Tall Raspberry Mocha, Please

This drawing is based on Mesoamerican speech scroll iconography, a visual representation of speaking that incorporated flowers, flames, bones, etc. to indicate types of discourse.

Romance del farmacéutico andante

Llegaba al puente de hierro

el farmacéutico andante—

enderezador de tuertos,

surtidor de mil jarabes.

De un pueblo lejano vino

llevando su único traje

y en su bolsa de remedios,

vendas, frascos, hierbas, sales.

Hacía generaciones

que había aprendido su arte,

desdibujando las fiebres

y esponjando los calambres.

Ya había cortado muchos

cordones umbilicales,

cada uno un regalo tierno.

¡Cómo lo amaban las madres!

El sabio siempre asistía

en la hora de las verdades.

Y siempre les recetaba

lo mismo, sin contrariarse:

gotas de agua en la cabeza,

bien dejen secarla el aire,

para su inocencia calva;

y para la piel tan suave,

leche de madre, seis meses,

porque su color agarre.

Y así decía a los ciegos

llorar con té de aguacate,

y besarse con canela

sugería a los amantes.

Llegaba al puente de hierro

el farmacéutico andante—

estrenando canas ahora

y jaula de costillares.

Pero apenas cruza el puente,

cual hielo duro le cae

la mezquindad de las sombras.

Su bolsa en el suelo yace.

Lo golpean lo desnudan

unos gritos de azabache.

Todo remedio le quitan.

Todo abuso y daño le hacen.

Lanzan vendas, gasas, yesos

al río negro de esmalte,

donde se revientan peces

secos, sucios, jadeantes.

Se esfuman en humo y bruma

las hierbas medicinales,

cenizas que cicatrizan

los pulmones y las calles.

Rompen los frascos de vidrio,

jarabes y alcoholes salen,

los que abusan el cerebro

charcos en la acera lamen.

Roban polvos y pomadas

viles narcotraficantes.

Se llevan los bisturíes

y pagan con monedas de sangre

y pervierten los signos alquímicos en

grafiti

y tuercen las palabras, las quiebran, las dejan

a perder a

pudrir

y violan la sagrada entereza desnuda del cuerpo

sin misericordia y

sin consciencia

siquiera

nada

De la Farmacia de Dios

lo echaron en el umbral.

Sufrió la muerte de quien

vislumbró la luz final.

American Tropics

I’ve had a particularly productive month in the London area as a visiting research fellow at University of London’s Institute for the Study of the Americas . Neatly bisecting my four weeks in England was the University of Essex-sponsored conference, “American Tropics: Toward a Literary Geography." Given my current research on representations of the body in Latin American literature of the 1920s and 30s, and also an investigation into contemporary Amazonian theater, I particularly enjoyed new perspectives of the American Tropics seen/scene from London.

At the very well organized conference, of the ideal size and duration for getting to know people (about 70-80 participants over parts of four days), I met fellow Latin Americanists as well as colleagues in fields related to my own but outside my specialty: anthropology, geography, the US South, the Anglophone and Francophone Caribbean. And among the many general concepts I learned figure the following:

The names, titles, and a rough idea of the creative styles of Wilson Harris (Guyana) and Elizabeth Nunez and Harold Sonny Ladoo (Trinidad), important contemporary writers of the Anglophone Caribbean;

Of the successful and prize-winning efforts of the Saramakas of Suriname to map their ancestral lands in order to protect them from logging interests;

Very useful general ideas about place, space, map and body, and the interplay between language and landscape;

That the emplacement of New Orleans as a city of the Americas (and not just an American city) is an ongoing critical endeavor among several disciplines and with much enthusiasm;

That James Fenimore Cooper wrote a high-seas novel in which the Florida Keys play a particularly symbolic role regarding the liminality of gender roles;

That Guantánamo Bay has a long history of use as a detention center; and the US-Cuban history of the legal ambiguities on which the Bush administration relied for purposes of acting outside the law;

That the University of Essex holds a first-class collection of Latin American art, mostly on display in its library;

Details and examples regarding the historical process of musical and marketing styles presenting São Paulo, Salvador, and the general Brazilian imaginary to the world;

That there is a rich vein of literature pertaining to the border dispute in the region of Amazonia shared by Colombia and Peru, but that residents of the area relate more closely to each other across the border than they do to the faraway Andean capitals of Lima and Bogotá;

That the practice and spirit of shamanic kanaima remain extant not only in areas of Amazonia but also in comics and online gaming phenomena;

Of the importance of the five directions quincunx in the Mesoamerican conception of thinking about place in the world, and of the vitality behind the blue-green color associated with the center;

That with regard to the three tropical zones in the Americas, Africa, and Asia, the American tropics (or neotropics) host the longest continual stretch of land (along with the greatest biodiversity and river system on the planet); and that the mouths of the Amazon lie almost exactly along the equator.

