REAL DE CATORCE, Mexico – A beautiful glimpse at the historic ceremony on Cerro Quemado, Wirikuta, the night of Feb. 6-7, 2012, by Omananda:
And another, by the Wirikuta Defense Front:
Story and photos by Tracy L. Barnett
REAL DE CATORCE, Mexico – They came by the hundreds from the Western Sierra Madre, native Wixarika or Huichol people on a spiritual quest, seeking to consult with the spirits of their ancestors and of the land where their world began. They came in their ceremonial dress, colorfully embroidered with their sacred symbols of the deer, the eagle and the peyote. They came with offerings they had fashioned from beads and gourds and beeswax, offerings they had made precious with their love and their prayers, as their forebears had done for centuries.
This year, however, would be vastly different from years past. This year, the sacred lands of Wirikuta lay under the shadow of an uncertain future. Vast swaths of the protected, UNESCO-recognized reserve had been concessioned to Canadian mining companies, and hundreds of hectares had been bulldozed by agroindustrial companies. This year they were responding to a call that ran through all their communities, spread out through the Sierra Madre over four states: The candles of life were dying, and they would come together there to pray for their renewal.
What was different about this ceremony – besides the context of the proposed mines – was that they would converge at the Cerro Quemado, the mountain said to be the birthplace of the sun, and perform the ceremony together, instead of coming in small groups throughout the year. Normally, each of their ceremonial centers would send its own mara’akame or shaman and delegates separately, performing a series of intimate rituals in sacred sites all along the way, each group in its own traditional way. The other difference is that we would – perhaps – be allowed to attend.
The Huichols are one of the most vital cultural groups remaining in the Americas, in part because their intricate and carefully guarded rituals, designed centuries ago in order to maintain a living and reciprocal relationship with nature, are only rarely opened to outsiders – or even to Huichols from other communities.
That is how it came to be that the night of Feb. 6, the Cerro Quemado came alive with the songs of more than 800 Wixarika mara’akate or shamans and their followers, connecting with the essences of life found here and praying to their deities in an unprecedented peritaje espiritual or spiritual consultation for guidance. And that is why, for the first time, dozens of teiwaris or non-Huichol dignitaries, activists and members of the media were sent special invitations to attend the event.
The idea was that we would wait at the foot of the mountain and be accompanied by a Huichol shaman in a special ceremony throughout the night as the elders on the peak communicated with their ancestors, their deities and the “essences of life” and awaited a response to their question: What should we do about the threats to Wirikuta?
It might happen that we would be invited up to the peak during the night to join the ceremony. Or it might happen that we would wait until the sunrise, when the mara’akate (mara’akames) would come down to share with us the message they had received.
It was nearly sundown when I started up the mountain on horseback, along with Wirikuta Defense Front leader Carlos Chavez and his family. All along the way we passed small groups of Huichol pilgrims, making the two-mile hike up into the mountains on foot, laden with food and other supplies for the night ahead. We arrived at the casita, a round stone house at the base of the Cerro Quemado, just as the sun was going down. A phalanx of videographers lined the top of the first peak, shooting the pilgrims and visitors as they made their way up, and people were building fires, setting up tents and settling in for the night.
I waited anxiously with other journalists and invited guests, shivering in the below-freezing temperatures, to see whether we would actually be allowed to attend the ceremony. The other concern was whether the predicted rain would come during the night, something we teiwaris weren’t sure we could endure.
For the moment, we watched as the fog arose over the desert below, creating a sea of white that extended for miles across the valley, and made conversation. The word came down to us that the elders were facing a tremendous task in coordinating their ceremony with each other and that they would need space and time to connect with their deities. We were being asked to stay below.
Disappointment ran through the crowd like a current, but the night was long, and many surprises awaited.
At about 10 pm the message came down that the media and invited guests would be allowed to come up for a limited time, but that we were to stay silent and not take any photographs. We lined up in single file and made our way up the mountain one-by-one in silence.
I emerged at the top to see the ridgetop sparkling with campfires all along its spine. A brilliant full moon shone over the sea of clouds below. At the center, in the concentric circle of stones called Tatewari-ta, the place of Grandfather Fire, about a dozen mara’akate milled about. Most wore their broad-brimmed hats covered in eagle feathers, antenna that capture and amplify the messages sent from their deities. Others were wrapped in blankets to shield them from the bitter cold. All wore their thin cotton ceremonial clothing, slim protection from the rising winds. Many had been walking in pilgrimage for days, going without sleep and very little food, and had been caught in an icy downpour in the late afternoon – a much-needed rainstorm in this drought-afflicted desert that many here believe that their ceremonies had invoked.
I huddled with anthropologists Paul Liffman and Johannes Neurath, shivering in our multiple layers of sweaters, coats, gloves and socks, and marveling at the energy and the nonchalance of the lightly clad Huichols. Soon the mara’akate assembled and the plaintive wail of the Wixarika fiddles began to ring out in the darkness. The chants of the mara’akate rose on the wind; the ceremony had begun.
