Unknown Mexico Part 9

Immediately upon our arrival I went to see the gobernador, and, strange to say, I found him engaged in teaching his young wife how to weave. Three months ago his first wife had died of smallpox. Old bachelors and widowers have a hard time in getting wives, because the Tarahumare belles have a decided preference for young men. But the wifeless Indian feels very unhappy, as it means that he has to do all the woman's housework, which is very laborious, and therefore thoroughly distasteful to him. By way of fascinating this young girl, the gobernador had to exert himself to the extent of teaching her how to make girdles and wearing apparel.

The next day this gentleman returned my call, carrying his bow and arrows. I had already learned in Batopilas that the party of Indians who, about two years ago, had been exhibited by a now deceased traveller as representative cave-dwellers, had been gathered mainly in the neighbourhood of Yoquibo. My visitor had been one of the troupe, and I was eager to find out what impression the civilised world had made on this child of nature, who had never known anything but his woods and his mountains. Therefore, almost my first question was, "How did you like Chicago?" "It looks very much like here," was the unexpected reply. What most impressed him, it seemed, was neither the size of the city nor its sky-sc.r.a.pers, though he remembered these, but the big water near which those people dwelt. He had liked riding in the railroad cars, but complained that he had not had enough to eat on the journey.

His experience on the trip had familiarised him with the white man and his queer, incomprehensible ways, and made him something of a philosopher. I wanted him to accompany me on my visits to the few houses here, as the people were very shy and timid. Although he was very much engaged, as I could see, having to look after his animals as well as his wife, he obligingly went with me to two houses. We saw a woman with twins; one of them a miserable-looking specimen, suffering from lack of food.

There were also some cave-dwellings near Yoquibo, one or two of which were occupied. In the afternoon, when I went out alone, the people all disappeared the moment they saw me approaching, except one group of strangers who had come to beg and did not pay any attention to me. They were too busily engaged in making ready for the pot a certain kind of larvae, by extracting them from the coc.o.o.n, a small white sac of silky texture found on the strawberry tree.

The guide told me that Indians like these, who beg for food, always return, to those who give them alms, the amount of the gift, as soon as their circ.u.mstances allow.

Here in Yoquibo I met one of those Mexican adventurers who under one pretext or another manage to get into the Indian villages and cannot be routed out again. Certain of them ply some little trade, generally that of a blacksmith, others act as "secretaries," writing what few communications the Indians may have to send to the government authorities; some conduct a little barter trade, exchanging cheap cotton cloth, beads, etc., for sheep and cattle; but most of them supply the Indians with Mexican brandy, mescal. The one in Yoquibo had established himself in the only room left intact in the old dilapidated vicarage, and eked out a living by selling mescal to the Indians.

This fellow's appearance, especially his unsteady, lurking eyes, suggested the bandit. No doubt, like most of his cla.s.s, he was in hiding from the government authorities. He was something of a hypochondriac, and among other ailments he thought he had an animal in his stomach, which he got in there by way of a knife-stab he had received some time ago. When he came to me to get some remedy, he carried a rather fine rifle, and in spite of all his suffering, real or imaginary, the bandit nature a.s.serted itself, when I made some complimentary remark regarding his weapon. His half-closed eyes slurred in a crafty, guileful manner from side to side as he drawled: "_Despues de Dios, mi rifle!"_ ("Next to G.o.d, my rifle!")

After considerable looking about, I at last found an Indian willing to act as guide for the next stage of our journey. He was an elderly man, and at dusk he was quietly sitting near the camp fire, eating his supper, when the tall figure of Mr. Hartman appeared on the scene, wrapped in a military overcoat. He probably looked to the Indian very martial and threatening as he approached through the twilight. At any rate, his appearance had a most unexpected effect on our guide. I suddenly heard a noise behind me, and on looking around, I saw him running as fast as his legs would carry him, leaving his supper, dropping his blanket, splashing through the creek and disappearing in the night, never to be seen again by us. He imagined that a soldier was coming to seize and kill him; that the meat-pot in which he was to be cooked was already on the fire, while the skulls of other unfortunates that had been eaten were lying in a heap near one of the tents. He alluded apparently to four skulls which I had taken out of an ancient burial cave. In explanation I will say that some time ago he had been arrested for some crime and had broken away from jail; soldiers, or rather, the police, were after him, and he mistook Mr. Hartman for one of his pursuers and ran for safety.

