.
Tired of living in San Antonio, and in particular provincial Texas, she returned to her mother’s Guanajuato roots and now resides in San Miguel de Allende, México, immersing herself in Mexican culture, but not without challenges. She did not take much time to explore the town before she moved there following an auspicious visit.
When the interviewer from The New Yorker remarks, “So you decided to move to San Miguel de Allende,” Cisnero answers, “Yes, I came here. I didn’t know the town was colonial and had a very colonial writing program, all white and expensive and structured in a very colonial way. I didn’t realize it was San Miguel apartheid, and, when I told them that, they were offended and shocked, so I lost my enthusiasm for the book fair. I’m going to be onstage there next spring. I’m only going to do it if I can donate my honorarium to the Spanish-language portion of the fair, so, you know, that’s my way of making my peace with them. I came because this is the land of my mother’s people. I wanted to investigate those roots.”
She named her house in San Miguel Casa Coatlicue. In Nahuatl it means “Serpent Skirt”; Coatlicue is the Nahua mother goddess, symbol of the earth as both creator and destroyer, mother of the gods and the goddess of childbirth, fertility, life, and death, and one of the most important Aztec or Nahua gods. A fitting name for a house of this remarkable and independent woman.
One of my favorite short stories in Woman Hollering Creek (a real creek located behind her house in San Antonio) is “Ojos de Zapata,” (Eyes of Zapata), as told by Inés Alfaro Aguilar, the primera mujer (first woman) of the famous Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata. Reports indicate that Zapata had anywhere from 9 to 16 “wives” (some of whom he may actually have married); he did not marry Inés, with whom he fathered at least three sons and one daughter. (That of course stimulated my interest in both Zapata and Inés and led me down the rabbit hole of a chapter of Mexican history before I eventually returned to Cisneros’ next story.) “Ojos de Zapata” is fascinating not only from Inés’ perspective as the neglected “wife” of this famous revolutionary general, but for its sensual descriptions of a time, a place, and a relationship.
Back to The New Yorker interview regarding her residence in San Miguel: Interviewer: “Is this it? Do you think you’ve finally found home?” Cisneros: “I think I have one more house in me.” Interviewer: “Where would it be?” Cisneros: “Oaxaca, maybe.”
Spanish is a gender-inflected language, which means that the forms of nouns, adjectives, and articles change according to whether someone or something is considered masculine or feminine. In general, but not always, an ending of ‘o’ indicates the masculine, and an ending of ‘a’ indicates the feminine. Sometimes the word for an obviously gendered noun is completely different in the masculine vs. the feminine.
The very language is macho in that Spanish favors things and people being male – if there is one boy present in a group of girls, just ONE, they are all niños or hijos, etc. Now, linguistically speaking, that’s not really offensive, because the masculine gender includes words that in another language – e.g., Latin, from which Spanish is descended – would have been neuter. The feminist perspective, however, finds it really offensive. Efforts at language neutrality in Spanish are underway in Argentina, but that’s a long and complicated story for some other time!
Baby: el nene, el bebe (masculine), la nena (feminin- also means girlfriend, like babe), la bebe Boy/girl: muchacho/muchacha. Muchachos can also equate with fellas, boys, as in ‘let’s go boys’: ‘vamos muchachos’ Kid(s): chavos/chavas,chamacos/chamacas, esquincles/esquinclas Child: el niño, la niña Man/woman: el hombre/la mujer Son/daughter: el hijo/la hija Son-in-law: yerno Daughter-in-law: nuera Stepson/daughter: hijastro/hijastra Male/female dog: macho, hembra.
Here’s a funny story on the sex of dogs. Many years ago, before I spoke Spanish, we drove down the Baja Peninsula with our male dog. When the cops asked us if the dog was macho, which was obvious as he was intact, I thought they meant aggressive. So I answered, “No es macho, es muy amigable” (“He’s not male, he is very friendly.”) No wonder the cop looked confused!
Next month I’ll continue with other family members and friends. Maybe more animals.
As in English, there are various ways to say you’re happy.