All throughout the long night these priests of ecology, as Liffman called them, sang their entreaties to the spirits that inhabit this place, an improvisation of melodies from different villages and different eras in time. They conducted their ancestral dialog with Grandfather Fire, an intermediary between the mara’akate and their deities. The sacramental peyote they had hunted in the desert the day before was working its magic. The hours passed in a blur and I huddled exhausted near a fire on the ridge, dozing for a few moments before I felt a shift in the wind. I sensed something was happening and returned to the fire to find a change in the energy.
The mara’akate had risen to their feet and began to dance, a rhythmic and upbeat shuffle of the feet, a forward-and-back movement that warmed the body and the soul. Soon the whole crowd was moving in unison, Huichols at the center, visitors on the edge. The cold began to dissipate and the joyful rhythm beat back the fatigue.
Surprised at the upbeat mood given the gravity of the situation, I commented on the apparent levity to Johannes Neurath. “Of course,” responded Neurath, who has observed numerous such ceremonies over the years. “If you want the gods to come to your ceremony, you have to make it interesting. They’re not going to come to a boring ceremony.”
At the appointed time, a calf that had been waiting on the sidelines was brought to the center and the mara’akate prayed over him, asking him to surrender his spirit for the wellbeing of humankind. The sacrifice was quick and as gentle as a sacrifice can be. The poor beast bleated softly once, twice, and kicked its small legs a couple of times before giving up the ghost. Soon its blood was being offered along with heartfelt prayers to the five directions.
More dancing, more singing. A sense of timelessness enveloped us. I went up the ridge to the fire being tended by a group of visitors from the Native American Church and a Mexican counterpart called the Nierika Center. Sandor Iron Rope, vice president of the Native American Church and a Lakota from South Dakota who said he had come to pray with his Wixarika brothers, gave me a warm smile for such a cold night. “Try not to shiver,” he advised. “It only makes it worse. Just try to breathe it in.” I followed his advice, and it seemed to help.
Sandor looked out over the sea of clouds and the yucca trees that stood out like surreal feathered sentinels on the horizon.
“They look like the Wixarika people with their feathered hats,” he observed. “They are guardians of this place.” I suddenly realized it was true; I had had the sensation of being surrounded by gentle spirits, and now I understood the reason why.
“I wonder how the deities are feeling about all of this,” I mused, looking around at the varied collection of humanity strewn over the mountaintop – celebrities, anthropologists, journalists, spiritual seekers, documentarians, and a wide range of activists, observing the intensely private ritual of a reclusive people communicating with their gods.
“Oh, I think they’re very happy,” said Armando Loizaga, founder of the Nierika Center, a center for the study of sacred plants near Mexico City who has worked with the Huichols and other indigenous groups for many years.
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“Well, for one thing, there was the gentleness of the sacrifice – that was a good sign. For another, we’ve been blessed with a clear night full of stars. And for another, here we all are. We were allowed to be here, and that’s a tremendous gift.”
By now the ridge was strewn with the bodies of the unconscious, Wixarika and teiwari alike, who had succumbed to the temptation of sleep. But hundreds continued to dance to the mesmerizing chants of the mara’akate, and the moon continued its slow descent.
Finally the sun began to brighten the eastern sky, and we were given permission to photograph a few moments of the ceremony. A frenzy of photographers converged on the ring of stones and clicked madly until an irate mara’akame shooed us away and ordered the cameras to cease. Eventually a procession began to make its way up the south ridge to the xiriki, a small house-like shrine on the summit, where they centered their prayers once again and made their offerings.
It was mid-morning before the mara’akate and traditional leaders of the communities met in the center to discuss, in their native Wixarika tongue, the meaning of the message they had been given. And it was nearly noon before they assembled there on the circle of Tateiwari-Ta to share their vision with the world.
“They are sad, and they ask, with tears, weeping and pain, that it not be done, that they not tear out the heart, that they not take out the blood of this sacred mountain,” said Mara’akame Eusebio de la Cruz of Santa Catarina, Jalisco, who delivered the message from the deities in Wixarika.
Perhaps more importantly, he said, the gods had entreated them at every ceremony along the way on their pilgrimage, and the same message kept coming back to them. “They asked that all the Wixarika people be united to defend this place, And they asked that all humban beings, even the person who invades or destroys this sacred place, be united with us.”
It was a strong message for a people that has been bitterly divided for more than two decades, with territorial and other disputes breeding rancor between the communities. It was also an indication, along with the decision to permit us to join them on the night of this ritual, of a new openness on the part of the Wixarika people to the outside world.
The ceremony was a trial by fire for the Wixarika leaders as well as for the Wirikuta Defense Front, the network of groups that are supporting them, said Eduardo Guzman, a judge in the desert community of Margaritas and a leader in the movement.
“Finally the word came with the coming of the dawn: They had passed the test and ended with a great unity, a great coinciding of ideas,” he said. “It gives us hope that together we can form a much stronger force to impede the destructive and damaging projects that threaten Wirikuta. I leave with a great happiness and a great sense of hope that it’s something that can be done.”
