7/12/08
We climbed to the top of the massive pyramid of the sun today. It is still difficult to understand how the conquistadores, the colonialists, the independence leaders (both Liberals and Conservatives) and even the institutional revolutionaries could have thought that the indigenous peoples were “inferior”. It comes to my mind that perhaps the minds of the so-called “superiors” were, have been, and to a certain extent still are the “inferiors”. Usually, when one feels inferior, he, she, it covers it up in a shroud of projected superiority. Our group of 15 people, climbed to the top, the 248 steps, the experience the grandeur, the mystery, the architectural phenomenon of so called “mentally wretched.” (Bonfil Batalla, p. 101). It took less than a half-hour to climb. Some took more time, some less, some up some down.
It was/is an abomination how European conquest thinking through the colonial phase, and its current manifestations in American thinking, can be considered so superior in culture, society, and culture, when they were/are so dead wrong. All of the players through the centuries have been so wrong. In each phase and stage they have put so much effort in making the indigenous people feel so inferior. In addition to calling them “mentally wretched”, they also called them ignorant, that needed to be removed from their “moral prostration” from their “physical abjection,” through assimilation, accommodation, acculturation, through genetic blending into European and Caucasian stock (Ibid.). This is not such a long throw from the current thinking by Tlaxcalan and current “colonial” educators, educational administrators, and institutions about the symbolism related to young Mexican American students in the schools. Current educators do not know what to make of these children of the sun who are not able to achieve the standards required by the expectations of the current state and federal functionaries. The Indians resisted, have resisted, are resisting and are the children of the sun. As I stood on top of the pyramid I called to the winds, Ollin, the winds of change. On top of the pyramid of the sun there was splendor, awe, resistance. How could our indigenous forbearers have been considered so inferior? Who is zooming who in this upside down world of advanced education?
Earlier in the day we went to the Basilica where the Virgin of Guadalupe appeared to the indio, Juan Diego. He was 52 years of age and a widower for 10 years (according to my colega, Rob Darrow, who looked it up on the internet). He had been converted to Christianity. But it doesn’t take much imagination to also take into account how saddened he must have been with the state affairs (per Estela Roman , our maestra). The Cerro de Tepéyac (the hill), was considered a sacred place by the indigenous, a place to pray and contemplate. They were being stripped of the world they knew, their beliefs, their way of life, their culture. It was a time of sadness and crying, or disbelief about what was happening, a tremendous loss. Juan Diego went to the ancient Cerro de Tepéyac, to pray, to cry, to contemplate, when suddenly, she appeared to him, and asked that he go to the Bishop and request that a chapel be built in her honor. Can you imagine an Indian asking to see the Bishop? They wouldn’t let him see the Bishop so he returned to where he saw the Lady. She asked him to go back and again he was denied an audience with the Bishop. So he went back a 3rd time to Tepéyac to talk to the Lady Coatlicue. This time she asked him to gather roses that she saw growing on the hill at a time where they were not supposed to be growing. He gathered them in his huipil and back he went to see the Bishop to show him that he has not making up the story. At last he was able to see the Bishop. He told the audience that the Lady he saw asked him to bring the roses to prove that he was not making the story up. When he dropped the huipil to show the rose there emblazoned on it was an image of the Lady that kept appearing to him. Finally, the Bishop and his associates took him seriously. She was called Coatlicue, according to Estela, nuestra maestra. The Spanish priests didn’t hear her right. They didn’t understand that he was saying Coatlicue. The Spanish heard “Guadalupe” and since there was already a “Guadalupe” in Spain, they thought that’s who had appeared to the Indio Juan Diego. It was a stretch of the phonetic imagination.
Tepéyac was a special place to pray. The whole area was a lake as big as Lake Michigan, perhaps, and Tepéyac, rose up from the water and seen as mother earth and had been venerated for who knows how long. The Tepeyac hill chapel stood in contrast to the massive basilica, the modern structure looking like a spaceship (like Fresno’s City Hall). It stood in contrast to the old 16th century basilica which looked like all Italian churches, like a square cavern. Some of us went to the new basilica to get a glimpse of that same huipil with the image of the Virgin the Guadalupe emblazoned on it. It was hanging as the backdrop to the alter and to see it you had to go through an underpass with an conveyer-belt moving walk that took you from one side to the other in a smooth short trip quickly under the image which was high up and hard to see and impossible to take a picture of. Nevertheless my eyes, Ceci’s eyes, our eyes saw it. It was anticlimactic, in a way, to see it, but what was important was that we saw it unfiltered through our own eyes.
Then we went to the pyramid, the temple of the Sun. When we were all at the top, exhausted from the steep, quick, climb, we took in the majesty of it all. To the north we could see the Pyramid of the Moon and the mile long road, Avenida de los Muertos, south all the way to the Temple of Quetzalcoatl.
The wind started suddenly, a little wind, a gust of wind. It was Ollin, making his presence known, taking some hats, feeling its strength. Suddenly, I was transported back 8 years ago when I went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land with my parents. We were out on the Sea of Gallilee, the priest was talking about the gospel when the apostles were fishing on the sea and suddenly the winds came and the storm rocked the boat, and Jesus walked on the water. As the priest was talking while we were listening a sudden gust of wind surprised us and several hats flew, and scarves, and umbrellas flew into the Sea. It was the holy spirit talking to us to come over the spiritual divide.
It was like that on the Pyramid of the Sun, the winds beckoning us/me to edge over past the divide and see what has been fundamentally missing in the educational enterprise. Even Tlaloc had something to say, coming down hard on us. We left the top of the pyramid as the water poured down on us.
07/12/08 - Dr. G