The incident proved somewhat unfortunate for us. In consequence of the wild stories he told about us, the Indians, of a suspicious nature anyway, sent messengers all over the sierra, warning the people against the man-eaters that were coming. Our strange proceedings in Cusarare, namely, the photographing, had already been reported and made the Indians uneasy. The terrible experience of our runaway guide seemed to confirm their wildest apprehensions, and the alarm spread like wildfire, growing in terror, like an avalanche, the farther it went. We found the ranches deserted on every hand, women and children hiding and screaming whenever they caught a glimpse of us. At every turn our progress was impeded. Wherever I came I was abhorred as the man who subsisted on babies and green corn, and the prospect of my ever gaining the confidence of the Indians was exceedingly discouraging for the next four or five months.

Though it was impossible to secure a new guide, I still made a start next day, following a fairly good track which leads south toward Guachochic. Yet further obstacles presented themselves. The animals began to give out. It was the season of the year when they change their coats, and are in poor condition even under the best circ.u.mstances, and mine were exhausted from lack of food. They would not eat the dry gra.s.s, and the green pasture was still too scanty to suffice for their maintenance. The information that the natives had burned all the gra.s.s proved correct to its fullest extent, so there was nothing for me to do but to establish a camp, scarcely a day's journey off, at Tasajisa, where there was some pasture along the ridges that had as yet escaped the fire of the Indians. Leaving the larger part of my outfit and about half of my mules in charge of my chief packer, Mr. Taylor and I continued the journey with the best and strongest of the animals, making a circuitous tour to the little mining town of Zapuri, in the neighbourhood of which were some caves I wanted to investigate.

After a day's journey we turned westward and got beyond the range of the fires. Turkeys were seen close to our camp and appeared plentiful; I also saw a giant woodp.e.c.k.e.r, but just as I got ready to shoot, it flew away with a great whirr of its wings. We soon began to descend, and after a long and fatiguing day's travel over cordons and sierras, and through a wide barranca surrounded by magnificent towering mountains, we arrived, late in the afternoon, at Zapuri. The superintendent of the mine, to whom I brought a letter of introduction from the owner of the property, received us with cordial hospitality. Here the climate was splendid; the nights were just pleasantly cool, the mornings deliciously calm; they were all the more enjoyed after the windy weather of the sierra.

Immediately upon my arrival here I had a chance, through the courtesy of the superintendent, to secure a Mexican and some strong mules, which took Mr. Taylor over to Parral on his way back to the United States. Mr. Hartman remained with the expedition two months longer, to join me again the following year for a few months. I also got a guide for myself and made an excursion to the caves in the neighbouring barrancas. After we had gone some ten miles over very bad roads, we came to the home of an old Tarahumare woman, who was reputed to be very rich. Knowing Mexican exaggeration in this regard, I computed that the twelve bushels of pesos she was supposed to have hidden might amount, perhaps, to $50 or $100 Mexican money. Whatever her wealth was, she showed it only in a lavish display of gla.s.s beads around her scrawny neck; they must have weighed at least six or eight pounds. But then, her homestead was composed mainly of four or five substantial circular store-houses.

The wealth of the Tarahumare consists in his cattle. He is well off when he has three or four head of cattle and a dozen sheep and goats. There is one instance where a man had as many as forty head of cattle, but this was a rare exception. They rarely keep horses, and never pigs, which destroy their cornfields; and are believed, besides, to be Spaniards (_Gachupines_). Pork, though sometimes eaten, is never sacrificed. No tame turkeys are kept, but occasionally the people have some hens, and in rare cases a family may keep a turtle dove or a tame quail. When a man has oxen, he is able to plough a large piece of land and raise enough corn to sell some. But corn is seldom converted into money.

Here we packed the most necessary things on our best mule, and with the guide and two Indians, who carried bundles, we descended to the river. The road was fairly good, but as we approached the river we came to several bad places. In one of these the mule's aparejo struck a rock, which caused the animal to lose its foothold. Unresistingly it slid down the steep slope for about seven yards and came against a tree, forefeet on one side, hindfeet on the other. The boy who led it, eager to do something, managed to get the halter off, so that there was nothing by which to hold the animal except its ears. I held fast to one of these, steadying myself on the loose soil by grabbing a root sticking out of the ground. The intelligent animal lay perfectly still over the trunk. Finally I managed to get out my bowie-knife and cut the ropes off the pack, which rolled down the hill, while the mule, relieved of its bulky burden, scrambled to its feet and climbed up. It was born and bred in the barranca, otherwise it would never have been able to accomplish this feat.

Toward evening we arrived at the section of a barranca called Ohuivo (Ovi = return, or "the place to which they returned") on the Rio Fuerte. The Indians here, although many of them have been affected by the nearness of the mines, are reticent and distrustful, and our guide evidently had not much influence with them. They refused to be photographed, and even the gobernador ran away from the terrible ordeal.