Paul Liffman stopped by to share his impressions on his way out of town. For him, the event has a broader significance, not just for the people of rural Mexico, but for the world.
“The Huichols are positioned as priests of the rain who benefit the entire world – and that’s why the mine represents such a great threat, because they are trying to be a type of ecological priesthood and everything is at stake. The fact is that we live in an epoch of planetary desiccation due to climate change, and the respect for water that is completely implicit in this ritualization of the acquisition of water of a mountain teaches us to have a relationship of respect and honor of the natural elements, which they treat as divinities. The springs are the earthly corporalization of the ancestors.
Everyone here, including those who are in favor of the mines, believes that the Huicholes bring the rain. And now it hasn’t rained in 14 months and suddenly it rains with the arrival of an unprecedented bunch of leaders of the ceremonial centers. They’ve always made the argument they are an essential link for the ecological reproduction not only of the region, but for the world.”
The sun shone on his departure and that of the hundreds of pilgrims and their guests. As I write this piece, the night has fallen on Real de Catorce and the town is silent once again – except for the gentle patter of a steady rain.
For more information about the defense of Wirikuta, see www.wirikutadefensefront.org. For the full Wixarika statement released to the public at the time of the ceremony, click here.
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Wixarika pilgrims in their traditional dress began arriving in this town yesterday in preparation for a historic “spiritual consultation” with their deities.
This story is the second in a series about the historic pilgrimage of the Wixarika people to their sacred site of Wirikuta. Read the first part here. A report on tonight’s ceremony, a consultation with the Wixarika ancestral spirits about the crisis facing the birthplace of the sun, will follow.
REAL DE CATORCE, San Luis Potosí, Mexico – Some 800 Wixarika people – 18 busloads – are gathering in the desert below are expected to descend on this tiny town within an hour and will begin the trek up the sacred mountain of Cerro Quemado, the place where they believe the sun was born. Thunder is sounding in the distance, a little intimidating for a group of open-air campers given the polar front that is expected to descend tonight. Nonetheless, the local people are greeting the rains with joy, since the last hard rain was more than a year ago – and then it was the disastrous flooding of Hurricane Alex. This time, they hope for a ground-drenching, drought-quenching downpour. And everyone around here knows the Huichols bring the rain.
Meanwhile a star-studded lineup of high-power celebrities, academics, documentarians and media notables have been arriving in this rugged colonial mountain town since yesterday. Today, Mexican actress Ofelia Medina added her name to the list of registrants, along with writer Elena Poniatowska, Ruben Albarran of Cafe Tacuba, the UN High Commissioner of Human Rights and Sandor Iron Rope, vice president of the Native American Church.
Hector Guerra of Pachamama Crew, Moyenei and Roco of Sonidero Mestizo and Lengua Alerta were among the lineup supporting Wirikuta in Real de Catorce.
And last night, a lineup of popular artists from Mexico City, part of a team that has been supporting the defense of Wirikuta with periodic concerts and events, culminated a high-voltage performance in the historic restored Paz y Amor bar and restaurant with a rousing cry that was part chant, part prayer. ““Wirikuta no se vende, se ama y se defende! (Wirikuta is not to sell, it is to love and protect!”) Pachamama warriors, amor para mi gente (love for my people!)
Café Tacuba’s Ruben Albarran poses with a group of caballerangos, horsemen who make their living taking tourists up into the mountains.
Ruben Albarran of Café Tacuba, one of Mexico’s most popular rock bands, went on the local community radio station to reassure residents of the town that they were not here to protest the mine or to impede development. “On the contrary, we’re here to support the community. Our idea is to raise funds to support development projects here in the region that will provide jobs for the people without harming the environment.”
Armando Loizaga of the Nierika Center and Sandor Iron Rope, vice-president of the Native American Church
Leaders of the Native American Church, the Council of Chiefs of the Sun Dance and other indigenous leaders from the United States and Canada gathered with Wixarika leaders today in preparation for tonight’s historic ceremony.
“Our brothers have asked us to join them in prayer with the sacred medicine,” said Chief Oscar Moreno, who came on behalf of Leonard Crow Dog. Lakota spiritual leader. Like the Wixarika or Huichol people, the Lakota and many other tribal peoples in the north pray with peyote, which they consider a sacrament. Wirikuta is one of the most important ceremonial centers for the collection and ceremonial use of peyote, and the Wixarika have been the historical guardians of the sacred hallucinogenic cactus, which they say puts them in contact with their ancestors and the spirits of the land. “We are indebted to them in this holy ground because they have cared for the medicine and they brought it to the North.”
Moreno was concerned to hear the news of the planned gold and silver mines in the area. “We’re very familiar with what this means, and we’re here to pray in the hope that others will understand that desecrating sacred land is not a good idea for anyone.”
Cilau Valadez, a young Huichol artist who has been traveling in Canada and the United States, building alliances with the different tribes through the Americas, said the visit of leaders like Moreno, Anishinabe leader Wab Kinew and Native American Church Vice-President Sandor Iron Rope represents a significant moment in Native American history.
