This is a blog about the destruction of a small colonial Mexican town. It investigates the motives and mechanisms behind the destruction, the ideas and people involved, and the strategies and hopes of those who would save it from further tragedy. It is a communal story, not a personal story, so I invite all readers to submit their thoughts and opinions, as well as articles and links.
A Tale of Love, Loss, Despair and Hope
This is a blog about the destruction of a small colonial Mexican town. It investigates the motives and mechanisms behind the destruction, the ideas and people involved, and the strategies and hopes of those who would save it from further tragedy. It is a communal story, not a personal story, so I invite all readers to submit their thoughts and opinions, as well as articles and links.
Not Man and Nature
The uniqueness of our area cannot be expressed better than it was by Charles Bowden, who wrote about it in his book The Secret Forest:“Here man and nature becomes a silly phrase, a distinction without meaning in the forest. Here it is people in nature, or better yet, simply nature, a word that means all living things. Tourism will become a kind of survival drill. We will no longer dutifully check off the art galleries, the cathedrals, the four-star restaurants. Instead we will make probes in order to learn how to live. We will visit people who know how to live in ways we have forgotten or ways we never knew in the first place. We will do this in order to find the way home, the way to make a home, keep a home, and cherish a home.”
Homogeneity and Diversity
This photograph was taken by an Italian named Paolo Margari. It could be anybody, anywhere on the globe. At first glance, it seems as if the photo has nothing to do with the preservation of biological and cultural diversity in Alamos. Instead, it speaks of homogeneity, a uniform that has become standard in almost every country in the world.Nonetheless, I cannot think of a topic more relevant to biocultural diversity right here, right now. Because blue jeans are worn daily by millions of people all over the world, the global demand for indigo dye is enormous. When Levi Strauss first came up with the product, indigo was produced on plantations in third world countries. Long ago, natural indigo was phased out in favor of synthetic chemically-produced dye. Because the production of synthetic indigo results in pollution, there is a call to return to natural dye.
Indigo grows wild in Alamos. The local native indigo could be collected to produce dye to be sold on the world market. Small-scale cultivation could be pursued as well. This would be less damaging to local biodiversity than current practices of slash and burn, cattle ranching, and the introduction of ecologically incompatible species.
What's more, indigo is a legume, so it fixes nitrogen and helps build the soil.
Because many people here depend upon the land for their livelihood, those involved in conservation must replace damaging economic activities with beneficial ones. Conservation is impossible unless lost income is replaced.
Indigo
Indigo grows wild in Alamos. The Mayo and Guarijio Indians used indigo for dying fabrics and the ancient Maya developed a unique and incredibly durable fresco pigment called Maya Blue by combining organic and inorganic chemistry. The Maya technology has been replicated by researchers at the University of Texas, El Paso to create today's most technologically advanced pigments, which are more environmentally sound than pigments commonly used today. See the Mayan Pigments website.Introduction
Alamos, Sonora, Mexico is unique in that, for such a small town, it contains world-class cultural, natural and intangible heritage. The colonial architecture in the town center has been declared a National Historic Monument, and Alamos is on the tentative list for World Heritage status. The surrounding area contains incomparable biodiversity within an unusual ecosystem that emerged where the Sonoran desert meets the Sierra Madre and the more humid rainforests to the south. A 93,000-hectare Federal Natural Reserve of Tropical Deciduous Forest is protected under UNESCO’s network of biosphere reserves. The outlying region is inhabited by the Mayo and Guarijio Indians, who are the traditional stewards of the land and keepers of an extraordinary wealth of information about practical and medicinal uses of local plant species. The knowledge spilled over into a meztizo population, with its own matchless local culture, which has been entrenched for hundreds of years, since the town was founded as a mining and administrative outpost in 1685. The silver mines at one point became the richest and most productive in the world.
Problems abound. The natural, cultural and intangible culture of the region is increasingly eroded by globalization and modernization. A global demand for beef has spurred government policies which urge the Guarijio to clear-cut forest and plant buffel grass in order to raise cattle. The practice destroys the forest which was once sustenance and medicine for the Guarijio, coerces them into a form of livelihood that is foreign to their culture and values, and pulls them into a cash consumerist culture. Development, population growth, deforestation and a new wave of mining activity threaten biodiversity. A desert could replace what is now a seasonal tropical rainforest.
