Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Ley Federal de Derechos de Autor, Título VI De las Limitaciones del Derecho de Autor y de los
Derechos Conexos, Capítulo II De la Limitación a los Derechos Patrimoniales, Artículo 148
Apartado V:
NEW YORK
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON 1972 TORONTO
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Communities
* The quotations on the following pages are from William W. Stein, L ife in the
Highlands o f Perú, © 1961 by Cornell University. Reprinted by permission of Cor-
nell University Press.
COMMUNITIES 77
One has to accept the post of mayordomo at all cost. One has to do it
in any way that is possible for fear of the punishment that the Virgin
Ursula would inflict on one. One just has to do it. One’s family could get
sick or die, or one could die oneself, or one’s animáis could die, if he did
not serve the Virgin. Because of that fear, one has to do it in the best
way one is able.
The expenditures for the festivity of San Ursula are large, amounting to
roughly $750. A considerable part of this comes from the store of wealth
of the chief steward, the rest from miscellaneous contributions.
When a man has been chief steward for St. Ursula, he becomes elígi-
ble for political office in the community, the position of Varayok. Vara-
yole means person of the vara ( Spanish for staff), signifying the staff of
office, a staff about one yard long and carved with the symbols of that
office. Men look forward to becoming Varayok. Thus Feliciano Berrospi
says:
not have dealings with one. They say: “You are worthless. You are not a
man.” This is why I am going to enter to be Varayok, so that people
will not say anything to me. It is the custom that everybody does the
V arayok offices.
When their turn has come, people . . . have to occupy the offices. If
they can, they do it by selling their cattle or mortgaging their chacras
[small holdings]. Or they get it in loans from some other person. One
time, Alejandro Armey entered the office of comisario. Since he did not
have anything for his expenses, he mortgaged his chacra to me, the
property and the harvest. There was another, a Mayor Kampu, who en
tered and sold his young bull to make the expenses for his fiesta. Some
also sell their sheep because they need the money to make the expenses
for their guests. When I passed comisario, I worked every Sunday, sew-
ing clothes. And that is how I earned the wherewithal for my fiesta.
People mortgage their chacras among themselves here in Hualcán. They
get their mortgaged chacras out of debt when they get the money.
town, represents the pólice power of the state to the peasantry, and also
captures men for army Service when they are needed. For this he is cor-
dially disliked by the villagers; and to maintain order in the country-
side the provincial authorities must in fact rely on the varayok whose
authority it does not officially recognize.
There are other religious stewardships, in addition to the ones cen-
tered upon the “official” cult of the patrón saint of Hualcán. Most of
these are taken up only after men have risen to prominence in the vara
yok organization. Thus, says Stein,
At an advanced age one can still keep one’s hand in the fiesta system
and attract even greater respect from the rest of the community. The
devotos of the other saints are, consequently, for the most part oíd men
or men who have made some special vow.
Having served as stewards and varayok, men achieve the honored posi-
tion of Yaya, “fathers of fathers.” Miguel Chuecas defines a yaya as
follows:
planting a fíeld, preparing for a fiesta, going to town for trading, or buy-
ing something new for household use. The sénior male member also
serves as an adviser to others, often chewing coca in order to divine the
outcome of a proposed venture by one of the júnior members. The sénior
male member also represents his household in the community, and in
tercedes for the other members if they get into any trouble. He guaran-
tees enganchos [labor contracts] with his property and pays fines and
bribes, if he has the money, to keep júnior members out of jail or out of
Vth e army.
attract an almost daily flow of local folks, a flow which increases consid-
erably on Saturdays and Sundays. Although individuáis from other vere
das stop here to rest and to drink while walking or horseback-ríding
home, the main purpose of these stores is to provide recreational facili-
ties to the local farmers.