During the several days I remained in this valley the heat never varied from 100, day and night, which was rather trying and made doing anything an exertion. The country looked scorched, except for the evergreen cacti, the most prominent of which was the towering pithaya. Its dark-green branches stand immovable to wind and storm. It has the best wild fruit growing in the north-western part of Mexico, and as this was just the season when it ripens, the Indians from all around had come to gather it. It is as large as an egg and its flesh soft, sweet, and nourishing. As the plant grows to a height of twenty to thirty-five feet, the Indians get the fruit down with a long reed, one end of which has four p.r.o.ngs, and gather it in little crates of split bamboo, which they carry by straps on their backs. It is a sight to see men, women, and children start out gaily at daybreak, armed with slender sticks, climbing rugged heights with grace and agility, to get the pithaya, which tastes better when plucked at dawn, fresh and cool, than when gathered during the heat of the day. The fruit, which lasts about a month, comes when it is most needed, at the height of the dry season (June), when the people have a regular feasting-time of it. Mexicans also appreciate the pithaya, and servants frequently abscond at that time, in order to get the fruit. The beautiful white flowers of the plant are never found growing on the north side of the stem.

With the Indians, the pithaya enters, of course, into religion, and the beautiful macaw (guacamaya), which revels in the fruit, is a.s.sociated with it in their beliefs. The bird arrives from its migration to southern lat.i.tudes when the pithaya is in bloom, and the Indians think that it comes to see whether there will be much fruit; then it flies off again to the coast, to return in June, when the fruit is ripe. The following gives the trend of one of the guacamaya songs: "The pithaya is ripe, let us go and get it. Cut off the reeds! [4] The guacamaya comes from the Tierra Caliente to eat the first fruits. From far away, from the hot country, I come when the men are cutting the reeds, and I eat the first fruits. Why do you wish to take the first fruits from me? They are my fruits. I eat the fruit, and I throw away the skin. I get filled with the fruit, and I go home singing. Remain behind, little tree, waving as I alight from you! I am going to fly in the wind, and some day I will return and eat your pithayas, little tree!"

Chapter X

Nice-looking Natives--Albinos--Ancient Remains in Ohuivo--Local Traditions, the Cocoyomes, etc.--Guachochic--Don Miguel and "The Postmaster"--A Variety of Curious Cures--Gauchochic Becomes My Head-quarters--The Difficulty of Getting an Honest Interpreter--False Truffles--The Country Suffering from a Prolonged Drought--A Start in a Northwesterly Direction--Arrival at the Pueblo of Norogachic.

Followed the river a day's journey up and noticed some small tobacco plantations on the banks. I met some good-looking people, who had come from Tierras Verdes, the locality adjoining on, the south. Their movements were full of action and energy. Their skins showed a tinge of delicate yellow, and as the men wore their hair in a braid, they had a curious, oriental appearance. The women looked well in black woollen skirts and white tunics. The people from that part of the country are known for their pretty, white, home-made blankets, and it was evident that in those inaccessible parts the Indians had still something for the white man to take away.

The natives of this valley had a curious habit, when they were made to dive for fish, of afterward throwing themselves in a row on the sun-heated sand to warm their stomachs for a minute or two.

Near Ohuivo, in the mountains toward Morelos, there used to live a family of ten albinos. When I was there only two survived, smallpox having made havoc among them. Their skin was so delicate that even the contact with their clothing irritated it. Mr. Hartman visited one of them, an old woman who lived in a cave with her husband, a small, dark-skinned fellow, and the two certainly were "mated, but not matched." Her features were entirely Indian, but her complexion was unique in Mexico, even among the white population. She reminded one of a very blond type of Scandinavian or Irish peasantry. Her hair was yellowish-white, but her eye-brows and -lashes were snow-white. The face and body were white, but disfigured with large red spots and small freckles. She kept her eyes more than half shut, and as she was very shy it was not possible to ascertain the color of the iris; but Mr. Hartman was a.s.sured by the husband that it was bluish.