Hundreds of colonial buildings in the historic center have been registered as monuments, but they are endangered due to lack of public awareness about proper methods and materials for conservation. Perhaps the most damaging practice is an overuse of Portland cement in old adobe and masonry buildings. Authorities in the field of conservation the world over condemn the use of cement in old buildings. Members of the expat population from the US and Canada typically buy historic buildings and remodel them as they wish, showing little sensitivity to historic authenticity. The vinyl paint currently used is entirely inappropriate for a colonial town, and has effectively eliminated wall breathability.
Alamos was able to retain its unique character for centuries largely due to its isolation. Electricity, television and paved roads to the nearest city did not arrive until well into the second half of the 20th century. When I first came to Alamos eight years ago, I noticed that many older traditions survived. Storytelling was still very much alive. Television did not dominate the family in the evening. On hot summer nights, people sat outside and told stories about Alamos ghosts, Alamos fauna, snakes that fall on people from trees, hunting and fishing, deer and jaguars, unheard-of fruits, treasures that were hidden during the Indian raids that lasted well into the 20th century, family feuds, curanderos of yesterday and today, supernatural occurrences of all sorts, how Alamos once became a ghost town and how people survived, the brothers that sawed a pencil in two so they could both go to school, the same brothers that cut a tortilla in half for lunch, children carrying water from the well down the hill, disease, and corresponding herbal cures for anything—the stuff of resilience. Stories were told about how Los Angeles and San Francisco were founded by expeditions setting off from Alamos, to remind people of their proud heritage. Stories were told about unwed mothers buried alive in thick adobe walls by their embarrassed families, to remind people of their own cruelty.
Music played a central role in the family, with guitars and song breaking out at any moment. Hundreds of old songs remain in the memory of those older than 50 years of age. Many retain memories of local history. I am sad to say the songs will not see another generation. TV, internet, cell phones, rap music, alcoholism, drug abuse and cocooning have replaced the Alamos I knew 8 years ago. The values disappear with the traditions.
Change, modernization and new technologies erode cultural, biological and intangible diversity around the world. The same drivers lead to disintegration, wherever it might be. If reintegration is to occur, logically it could be driven by common catalysts as well.
While witnessing the very sudden erosion of biocultural diversity in Alamos, I noticed it occurred in steps. Destruction is rarely immediate and complete. It happens via a sort of domino effect. One element falls, leading to the fall of others. Reversing the trend could only happen by standing a domino up again, necessarily in a way that makes it probable others will follow.
Problems abound. The natural, cultural and intangible culture of the region is increasingly eroded by globalization and modernization. A global demand for beef has spurred government policies which urge the Guarijio to clear-cut forest and plant buffel grass in order to raise cattle. The practice destroys the forest which was once sustenance and medicine for the Guarijio, coerces them into a form of livelihood that is foreign to their culture and values, and pulls them into a cash consumerist culture. Development, population growth, deforestation and a new wave of mining activity threaten biodiversity. A desert could replace what is now a seasonal tropical rainforest.
Hundreds of colonial buildings in the historic center have been registered as monuments, but they are endangered due to lack of public awareness about proper methods and materials for conservation. Perhaps the most damaging practice is an overuse of Portland cement in old adobe and masonry buildings. Authorities in the field of conservation the world over condemn the use of cement in old buildings. Members of the expat population from the US and Canada typically buy historic buildings and remodel them as they wish, showing little sensitivity to historic authenticity. The vinyl paint currently used is entirely inappropriate for a colonial town, and has effectively eliminated wall breathability.
Alamos was able to retain its unique character for centuries largely due to its isolation. Electricity, television and paved roads to the nearest city did not arrive until well into the second half of the 20th century. When I first came to Alamos eight years ago, I noticed that many older traditions survived. Storytelling was still very much alive. Television did not dominate the family in the evening. On hot summer nights, people sat outside and told stories about Alamos ghosts, Alamos fauna, snakes that fall on people from trees, hunting and fishing, deer and jaguars, unheard-of fruits, treasures that were hidden during the Indian raids that lasted well into the 20th century, family feuds, curanderos of yesterday and today, supernatural occurrences of all sorts, how Alamos once became a ghost town and how people survived, the brothers that sawed a pencil in two so they could both go to school, the same brothers that cut a tortilla in half for lunch, children carrying water from the well down the hill, disease, and corresponding herbal cures for anything—the stuff of resilience. Stories were told about how Los Angeles and San Francisco were founded by expeditions setting off from Alamos, to remind people of their proud heritage. Stories were told about unwed mothers buried alive in thick adobe walls by their embarrassed families, to remind people of their own cruelty.
