Robert Laughlin Drinking Corn Gruel

RMLApril 11

When we were passing by the house of Modesto Diego, they stopped us so we could look at a frying pan full of stew. Modesto’s wife invited us into the house to eat a plate of stew with tortillas and coffee. She and three other women in the house chatted and laughed the whole time, without a bit of reserve: noting my blue eyes, my blonde hair, touching Armando’s jacket.

Later, as we were passing the house of Tomás Jiménez, his wife, Roberta, offered us some bananas. She was alone and, though she allowed us to come into the main room, she did not allow us to enter the kitchen.

~April 13

Silvestre Cuevas led us to the house of his uncle in order to see the man’s son, who was ill. After seeing him, the man, Ambrosia Lázaro, offered us coffee, tortillas, and a plate of rice with lots of spices and chili.

~April 14

During the procession of Palm Sunday we took photographs of the women. Some girls covered parts of their faces with their shawls. Roberta Jimenez gave me a big smile, raised her right hand with its palm towards me, and looked straight at me. She did the same to Armando, and greeted us whenever she could. In the church a prominent woman greeted us enthusiastically. All the children run and cry when they see the monster with blue eyes and blond hair. I am just gaining their confidence.

Armando Aguirre taking a photo

~April 17

Novenario – the nine days of funeral rites– Silvestre Cuevas, whose confidence we won in the first days, ask Armando to carve the date in the gravestone of his deceased wife.

~April 19

Good Friday – Roberta Jiménez flirted scandalously with us. She did not try to hide her flirtation.

~April 20

On Good Friday, in the spirit of the festival I got a little drunk. I walked in the procession singing as well as I could, without knowing either the melody or the words. The people played along, giving me swigs of alcohol every once in awhile. Apparently everyone considered it amusing.

There was a dance in the town hall that night. The people were glad that we were dancing, but they permitted me to dance alone, like the old women.

~April 25

The wake—As always they treated us as honored guests. We had supper at the table with the Prayer Leaders and the Godfather.

~May 3

The wake –– a single girl told the others at the wake that she would like to fall in love with me. This caused a lot of fun the whole night. Another girl entered the game (one in a huipil, the other in western dress). They asked my age, etc. One old lady asked me which girl I liked, the girl in western dress or in a huipil. I responded, “Both!” This caused a bigger fuss. Later the old lady told me that I would have to sleep between them. Another old woman asked me why I didn’t leave “offspring” (“una cria”) in San Martín-- that they would like that. When I asked them if my “cat eyes” (“ojos de gato”) did not scare them they answered, “On the contrary!” (“¡Al contrario!”). Later, when the girl in western dress was sleeping with her mouth open, one of the old ladies tapped me and signaled that I should take advantage of the situation. The same [thing happened] when the other girl went to the well to carry water.

Arcadio ServínMay 8

“The locals seem to be good people with you, but they were very crafty.” (“Los paisanos parecen muy buena gente con Ustedes, pero son muy mañosos.”) Arcadio implicated that “they are good with you only because it’s convenient to be so, not because they have true friendship with us” (“son buena gente con nosotros sólo porque les conviene estar así, no porque tienen verdadera amistad con nosotros”).

RMLMay 9

Agapito Jiménez offered me a very thick and very sweet tortilla when I visited him. Antonio Antonio offered me fresh, sweet potato soup.

~May 10

During our entire stay in San Martín, not one time did the people show either reserve or aversion towards us. The little boys and girls shouted at me in their language, laughing. Or some boys who had learned to say, ”Good morning!” shouted this phrase to me at any time of day. The people really enjoyed hearing us trying to speak a few words of their language, and they always tried to teach us more. Whenever we were walking by they asked us in Mazatec, ”Where are you going?” or “Where are you coming from?” hoping that we would answer in Mazatec. When we passed a house the woman call to us, “¡Tindá!” When we were washing at the well, if an old woman came by she would offer us a bucket or a gourd. They always showed us hospitality and kindness that was not a bit servile.

It pleased them that we were interested in their customs, in their way of life.

Our participation in the wake, the dance, and the work party was received with pleasure, and at times with acclaim.