“We are fulfilling the Hopi prophecy that speaks of a time when all the original peoples from the North and the South will come together,” he said. “It means that we are one people, and that we must be recognized.”
Meanwhile, rumors circulated of a pending “counterprotest” of local residents in favor of the mine as habitants of Real de Catorce watch the proceedings with a mixed feelings. “Yes to the sacred sites, yes to mining,” read one banner hung at the entrance of the town. “Huichol brothers, support us, and we will support you.” Another one read, “Mining, tourism and sacred sites go hand in hand. We support the environment; we only want social wellbeing.”
Father Ernesto Vega Torres hears from his parishioners on both sides of the fence and worries about the future of the region, regardless of what happens. “Everything is just on hold; everyone is waiting to see what will happen with the mine,” he said. “It’s a very difficult situation.”
He pointed to a severe water crisis in town today as businesses in the city center ran out of water entirely. Two pumps broke down due to a lack of water in the wells, he said. “It hasn’t rained in more than a year; we’re in the worst drought since 1917. There was no sowing because the rain never came, so there was no harvest. People’s animals are dying. It’s a crisis, so they want jobs. But here we run into a problem, because there’s simply no water – and mining requires a lot of water.”
Volunteers with horses and burros have been preparing all week for the ceremony, carrying up the mountain a historic quantity of water, along with other supplies: 600 liters, along with firewood for 17 fires, 2,500 tamales, 30 kilos of beans, 50 kilos of coal and the stoves for cooking. An estimated 800 Wixarika are expected to arrive in the mid-afternoon.
All participants are being asked to observe a strict protocol to allow the Wixarika to conduct their ceremony without outside interference. The all-night ceremony will take place at the top of the Cerro Quemado, the sacred mountain where the Huichols believe the sun was born. They will arrive this afternoon after days with no sleep and little food, following the complicated series of activities required of all who make the pilgrimage to Wirikuta. Their rituals are meant to be a re-creation of the journey their forefathers made at the beginning of the world, and in the process, they dream the rain and the coming of the sun, and they bring the light and the rain, said Johannes Neurath of the National Museum of Anthropology, one of the invited guests.
“It’s a very unique event – something that’s never happened,” said Neurath. “Obviously they are very worried about what’s happening here; normally they are very divided among themselves. It’s very rare that they organize among themselves, and even more so that they would allow us to attend.”
Patricia Diaz, director of several documentaries about the Huichols, and actress Ofelia Medina were among the invited guests to the ceremony.
Medina Ofelia, one of Mexico’s most beloved Hollywood actresses and a longtime supporter of indigenous rights, compared the situation in Wirikuta with the Zapatistas’ uprising in 1994, which she also supported. “It’s the same struggle,” she said. “It’s for the rights of the indigenous people of Mexico, who have always been marginalized.” She was looking forward to the ceremony, not her first as she has been working with the Wixarika since 1985. She wasn’t sure what to expect, however. “They have taught us not to go with expectations,” she said with a smile. “It’s better to wait and see.”
For more information about Wirikua, see www.wirikutadefensefront.org.
Story and photos by Tracy L. Barnett
For The Esperanza Project
REAL DE CATORCE, San Luis Potosi, Mexico – A quiet but excited buzz hums through the streets of this normally sleepy ghost town turned tourist attraction. Hotels that languished for months are filled to bursting and people are camping on every spare piece of real estate. Everyone is awaiting the arrival of hundreds of Wixarika pilgrims from their homelands in the Western Sierra Madre – a historic mass pilgrimage to connect with the spirits of their ancestors and to pray for the renovation of the fading candles of life that reside in this place, the depleting water supply and the continued equilibrium of all life on Earth.
The Wixarika, more commonly known by their Spanish name, the Huicholes, hope to gain some insights in a historic “spiritual consultation” regarding the threats to their most sacred site, Wirikuta. The Huicholes have made their millenial pilgrimages to Wirikuta since the beginning of their history, and see it as their holiest altar of prayer, the place where they come to hunt their sacramental cactus, the peyote, and the place where the sun was born; but this protected reserve is the target of Canadian mining companies and agroindustrial businesses that see it as a resource to exploit.
This UNESCO-recognized natural and cultural reserve is also home to some of the world’s richest silver veins, exploited for centuries by the Spaniards and then left to languish – until now, when new mining methods and rising silver and gold prices have made the area attractive once again to the mining industry. But besides the cultural significance of the site, the region is also one of the most biodiverse desert regions on the planet and home to a number of endemic and endangered species.
I arrived last night in this picturesque colonial mountain town in the company of Carlos Chavez, coordinator of the Wirikuta Defense Front, and got a quick debriefing from Mercedes Aquino, who is heading up the local support effort. Tensions have risen here for the past year since First Majestic Silver Corp. announced plans to open a silver mine, with those who depend on the tourism industry at odds with those who hope to make a living from the mines.