Music played a central role in the family, with guitars and song breaking out at any moment. Hundreds of old songs remain in the memory of those older than 50 years of age. Many retain memories of local history. I am sad to say the songs will not see another generation. TV, internet, cell phones, rap music, alcoholism, drug abuse and cocooning have replaced the Alamos I knew 8 years ago. The values disappear with the traditions.
Change, modernization and new technologies erode cultural, biological and intangible diversity around the world. The same drivers lead to disintegration, wherever it might be. If reintegration is to occur, logically it could be driven by common catalysts as well.
While witnessing the very sudden erosion of biocultural diversity in Alamos, I noticed it occurred in steps. Destruction is rarely immediate and complete. It happens via a sort of domino effect. One element falls, leading to the fall of others. Reversing the trend could only happen by standing a domino up again, necessarily in a way that makes it probable others will follow.
Not Man Apart
Alamos at its best, Photo courtesy of Michael Swigart
A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars and his history...
for contemplation or in fact...
Often appears atrociously ugly.
Integrity is wholeness, the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe.
Love that, not man apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken."
- Robinson Jeffers
What is at Stake?
“What sets the world in motion is the interplay
of differences,
their attractions and repulsions.
Life is plurality, death is uniformity.
By suppressing differences and peculiarities,
by eliminating different civilizations and cultures,
progress weakens life and favors death.
The ideal of a single civilization impoverishes and mutilates us.
Every view of the world that becomes extinct, every culture that disappears,
diminishes the possibility of life.”
--Octavio Paz
Guaiacum coulteri
The Aztecs made a blue/green pigment from the flowers of Guayacum coulteri. They called the color matlali.In Alamos, the brilliant blue flowers blossom in May. The Seri Indians of Sonora used the resin of guayacan to make a pigment called Seri Blue. The Seri process involved the combination of organic and inorganic chemistry, thus it is analogous to ancient Maya pigment technology.
Heliocarpus attenuatus
Samo is a common small tree in the Alamos area. Underneath the bark, the branches are slimy. This mucilage was used in the preparation of lime plaster, and as a binder for paint. The combination of the organic ‘samo’ with inorganic lime and pigments, resembles the paint and plaster technology of the ancient Maya, known for durability. The Maya used a tree they called holol. Holol refers to a variety of species, one of which is Heliocarpus donnell.To prepare the mucilage, the Guarijio soak strips of bark in water. The water is then mixed with sand and lime to make plaster, or with lime/and or pigments to make paint. Many people in Alamos still remember the use of samo.
Samo will be essential to any future effort to restore Alamos’ colonial architecture. Very few authentic paint and plaster surfaces remain. Almost all have been ruined with vinyl paint and plaster containing Portland cement.
Prosopis glandulosa
Mayo weavers use mesquite gun to make a brown color for dying wool. The call it jiubuania.
Honey that comes primarily from mesquite flowers (Prosopis glandulosa) is prized for its flavor. The seed pods are an important source of animal fodder, and are used to make a variety of foods. Mesquite performs an important ecological role throughout Mexico. It is nitrogen-fixing, which helps build the soil in arid regions. It attracts plant species which enjoy the richer soil, and supports various species of birds and animals.
Widespread in the Alamos region, mesquite is an important source of firewood. Locally-produced mesquite charcoal is sold to taco venders because of the fine flavor it imparts to the meat. Rumor suggests that local charcoal is exported to the US for use in restaurants. Lumber use of mesquite is a key economic activity in many Mexican towns. Unfortunately, wood use for lumber, furniture, firewood and charcoal is causing deforestation. In academia there is a trend towards sustainable uses: honey, food, fodder, and medicinal uses.
Another possibility for sustainable use involves mesquite gum, which is very similar to gum arabic. Gum arabic is a completely edible plant product. It is the binder in watercolor paint, and an important ingredient in syrups, chewing gum, marshmallows, and candys. Read the ingredients of any processed food, and you'll find gum arabic. It is also used in pharmaceuticals, fireworks, and cosmetics. The lickable adhesive on postage stamps and envelopes is gum arabic.