Happy: feliz, felices (pl). “Feliz” may be the most common word used for “happy.” There’s a wonderful song, “Sé feliz,” written by the Cuban singer Anaís Abreu, with big hits by singers like the late Mercedes Sosa from Argentina and Lila Downs from Mexico. The lyrics contrast states of sadness and despair with buoyant happiness:
Si la soledad te enferma el alma If loneliness makes your soul sick Si el invierno llega a tu ventana If winter comes to your window No te abandones a la calma, con la herida abierta Do not abandon yourself to calm, with an open wound Mejor olvidas y comienzas una vida nueva. You better forget and start a new life. Y respira el aire puro And breathe the fresh air Sin el vicio de las dudas. Without the vice of doubts. Si un día encuentras la alegría de la vida If one day you find the joy of life Sé feliz, sé feliz, sé feliz, sé feliz. Be happy, be happy, be happy, be happy.
Happy Birthday: feliz cumpleaños (don’t forget the tilde over the ‘n’).
Congratulations: felicidades, felicitaciones – obviously, these terms are related to feliz.
Other words for “happy”: alegre – happy, gleeful, joyous, stronger than feliz. contento(a) – happy, less emphatic than feliz, equivalent to “content” in English: Estoy contenta – I am content, I am happy, I am satisfied. satisfecho(a) – much like contento(a). dichoso(a) – especially happy, blissful, fully satisfied: Me siento dichoso por haberte conocido – I am really happy to have met you.
Words for “happiness”:
alegria – happiness, gleefulness, cheerfulness. gozo – joy, enjoyment, from the verb gozar, to enjoy. júbilo – joy, glee, jubilance. It is not the same as jubilado(a), which means retired (which, dear readers, I am not).
We’ll save triste and tristeza (sad and sadness) for the next issue of The Eye.
Various myths and legends surround the arrival of Hernán Cortés at the court of the last Mexican emperor, Moctezuma II (there are many other spellings) in Tenochtitlán, located in present-day Mexico City. Perhaps the most interesting story is how Cortés was perceived. One version is that the Mexica (Aztec descendants, also called Nahua) perceived him as the long-lost god Quetzalcóatl.
Who was Quetzalcóatl?
Quetzalcóatl (“feathered serpent” or “plumed serpent”) is the Nahuatl name for the feathered-serpent deity of ancient Mesoamerican culture; Quetzalcóatl is not to be confused with Quetzalcoatlus, which is a member of the ancient group of flying reptiles called pterosaurs, and is the largest flying animal, with a wingspan up to 52 feet. It lived during the late Cretaceous period (from 145 to 66 million years ago) and was indeed named for the Nahua god.
Quetzalcóatl has a complicated genealogy, but was recognized as the creator god, creator of mankind, as well as the sun, wind, and air. According to one version (there are many) Quetzalcóatl was coerced by Tezcatlipoca, the god of the night sky (among other things), into getting drunk on pulque (fermented agave juice), and attempted to seduce his older sister, Quetzalpetlatl, a celibate priestess. The next morning, Quetzalcóatl, embarrassed and regretful, either fled in a canoe to the east or laid himself down in a stone casket and set himself on fire, and his ashes rose and traveled to the east, turning into the morning star. The Mexica awaited his return, and in theory mistook Cortés for the long-awaited god.
Cortés as Quetzalcóatl
The Mexica were already well aware of the Spanish army’s march from Veracruz, where Cortés’ ship had landed, and of his appearance leading the cabalgada (cavalry, i.e., soldiers on horseback) to the capital, where they arrived on November 8, 1519. Complicating the interpretation that he was perceived as a god is the assumption the Spaniards and the Nahua had a similar concept of what ‘god’ meant, which is certainly not true, as the Nahua world consisted of many gods.
History is always retold by the conqueror, so this myth was documented by the Spaniards in the 16th century, 50 years after the conquest (the most famous documentation is in Book XII of the Florentine Codex. (A codex [pl. codices], is a Mesoamerican manuscript, produced by the Aztecs, the Nahua, or Spanish priests. The Florentine Codex was written by the Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún working with native people – the text is in Nahuatl; it is now located in the Laurentian Library in Florence, Italy.)