Organizers were worried yesterday about reports that pro-mining forces were gathering and possibly mounting an unfortunate response to the event, but Mercedes was breathless and glowing when we arrived; she and several others went on the air on the community radio station to head off a possible confrontation, explaining the purpose of the pilgrimage and putting people’s fears to rest. And this morning, priests all over the diocesis are urging their parishioners to exercise tolerance and support the pilgrimage in their own way tomorrow night, praying along with the Huicholes from their own homes for water and for life.
“We explained that the Huicholes are coming here to pray for life, to pray for the water, as they have for centuries. And just as they began to arrive, it began to rain. It’s like a miracle, really.”
Like all of northern Mexico, Wirikuta is suffering the worst drought in more than 70 years; the rains never came to Wirikuta this year, and the crops all failed. Many locals are hoping the proposed mines will provide much-needed employment, despite concerns that it will contaminate and deplete the scarce water reserves. So the timing of last night’s cloudburst, and the predicted rain of the next few days, is really quite remarkable.
Organizing the support for this pilgrimage has been a tall order the Wirikuta Defense has had to fill; from the moment the Huicholes made the decision to make this pilgrimage, just a few weeks ago, it has fallen to the small, unfunded and overworked defense group to try and pull together the logistics and smooth things over in the local communities. Somehow they managed to raise most of the nearly half-million pesos necessary to rent buses, buy food and firewood and pull together a thousand other details, and now about a dozen buses filled with Huicholes, in addition to countless individual bands, are making their way here from hundreds of ceremonial centers spread out over the Wixarika territories some 400 miles to the west. Their plan is to converge on the Cerro Quemado, the sacred mountain where they believe the sun was born, on the night of Feb. 6, where they will hold an all-night ceremony of prayer.
Anthropologist Paul Liffman, author of Huichol Territory and the Mexican Nation, called the pilgrimage “unprecedented in recent history – maybe unprecedented, period.” Normally the pilgrims organize their annual journeys to Wirikuta individually, and each of the more than 500 ceremonial centers sends their own group of maraka’ames (shamans) and jicareros (guardians of the sacred sites) over the course of the year. This mass pilgrimage and ceremony is a response to what they see as a mortal threat to their culture, Liffman said. It’s also a result of the logistical and financial support of the civil society and a growing awareness of the media.
Meanwhile, Chavez takes the long view. “What we’re seeing here is a concentration of the challenges that humanity is facing everywhere,” he said. “It’s going to be extremely important that a sustainable alternative livelihood is provided to the local communities,” he said. “What we’re hoping for and working towards is a big project of restoration – this is such an important area and we can make of it an example of sustainable development for the world.”
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By Tracy L. Barnett
for The Esperanza Project
MEXICO CITY – Led by a vanguard of more than 250 Wixarika elders, women, men and children in their colorful traditional dress, a colorful river of marchers filled the grand Reforma Avenue of Mexico City for four hours yesterday, ending at the residence of President Felipe Calderón.
“You are not alone! You are not alone!” chanted the marchers, some of whom had formed a protective human chain encircling the indigenous representatives as they prepared to deliver their petition to the nation’s highest authority: Save Wirikuta, the Sacred Heart of Mexico.
It was the culmination of two days of events designed to draw attention to mining and agroindustrial projects that threaten the cultural survival of one of the world’s best-preserved living pre-Hispanic cultures: the Wixarika people, better known by the Spanish name of Huicholes. Two massive mining projects have been proposed for the Wixarika’s most sacred site, and a plague of industrial tomato growers have razed thousands of hectares of fragile desert habitat in the UNESCO-recognized, state-protected Wirikuta Ecological and Cultural Reserve.
Traditional authorities from each of the eight communities represented by the march were allowed to enter the presidential complex, heavily guarded by federal police in riot gear, in order to present a letter to authorities. It was the third such letter asking Calderon to rescind the 22 concessions granted to the Canadian transnational First Majestic Silver Corp. Until now, there has been no response. The hope was that with so many eyes upon the delegation’s demands, this time would be different. Presidential representatives promised an answer within a week.
“Felipe! entiende! Wirikuta no se vende – (Felipe [Calderon], Understand! Wirikuta is not for sale),” chanted the crowd as they approached the Mexican counterpart to the White House. Plumes of smoke rose into the air from the copal burning in ceremonial censors along with chants of “Wirikuta no se vende! Se ama y se defiende! (Wirikuta is not to sell; it is to love and defend).”
Participants made their way to the front of the crowd to affix their colorful Huichol Eyes of God to the gates of the presidential complex, as feather-headdressed Aztec dancers beat a rhythm to the chants with their drums and ayoyotes, and members of the Triqui tribes, Red Road and other indigenous groups and dozens of environmental and human rights groups joined the throng with banners. The marchers made it clear that the site is sacred not only to the Wixarika but to other indigenous groups and to thousands of non-indigenous Mexicans and internationals who believe the Mountains of Catorce and the desert at their feet is one of the most important spiritual centers in the world.
