Tag Archives: day of the dead

Day of the Dead in San Pablo Villa de Mitla

Each Oaxaca village celebrates Day of the Dead a bit differently, according to their own customs. In Mitla, the spirits (difuntos) leave their tombs and follow the scents of copal and marigold back to the family homes on November 1. The transition from the underworld back to the world of the living happens in the morning and tradition has it that all have left their resting places by noon. This is when the firecrackers go off, the church bells ring, and all living relatives have left the cemetery in a procession, guiding the spirits with the intense aroma of incense and flowers.

Our group arrived at the cemetery at 11 a.m. in time to give prayers to Arturo’s mother Elena Quero Quero at her grave site. Arturo is a back strap and flying shuttle loom weaver who we have known for many years. We visit the Mitla cemetery with him for an explanation of the cultural history and traditions. Having a local friend to take us makes all the difference in how we are seen and accepted by locals, as well as enhances our learning experience.

We pay homage to two men from the USA who made Mitla their home in the mid-1900s, archeologist Ervin Frissell and artist Howard Leigh. They are both buried in a mausoleum at the cemetery and this is highly unusual. They are honored by the village and Oaxaca state because they were instrumental in collecting and documenting important artifacts that are part of the town’s cultural patrimony. In addition, Frissell introduced the fixed frame treadle loom here, bringing it from Saltillo, and taught women to weave shawls and make hand-knotted fringes. His hotel and restaurant attracted artists, writers, and archeologists from around the world. Frissell was the first outsider to come to help, according to Arturo, and the town reveres him.

We return to Arturo’s home studio for an explanation of his traditional altar and it’s significance for Day of the Dead. He uses only pre-Hispanic fruits and vegetables, uses a corn stalk instead of sugar cane (introduced by the Spanish) to create the portal to enter the living world from the underworld. He says there are more elaborate, luxurious altars, but this is how he personally wants to honor the ancestors. He tells us that the raised concrete altar was introduced by the Spanish. Before that, altars were on the ground.

Mitla is significant. It’s original name is Mictlan, place of the dead. It is believed that all Zapotec spirits eminate from here, a testimony that death is the most consequential event of life.

In the practice of blending Zapotec and Spanish tradition that we call syncretism, Arturo explains that the first arch of the concrete altar represents birth. The middle arch represents life and the one on the right represents death. The Catholics adapted the three portals to fit with their own spiritual beliefs and said the three portals represent the Trinity: Father, Son, Holy Ghost.

He shows us a new basket on the floor next to the portal. The spirits use this to collect the food from the altar to take with them when they return to the underworld. The basket must be new because it cannot occupy the spirit of anyone else! Alongside the altar is a petate, where the spirits can rest. The petate is a key part of ancient Zapotec life. This is where you are born, sleep, and wrapped with for burial. A man’s petate is tied closed with his sash. A woman’s is tied with her rebozo. The textiles help people cross over into the underworld.

Arturo serves us pulque, a lightly fermented juice from the agave plant. Different from mezcal, which is distilled, pulque is a viscous slightly sweet liquid that is a digestive cleanser, much like kombucha, and very important to indigenous culture for ceremonies.

He describes the mural behind the altar that shows the Mitla archeological site, the Catholic church built atop of these ruins, Spanish conquerors on horseback, birds that symbolize peace, native hairless Mexican dog called Xoloitzcuintli, a pre-Hispanic pastoral scene. Arturo says that the indigenous worshipped nature, water, and mother earth. The Spanish needed to conquer them spiritually.

After lunch next door at La Choza del Chef, we return to Arturo’s studio for a backstrap loom weaving demonstration and to see the beautiful textiles he and his son Martin create.

Next, we made a stop to visit Epifanio, another long-time friend in Mitla, who has constructed a very traditional altar amidst his collections of antiques that he buys and sells.

It was a great day of learning and exploring!