Fals-Borda describes the rich life that centers upon these stores as
follows:
The two hamlet shops serve as local “country clubs,” where farmers
fínd a room dedicated to the sale of beverages and food. This area,
which is not very large, is a part of the house where the owner family
lives. While interior apartments are partly independent, this social room
is open either to a yard or directly to the highway. A big wooden
counter separates the clients from the manager; shelves occupy the
whole wall behind the counter at one side.
The two owner families indulge in a división of labor for the manage-
COMMUNITIES 83
ment of their respective stores. The male head is the supervisor, who
transports beer and foodstuff from Chocontá and who sees that there
are no fights in the store; the adult females of the house are placed be-
hind the counter, and they serve the customers, keep track of accounts,
and receive the cash. ( There is a folk-saying which forbids having male
bartenders: “Ventera, que no ventero, porque ventero es la ruina—onde’s
ventero el que vende, ni siquer el diablo arrima/’ That is, not even the
Devil would be a customer if there were a male attendant in the store.)
Besides beer and cigarettes, which are the main trade articles, the stores
sell bread, panela, candy, candles, and sundry Ítems.
The stores also furnish tables and benches for the clients. Most farm-
ers, however, prefer to stand by the counter for hours, exchanging infor-
mation, joking, and gossiping. Otherwise, they organize a match of tejo
for which the store supplies the necessary metal dises, and sometimes
the gunpowder bags.1 It is also the responsibility of the store to keep
1. Tejo, also called turmeque, is a game played only by males, organized in two
teams of from one to six members each. Metal dises of variable weight, worked into
truncated conical shape and small enough to fít between the outstretched thumb and
índex finger, are thrown from one end to another of a court about 20 yards (18
meters) long. The purpose is to hit small, fíat paper bags filled with gunpowder,
usually four in number, placed on the rim of an iron ring about four inches in diam-
eter. There are two such rings, one sunk into a clay incline located at each end of
the court. The dises are thrown by swinging the arm forward from below, bowling
style. When properly thrown, the disc soars gracefully and falls near or on the iron
ring with the powder bags. It takes considerable skill and practice to throw these
dises with style and accuracy.
Three points are given a team for each bag exploded. In case no bag is exploded,
one point is awarded to the team whose disc falls closest to the ring. The first team
to score nine points wins a game, and another game starts immediately. Bets are
made on the number of games won rather than on individual points accumulated.
Some special mies of the sport offer shorteuts to the winning of games. When a
disc lands inside the iron ring without moving it ( em bocinada, roughly, a “spare” ),
six points are earned. When a disc not only falls inside the ring but causes the ex
plosión of one or more bags ( monona, or “strike” ), nine points are earned, that is,
a full game. If the score is eight to zero and the team with no score performs a
monona, that team is awarded three complete games (v iu d o). But when a game
ends nine to nothing, the winning team earns two complete games instead of one
(d o b le). And when three partners of one team throw their dises closer to the ring
than any of their opponents, the game is immediately granted to the former (ch i
pólo). These special mies serve to keep the players in constant excitement and
earnestness.
The cost of the beer and gunpowder is proratecl according to the number of games
played. Each team pays for the games it lost. For example, if the final score is five
games to three and there is an expense of eight pesos, each game will cost one peso;
the winners pay three pesos and the losers pay five. Then these costs are, of course,
distributed among the members of each team.
Market woman arranging a geometric display of ripe bananas in the Cuer-
navaca, México, market. (Courtesy Susan Porter)
COMMUNITIES 85
these courts in good shape, to even the clay at both ends, and to moisten
it in order to achieve the proper consistency. These courts are adjacent
to the beer establishments—this is important because drinking is a part
of the game.
It is the custom of the peasants to arrive on Saturdays and Sundays at
about two o’clock in the afternoon. The climax of activity is four hours
later, when tejo players come back into the tiendas [stores; eds.] to settle
their accounts. Then, slightly inebriated, they start new and endless
rounds of beer drinking.