Events began on Wednesday with a press conference in which intellectuals, artists and other leaders in the civil society expressed their support for the mobilization and the Wixarika delegation. Actor Daniel Giménez Cacho thanked the delgates, saying “they are teaching us to defend our house and what is ours.” In previous days, Giménez Cacho was one of dozens of Mexican actors and film personalities who signed a letter in support of the mobilization, including Gael Garcia Bernal. Top musical stars like Manu Chao and Aterciopelados have promised support, and last week, Ruben Albarran of Café Tacuba, Roco and Moyenei from Sonidero Meztizo and other artists held a press conference for Wirikuta. Roco and Moyenei accompanied the entire processon on a double-decker bus-turned-sound system, alternately broadcasting music and calls of encouragement to the crowd; at one point a pair of traditional Wixarika fiddlers played their haunting music to cheers from the crowd. The entire event culminated in a high-energy concert at the Museum of Anthropology, led by Roco and Moyenei.
The delegation was received at the National Autonomous University of Mexico and the National School of Anthropology and History with open arms, food and one of two concerts sponsored by Sonidero Meztizo.
After the press conference, the multihued band loaded onto buses for a pilgrimage to the Basilica and to the Hill of Tepeyac, where the indigenous Juan Diego is believed to have seen the Virgin of Guadalupe. Perhaps more importantly to the Wixarika, it’s the ancestral temple site for Tonantzin, the powerful pre-Hispanic Earth goddess.
Another part of the delegation went to meet with officials at SEMARNAT, the federal environmental agency, to outline their concerns. And yet another group went off to do interviews with the national media.
But the spiritual high point of the two-day affair came on Thursday morning, when the Wixarika streamed into the park containing the Pyramid of Cuicuilco, the first important civic-religious center of the Mexican Highlands and a sacred site for the Wixarika. They made their way through the park to the foot of the pyramid, where there is a simple altar where the Huichol people leave their offerings. There at the foot of the pyramid, traditional musicians began to play their fiddles, and one by one, the marakames blessed each of the participants with their feathered muwiere. Time seemed to stand still as each person filed in to take their turn in front of the tiny house constructed to shelter their offerings.
“Today we lighted the candles of life and left our offerings for all life on Earth,” explained Wixarika traditional leader Santos de la Cruz in a reception at the neighboring School of Anthropology and History, the same site that welcomed the Zapatistas in their many sojourns from Chiapas more than a decade ago. “We pray not only for the protection of our heart, our veins, our life, which is Wirikuta, but for the other sacred sites in the world which are threatened, and this threat menaces all of life on the planet.”
For more information about the campaign to save Wirikuta, see www.frenteendefensadewirikuta.org.
Images from the October 26-27 mobilization Save Wirikuta: The Sacred Heart of Mexcio:
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Esquire Latinoamerica, August 2011
Text and Photos by Tracy L. Barnett
For the Huicholes, the region known as Wirikuta, in North-Central Mexico, is sacred; for a Canadian company it is the base of its next great mining project. Meanwhile, the inhabitants of the village of Real de Catorce, at the heart of Wirikuta, are divided among those who need jobs and those who see the mine as a threat. The debate grows with every day and has reached as far as Canada and the United Nations.
To see the entire article (in Spanish), download here: PDF Huicholes
Jesus Lara, left, and Cilau Valadez wait to enter the First Majestic Silver Corp. stockholders meeting.
VANCOUVER, British Columbia – Dressed in their colorful traditional clothing and bearing a carved talking stick as a sign of their alliance with the tribes of the North, two Wixarika delegates prepared enter the annual stockholders’ meeting of First Majestic Silver Corp., the company that has laid a claim for a silver mine in their sacred territory, Wirikuta. A team of stony-faced police officers barred their entry even after they handed over documents explaining that they had been named proxies, giving them authority to enter the meeting, where they hoped to deliver a message to the investors.
Jesus Lara Chivarra and Cilau Valadez had traveled thousands of miles from the remote mountains of Jalisco and Nayarit, Mexico, along with Rodolfo Cosio and Juventino Carrillo to send a message to the mining company and to the world: The Wixarika People will not negotiate for the heart of their mother.
The meeting fell at the end of Mining Justice Week, a series of events designed to draw attention to the increasing presence of Canadian mining companies in Latin America and the countless cases of contamination, corruption, illness and violence that tend to follow them. The delegation was optimistic because the day before, at the annual meeting of Goldcorp, a group of ten mining opponents had been allowed to enter and seven of them to speak, despite only having three proxies. At First Majestic, it was another story. The two had hoped to enter with Jennifer Moore of Mining Watch Canada and Ana Paula Hernandez of the Global Fund for Human Rights, but they were told to wait as dozens of others streamed past.
For half an hour they stood facing the great doors of gold and glass of the Terminal Building as a noisy protest arrived to support them. More than a hundred people, including local religious and tribal leaders and elders, marched from Waterfront Station to the Terminal Building, waving placards and chanting. Finally Lara was granted entry but was told none of the others could enter. After much insistence he was allowed to enter with Valadez as a witness to the company-provided interpreter, but neither of them were allowed to speak. At the end of the meeting, Lara was allowed to deliver a letter the Wixarika Regional Council in Defense of Wirikuta had recently given to Mexican President Felipe Calderon, but he was not allowed to speak.