Day of the Dead in Teotitlan del Valle: Altars + Artisans

While we spent most of the day in Teotitlan del Valle learning about the Day of the Dead traditions here, we started out in Santa Maria El Tule at the home studio of flying shuttle loom weaver Alfredo who uses naturally dyed threads to create clothing — blouses and shawls. Oaxaca Cultural Navigator tour partner Elsa Sanchez Diaz, a natural dye master, dyes many of the threads that Alfredo uses in his work. She explained the different fibers and colors to our group of fourteen travelers on a beautiful Oaxaca morning filled with clear air and sunshine!

Alfredo also makes tablecloths, napkins, table runners, dish towels, and bedspreads. For these, he uses natural white manta cloth of fine quality, however the colorful threads incorporated in the weaving are synthetic dyes, much more economical and will withstand years of machine washing. As we know, stains are inevitable and using natural dyes in home goods is impractical!

Alfredo does not practice a formal religion though he was raised Catholic. He tells us that Day of the Dead is not a religious holiday but a cultural one, hearkening back to the pre-Hispanic ancestors. Building an altar is his way of honoring his grandmothers and grandfathers who taught him to weave. He works on several looms that he inherited from his grandfather that are more than ninety years old. They have been repaired repeatedly and the wood frames are pocked with insect holes that accumulated over the years. Nothing here is discarded and age in whatever form — human or inanimate — is revered.

Above video features all the different fibers and dyes that Alfredo uses in his studio. His partner Ana is a book artist who also makes boxes covered in handmade paper and fabric. She is a talent in her own right!

We made three more stops during the day. First to Galeria Fe y Lola to smell and feel the emotional connection with the altar, learning about the importance of celebrating in the home. We were welcomed with the perfume of copal incense, candlelight, and marigold flowers — all important for guiding the spirits of deceased loved ones back home for this twenty-four hour period when they return from the underworld to visit us.

The difuntos enter our world through the sugar cane arches flanking the altar and this portal is necessary to ensure an easy passage. Almost everyone here will have their altars complete by November 1, just in time for the spirits to return at three o’clock in the afternoon. They will stay with us until November 2, consuming the ceremonial foods we have put on the altar for them. At three o’clock on November 2, the church bells will ring and announce the time for the difuntos to return to their resting places in the cemetery. We accompany them, leading the way with copal, to ease them back to the underworld, offering prayers for a smooth passage and a promise that we will see them next year.

For the children who have died before their time, families build small altars and give special prayers on November 1, too. In the city of Oaxaca, there will be comparsas (processions) of parents and children to give special tribute to the young ones who have passed.

The offerings on the altars in Teotitlan del Valle include chocolate, bread, and candles. Other foods can include those favored by the deceased: beer, mezcal, coffee, coca cola, tortillas, tamales stuffed with mole amarillo (a village tradition). There will always be peanuts and pecans, eaten here long before the Spanish arrived.

After a weaving and natural dyeing demonstration, we went to lunch where nutritionist Joanna prepared a meal of memelas topped with bean paste, Oaxaca cheese, and seasoned pork cubes. We were offered toppings of guacamole, roasted tomatoes, and pickled onions. To wash it all down, what else but hibiscus fruit water (agua de jamaica).

A piece de resistance of the afternoon was a demonstration of chocolate making, followed by a cup of steaming hot chocolate and pan de muerto (a Day of the Dead egg bread), which we dunk into the deliciousness.

Our last stop before returning to the city was a visit to Estela and Edith who weave beautiful small tapestries colored with natural dyes that they make into totes and handbags, trimmed with leather straps. It takes about two weeks to make a bag and the craftsmanship is superb. Everyone on the tour got a chance to make a pompom to adorn purse, hair, or use as a hatband, a special gift from the artisans.

On Wednesday, November 1, we will spend the day in San Pablo Villa de Mitla, starting off at the cemetery with Don Arturo where his family is buried.