I state these, unabashedly, as facts I have learned or added to already built contexts: let no one forget that learning is, and always should be, a lifelong process, for everybody’s benefit. And I state them without giving the names of the presenters who illuminated me, to protect the innocent, although I am willing to provide them to a courteous inquirer. Beyond the limits of the conference, I add the following incomplete list of further concepts I learned:

That I am most grateful for contacts established with colleagues at my host institute along with the Institute of Germanic and Romance Studies, independent scholars, and colleagues met at the conference;

That the Institute for the Study of the Americas sponsors the excellent series through Palgrave Macmillan, “Studies of the Americas” , along with the editorial offices of Journal of Latin American Studies;

That the British Library, which has an outstanding Latin American collection, will be hosting an exhibition in 2010 on the bicentennial of the independence of the Spanish American republics ;

That the London area can experience an almost tropical climate for a few weeks in late June and early July;

That historian Charles Boxer (1904-2000) and statesman George Canning (1770-1827) are important and intriguing figures in the history of Latin American studies in Britain; the latter’s house in posh Belgravia now hosts a very nice public library on all things Latin American along with frequent concerts and lectures sponsored in conjunction with Latin American embassies;

That the Department of Portuguese and Brazilian Studies at Kings College (where Boxer, above, once held the Camões Chair) was the first of its kind in the UK and continues to be unique in many ways;

Of the existence of Peepal Tree Press and its first-rate selection of titles by Caribbean and Caribbean-diaspora writers;

That the British Museum , which houses an impressive pre-Hispanic Mexican collection, will be sponsoring the September 2009-January 2010 exhibition “Moctezuma: Aztec Ruler” congregating artifacts from prominent museums in the Americas as well as Europe; it is to be the first such exhibition based on the life of the Aztecs’ “last elected ruler”;

That the Kew Gardens display narrative posted underneath its rubber tree specimen rather blithely states that the tree became widely planted throughout Asia by the turn of the 20th century, without mentioning the involvement of Kew Gardens in the cultivation of the seeds stolen by Henry Wickham from Amazonas state, in what has recently been labeled one of the original acts of biopiracy, for propagation in the British colonies of Asia.

That I heard as much Portuguese as Spanish spoken on the streets of London, with both languages represented amply in non-European as well as European variants.

To avoid continuing on too long, I’ll stop here, and heartily thank my family, for their key emotional support for this opportunity, and my employer, the University of Tulsa, for its fundamental financial support in helping me fulfill the research fellowship.

100% Homogenized Mexico

Mexico’s is one of the world’s greatest cultures. The manifestations of its Mesoamerican and Colonial pasts—tamales and piñatas, Aztec iconography and Baroque churches—are immediately recognizable from Australia to Zimbabwe. A recent issue of Vuelo, Mexicana Airlines’ in-flight magazine, profiled the twelve greatest Mexican exports; among them figure, of course, food products such as corn, chilies, tequila, chocolate, and vanilla, but also cultural concepts like mariachis, Mexican wrestling, the fanciful handcrafted paper-mache creatures known as alebrijes, and the oft-commented, peculiarly Mexican imagery of death.

Yet the perception, as much outside as inside Mexico, of Mexican culture’s unmistakable identity depends on an insistent and mythical homogeneity that strangles diversity. It seems ridiculous to have to point this out, but there are poor and rich Mexicans, Catholics and Jews, tall and short Mexicans, Afro-Mexicans and Chinese-Mexicans. Folks from Puebla tell jokes about the stingy citizens of Monterrey, while the regiomontanos tell jokes about the stuck-up poblanos, and everybody takes shots at the chilangos, as residents of the sprawling capital are somewhat jokingly known.

