Singing for the Dead

Like many parts of the world affected by colonialism, we see in Oaxaca an erasure of language, replaced by the more dominant, colonial language. This is both for the sake of national unity and “progress,” whatever that means. This was not always the case, as some Mexican indigenous cultures did have extremely rich writing systems that were studied by early settler intellectuals. However, like in most places, this was eventually erased. What we’re left with is a relatively small population of speakers with virtually no writing system, and therefore a lack of literacy in indigenous languages.

Now, fast forward to revitalization movements, where we start to see a little bit of a revival of writing and literacy. In some cases, and certainly with Mazatec, there was a development of several different orthographies, which means that there is no one, standard way of writing the language. One place where we see this is in the Day of the Dead song contest submissions. There is no one preferred system, so anyone can enter, no matter what system they use. This puts the judges in a sometimes awkward position, as they’re left to make sense of these sometime unfamiliar systems.

As with most things, this lack of standardization comes with some good and some bad. The good: everyone, no matter what level or type of literacy they have, can be part of the language and the contest. It means that you don’t have to meet some pre-determined set of expectations in order to be considered competent. But, it also means that spreading the language can be problematic because there’s no one system to use to teach people. It also means that those involved in different aspects of the use of the language have to become proficient in interpreting the different writing systems. This, of course, is all based on the perception that having a writing system is necessary in the first place. Which sort of brings us back to the historical context.

Psilocybin mushrooms, popularly known as Magic Mushrooms, are powerful hallucinogenics found in the Oaxaca region and are key to Mazatec mushroom ceremonies, which involve singing, chanting and prayer. These rituals were practiced to gain access to the divine spirits and to information for medicinal advice. The ingestion of the mushrooms was a sacred practice and had specific rules and taboos that were crucial when performing a ceremony. For example, they were not to be ingested during the day as it was believed that people would go mad.

Culture clash and tension between tradition and modernism emerged upon the arrival, and later, publication, of R. Gordon Wasson’s Magic Mushroom “discovery.” Hippies arrived in the years that followed and desecrated the sacred mushrooms by breaking taboos such as ingesting these mushrooms during the day. 

Neohippies, contrary to their predecessors (the 60’s drug/peace-crazed hippies we all know) are all about experiencing “authenticity” as a form of what is called ethnotourism. “They seek transcendent religious experiences… of indigenous culture; as a result, they are self-consciously more ‘culturally sensitive’ than their hippie ancestors.” Neohippies also tend to be more wealthy and relationships with these tourists are predominantly viewed by locals to be commercial, thus contributing to the commodification of Mazatec culture, among others.

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The influx of hippies and neohippies to the area seeking the Magic Mushrooms and an authentic cultural experience is fundamentally a commodification of Mazatec culture, particularly given the importance of the Magic Mushrooms to the veladas. This commodification has been met with mixed responses, as some see the sale of culture, something that is distinctly Mazatec, as an asset - a way to combat the economic marginalization they have experienced since colonization. Others feel that it is a way to have their culture valued on a global scale. Critics argue that this decreases the authenticity of their culture, as making it accessible to the greater public means it is no longer explicitly Mazatec, and that it is being made “cheap.”

The oh so charming fellow on the right is named R. Gordon Wasson. His name pops up on this blog pretty frequently, and there’s a good reason for it. As an author and an amateur ethnomycologist from the United States, he was able to make a bit of a name for himself back in the late 50s with his field research on hallucinogenic mushrooms - one such type being the so-called ‘Magic Mushroom’ - found in the Oaxaca region and used by the Mazatec people in ritualistic mushroom ceremonies. 

Although he took care to anonymize the subjects and location of his research by changing their names, photographs and a little digging made it easy to uncover the secret location of the mushrooms and the Mazatec. This resulted in an onslaught of hippie tourists seeking a high, leading to the desecration of the sacred mushroom for the sake of their own pleasure-seeking adventures. This, in turn, largely disrupted the local indigenous communities and exacerbated tensions in their already colonial climate and caused a great deal of social trauma for the Mazatec people. 

Paja Faudree, Singing for the Dead: The Politics of Indigenous Revival in Mexico (United States: Duke University Press, 2013), 111-112.