Day of the Dead on the Ocotlan Highway 2023

Oaxaca City is at the apex of three valleys: Tlacolula, Etla and Ocotlan. Each is separated by a mountain range, so you have to go through the city to get to each. Yesterday, a group of 12 gathered in the city to explore some of the artisans along the Ocotlan Highway where villages specialize in pottery, textiles, and alebrijes.

First, we stopped in San Bartolo Coyotepec where we know a very accomplished and traditional potter who works in traditional black clay. Her studio is not commercial and is off-the-beaten-path. Adelina is deeply rooted in the centuries old tradition of clay-making and her family is one of the most talented in the village. She is skilled not only in making decorative pottery, but also utilitarian pieces that are fired at much higher temperature to make them waterproof. If you missed this special Day of the Dead Tour, you might want to register for our Ocotlan Highway Tour offered any time during the year.

P.S. Not too late to join us November 1 to go to the Mitla cemetery and learn about how Day of the Dead is celebrated in this traditional Zapotec burial site. Send an email immediately if you want to come!

The black pottery is a ceremonial pre-Hispanic Zapotec tradition that is part of Day of the Dead. The waterproof jars are used for burials to ensure that the disfuntos have water to drink as they make their journey to the underworld. Traditionally, the tombs were in family homes, and many relics of this ancient period have been found as people build and add onto their houses.

Adelina explains that artisans were buried with their tools so they could continue to make their craft after they pass to the underworld. She says that the skulls remind us that we are only bones and skeletons. While the Spanish conquerors said that skeletons were evil, the Zapotecs believe this is a natural, normal part of life, and that life is a transition to living in the underworld. We celebrate death as we celebrate life, she says. We celebrate our our past and our ancestors. Her grandparents told her, as they aged to 100 years, that they are going to a new world. This gave the children tranquility and peace of mind.

Day of the Dead is a time to celebrate and remember. We are not sad, she says. The essence of the person comes back to visit us and enjoy the foods and drink we have put on the altar for them. For Adelina, it is important to preserve indigenous pre-Hispanic traditions.

Our next stop was a whirlwind tour of the Friday Ocotlan Market. Today, it was packed with local vendors selling all the decor and foods needed for the Day of the Dead celebrations. Home altars are a central part of the celebration and the centerpieces are marigolds, cockscomb, bread, chocolate, candles, and mezcal.

Before lunch, we made a visit to master folk art potter Don Jose Garcia and his wife Teresita. We have known them for twenty years. Now, they have many young helpers, and their children have joined in making these whimsical figures, many of them life-size. It is always a joy to see them again in San Antonino Castillo Velasco on the Ocotlan Highway.

Lunch was in the copal forest and plant sanctuary at Almu, in San Martin Tilcajete. This is a cocina de humo — an outdoor smoke kitchen, where all natural, organic ingredients are used. Almost all of us had either mole coloradito or mole estofado. It was the best!

At Almu, pottery from Mogote is also featured. You can buy plants from the nursery, too.

And, finally before heading back to the city, we spent the last hours of the afternoon with Waldo Hernandez, owner/founder of Alebrijes Casa Don Juan in San Martin Tilcajete. This tradition of carving copal wood into mythical, whimsical, fantasy figures that are brightly painted with intricate, pre-Hispanic designs is a recent innovation, about forty years old. Often, these are figures that combine the parts of different animals and reptiles. Some even combine animal and human forms.

The village has hundreds of wood carving studios. Eric chose to visit here because he worked with Waldo when he was the managing director of Andares del Arte Popular folk art gallery. Waldo is known for his intricate painting designs and finest quality admired by collectors.

Waldo shared with us that Day of the Dead is a very quiet celebration in San Martin Tilcajete. Visitors are not allowed to enter the cemetery. It is a time of reflection and remembrance to honor the lives of loved ones whose spirits return to visit family. He reminds us that visitors are more than welcome to celebrate at the grand fiesta in the village for Carnival, which is Fat Tuesday, before Lent.

