In the Huasteca of Hidalgo, in a little-frequented corner of Mexico, certain communities rescue the pride of their Nahuatl culture. Above other traditions of the festival, body painting stands out, a pre-Hispanic custom that reaches the category of art.
The devil is loose in Coacuilco. Weeks ago, the quiquixahuitles had already noticed this, Antonio tells me as he smears gray mud on his son's chest. Just in case I imagine them elves, old Terencio winks, looks in his bag and shows a wooden instrument, with a reed mouthpiece embedded in pineapple leaves: "this is a quiquixahuitle." He blows it. Then remember how from the valley to the mountain and from the mountain to the valley, his sweet lament sounded in each village, chained echo, night after night more hypnotic. All the sky. Then they fell silent and that was the beginning of the Huasteco carnival licenses.
The sun multiplies its light from the scree that acts as a beach in front of the river. Here the men have gathered - but the children were the first to arrive - from the small community of Coacuilco, at the foot of an emerald hill and half an hour (one could well believe half the world), by road, from Huejutla de Reyes. In euphoric industriousness the elders prepare the pigments and the rest paint each other's bodies. Several designs of these abstract living pictures bear similarities; the most jealously seek originality. Terencio is in the mood to reveal secrets and brings me closer to the edge of the Calabozo River where the buckets make up a rainbow. Coal, tepetate stone, pemuche tree bark and clay, diluted to the point, give the colors. "In the way of our ancestors," he proudly announces, before confessing that there is also vinyl powder paint. "But not as much as in Huejutla, eh? There the lazy people forgot, there they buy everything in stores ”.
Mixed with lard, water or even burnt car oil, the pigments are already the second skin of metamorphosed people in chromatic chimeras. Missing? Feather headdresses, cardboard hats and machetes of the same material. So we have a gang of mecos whose festive cries increase in intensity as they prepare to march towards the town. "Go for the women," Juanito whispers in my ear.
"For the women?" I repeat foolishly. “Of course, today is Tuesday, our day. They are going to pay for what they did to us yesterday.
With 1.40 in height - the measure includes the wicker hat from which two horns protrude - the body black like bitumen to highlight the white bands of the back furrowed by the legend "out of old", which is a statement of principles, the The boy lets out a howl and joins the crowd. You have to speed up your pace so as not to miss the show ...
Within shared parameters, the carnivals of the Huasteca of Hidalgo change from community to community. They can last five or three days, they can be more ascetic or more epicurean. There is or there would be no indigenous carnival, syncretic par excellence. Waited months in advance — that's why the Quiquixahuitles take pleasure in stirring up impatience — they arouse, as expected, joy, dances, gluttony and costumes. At this point the peculiarities begin: the region, populated by the Nahuatl ethnic group, revives pre-Hispanic customs by dressing up — more detail, less detail — like the ancient warriors who today are called Mecos.
Weapons and strategies
Juanito was reunited with the patrols. Martial, they enter and leave the houses, taking the women to a place set up as a jail. The severity and effectiveness is only apparent. As soon as one observes, weaknesses are discovered. Female cunning knows how to protect itself with delicious tamales of zacahuil, sesame stuffed with beans and coriander, in pulque glasses. They, with a weak heart and stomach, give in easily, forgetting revenge and that such foods were made thanks to their ransom money the day before. According to Terencio swears, on Monday - women's day - mothers, wives and daughters were good at catching men. They entered the houses dancing, lived with the family and, at the least expected moment, were taken prisoner. Or they shamelessly threw them through the streets, marking them with paint to lead them, under a chorus of laughter, to an enclosure from which they could not leave until twelve. And that, after payment of a fine whose fund would go to tamales.
In Coacuilco they rarely receive visits, not even from the towns of the region during the festivities. Perhaps that is the reason why they do not feel obliged to maintain a rigid script and combine the carnival chapters freely. In the blink of an eye, two mixed armies are face to face, on parallel lines that merge in a mock battle whose prize is the carnival flag, a symbol of evil.
Anthropologists have a matter of discussion regarding whether they are reminiscences of the struggles of "Moors and Christians" brought from Spain or whether it is a previous inheritance. In any case, the battle ceases as suddenly as it started and the group becomes a procession that goes from house to house to enthrone a neighbor raised in “flying”. And then to another, and to another. Terence's invaluable assistance explains the joy: ”It is a ritual to ward off demons and bad luck from the person, so that they have happiness all year long. That is how they will continue until they tire or until the pulque runs out ... "
I don't wait to check it out. I discreetly say goodbye and take the car to travel the kilometers of land that will take me to Jaltocan. Also a mountain town, but larger, with two-story buildings and shops. Perhaps this explains the notable differences in their carnival. There are floats with queens and comparsas, but the mecos continue to be the protagonists. In the square, under a metal pergola and the sounds of the municipal band, men and women dressed in pre-Hispanic colors, await the judgment of the judges for the best recreation. Seeing them like this, with their body paintings, the plumes, the beads and the shells, one feels like a privileged witness of a tradition rescued from the mists of time. Bernal Díaz del Castillo himself should not have seen more amazing finery.