The counterpart to the 100% homogenized Mexican is the 100% homogenized gringo. And stereotypes work both ways: to be a gringo in Mexico, as Carlos Fuentes paraphrases American satirist Ambrose Bierce in Gringo viejo: ah, there can be no greater euthanasia. Even the use of the term gringo—ubiquitous, unflinching—would seem to reveal a uniformity of Mexican mindset; some might venture that, as the favorite Other, the gringo even helps define that uniformity. Most Mexicans will insist that there is nothing insulting about the term, that it’s just easier to say than the polysyllabic norteamericano or estadounidense. Believe that and I’ve got a bridge to sell you, in the southern Mexican state of Chiapas, where former President Fox’s administration grandly opened an extended puente that cuts three hours off the driving time between Mexico City and Tuxtla Gutiérrez, the state capital. Even in Chiapas, where the residents proclaim proudly that the Revolution never arrived, the stereotyped gringo represents someone powerful but woefully ignorant and rude who will screw you over as fast as he can mispronounce Buenos días.

Couldn’t the same be said for the image of the American in Paris, in Istanbul, in Luanda, or just about anywhere outside the United States? Yes, but the Mexican’s relationship to the gringo hinges on the “Tortilla Curtain,” the delicately porous and sometimes transparent scar that pretends to be a border between our nations. Theorists speak of “Greater Mexico,” an area including the Mexican Republic in addition to the full third of current US territory that used to belong to New Spain and then Mexico, plus other Mexican enclaves in the cities of North America. The term’s significance, however, is more contemporary than historical, and although it embraces a kind of cultural unity, it better serves to break down exactly this siesta-under-the-cactus homogenized stereotype. Vast and various populations roam and home in Greater Mexico, spawning a more intimate familiarity amongst them, and creatively thwarting the stability of not only “American” and “Mexican” identities, but also and especially that of the “Mexican-American,” who may or may not want to embrace the label “Chicano/a.” Many people, definitely the most opportunistic and perhaps the cleverest, play it both (or several) ways, assuming whichever identity is more convenient at any given moment.

Confronted with a gringo who doesn’t conform to type, the 100% homogenized Mexican response is to adopt a monumental indifference, the impassivity of an Aztec monolith. For the stereotype is that the Mexican believes he already knows the gringo’s secrets. Anyone can tell you the gringo’s basic belief systems—just watch the US channels on TV, go to a Hollywood movie, listen to the US pop hits on the radio, talk to your cousin who worked in Dallas, your aunt who lives in Los Angeles. Similarly, on the north side of the Curtain, the more that folks support the homogenized beer-marketing Cinco de Mayo and other staples of the grand old imagery of serapes and tacos, burros and sombreros, the less is truly known about real Mexican wants and needs.

Unfortunately, even earnest and talented students of Mexican history, literature, and culture who travel to that country may be met with suspicion and perhaps derision if they do not happen to share the mestizo phenotype of the Mexican majority. Will Mexico ever open up? There has been hope since the 2000 presidential win which overthrew seventy years of one-party control. Yet in spite of the large number of Mexicans who struggle to become American citizens, Mexico itself is notoriously xenophobic when it comes to nationalizing foreigners. In his fashionable-to-deride essay El laberinto de la soledad, Nobel laureate Octavio Paz sought the image of the Mexican in his mask. I would clarify, that despite all evidence to the contrary, a common perception on either side of the border is that all Mexican masks are alike, and thus they allow only one view of the gringo from behind the mask. Herein lies the easy strength of closed unity, the promiscuous resemblance of comfort to conformity.

Copão de Pão

Click on the image to see a larger version. These are short experimental poems in Portuguese on the theme, and form, of pão-de-queijo, a special, spongy kind of delicious cheesebread.

