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National Geographic : 1977 Jun
Contents
humans I had seen all day-a Huichol man and a young boy. The man, Juan L6pez, spoke some Spanish. He offered to guide me to San Jose. Before we set out, however, he pointed to my camera and asked if it could take a picture of his boy, a shy, handsome lad. This surprised me be cause I knew that many Huichols resented having their pictures taken. I focused the camera and let the father look through it at his son. After I took the picture, the father said, "You will send it to me. You will not sell it." When I asked why he wanted the photograph, he replied, "I'll keep it. If he dies, I'll have something of him." Temples Face the Rising Sun After more than an hour's walk, I heard distant music and voices. Then, topping a rise that commanded a view of mountains and canyons glazed golden by the afternoon sun, we approached San Jose. The temple, called a tzki, was large and ovular, with a steeply pitched roof of thatch sloping down to an adobe-and-stone wall. All such temples are windowless and have only one entrance, which faces east, where Taiwxikiia, Our Father Sun, rises each day. The temple doorway opened on a circular patio rimmed by small adobe huts called xiriki. Some of these were dedicated to forces of nature such as rain and sun. I was hesitant about breaking in on a strange ceremony already in full swing. "Come," Juan L6pez said. "Don't be afraid." He was right. No one seemed to object. In some other regions Huichols plainly let you know you're not wanted. If you enter their area without permission, you might be tried by a native court, have your cameras impounded, or be asked to leave. This Hui chol suspicion of outsiders is best revealed in their ancient taboo against marrying or court ing non-Indians. In the patio men and women, brilliantly dressed, their faces painted with symbolic de signs, danced back and forth in what remind ed me of a conga line. They were led by a man carrying deer antlers. At times the movement slowed, the dancers wobbling from side to side like a serpent. Juan L6pez led me into the crowded tuki. The men were gathered on one side, the wom en on the other. It was hot and smoky. The sloping ceiling was blackened by countless fires, and numerous ceremonial arrows were stuck into the thatch as prayer offerings. A fire blazed near the entrance. Jacinto, a shaman, sat on a ceremonial chair facing the fire, the entranceway, and the east. Juan L6pez told me that Jacinto was beginning a dream in which he prayed to the deities of the east, the west, the north, the south, and the deity of the center. Many things within the temple had un expected symbolic meaning. The crackling fire was Tatewari. Two tall posts and a cross beam that supported the roof were considered sacred and were festooned with deer antlers. A cavity in the earthen floor contained the crudely sculptured figure of Our Grand mother Nakawe, Goddess of Life. The hole was filled with offerings, such as beaded vo tive bowls and colorful wands with diamond shaped patterns of yarn called "God's eyes" by outsiders. Toward the rear of the temple there were a low wooden dance platform and an altarlike ledge covered with more votive offerings and candles. The shaman waved his feathered muwieri, and chanted: My prayersfly, my prayers rise with the wind; They were born in the place of the rain message, They were born in the blue space. We are the seed of people, And the gods remain among us in the abode of the gods.... The song seemed without end. Then sud denly there was a pause. Several Indians entered the tuki. They brought gourd bowls filled with a greenish gruel, a mixture of ground peyote and nawd, a thick, sweetish beer made of sprouted corn. It was offered first to Our Grandfather Fire, then passed around. I was handed a bowl. Everyone watched me. In order not to offend, I took a swallow. It was not as nauseating as it looked, but a bitter peyote taste lingered. Then, a bit too late, Juan L6pez grinned slyly: "You didn't have to take it. Some Huichols refuse peyote. It makes them sick." Shortly before sunset we went outside to share in the communal feast: tamales, torti llas, plums, mangoes, and a ceremonial beef broth. A young bull (since the traditional deer 840
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