Moctezuma had warned the Spaniards not to enter the city and was trying to delay their arrival until a more auspicious date on the Nahua calendar. Legend has it that the Nahua were meek, and that Moctezuma was deferential to Cortés. The Spanish description of the Nahua as naïve and simple of course supports their rationale for the brutal conquest.
What do we know about the first meeting between the last monarch and the Spanish conquistador? A special issue of Arqueología Mexicana, a magazine put out by INAH, Mexico’s National Institute of Anthropology and History, indicates that Moctezuma was fully aware of Cortés’ intent, but he was cordial (keep in mind that translations between Moctezuma and Cortés were conducted by Malintzin, a multilingual Nahua woman better known as La Malinche). According to Cortés, the Mexica kissed the ground in front of him, but they stopped him in his attempt to embrace Moctezuma (we know the Spaniards reeked; a humorous interpretation is that a returning and revered god would not smell that bad), but neither gesture is mentioned by indigenous accounts.
If Moctezuma’s entourage really believed they were facing Quetzalcóatl, their behavior does not make sense; they did, however, offer him garlands and covered him in flowers (perhaps a way of dealing with the stench) and other gifts. In a magical-religious context, it is possible that this was meant to placate an antagonist. Cortés offered glass beads known as margaritas.
Supposedly the first words spoken by Cortés were “Are you really Moctezuma?” manifesting his surprise at finally meeting this almost mythic figure. Moctezuma cordially answered “Yes, it is I.” According to some scholars, politeness in the Mexica culture was a way to assert dominance and show superiority. If indeed initially, or for a few months, Moctezuma thought Cortés was the returning feathered serpent, Cortés found Tenochtitlán to be mythical, a resplendent city glittering in the sun in the distance. Bernal Díaz del Castillo, a conquistador with Cortés, wrote a memoir, The True History of the Conquest of New Spain in 1568; he wrote that upon approaching Tenochtitlán, “It was all so wonderful that I do not know how to describe this first glimpse of things never heard of, or dreamed of before.”
Moctezuma already knew the Mexica were defeated, since the Spanish were accompanied by the Tlaxcaltecas (from the present-day state of Tlaxcala). The Tlaxcaltecas were skilled, fierce fighters who successfully resisted Moctezuma’s forces and greatly resented the tax collectors from Tenochtitlán. Cortés had subjugated the Tlaxcaltecas en route to Tenochtitlán, and convinced them to become allies in the conquest of Moctezuma.
There’s More to the Story
If you are interested in this remarkable history, I suggest you read Díaz del Castillo’s book (used copies are available on Amazon for less than $10 US). However, recall that the idea that Cortés was perceived as a returning god was not developed until after the conquest; also note that the carefully formulated, formal speech Moctezuma delivered to Cortés, which implies Moctezuma sees Cortés as some sort of divinity, has been misinterpreted. Even Wikipedia debunks the notion: “The legend of the returning lords, originated during the Spanish-Mexica war in Cortés’ reworking of Moctezuma’s welcome speech, had by the 1550s merged with the Cortés-as-Quetzalcóatl legend that the Franciscans had started spreading in the 1530s.”
So, there you have it, a post-conquest myth proliferated by the conquerors and religious figures, but on closer examination, we find its origins are more complicated.
Called the banana in America, this lovely and versatile fruit is just one in a group of fruits more commonly known as plantains or plátanos (in Spanish). They are the most widely distributed and consumed fruit in the world and consist of a large number of species, hybrids and cultivars of the Musa genus. Only the grains wheat, rice and corn surpass the production of plantains (bananas) globally. In many parts of the world, the kind of plantains that are cooked are distinguished from the sweet, raw bananas familiar to us in North America.
The origin of this starchy fruit is most likely Malaysia, New Guinea, Indonesia, or the Philippines. The first references appear as early as 600 BCE, but it was noted by Alexander the Great during his travels to India in the 4th century CE. Through trade, like every other valuable commodity, it was dispersed to China, Africa, and well, the rest is history. This original seed-filled fruit barely resembled those consumed today, which has resulted from centuries of plant breeding. The world’s largest producers of bananas in 2017 were India and China, which together accounted for approximately 38% of total production.