The Aviary

A hallucinated rhapsody

Primeiro foi a gritaria da papagaiada imperial:
Amo el canto del cenzontle,
pájaro de cuatrocientas voces
pero amo más a mis hermanos:
We’re three caballeros, three gay caballeros
They say we are birds of a feather
X-polynation:
Colibird, Humming-flor, Beijabrí
Minha terra tem palmeiras
onde canta o sabiá;
as aves, que aqui gorjeiam,
não gorjeiam como lá:
¡Cuac! ¡Cuac! ¡Acucuac!
Um papagaio verde de bico dourado
principiou falando numa fala mansa,
muito nova, muito:
Ya viene viene la golondrina
Viene viene la golonchina
va que vuela la golonmaya
pero el cielo prefiere el rodoñol
su niño querido el rorreñol
el roquetzal, que vive en tu escudo
el rorroner, the coyote’s after you,
Roadrunner, if he catches you,
transfórmate:
¿Altazor o Altazur?
A hawk or a handsaw?
Toucan or not tucán, that is the question.
A guacamacarara
foi pra Araraquara
deitou numa rede e compôs
Cuculzornaíma, o Un viaje en hamaca
Maculcantazur, O Herói sem Nenhum Pudor
Altacunaimacán, Pluma envuelta en serpientes.
Ya los pajarillos cantan:
Qui-qui-ri-doodle!
1 pássaro na mão > 2 voando
Pájaro cascabel, pájaro chupamiel,
chupa la bella cracker de miel
Polly wants a galleta maría
donde el águila paró
y su estampa dibujó
el cóndor pasa,
se la pasa criando cuervos
entre cuatro zopilotes
volverán las oscuras golondrinas
Little bird, little bird, ‘neath the cinnamon tree,
¡Cómo canta la zumaya!
¡Ay, cómo canta en el árbol!
¡La rama en que cantaba el tecolote!
Little bird, little bird, do you sing for me?
Pajarillo verde, quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermoré,’
Pajarillo verde, ‘Nevermore’ voy a llorar
The Trumpet of the Swan:
¡Cuac! ¡Acucuac!
Make Way for Ducklings!
¡GuaCuac! ¡MaCuac! ¡AraCuac!
Eram centenas e centenas de colheireiras cor-de-rosa…
Tive uma tal sensação de lindeza,
fiquei tão comovido,
de repente deitei no chão da lancha…




References: Above all, Vicente Huidobro in structure, style, and a few well-known verses, as much as Mário de Andrade, to whom I give first, last, and middle words here, and from whom I borrow “hallucinated rhapsody” from different titles. Strongly present: Miguel Angel Asturias, whose Guacamayo squawks throughout, and Oswald de Andrade, whose general idea of antropofagia informs the methodology here. Cameos: William Shakespeare (with and without anthropophagy by Oswald de Andrade), Nezahualcóyotl, Walt Disney, Gonçalves Dias, Nicanor Parra, Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer, Pepe Guízar, Federico García Lorca, E. B. White, Robert McCloskey, Ignacio Manuel Altamirano, Joe Darion, Edgar Allen Poe, Warner Bros., José Joaquín Palma and José María Bonilla Ruano, y varias frases y canciones de dominio público.

Smoking Murphy

If Murphy,

he of Murphy’s Law,

had been an ancient Nahua,

he’d have been Tezcatlipoca,

Smoking Mirror, The Master Mocker,

He Whose Slaves We Are,

The Enemy on Both Hands

who extends to us the merciless choice:

Damned if you Do, Damned if you Don’t.

Deceit, the Double Take, Catch-22,

La Ley de Herodes, a Mal Aire who

infiltrates,

impregnates,

like booze or ‘shrooms,

hallucinates,

in the hazy gloom,

something glimpsed but not quite seen.

Smoking Murphy,

he even tricked Quetzal “The DUDE” Coatl

on a nasty night of drunken debauchery.

Who is that?

Is that you over there, caught in the act?

No, it’s your reflection, dude,

can’t you recognize your sorry self?

Fall for it—

trickery.

If something can go wrong,

it will.

Not your will: it will.

Worship this.

Fall

for

it,

fall like fate,

and you will no longer

your will no longer

will

power.

Smoke that, Murphy,

and your will

never

know what hit ya.

Chilenismos del mexicano hambriento

“Me despido ya de ustedes,
pues voy pa’l diablo, cabrones.
En la chamba me dijeron
así los pinches patrones.”

“¿Cómo crees que vas pa’l diablo?
¿Vas por donde los pelones?”

“Hasta la chancla del diablo
es adonde voy, fregones,
y se llama algo picante,
algo así como chipotle.”

“Ya sé adónde vas, pendejo,
desanúdate los chones:
‘Chile,’ no ‘chipotle,’ güey.”

“Ya sabía, no te enojes.
No te des por aludido –
fue chiste pa’ estos burrotes.
Pero a ver, que tú me digas,
tú que sabes de naciones,
¿qué es lo que comen en Chile,
enchiladas con limones?”

“Te lo explico así de fácil
pa’ que entiendas mis razones:
Buscarás en vano, ‘mano
cuando extrañes el atole,
pues no hay tal concepto en Chile,
que nones pollos pelones.
Cuando vayas a decir
que dónde está el guacamole,
mira bien que digas ‘palta,’
aunque pa’l tamal no te antoje,
pues es un líquido verde,
como que aguaron el mole.
Y cuando te ofrezcan ‘choclo,’
ni creas zampar bombones
ni nada de chocolate,
porque así indican ‘elote.’
Si te hablan de la ‘frutilla’
no te indignes cual fresote.
De la fresa se trata, ¿sí?
O sea: no seas prole.

