The most striking aspect about the Mexicans is their identity–or to be more precise, their identity crisis, born out of the union of Spanish colonizer Hernan Cortes and the native La Malinche, considered as both the symbolic mother of all Mexicans and the embodiment of treachery, victimization and surrender to the Spanish conquest of Mexico.
The fusion of both the Aztec and the Spanish identities can be seen in Diego Rivera’s most famous mural. Diego Rivera is one of Mexico’s main artistic icons, whose works helped establish the Mexican Mural Renaissance. In his mural "Sueño de Una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda," or "Dream of a Sunday Evening in the Alameda"–Alameda being a park in downtown Mexico City–he puts together all the important personalities in Mexico’s history. The mural, being rich in symbolism and history, requires time to digest. As I sat next to my Mexican friend and host on the sofa in front of the mural, in its dedicated museum next to Alameda, I listened to a quick synopsis of Mexican history as we discussed one character after the next.
While the mural might paint an identity of mixed heritage, the identity crisis was pointed out to me by a young man I met in a posada. Posadas are yearly traditional gatherings observed by Catholic Mexicans. They symbolize the search by Joseph and Mary for a place to give birth to Jesus. The highlight of any posada is the breaking of the piñatas. A piñata is a decorated container traditionally made of clay and full of sweets and fruit. The modern version however is made of cardboard and replaces the fruit with candy.
Originally, the idea of breaking a clay pot full of small treasures was used to celebrate Aztec religious occasions. I found out about the piñata ritual firsthand. As it was hanging from a rope above the garden, I was given a stick, blindfolded, rotated around a couple of times before being told to hit the brightly colored piñata. I later found out that the seven cones around the spherical core represent the seven deadly sins. The bright colors are temptation, the blindfold is faith and the stick is virtue. The end result is that through faith and virtue one may overcome temptation and break the seven deadly sins to reap the reward. The whole act is yet another example of the fusion of both identities–yet this fusion does not come without a price.
A white bearded man, Cortes was mistaken for a god when he and his conquistadors first landed in Vera Cruz in 1519, in line with an Aztec prophecy that predicted the coming of the feathered serpent deity–one of the most important gods of the Aztec religion–around that time in a similar form. Using his perceived god status, in addition to the unstable political situation, he was able to enter Tenochtitlan in 1521 after an 80-day siege. Tenochtitlan, or Mexico City, had been under the control of the Aztecs who were then the last of the pre-Hispanic civilization to settle in central Mexico. They had founded the city and dominated most of the surrounding tribes.
During Cortes’ conquest, he enjoyed the company of La Malinche, or doña Marina as the Spanish know her, who was his translator, lover and mother of the first half-white half-Aztec child–a "Mestizo".
And so it’s not surprising that Mexican writer, poet and Noble Laureate Octavio Paz summed up the Mexican identity as the product of a rape: the Spanish father raped the Aztec mother to bring to life the Mexican child. And the Mexican child hates his father and his mother, yet clings to them since they are still his parents. The father is hated for being a rapist and the mother is hated for being weak and inferior, explained Paz.
That’s why Mexicans might have a dislike for the Spanish–and if you go to Mexico, you would find many reasons for this disaffection. One of their acts, in an attempt to convert the population, was to tear down Aztec temples and use the stones to build churches and cathedrals. You can see the remains of one of these in the main square, known as Zocalo. Yet despite this, they now speak the Spanish language and fervently follow the Spaniards’ religion.
Prior to the Mexican Revolution, all Mexicans tried to trace their ancestry back to Spain. The revolution came to revive the pride of being Mexican–and to an extent it was successful. The Spanish blood, however, mixed deeply with the Aztec, and the ‘Mestizo’ race was born. Everyone was part Spanish and part Aztec; it was only a question as to how much of each. So the new Mexican identity broke away from the Spanish one, but couldn’t go back to the Aztec one either. It is still a newly formed identity, living in solitude and confusion, trying to find itself.
In its quest to find a future, the new identity had to look to its past. One of the most striking remains of the Aztec identity is its approach to death, and it is from this approach that the Mexicans formed their approach to life. You cannot miss the love of life present in everyday interaction with Mexicans, even if you tried. Houses are painted in beautiful colors, yellow, blue and pink were the most dominant, while flowers are present in abundance. There is no shortage of music bands, even on the street, ready to put some happiness in your day in return for a few pesos.
And despite some people not being able to afford good quality clothes, everyone wears a warm smile. Those who collect money from drivers at a red light do not attempt to beg, but rather put on a fire juggling display or similarly exhilarating performance. When in Mexico, you get the sense that everything is beautiful and everyone is happy–and I wondered why. Initially, my hunches were that in a city built on the intersection of four tectonic plates–with a somewhat active volcano and rampant crime–you never know when death will come, so you might as well make the best of every day. One Mexican I met in a party told me how sometimes he had gotten stuck at parties, unable to leave because a gunfight had erupted in the neighborhood. "What else can you do but continue partying until the fight is over?" he said. Such situations reinforce the Carpe Deum attitude.
But after some questions and research, it became clear that the root cause runs much deeper than this. While the Spanish had viewed death as the end of life, the Aztecs viewed death as the beginning of true life and looked forward to it. Life was but a dream, and who prefers nightmares when you can have a beautiful dream? During and after the socialist revolution, looking forward to death was again an omnipresent idea–for in death, all people are equal, according to the Aztec faith, and whether you are dressed in luxurious fabrics or dirty rags, death will come and all will share the same fate.
In both cases, life was of no value, and it is in death that the ultimate goal is achieved. This is echoed by one popular mariachi song that starts with the words "No vale nada la vida, la vida no vale nada, llorando siempre principia, y asi, llorando se acaba," or, "It’s worth nothing, life is worth nothing, always begins with crying and ends in the same way."
This utopian image that I might have painted of beautiful and happy Mexico, however, is not without its flaws too. Like the serpent in heaven, corruption and crime spoil the Mexican dream. In response to these threats, the government has upped the number of policemen and women in service. Walking around the city, you would think there is no unemployment in the country and that everyone is working for the police. Having lived in Egypt however, I know that the sight of a policeman is not always comfortable. While in many countries a policeman is a symbol of safety, some might see the police as a symbol of state power and interference–so, naturally, I started asking questions.
While there have been reports that corruption has even infiltrated the police, it was mainly high up, instigated by the "narcos," or drug lords. But how does this excessive number of policemen treat the common people? I asked many and got the same answer, almost exactly. For a Mexican, seeing a policeman in general is a sign of safety. For the most part, it seemed like people are free to speak and act and the state does not use their police force to harass or restrain the citizens. It is, after all, a democratic country with a tradition of peaceful change between ruling parties.
The only story I heard about police harassment concerned traffic police, who give the "good-cop-bad-cop" routine a whole new meaning. They don’t come together–you either get the good one or the bad one, depending on your luck. The policeman says you have committed a traffic offense and that he will impound your car. You insist you haven’t, he takes offence that you called him a liar, and the whole thing is settled with a small bribe. So it seems that, despite the high levels of crime, Mexicans are still enjoying their freedom un-harassed by the government.
In Mexico, you will see a new way of life, where everyone seems to be happy despite their problems and where the people are free from the government and each other. Even if you were never the artsy type, the art there will psychologically transform you, and you will have a newfound appreciation for beauty. Just walking in the streets–watching life go by–is a treat.
If you are as lucky as I was to visit around Christmastime, you would also see the bright decorations put up on sides of buildings and the noche buena flowers everywhere. Everyone should put Mexico on their list of places to see before they die.