The formality demanded in these beer bouts is as strict as that for the
presentation of credentials by an ambassador. It follows the general pat-
tern found in many areas of the Western World. When a person walks
into a store and is acknowledged, those already in it will offer him a bot-
tle of beer. After the newcomer gulps his first bottle, if he is a gentleman
he is expected to offer a round of beer to all those in his conversation
group. If this group is composed of six persons, the other five then feel
the same obligation to reciprócate for the group. It is easy to calcúlate
the number of bottles of beer a man may drink in one night simply by
counting the number of men in his conversation group. If more new-
comers join, this geometric progression of beer buying and drinking be-
comes staggering. Needless to say, the men invariably return to their
homes drunk and without much money left. Women also drink, but they
do not frequent the stores with the assiduousness displayed by the men.
But drinking is not looked upon as a vice. It is the normal outlet of so-
ciability; it is expected of all adults. As declared by a peasant: “No per-
son can have friends if he does not drink.” It is natural for a farmer to
go to a tienda to drink, if for no other reason than that the store is the
only organized institution in which he can have a “clean, good time.”
The only sport indulged in with interest is tejo, but this is never played
without a bottle of beer cióse at hand.
Abstention from drinking is actually a deviation or a sign of aloofness
or separation from the local culture. The nonacceptance of alcoholic
drinks means, in general terms, one of two things—either the abstainer
considers himself superior and is thus insulting his fellows (who think
they know him better), or, perhaps worse, he may be suspected of
saving his money for some purpose other than drinking. In the first case,
social isolation of the snob is the result. In the second case, the miser is
pointedly reminded with a common phrase: “En asuntos de tomata no
se pierde la plata” (When it comes to drinking, money is not wasted).
Those conversation groups which form have, as a rule, three main
86 T he H uman C ondition in L atín America
articles have been sold. From twelve o’dock to about four the farmers
engage in a number of tronches,2 depending on the business transacted.
Then, when they are able to tear themselves away from the store coun-
ters and their conversation groups, the peasants return home after a full
day of financial activity and social intercourse.
Marketers leave truckloads of litter on the square. The cleaning of
this (mostly leaves and dry vegetation which farmers use to pack the
harvests) is the responsibility of the municipio government. Inmates in
the town jail do that cleaning at night or early in the morning before
Mass starts at seven o’clock.
A second and minor market is held on Tuesday morning, but very few
people attend it. Those who have something to sell, mostly women who
seem to specialize in petty transactions, simply place the salable articles
on the western side of the plaza, cióse to the main Street, sit next to
them, and wait until a customer arrives. It should be noted that much
of what outsiders regard as bickering over prices or the bargaining proc-
ess at this or at the main market, actually is no more than an impulse of
gregariousness on the part of the women vendors. They are ignorant of
the costs; they do not know if the prices they ask cover all the expenses
incurred; they do not seem to care if they win or lose in the long run.
Thus bargaining appears to be done more in a spirit of sociability than
in bad faith. As a rule, the women break down and sell at any price, but
only after they and the clients debate the price and other questions at
some length.
Cattle transactions are held five blocks north of the main square in a
fenced-in fíeld, called a plazoleta. Much speculation is entered into by
the farmers and hacendados at this fair. Heads purchased early in the
day sometimes increase their price after a few hours. If they can, many
peasants buy and sell cattle in the same day at this unusual “stock ex-
change.” Otherwise, those animáis which the farmers wish to keep are
herded along the main Street and the highway toward Saucío. This is
done at about noon after the traditional tronche is enjoyed.
While Saturday brings the Saucites to town for business reasons, Sun-
day sees them there in church. Saucío itself has no church or chapel, and
no resident priest; the devout must hear Services in Chocontá. A neigh-
Practically the only decorations and pictures found in these homes are
images of saints, sacred cards, and religious calendars purchased during
festivities. These objects literally cover whole walls of interior rooms. If
it were not because clothing was perched near such pictures, and hoes
and sickles reclined against the walls, the general appearance of living
rooms and bedrooms would approach that of a Russian iconic shelter.