Pero otros manjares tienen.
Te menciono los mejores.
No te achicopales, ‘mano,
sólo hay que saber los nombres.
Si te ofrecen una sopa
que se parece al pozole,
ahí encuentras calabazas—
son “zapallos”—y frijoles.
Pídete unas empanadas
de sabores sabrosones.
Haz de cuenta quesadillas
infladas como colchones.
Lo mejorcito que tienen
es pescado, congrio, ostiones—
con la comida del mar
hay muchas buenas opciones.
Y levántate temprano,
tan pronto oigas los relojes,
para buscar un ‘completo’—
es el rey de los hotdogues:
desayuno que se sirve
hasta con to’y medianoche.”

“Te agradezco tus consejos.
Me voy como en las canciones:
‘México lindo y querido’
y mi salsa de chipotle.”

Esboços do Nu Modernista

O nu literário às vezes retrata-se num contexto natural, favorável aos objetivos da filosofia naturista. O seguinte são idéias referentes a alguns exemplos do nu natural num contexto especificamente brasileiro: o modernismo. Oswald de Andrade, por exemplo, contextualiza o nu com versos “digeridos” dos colonizadores portugueses. Eis o “erro de português”:

Quando o português chegou
Debaixo duma bruta chuva
Vestiu o índio
Que pena!
Fosse uma manhã de sol
O índio tinha despido
O português

Já no começo do modernismo, no esforço de revalorizar a autêntica cultura brasileira, Oswald apontou para o aspecto positivo do nu, porém um nu potencial, não realizado no desigual intercâmbio das tradições. Nestes versos o clima parece ser o único fator decisivo na luta da roupa, mas como sabemos, na realidade a religião e os costumes europeus foram as causas da abolição da prática indígena de andar despido. Em mais um poema, “as meninas da gare,” Oswald volta a este momento inicial de contato entre culturas para desenvolver o efeito da nudez natural dos indígenas sobre os europeus. Os versos, ironicamente traspostos da Carta de Pero Vaz de Caminha (de 1500) a um cenário urbano moderno, cuestionam jocosamente o preconceito importado da vergonha:

Eram tres ou quatro moças bem moças e bem gentis
Com cabelos mui pretos pelas espadoas
E suas vergonhas tão altas e tão saradinhas
Que de nós as muito bem olharmos
Não tinhamos nenhuma vergonha

As “vergonhas” expostas aqui curiosamente negam, dentro dos mesmos versos, a possibilidade da “vergonha” católica na que foram criados os colonizadores. Desajeitavelmente não foi possível a inteira erradicação deste conceito do pecado original, mesmo que alguns poucos europeus adotaram o estilo naturista dos povos autóctonos. Tanto na poesia do Oswald quanto nos seus manifestos “Pau-Brasil” e “Antropofagia,” a nudez forma parte da cosmovisão indígena revalorizada pelos autores e artistas do movimento modernista.

Mário de Andrade também utiliza o nu natural, de uma maneira que afirma o caráter pluricultural do povo brasileiro. Na sua rapsódia Macunaíma, o protagonista (que quase não fala) e os dois irmãos dele saem do banho que tomaram na marca do pezão de São Tomé, transformados nos fenótipos característicos do país: branco, vermelho e negro: “E estava lindíssimo na Sol da lapa os três manos um louro um vermelho outro negro, de pé bem erguidos e nus. Todos os seres do mato espiavam assombrados.” Altamente representativa da origem natural do país, a fauna indígena aparece numa lista que faz Mário de nomes e variedades das espécies e dos ruidos que faz cada uma. Os animais “assombrados” começam a fazer barulho até que Macunaíma “botou as mãos nas ancas e gritou pra natureza: ─Nunca viu não! Então os seres naturais debandaram vivendo e os três manos seguiram caminho outra vez.” É somente depois deste bautismo (que é também metamorfose e renascimento) acompanhado pelos irmãos nus, fenotipicamente diversos, e acompanhado também pela “fala” natural dos animais do mato, que Macunaíma vai começar falar com verdadeiro sotaque e vocabulário brasileiros. Nesta cena, e também na exagerada cerimônia macumbeira num capítulo posterior, a nudez é condição imprescindível para a aproximação à essência puramente brasileira.