The copal wood is carved soft, then it dries for a year on the shelves. Usually cracks develop and they are repaired with copal plugs, then cut, sanded smooth, sealed, and then painted. The studio has its specialists — carvers and painters.

It’s Muertos time in Oaxaca! The traffic is crazy. The streets are filled with parades of costumed revelers, bands, and visitors who crowd the sidewalks. It took us an hour and a half — almost twice as long — to make the return trip from San Martin Tilcajete to town. Whew. Sleeping with ear plugs is de rigueur.

Now, I’m in the quiet of Teotitlan del Valle, happy to be home.

P.S. Not too late to join us November 1 to go to the Mitla cemetery and learn about how Day of the Dead is celebrated in this traditional Zapotec burial site. Send an email immediately if you want to come!

Day of the Dead Decor + Oaxaca Day Tours

We have some Day of the Dead decorations for sale on our new website Shop Oaxaca Culture. I’m leaving for Oaxaca early Monday morning, so if you want to purchase, please do so before 3:00 p.m. on Sunday, October 22, to give me a chance to package up and mail to you! Send me an email.

We have a few spaces left on our one-day Day of the Dead Tours in Oaxaca. If you or anyone you know will be there during this auspicious time and would like to explore and go deep into indigenous culture, meaning, and to meet artisans, please register or pass the information along! Thank you.

To know more about Day of the Dead, read these!

Why Day of the Dead is Not Halloween

Reflections on Day of the Dead

Day of the Dead in Five Parts

I wrote the draft of this last year during Day of the Dead during our Women’s Creative Writing Workshop, and recently rewrote and edited it to read at SOMOS The Taos Literary Society last night. It was well-received and I want to share it with you. Creative writing is an important aspect of my life — in Oaxaca and in Taos. That’s why we continue to offer creative writing workshop retreats. We all have something to say, and it’s important to express ourselves in whatever way seems most meaningful. To get on the mailing list for the next workshop retreat in January 2025, please send me an email.

Day of the Dead in Five Parts by Norma Schafer

1. A mirror of my mother

I am adorned in a crown of flowers. Silver skeletons dangle from my ears. My black velvet blusa, Frida Kahlo style, is heavily embroidered with white orchids and doves.  All appears as it should be, still I look in the mirror trying to find myself. Trying to find the woman I used to be. Instead, I have become my mother. Perhaps a reinterpretation of reincarnation. My body has morphed from hourglass to square. My hips have narrowed; my belly expanded. The once imperceptible lines are now etched deeper across my brow. The best night cream does not smooth them. In this reflection I talk to her, mostly at night as I prepare for sleep, as I wash my face, brush my teeth, examine the shape of my nose that more and more resembles hers, elongated with broad nostrils, shaped by stoicism.  I see the silver hair, complexion the color of chamomile, skin like an iguana. This is how she was when I thought she was old. Today is Day of the Dead, and I remember her.

  2.  Death and the ego

Day of the Dead is a celebration of life. Yet, tonight as I lie in bed, I think about what it will feel like to die. I cross my hands over my chest, take a deep breath, and sink into nothingness. For the moment I will sleep, and wonder, Will I awake in the morning? I envision being surrounded by loved ones, saying I love you, saying goodbye. Will they sit at my gravesite, sing and dance, dine on memories? Then, I cannot imagine it and pull back and tell myself, Stop thinking about it. Death will come soon enough. Or maybe I will live forever?  Though no one does, not even the most brilliant, the most beautiful, the wealthy and notorious. All this becomes too overwhelming to imagine, and this is when I begin to question my ego.

Who I am and what I do is valuable and important. But who am I kidding? All organisms die. I am having an intellectual discussion with myself, and I am afraid. Fear grips me. I cry for the loss of self. For the body that is not working as it once did, for what hurts, what needs correction. Is it time to say, I am and beyond is nothingness? They say people with high self-esteem do not fear death. I don’t believe it.