It has been found that the chemical characteristics, emulsifying properties and molecular structure of gum made from Prosopis glandulosa would make it a suitable alternative to gum arabic. World demand for gum arabic is about 45,000 tons per year. In 2003, Mexico imported 7,000 tons for a total expenditure of nearly 4 million dollars. Availability and price of gum arabic on the world market varies greatly because frequent scarcity due to political instability in Africa, especially in the Sudan. It makes good economic sense for Mexico to pursue a domestic alternative.
Erythrina flabelliformis
In Alamos, the children used to color Easter eggs yellow with a dye made from boiled pionilla bark. Mayo artisans used the dye as well.
When the San Juan statue from Pueblo Viejo in Navojoa needed to be restored, a search for chilicote wood was made. The wood is said to be rot resistant.
Ruins
I have a few favorite ruins in town. Few still exist. I've noticed that nobody butters them in cement or paints them with plastic. The humblest person in the street doesn't touch them with graffiti. Why? Because we revere them...all of us. In this crazy modern world, they remind us of our origins.Negativity, Pessimism, Sadness...
Or just the unvarnished truth?
I just changed the header of this blog to read: "Investigating the links between biological and cultural diversity in Alamos, Sonora, Mexico." Before I changed it, it was identical to my first post in this blog, and read like this: "This is a blog about the destruction of a small colonial Mexican town. It investigates the motives and mechanisms behind the destruction, the ideas and people involved, and the strategies and hopes of those who would save it from further tragedy."
I figured the old header might discourage readers. It sounds awfully depressing. But I'm afraid it is true. In the 10 years I have lived in Alamos, I have seen a continual erosion of cultural heritage. Aside from an erosion of tradition, I've seen the erosion of the colonial architecture and of ruins---the only remaining clues that could guide proper restoration of historic buildings in the future. As I became involved and saw the dynamics of the process, it took several hard knocks before I learned that circumstances are always complex. There is a kind of inertia at work, which makes it easy to believe that things will never change, or that they will change too late.
As just one example of a very multi-faceted and complex scenario, I'd like to mention the removal of the cobblestones throughout most of the the historic district, during David Corral's tenure as mayor. They were replaced with cement pavers. Make no mistake. I like David Corral. He is the only politician I have known in my life who has asked for my opinion. Before, during and after his administration, he has always greeted me when he sees me in the street. Just a few months ago, he saw me and crossed the street to shake my hand. He seems a polite, soft-spoken man. I wish democracy would always work this way.
Anyhow, when he did ask my opinion about his administration, I mentioned I was not pleased with the removal of the cobblestone. I saw a momentary flash of anger or disappointment on his face, and then he quickly composed himself and explained that cobblestone was not original, the streets used to be earthen, and the people called for the change. Cobblestones are murder for women who walk in high heels (true) and they tend to destroy automobile suspensions. I was constantly replacing tie-rods and ball joints. So David had some valid points.
Anytime I object to destruction of the authenticity of the historic district, another issue comes up...that of the sentimental gringo holding on to the past, and thus obstructing progress, or worse--interfering with a people's right to modernize as much as they wish. With the idea of "progress" comes the expectation of economic progress and the sentimental gringo stands in the way of this as well. I've heard it over and over. It is the viewpoint of people who have not lived to know, or noticed, that many people in the "developed" world long for simplicity and regret the emptiness of their ways of life.
I'd counter also with the idea that a town so economically dependent on tourism had better be very clear about what exactly makes the place appealing to tourists, and work to preserve it.
So...it came to pass that a small group of locals opposed the plan to remove the cobblestones, but they were removed anyway. I was not involved, because I didn't see a chance of winning, and felt it was not my place to protest, or object to legal decisions made by a valid government.
As a result of installing the cement pavers, there were lots of runoff problems during the summer rainy season. Some houses flooded. Rain used to seep between the cobblestones, which slowed the speed of runoff. Now, in an area desperate for water, the faster runoff means that the aquifers do not replenish as well as they did before.
I will say it over and over again in this blog, from a hundred different angles. Cement (Portland cement)=destruction of cultural heritage + environmental damage.
When I express my realistic, not pessimistic, appraisal of the prospects for the conservation of historic elements in town, it is tempting to make a simplistic generalization like, there are good guys and bad guys involved, and the good guys always lose. That is too easy, and thus untrue. What I do see is constant erosion, and nothing to stop it. It is not for a lack of sound proposals for viable alternatives. It is just the way things play out.