The delegates were disheartened, but still considered the mission a success. The First Majestic meeting came at the end of a week with mining activists from Guatemala, Honduras and El Salvador and with tribal leaders from Kawkawka, Bear Clan and Coast Salish peoples, an opportunity to learn, build alliances and strategize.
“We have realized that we are not alone. The past week a lot of activity has been dedicated all over the world at different points against the mining industry,” said Lara. “We have found here the support of the tribes of the U.S. and Canada and this gives us the confidence that we are many. We will see how the mining company reacts but we will not be silent. On the contrary, we will keep intensifying whta we have already defined: No to the mine, no more genocide, no more ecocide in Wirikuta.”
Valadez was positive, too, about the meeting’s outcome.
“They tried to intimidate us, but we are present here to demonstrate that we can come to their land and they won’t intimidate us even though they confront us with police and other obstacles. We already know what they are trying to do, and we are not going to negotiate.”
The mining company has presented a proposal to donate the Cerro Quemado, the mountain at the heart of Wirikuta, to the Wixarika people as a part of its plan to mine the area, but the delegates say the proposal misses the point of Wirikuta.
“How would you like it if they left your body alone but drilled out your heart? Valadez asked. “This is practically what they want to do with our land, and they don’t explain that in their report.”
Juventino Carrillo, a member of the Wixarika Regional Council in Defense of Wirikuta, pointed to the Canadian mining industry’s record in other countries.
They dress the project up to look so beneficial, but don’t believe the manipulations that Canadian companies have carried out in other countries,” said Carrillo. “Who’s going to believe them, with all the dirt they’ve thrown throughout Latin America?”
Cosio, who serves as a jicarero, one of those chosen by his community to care for the ceremonial center and make pilgrimages to the sacred sites, was indignant that the mining company proposes to give only the surface rights of the Cerro Quemado when Wirikuta goes much beyond the Cerro and in fact beyond the region delineated as a protected nature reserve. Wirikuta also includes all its subsoil, he said – “That’s where the essence of Wirikuta lies.”
He added, “I would say that’s deceptive. How can they give us something that has always belonged to us since time immemorial?”
Here are some images from the delegation’s week in Vancouver.
Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.
A delegation of representatives of the Wixarika People travel to Vancouver, Canada, this week, home base of the mining company First Majestic Silver Corp., which plans to open a mine on their most sacred site, Wirikuta.
The delegates plan to make their case to the public, to members of Parliament and to the mining company and to participate in the Mining Justice Week events May 14-19, a week dedicated to demanding justice in the mining industry throughout Latin America and the world.
On Sunday, Jesús Lara Chivarra of San Sebastián Teponahuaxtlán, Jalisco, México, will be one of the speakers at a conference on “Mining, Social Justice and Self Determination for Indigenous Peoples.” The next day, Lara, together with Huichol artist Cilau Valadez, of Santiago Ixcuintla, Nayarit, will present at the Forum on the Declaration of the Rights of Mother Earth and Indigenous Peoples.
Tuesday and Wednesday the delegation will attend meetings with indigenous peoples of Canada and with leaders from Vancouver, and will attend in solidarity a mobilization in front of the headquarters of Goldcorp, one of the biggest and most controversial Canadian mining companies now doing business in Latin America. We hope that by Tuesday we will be joined by delegates Rodolfo Cosio Candelario, jicarero and guardian of the ceremonial center of Las Latas, Santa Catarina, Jalisco, and Juventino Carrillo de la Cruz, a leader from the community of San Sebastián. Their Canadian visas have been postponed and we hope they will be granted on Monday.
Rodolfo Cosio Candelario and Jesus Lara Chivarra in Cancún, December 2010, in an interview with Maricarmen Wister of TV Cable.
The events will culminate on Thursday with the annual stockholders meeting of First Majestic Silver Corp., when a pair of delegates will try to enter and ask for the preservation of Wirikuta and that First Majestic abandon its plan for the mine in the site, which is extremely sacred for the Wixarika People.
During the week, the delegation will be available for interviews with various media and will be organizing meetings with representatives of the government, of First Majestic and with local and regional indigenous leaders.
For more information, follow The Esperanza Project on Facebook and @esperanzaprojec on Twitter.
(photos courtesy of omananda.com)
To the President of the United States of Mexico Felipe Calderón Hinojosa
To the People and Governments of the World
PRESENT
We come personally from the Western Sierra Madre to deliver this urgent letter to demand that you keep your word that you publicly announced when you committed to respect and protect our sacred places in the pact of Hauxa Manaká in 2008 and to do so according to the fundamental laws of our country and the agreements, decrees, pacts and national and international conventions that the Mexican State has subscribed to guarantee the respect of our living and millennial culture.
We are a commission of agrarian and traditional authorities from the Wixárika People, who together form the Regional Wixarika Council in Defense of Wirikuta, and we bring the word that unites the sentiment of the councils of elders, of the wise chanters, of the pilgrimage groups entrusted with sustaining the arduous work of more than 500 community ceremonial centers and family ranches; we bring the word that together is one united decisive expression of the feelings of the families of all the communities in Jalisco, Nayarit, Durango and Zacatecas where the Wixaritari live and we want you to respond respecting our rights according to your commitment.