3. I count time by medicine

Every three weeks, I pull out the three plastic dispensers to apportion the medicine into each cubicle, labeled Monday through Sunday. The clock ticks. The cubicle empties. I refill it. I count time by medicine. Mostly, these are vitamins:  Magnesium, D3, a multivitamin designed for women of a certain age. Each Saturday I give myself a Vitamin B12 injection for more endurance.  

I need to fix my aching back, the right knee that’s getting close to replacement time.  These days, I worry more about the tremor in my hand as I grasp a cup of coffee, the cramps and numbness in my feet that set me off-balance, the small pockets of skin collapsing on my face. Sunken cheeks and deeply etched lines are not glamorous for seventy-somethings. We used to talk about our children. Then, about our work. Now it’s about medications, doctors, and appointments. Some of us join book clubs, play dominoes, struggle with Wordle. We may even think we have something to say and write.

4. This is all preparation

At two in the morning, I awaken and think, this is all preparation. I go outside my mind and observe my body from a distance. Is this container all of me? As I yield to insomnia, I walk outside to embrace the stars sparkling clear in the Oaxaca sky. This is a perfect moment to take note of the changes. Yes, my body deteriorates, I am increasingly aware of how imperfect it is and will be.  I tell myself I must make a shift in vocabulary. Stop saying, I’m old. Maybe I’m older will do.  I say, I’m old, forgive me when I forget an important date.  I’m old, I excuse myself when my feet go numb and I land on the kitchen floor, grateful I didn’t break a hip. How do I change the narrative when this is happening to me? If I ignore it, will it go away? They say those who have a positive outlook about aging will live another seven years.

How do I describe myself now, a once-energetic woman with limitless stamina and a capacity to wander, explore, discover, reach, inquire, and connect. The days, months, years go by now all too quickly. I look back at the intersections, the choices I made. I have regrets. Yet now I understand contentment and know that all roads taken, lead to where I am, here, in Teotitlan del Valle, Oaxaca, to celebrate Day of the Day one more year, and that is good. What will I say about now in ten years, when I look back?

Suspend your ego, I tell myself. This is my preparation.

If you are in Oaxaca for Day of the Dead, consider our specialized day tours–see the right column.

            5. It’s fresh up here on the terrace

Fresca. Fresh is what they say here in Oaxaca to describe the movement of cool air. Look beyond this roof-top terrace.  See the twelve-thousand-foot mountains of the Sierra Madre del Sur. Clouds float as if they were meringue topping a pie too delicious to eat. This is my pueblo, Teotitlan del Valle; it’s a miracle I live here. But things don’t just happen, they present themselves, and we get to choose to embrace them, or not. A journey of almost twenty years was determined in the moment I met the Chavez Santiago family then.

Now, during Day of the Dead, cempasuchitl, wild marigold flowers, paint the landscape. On November 1, the ancestors will return to visit loved ones. We revere the altar where we honor them, we serve them a meal of mole amarillo yellow mole and mezcal, then on November 2, we guide them back to the cemetery lured by the scent of copal incense, aromatic with notes of cinnamon and brown sugar, assuring them that they will rest in peace for another year and visit us again.

This thousands-year-old ritual tells me that eternal life may be possible if we remember and honor those who came before us. It is said that the memory of an individual will last for only two generations. Collective memory may be everlasting. This is comforting as I sit on the terrace, solitary, quiet, protected. Below are voices, the whir of a moto-taxi, a cooking fire crackling, aromas from the outdoor cooking fires wafting scents of tortillas, salsa, beans, the bark of street dogs, the beat-beat-beat of a loom.

I recognize that all that I am is the sound of the Teotitlan del Valle church bell ringing for Day of the Dead, strong and clear, then fading into nothingness.

If you’d like to give me feedback, please write to me directly by email.

I want to give a shout out of thanks to my two best editors: Carol Estes and Kathryn Salisbury! This piece would not be as written without them.