Now that there is practically nothing to save, I hope, at least, that this blog will be useful to those entrusted with the conservation of cultural heritage in other locales, to help them understand the dynamics at work.
Mike's Ideas
Photo of Pals, Catalunya by Michael Brody, all rights reserved. Almost looks as if it could be Alamos.My pal Mike responded to my last post and we had the following "conversation" on Facebook. I think it is interesting.
Mike: Daan. Went to the blog and, ok, I may be one of those gringo sentimentalists. You can't hold onto everything, as you imply, and you probably shouldn't try. I have seen compromises that are good. For example, in Spain there are several restored Medieval towns, among them "Pals". Pals is too perfectly restored, really and its charms in some ways are fabricated thanks in part to it's wealthy summer home inhabitants. But the town is proud and tourism thrives. I will take that over what is happening in your town. Question, does Alamos want to preserve itself but simply can't afford it? Great blog writing on your part - keep it up!
Daan: Thanks, Mike. There is a very small faction of people who are interested in preservation, but it is too small. Most are true believers in the idea of progress and modernization. They don't realize what treasures we have here, or their economic importance. And there is a real lack of expertise as far as how to go about preserving. Here also there is a kind of inauthentic disneylandish alteration is some cases. There is a great book by Antonin Artaud, a French surrealist who fell in love with Mexico, which states that Mexico doesn't realize what it has, and it takes a foriegner to see it and explain it. Look for the book...it is really good.
Mike: Perhaps tourism dollars drive preservation in these small towns in Spain. There is no doubt that Catalunya (where Pals is) is both entrepreneurial AND preserving of its culture. These 2 things can go very well together. If there were just a few (locals) with these attitudes headway could be made. I will check the book out. Would locals like tourism?
Daan: As it stands now, Alamos is very economically dependent on tourism. But hurricane Norbert has hurt us, as has the recession, and US news media's exaggeration of current events. Sustainable development, tourism and preservation can work very well together. It is the only way forward! But long term vision is lacking, and if somebody has it, they get crucified. Immediate personal gain and self-interest rule.
Another factor is the municipal government, which changes every three years. Each administration tries to see how much it can do in just three years, and mostly focuses on basic needs. That rules out long-term planning. Only a nonprofit could do the trick, but that requires at least some consensus, and reaching consensus is very tricky.
Mike...your approach is 100% correct. My mistake here a few years ago was to try to rally people around the idea of preservation instead of just quietly forming a nonprofit which could link preservation and sustainabilty with tourism and business. It takes the right approach, right personality, right charisma.
Jacquinia macrocarpa pungens
In Alamos, people used to make soap from sanjuanico fruit.Throughout the region, people made necklaces from sanjuanico flowers, a practice followed by the Mayo, the Seri and the Yaqui. The flowers were collected and dried. When rehydrated even flowers 100 years old looked as if they were fresh picked.
The last of the Mayo weavers still use sanjuanico to make a yellow dye.
Would you?
Would you plaster over this?
Or this? That is exactly what is happening now as a result of the supposed "restoration" of the Parroquia de la Purisima Concepcion, Alamos' main church and most treasured landmark. Photos of the destruction and the reasons why to follow.Reversability?
Here's a picture I took yesterday of the facade of the church. The original facade is on the left, and you can see the recent intervention on the right.As an amateur restorer of fine art for decades, I've known for a long time that reversability is the number one rule in the restorer's craft. It is a matter of ethics. If I am to make changes to an old work of art, I must use processes and materials that are reversable, so at some later date, my intervention can be undone. That way, no matter what the level of knowledge and skill the restorer has, people in the future will always be able to get back to the original. If conservation technology and materials advance, restorers in the future will be able to start from scratch.
From March to the end of July this year I worked as a restorer on the interior of this church, as an employee of Straulino Restoration, a very professional outfit which has done important work throughout Mexico. The conservators in charge of the project did a very good job of investigating the history of every aspect of the altar, finding the original finishes when possible, documenting absolutely everything, and explaining the justification for each and every decision. "Reversability" was like a mantra--they mentioned it over and over again. Throughout the world, reversability is the first imperative of their profession.
The reasons for the decisons made on the exterior intervention are extremely complicated, and it will take several more posts to explain the whole situation. For now I would like to humbly ask those responsible: How in the world is THIS reversable?????????
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