Most of the Indians in Ohuivo live in houses. The few caves that are occupied are not improved in any way. One cave contained ancient habitations, and tradition says that there the Tubares had once established themselves. The cave is nothing but a nearly horizontal crack in the rock, situated on the southern side of the river, some 300 feet above the bottom of the valley. It runs from south-east to north-west to a length of about 200 feet, interrupted perpendicularly by a crevice. Entering the cave at the southernmost end I found twelve low-walled rooms, standing singly, but closely side by side. They were square with rounded corners. The walls were built of stone and mud and one foot thick, and the floors were hard and smooth. A store-room, in a good state of preservation, resembled in every detail the store-houses used by the Tarahumares of the present day, being square and built of stone and mud. In none of these rooms was it possible for me to stand upright. Apart from this group, a few yards higher up in the cave, were two small houses. The floor of the cave was getting higher and higher. I had to crawl on my stomach for about ten yards and came suddenly to the edge of a precipice; but a track led around it to the other side, where I found the main portion of the houses, eighteen in all, the largest having a side thirteen feet long, though the others were considerably smaller. They were arranged just like those of the first section, in one row, and were made of the same material, except a few, which were built of adobe. In these the walls were only eight inches thick. One of the rooms was still complete, had square openings, and may have been a store-room. The others seem to have had the conventional Indian apertures. In two chambers I noticed circular s.p.a.ces sunk into the floor six inches deep and about fourteen inches in diameter. What I took to be an estufa, nineteen feet in diameter, was found in the lowest section. Behind it was only a small cl.u.s.ter of five houses higher up in the cave.

Though this is the only ancient cave-dwelling I visited in Ohuivo, I was a.s.sured that there were several others in the neighbourhood. The broken country around Zapuri is interesting on account of the various traditions which, still living on the lips of the natives, refer to a mysterious people called the Cocoyomes, regarded by some Tarahumares as their ancient enemies, by others as their ancestors. They were the first people in the world, were short of stature and did not eat corn. They subsisted mainly on herbs, especially a small agave called tshawi. They were also cannibals, devouring each other as well as the Tarahumares. The Cocoyomes lived in caves on the high cliffs of the sierra, and in the afternoon came down, like deer, to drink in the rivers. As they had no axes of iron they could not cut any large trees, and were unable to clear much land for the planting of corn. They could only burn the gra.s.s in the arroyos in order to get the fields ready. Long ago, when the Cocoyomes were very bad, the sun came down to the earth and burned nearly all of them; only a few escaped into the big caves.

Here in Zapuri the Cocoyomes had four large caves inside of which they had built square houses of very hard adobe; in one of the caves they had a spring. The Tarahumares often fought with them, and once, when the Cocoyomes were together in the largest cave, which had no spring, the Tarahumares besieged them for eight days, until all of the Cocoyomes had perished from hunger. From such an event the name of Zapuri may have been derived. Intelligent Mexicans, whom I consulted, agree that it means "fight" or "contest" (Spanish, _desafio_).

From a place called Tuaripa, some thirty miles farther south, near the border of the Tepehuane country, and in the same mountainous region, I have the following legend, about the Cocoyomes and the serpents:

Two large serpents used to ascend from the river and go up on the highlands to a little plain between Huerachic and Tuaripa, and they killed and ate the Cocoyomes, returning each time to the river. Whenever they were hungry they used to come up again. At last an old man brought together all the people at the place where the serpents used to ascend. Here they dug a big hole and filled it with wood and with large stones, and made a fire and heated the stones until they became red hot. When the serpents were seen to make their ascent on the mountain-side, the men took hold of the stones with sticks, and threw them into the big, wide-open mouths of the serpents, until the monsters were so full with stones that they burst and fell dead into the river. Even to this day may be seen the marks on the rocks where the serpents used to ascend the mountain-side.

Once having again ascended to the highlands, I found rather level country as far as Guachochic, some forty-five miles off by the track I followed. The name of the place signifies "blue herons," and the fine water-course, which originates in the many springs here, was formerly the abode of many water-birds. The locality thus designated is to-day a cl.u.s.ter of Mexican ranches, most of them belonging to one family. There is an old church, but at present no independent Indians live in Guachochic; the aborigines found about the place are servants of the Mexicans.

Guachochic lies at an elevation of 7,775 feet and at the southern end of a mesa, the largest one in the Sierra Madre del Norte, being twelve miles long and three miles wide. Except on the southern end this plateau is bordered with stately pine forests. Many Indians live on the mesa and in the numerous valleys adjoining it, but they are all "civilised"; that is, contaminated with many Mexico-Christian notions, and have lost their pristine simplicity.