One banana, two bananas, and many more
Are you confused by the variety of bananas and banana-like fruits displayed at the Mercado Orgánico de Huatulco (MOH)? Or in the various fruteriás along Calle Carrizal or elsewhere in La Crucecita? A pity most of us are only familiar with the common and ubiquitous Cavendish (Musa acuminata), named after Englishman William Spencer Cavendish, the 6th Duke of Devonshire, who began its cultivation in British greenhouses around 1834. (More about this common banana later.)
As shown in the graphic, there are eight principal banana crops produced in Mexico, including, of course, the Cavendish. As an alternative to that “standard” banana, try the diminutive Dominico bananas, also known as plátano enano, or dwarf plantain, most of which come to Huatulco from neighboring Veracruz. This is the smallest banana available in Mexico. It is a very sweet variety and is widely used in pastry and other confections, including drinks. It is rich in vitamins B, C, and E and has a high magnesium content. It is our favorite banana, and although we can find them when we are going through withdrawal upon our return to the USA, they are very expensive and it seems they never ripen. It usually takes me three plus tries to give up on these expensive imports. When in Huatulco, this banana is our favorite snack.
Later in the Mexican winter the slightly larger Manzanos are available. They are different, of course, with the Dominicos being slightly sweeter and easier to find, even in the super stores like Chedraui and Soriana. Our previous neighbors have a Manzano tree, but I have not been bold enough to approach the present occupants. Manzanos are a bit nuttier and harder in texture than the fast-ripening Dominico.
Problems with popular bananas
The Gros Michel is an example of monoculture disasters. At the beginning of the 20th century, this was the most popular banana in Europe and North America. In 1940, however, a fungal infection arrived in Panama, more precisely Fusarium oxysporum, which attacked the roots of the Gros Michel. Since it produced no viable seeds, only reproducing asexually, it was particularly vulnerable to disease, and hence its demise 20 years after the fungus arrived.
The Cavendish, resistant to the fungus described above, became more popular, with several available varieties including the big dwarf, the small dwarf (redundant, I know), the Lacatan, Valery, Robusta, and Poyo. Recently, another variety of the fungus that infected the Gros Michel has been discovered, and this banana could go the way of its predecessor as it is also asexually cultivated in monocultures (clonal propagation). This type of monoculture cultivation results in plants very vulnerable to plagues and possible extirpation, exactly what happened to the Gros Michel.
Broaden your banana repertoire!
The plátano macho is the largest and heaviest of the bananas and is not sweet. It is cooked in a variety of ways, and can be yellow-, green-, or dark-skinned when very ripe. Machos are consumed in many tropical countries but are virtually unknown in Europe.
The red bananas you see at the MOH and grocery stores, the thick-skinned plátano rojo, is very popular in Latin America, and its availability and use has recently expanded to Europe. It can be consumed raw or cooked.
And yes, there are even more varieties, typically available on a local level, such as the Tabasco (Mexico) and Roatan (one of the Bay islands in Honduras).
Patacones, as they are known in Costa Rica and elsewhere in Latin America, but usually called tostones in Mexico, are small pancakes or pucks made from green Machos, cut in cross section, fried, then flattened and fried a second time. Another fried plantain, cut lengthwise, is a typical accompaniment to Latin American breakfasts – it is a favorite in istmeño cooking (the cuisine of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, Oaxaca). You can enjoy patacones in Huatulco at the restaurant Bladuyu at the entrance to Bahia Chahue. For dessert they can be fried with a liquor, honey and/or cinnamon additionally dribbled/sprinkled on top and accompanied with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. Yum.
And for a real treat, try molotes de plátano, Macho pulp dough stuffed with quesillo, the lovely Oaxacan cheese (alternatively with black beans), fried, and bathed in condensed milk (or not), frequently offered at Playa San Agustín. The women walk up and down the beach with rectangular plastic containers filled with these tasty, filling units. Don’t pass them up!
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