Part of my time in Oaxaca has been dedicated to improving my Spanish skills. I took some Spanish lessons at a place that happened to have a few really good events planned around the Dia de los muertos celebrations. The mask making for example. The picture I posted before is a mask I made with plaster-y gauze, toilet paper and glue. I was lucky I brought my own small paintbrushes (wait...I might need to add those to the inventory list) so I could do some detail work on my "mascara". We made masks to where in a procession of our very own on November 1st, which took place after rounds of mezcal were poured and the band showed up. A truly hilarious site, bunch of gabachos dancing around in the street with a procession. When we made it back to the school there was pan de muerte and hot chocolate for all. There was mezcal for all as well, but the sight of it being poured from plastic jugs that resembled gas cans was kind of a turn off for me.
The school had an event organized for the night before (halloween), a trip to Xoxotlan cemeteries to see the celebrations and gatherings. But they wanted 250 pesos... which is way more than I was willing to pay. So instead I went with Mike and Vica on my first Oaxacan public transporation bus for 3 pesos and got the rest of the way to the cemeteries riding in a three-wheeled death trap taxi that I am sure my mother warned me to never use before I left. We arrived at the old cemetery at 8 pm, and got to see the beautiful sand paintings and offerendas outside. We walked through the cemetery, the graves were carefully decorated and families were either decorating, sitting quietly near the grave of their relative, or having conversations... We moved on to the newer cemetery and looked at the vendors and displays along the way. On one hand it was a very interesting thing to see, on the other hand I had the conviction of being a total intruder and an extension of the insensitive tourism industry that is leeching off of Oaxacano traditions. The reactions received from those with more legitmate reasons to be at the graveyard were mixed. One little abuelita sitting alone near the decorated candle-lit grave smiled and struck up a conversation, others ignored the gringo ghosts that were floating around and taking pictures.
A very different reaction that I cannot shake was from a young girl. She gave me a look, a look that I know very well. The same look that I would give (white) people who would pull over their car or come out of their houses to watch my dad and I dig for roots traditionally when I was her age. Unwelcome spectators with unnerving stares. That was it for me. I was done trying to justify taking photos (it's okay if I don't use the flash right? -wrong).
It's very different to go see and take pictures of the offerendas in the Zocalo and at family businesses... Which I enjoyed doing throughout the day along with taking more graffiti pictures. The evenings on the 31st, 1st, 2nd and even the third were full of processions and music and little children in costumes running up with sacks or plastic jack-o-lanterns hoping for spare pesos.
On November second I watched a day of the dead performance that told the history of the day of the dead celebrations in dance/music/drama. It was really an incredible performance set up outside Santo Domingo church with some unexpectedly large fireworks as the grand finale. Later I was at Nuevo Babel, a bar that serves some decent quesidillas and yummy hot chocolate AND is covered inside with work by the same graffiti artists/resistance artists that I have been looking out for. I really like spending time there knowing that it is a place of business that visibly shows support for resistance, for appo, for asaro, and for really really good music. Leo: you are the best tea-drinking, grin-wearing, guitar-playing man in Oaxaca!
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