I had a letter of introduction to the princ.i.p.al personage in Guachochic, Don Miguel, who enjoys the rare reputation of being just and helpful toward the Indians; and, being a large land-owner, he is a man of considerable influence also with his fellow-countrymen. To those in need he lends money on liberal terms out of the pile of silver dollars buried under the floor of his house. Robbers know from sad experience that he is not to be trifled with. Once, when a band of marauders had taken possession of the old adobe church and were helping themselves to the buried cash of the inhabitants of the ranches, he rallied the terrorised people, gave the robbers battle and routed them effectually. He upholds authority against lawlessness, and wants justice to have its course, except when one of his own relatives has done the shooting--I was sorry to learn that in this regard he was probably not beyond rebuke; but his many good deeds to the needy and oppressed, whether Mexican or Indian, should make us lenient toward this failing. The Indians appeal to him of their own accord. Three ruffians once went to the house of a well-to-do Indian, recently deceased, and told his mourning relatives that they had come to see to the division of the property among the heirs, and that they must have good things to eat and plenty to drink while thus occupied; calling upon the relatives to brew plenty of beer and kill an ox. Their orders were promptly obeyed; but in addition they charged the heirs a fee of three oxen, one fanega of corn, and some silver money. This struck the simple and patient Indians as rather excessive, for what would then be left to divide between themselves? So they took their grievance to Don Miguel to be settled. I do not know of any white man in those parts who would have taken the trouble, as he did, to protect the poor Indians' rights against the wily schemers.

The old gentleman was not at home when I arrived at his ranch, but I met one of his sons, who lives at Guachochic.

"I am the postmaster," he said proudly, stepping forward and showing me, at the same time, his credentials, which he evidently always carried in his pocket. The mail from the lowlands to the mining towns pa.s.ses over this place, and the mail-carrier sleeps in this house. In the course of the year he may also bring a few letters to the inhabitants of this part of the country. We soon entered into a conversation about postal matters, which naturally interested me greatly, as I was anxious to communicate as often as possible with the outside world. In spite of the great pride this man took in his office, his notions regarding his duties were rather vague. Being desirous of knowing what was going on among his neighbours, he had no compunction about opening the few letters they got; not that he destroyed them after reading them--he very coolly handed them over opened. The people did not like this, and considered it rather high-handed on his part; but then, what was there for them to do about it?

He said he had heard that I could cure people. When a man is called Doctor, the Mexican peasantry expect him to possess comprehensively all useful knowledge in the world. Looking at me for a moment, this healthy, ruddy-cheeked man suddenly, without saying a word, took hold of my hand and pressed it against his forehead for a little while; then, all the time in silence, he carried it backward until my fingers touched a small excrescence on his back. Now was the chance to find out whatever was the matter with him!

On my next visit to his office he received me with a queer, hesitating expression on his face, and suddenly blurted out, "Can you cut out trousers?" For some time he had had a piece of cloth in his house, and he said he would pay me well if I could help him to have it made into trousers. To cure people, mend watches, repair sewing-machines, make applejack, do tailoring, prognosticate the weather--everything is expected from a man who comes from far away. And the good people here are astonished at a confession of ignorance of such matters, and take it rather personally as a lack of good-will toward them. It is the old belief in the medicine man that still survives in the minds of the people, and they therefore look upon doctors with much greater respect than on other persons.

People who live outside of civilisation are thrown upon their own resources in cases of sickness. The daughter of my Mexican guide was confined and the coming of the afterbirth was delayed. I give here, for curiosity's sake, a list of the various remedies applied in the case:

1. The carapace of the armadillo, ground and taken in a little water. This is a Tarahumare remedy, said to be very effective for the trouble mentioned.

2. The skunkwort (the herb of the skunk).

3. The patient to hold her own hair in her mouth for half an hour.

4. The wood of _Palo hediondo_, boiled.

5. _Urina viri_, half a cup. This remedy is also externally used for cuts and bruises.

6. Fresh excrement from a black horse. A small quant.i.ty of water is mixed with it, then pressed out through a piece of cloth and taken internally.

7. Perspiration from a black horse. A saddlecloth, after having been used on the horse, is put over the abdomen of the woman.

8. A decoction of the bark of the elm.

9. Pork fat.

After a number of days the patient recovered. Whether it was _propter hoc_ or merely _post hoc_ is a matter of conjecture.

Guachochic served admirably as a central point from which excursions in various directions could be made, as it lies in the very midst of the Tarahumare country. It is true that the Mexicans have appropriated all the best land round about, and their extensive and fertile ranches lie all around Guachochic. Toward the east, in the direction of the pueblos of Tonachic and Lagunitas, the broad strip of good arable and pasture land as far as Parral is owned exclusively by Mexicans.

But in the immediate neighbourhood of Guachochic toward the west and south lie the ridges and barrancas that run toward Sinaloa, and these are inhabited by pagan Tarahumares. Toward the north the Indians hold undisputed sway over that extensive region of mountains, pine-covered plateaus and well-watered arroyos around the pueblos of Norogachic, Pamachic and Nararachic, and here are found the most independent Tarahumares that are left, who still defy the whites to take their land away from them. They are more valiant than the rest and not easily intimidated.