Image 1. Aztec Stone of the Sun (”Aztec Calendar”), given a place of honour, placed on a pedestal on the first floor of the Museo Nacional de Antropologìa.

In spite of the colonial history that contributed a great deal to the loss of Mazatec language, one of its institutions, the Catholic Church, ended up being the site of initiation for a great deal of Mazatec language revival. Heriberto Prado Pereda, a member of a prominent family in Oaxaca, became a the first Indigenous, Mazatec-speaking member of the clergy. He chose to return to his community and work with his own people, meaning that the community now had a priest who could preach to them in their language. After noticing that the language was largely absent in the community, and in particular, from the most Mazatec of festivals, the Day of the Dead, he began re-writing common Catholic songs and Masses in Mazatec, and sometimes even writing his own songs, developing his own writing system to do it. This was the first time that Mazatec was welcomed in the church in more than just an informal capacity. This became problematic for some Catholic authorities, as translations aren’t always direct and can sometimes change the meanings of things. This is precisely what happened with Heriberto’s translations, as, in many cases, there was not Mazatec word for what the Catholic faith was trying to communicate. Some were therefore critical, claiming that this kind of translation made the Masses less authentically Catholic. Nevertheless, his work was largely successful, for Heriberto’s work laid the groundwork for Mazatec literacy. “Heriberto Prado’s contribution to indigenous revival in the Sierra does not end with the texts he wrote. He and his work played a critical role in creating ‘authorial infrastructure’ for other Mazatec writers” (Faudree, 101).

“Heriberto Prado, along with [his half-brother] Alberto Prado and other catechists, held workshops across the region to teach the songs to people, especially to other catechists, while also teaching Mazatec literacy” (Faudree, 125). This project allowed people to begin writing their own songs, and eventually led to the foundation of the song contest, where these original songs could be performed. The song contest became one of the key sites where Mazatec is used, and popularized the use of Mazatec.

Indigenous authorship is a complicated position that requires the ability to address multiple different audiences across scholarly, national and indigenous divides, simultaneously. These authors are typically understood as Indigenous elite, and yet they usually live in the cities, far from the indigenous communities they study or stem from. They are bilingual, highly educated and many have usually been involved in bilingual school systems which work to bleed out indigenous languages. While their efforts in authorship seek to aid in language revitalization, they are often forced out of their communities and into the cities as a result of the same cultural erosion and economic pressure they appear to fight. Likewise, authors are typically well connected with non-indigenous scholars who influence them, affecting motivations and focus of content. 

It is also often the issue that the bilingual texts they produce do not serve their purpose in anything more than a symbolic way. Due to the lack of indigenous language speakers and on account of poor literacy, Spanish becomes the readable text, while the indigenous language becomes a symbolic one. 

Plot Twist: There is no answer.

No, but really, there is no simple way to answer this question. 

These ethnotourists that go seeking this “authentic” experience and the researchers that pursue authentic traditional practices and peoples are, more often than not, pursuing a constructed, idealistic version of indigeneity, tradition, and culture. And the more people pursue it, the more it becomes wound up in this complex web of commodification of authenticity as a means to attempt to benefit the community involved. The locals adopt the perception of the outsider in this commercial relationship and, ironically, in many ways, risk stripping so-called authenticity right out of the equation. It becomes manufactured and modified in this sweeping process of globalization, colonialism, and the unavoidable shift of ideas, beliefs, and perceptions. 

It comes up again with regards to religion, because you get this competing idea of authentic faith, and the language used to participate in it. On the one hand, you have the Catholic Church promoting indigenous language use, which supposedly helps lead a more authentic life. Then, on the other, you have those claiming that being Catholic is fundamentally in opposition to what it means to be an authentic Mazatec. Enter Mazatec Indigenous Church. And then finally, you have the Catholic Church saying that participating in the Catholic Faith in an indigenous language is not being an authentic Catholic.

Likewise, in the world of indigenous authorship, authenticity becomes wound up in this elitist world, where indigenous authors are seen as authentic on the regional, national and global stage, but often as inauthentic by the communities from which they hail (because they’ve been trained and funded by these colonial institutions).