The Federal Government of our country granted 22 concessions that span more than 6,000 hectares in the Sierra of Catorce to the mining company First Majestic Silver Corp. and Real de Bonanza, S.A. de C.V. But the Sierra of Catorce and the whole of Wirikuta, Mr. President, is one of the altars of major importance where our pilgrims balance fertility and the equilibrium of the world for all its creatures and we have evidence that the mining operation would affect in a deep way the ecology, contaminating the zone and drying out our sacred springs.
In these times of extreme violence in our country, which are destroying our social fabric, with this megaproject you are kidnapping and want to assassinate our mother, The Earth, which you have threatened, and seek the forced disappearance of an entire people, the Wixarika People.
For this reason we demand that you immediately cancel these concessions and any others that have as their goal the extraction of minerals or the destruction of Wirikuta in any other way because if the object of all of this tragedy is money, with conviction we inform you that it will be infinitely cheaper to cancel these concessions than to lament the ecological, spiritual and social tragedy that digging and extracting the entrails of Wirikuta could provoke.
Wirikuta is the heart of our essence. If it ends, we die as a people. We have been making pilgrimages to Wirikuta for thousands of years and we know the Ancestors who live in each hill, each stony glade, each rocky crag, and each flower by their names and we have for that reason, according to international standards, the right of traditional, ancestral possession. We respect nevertheless, the communities and farmers who live in the area and we pray also that they may sow and reap their food, so that they may live well, care for and be protected by this sacred land whose vocation is not mining but the enlightenment and renovation of the heart of the world.
We see with much concern that despite the aforementioned Pact of Hauxa Manaká and despite the public opposition of our people to the mining operation in Wirikuta, you have maintained an inexplicable silence in the face of our demand, while our territorial rights have been violated, similarly our previous, free and informed consent, in addition carrying out this mining project will violate the environmental laws of our country, because the area is a Natural Protected Area by governmental decree with its management plan.
The fundamentals of our claim are in the first terms of Convention 169 of the International Labor Organization, in its articles 2, 6, 7, 14 and 15; likewise, in Article 2 section b subsection IX, article 27 section VII, second paragraph of the Political Constitution of the United States of Mexico and its related laws.
It worries us even more, that some members of the federal government and the mining company itself are trying to convince us to accept the mine in exchange for granting us one of the sacred places from part of the expanse of Wirikuta, the Cerro Quemado o Raunaxi.
We have already explained that the Sierra of Catorce is a whole unit, where the spiritual energy and power of our ancestors, who allow us to live our lives now and in the future, resides between the lowlands and the highest peaks of the mountains and throughout its interior, and it coincides best with the area of more than 144,000 hectares of the natural protected region. We will not accept for any reason that this type of activity be developed in the area as it is too great an affront for our people, for Mexico and for all of humanity, besides the obvious illegalities that these concessions represent.
Mr. President, we are the original people of this country, we are the ancient root and we reiterate, don’t destroy our Wixárika culture, don’t destroy yourselves for the ignorance of not knowing what these valleys of Wirikuta contain, and the mountains which illuminate the world.
For this reason our commission comes all the way here to deliver this written statement to you. We bring you our urgent word in a timely fashion. We are chanting pilgrims, cultivators; we are the legitimate authorities of our people of corn, deer and sun. We are Mexicans and we dress ourselves with flowers because we chant of peace.
Cancel the mine in Wirikuta, raise to the federal level the environmental and cultural protection and all of our descendents will thank you, otherwise the present generations will walk a difficult but firm path in the conviction of detaining this threat, we await your formal answer in your capacity of the Chief Federal Executive and the one principally responsible for the economic, environmental and social policy of our country.
Pampariyutsi.
Attentively,
Regional Wixarika Council for the Defense of Wirikuta
Mexico, D.F., May 9, 2011
Sunday’s National March in Mexico City and throughout the country drew headlines around the world. A delegation of Wixarika authorities who had traveled from their communities in the faraway Western Sierra Madre were convened in Mexico City for a meeting, and they decided to join the protest in solidarity for the 35,000 victims of the drug war that began 4 1/2 years ago when President Felipe Calderon brought out the military to fight the narcotraffickers.
Tears of sadness and of rage were visible in the crowd as speaker after speaker who had lossed loved ones to the violence shared stories of their loss and horror and demanded a shift in government policy. Tens of thousands stood together in a long moment of silence, followed by the ringing of bells in the colonial cathedral.
The message of the Wixarika marchers: Toxic mining is violence, too. Stop the mine in Wirikuta.
Here are the words they delivered in a letter to President Felipe Calderon the next day:
“In these times of extreme violence in our country, which are destroying our social fabric, with this megaproject they are kidnapping and want to assassinate our mother, The Earth to which they have incarcerated, and they seek the forced disappearance of an entire people, the Wixarika People.”
Some images from the march:
Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.