Sacred images are the first objects peasants look at when they wake up
in the moming, and the last objects which they see at night while pray-
ing before going to bed. Farmers live surrounded by saints, immersed
in a sacred world of their own, in an atmosphere of piety which is quite
emotional. Peasants even carry the saints with them in the form of scap-
ularies, pocket and chain crosses, small cards for pocketbooks, and in
other forms.
has become almost a struggle for existence. When all these big and
little conflicts reflect upon families, the result is obviously a concatena-
tion o£ vengeances performed by its various members. Then vendettas
and other expressions of group action cause the Saucite to be born into
a party. The family is the best transmitter of political ideology and the
most effective preserver of party allegiance. Party allegiance runs in
the T>lood,’ and one who changes party in his adulthood is looked upon
as a despicable traitor. This can hardly be otherwise. When blood is
spilled, the memory of relatives is infused with a desire for revenge, and
preparedness for retaliation is a factor sine qu a non for family survival.
Hereditary political cohesión is, therefore, indispensable, compelling
beyond the power of any one given individual.
are knights in their castles, entitled to all prerogatives; they are at the
same time responsible for discipline, domestic respect, and the uphold-
ing of family pride. He makes all the decisions which affect his conjugal
family. He works hard in the field and, in recompense, has a right to
become noted for his tienda demeanor and ensuing prestige. Women,
on the other hand, are mainly to serve their husbands, to give them
children, to wash and cook for the family, to help in certain farming
chores, to haul water from the springs, and to spin wool.
COMMUNITJES 93
Men strongly emphasize their rights; and we can see that these rights
have a double aspect. A man’s show of dominance is closely linked to
his prestige among his fellow men: only a man who can keep his women
folk submissive is accorded standing in the community of males. Simi-
larly, a woman’s behavior reflects directly on her husband. A show of
independence, either in her domestic life or in flirting with other men
or in taking lovers, immediately calis into question a man’s “honor,” and
leads to serious trouble. This stress on masculinity, on being a m acho
or male is very characteristic of Creóle Latín America. It always wears
a double face. The woman’s activities in the household, in the domestic
sphere, have a bearing on the man’s standing in the world outside the
household, in the public sphere. This is important to remember, because
—as we shall see later—it has repercussions in the ways in which public
life is conducted.
As in Hualcán, so in Saucío it is among relatives that one seeks aid and
comfort. These relatives inelude relatives by blood and marriage, and
also com padres, “relatives” one acquires by baptizing a child. As we shall
see later, the godparents of a child also become co-parents of the child’s
parents. While not related at the outset, they are thought to be related as
a result of the ritual performed. This is an instance of what anthropolo-
gists cali “ritual kinship.” Such ritual kin are also thought of as part of the
operating circle of relatives. Since one turns to relatives for aid and sup-
port, one also owes one’s primary loyalties to relatives, loyalties which
emerge most clearly in the fights and quests for vengeance connected
with defending family honor and standing in the community. As in Hual
cán, then, there is here, too, an inner circle of kin and friends; people or
institutions who do not belong to this inner circle, are “outsiders,” and
thought of as more distant, more unpredictable, more dangerous, more
unreliable than those inside. But—unlike Hualcán—Saucío does not have a
religious and political system which serves as a hub through which the
households are connected to each other, above and beyond ties of kinship.
Rather, social relations in Saucío resemble a loose net. The knots in the
net are the households, the string between them the social ties that con-
nect them. But the net is irregular, and there are many loose threads in the
total fabric. In Hualcán people are contained within the community by a
firm boundary; in Saucío the boundary is weak and changing. The size of
the network is a function of the moment: at any time, new threads can be
spun between any household in Saucío and the outside, without taking
account of a central religious and political system which intervenes be
tween the community and the greater outside. L~-'
94 T he H uman C ondition in L atín America
mind. You might say that witchcraft is a way of carrying on the conflict
by other indirect means when community opinión tends to stop a direct
fight.
We might diagram the contrast between Saucío and Hualcán some-
what as follows:
Saucío
Hualcán
^ witchcraft
ONCE AGAIN:
CLOSED AND OPEN COMMUNITIES IN MEXICO
This contrast between closed and open communities comes out especially
clearly in a comparison of two communities in México, Eloxochitlán and
Tajín. They were studied by Carmen Viqueira, a psychologist, and Angel
Palerm, an anthropologist. Both communities are inhabited by Indians
whose mother tongue is a language called Totonac. But there the resem-
blance ends. Eloxochitlán is a tightly clustered settlement, lying in the
cool mountains of the eastern Sierra Madre, near the town of Zacatlán.
Its inhabitants farm and act as middlemen in the trade between high-
lands and lowlands. Land is scarce in relation to population; Eloxochitlán
feels the pinch of insufficient resources. In contrast, Tajín lies in the
tropical lowlands. Its population lives in scattered hamlets. People grow
maize (our “Indian” corn) on fields carved out of the jungle, planted
for two years, and then abandoned for another similar field somewhere
else. But they also have a commercial crop to sell, vanilla. Land is readily
available, and the economic horizon of the people appears to be widen-
ing.
In both communities the basic social unit is the household. In Tajín
it usually consists of a sénior male head, his wives (múltiple marriage is
permitted and practiced), his single and married sons, his daughters-in-
law, his unmarried daughters, and his grandchildren. The household
operates as an economic unit, under the authority of the sénior male,
Market, Silvia, Cauca Región, Colombia. (Courtesy United Nations)
COMMUNITTES 97
* The quotations on the following pages are from Angel Palerm and Carmen Vi-
queira, “Alcoholismo, brujería y homicidio en dos communidades rurales de México,”
in América Indígena, Vol. XIV, No. 1, January 1954, pp. 7-36. (Trans. eds.) Re-
printed by permission.
98 T he H um an C o n d it io n i n L a t ín A m e r ic a
Unmarried men drink less; unmarried girls may not drink; but adult
women do. Despite this great intake of alcohol, nobody becomes aggres-
sive. “We have not observed serious fights between drunks, and if there
is some quarrel, it remains restricted to shoving and insults. People be-
come alternatively talkative and silent, excited and morose; but ‘a drunk
in Eloxochitlán cannot be considered dangerous.’ ”
In Tajín, in sharp contrast, social drinking is rare and measured.
Drinking in connection with religious or magical ritual is important— as
in offerings to the deities—but people rarely get drunk. When this oc-
curs, however, the Totonac of Tajín exhibit a degree of violence which
is in marked contrast to their everyday behavior. The Tajín drunk is
dangerous; he may attack suddenly and unpredictably with machete or
fíre arms. To avoid such behavior, men are made to yield up their arms
on public occasions, and aggressive drunks are tied up and jailed. Yet
hostility breaks out in still another way, in personal vengeance and re-
sultant homicide. Homicide is frequent; in two years more than 10 per
cent of the local male population has been assassinated. Assassination is
done from ambush; sometimes the assassin waits for his victim for days
and even weeks. The victim’s body is disfigured beyond recognition. The
motives for homicide are threefold: theft, especially of vanilla pods; in-
fidelity of women; and vengeance for past killings. Thus, as in Saucío,
we find that in Tajín men take the law into their own hands. Household
deais with household; the relation is direct and not mediated through
superior authorities. Direct also is the expression of conflict between
households. As we might expect, there is little witchcraft in Tajín.
In Eloxochitlán, however, the direct expression of conflict is inhibited
by its own system of organized authority. There is much drunkenness,
COMMUNITIES 99
perhaps as an escape from problems and anxieties; but the drunk does
not turn violent. At the same time, in Eloxochitlán, witchcraft