De maneira semelhante, as famosas imagens de Tarsila do Amaral, como A Negra e Abaporu, realçam a importância que deram os modernistas ao nu como expressão autêntica. Nestas imagens e outras semelhantes, o corpo é muitas vezes exagerado, favorecendo certa parte deformada, num intento de estender, de esse jeito emblemático, os limites da representação corpórea do país. O corpo nu foi para os modernistas um conceito atávico, ideal para encarnar a liberdade artística da criação duma nova e orgulhosa identidade nacional.

The Flower Song Symposium: Intro. and Scene I

The Flower Song Symposium

A Dramatic Dialogue about Art

This play is now available for purchase through

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Read an excerpt below!

Among speakers of Nahuatl (the language of the Mexica or Aztecs, along with many dozens of city-state populations based around the Valley of Anahuac in central Mexico), the phrase in xochitl in cuicatl—flower and song—means poetry, covering its range of activities from written composition through musical performance. Sometime in the late fifteenth century, Tecayehuatzin, the lord of Huexotzinco (now a mid-sized city in Puebla state), invited his political and poetical peers to his palace to engage in a conference about the theory and practice of in xochitl in cuicatl, tantamount to discussing the meaning of art. In the Cantares mexicanos collection in the National Library of Mexico, there exists a four-folio text in reference to this symposium, in which it is not always clear if we are reading a fragment of the dialogue, or a summary, or something in between. In my opinion, the text provides a delicate and tantalizing glimpse of a Mesoamerican treatise on aesthetics, part of a philosophical system that would be rigorously suppressed by the Spanish invaders in the sixteenth century and beyond.

In writing this play, my intent has been to breathe life into this historical dialogue (here, scenes VI-VIII of eight scenes), to make it better known by expanding and contextualizing it. I have attempted to accommodate Nahuatl speech patterns (formalized repetitions; couplets such as “face and heart” to mean “personality”) in the dialogue in English. Little is known regarding some of the dialogue participants; about others, we have no record beyond their participation at this encounter. Consequently, I have filled in detail and characterizations as necessary. For example, in some few instances, I have slightly altered age differences among the characters. I have given cameo appearances to three important poets who did not attend the gathering: Macuilxochitl, Nezahualcoyotl, and Nezahualpilli. Nonetheless, the majority of source information comes from the published studies and translations of the renowned scholar of Mesoamerica, Miguel León-Portilla. A brief glossary of terms in Nahuatl follows the text.

CAST

Men

Tecayehuatzin, Lord of Huexotzinco, 40

Cuauhtencoztli, Prince of Huexotzinco, 20

Motenehuatzin, Lord of Tlaxcala, 45

Ayocuan, Lord of Tecamachalco, 30

Monencauhtzin, Prince of Cholula, 25

Aquiauhtzin, Lord of Ayapanco, 35

*Nezahualcoyotl, Lord of Texcoco, 50

*Nezahualpilli, Prince of Texcoco, 15

Xayacamach, Lord of Tizatlan, 40

Women

*Macuilxochitl, Daughter of Tlacaelel, 35

*Xochiyollotl, Daughter of Macuilxochitl, 15

Tlapalteuccitzin, Lady of Amecameca, 50

Palace Servant (male or female)

Chocolate Bearers (4-6 youths, female and male)

*Actors portraying these parts can double as chocolate bearers.

Time: Late afternoon into the night, spring of 1480

Place: The palace garden of Tecayehuatzin in Huexotzinco, central Mexico. On stage, other than various potted plants to represent a garden, are three stone mini-temples, two of smaller sizes on the sides, similar to stone bleachers, and one in the middle large enough for an orator to stand on but no taller than 4 ft. These mini-temples, placed in an arc, are sturdy enough to support hammocks which will be extended between them, one each between the middle structure and the side structures. Backstage left and right have elevated platforms, parallel in height and area, and higher than the middle mini-temple. The house left elevated platform has a chiminea-type stove or brazier, and the house right has a waterfall, actual or simulated. The raised platforms should be dark except when indicated. Beyond them, on the backdrop, is the classic view of the volcanoes Popocatepetl (house left) and Ixtaccihuatl (house right) as seen from Huexotzinco.

Dress: Almost all the characters represent Mesoamerican nobility. The men should wear a maxtlatl (loincloth) and tilmatli (cloak), the latter of rich color and pattern. Optionally, the princes (Cuauhtencoztli, Monencautzin, as well as Nezahualpilli) can appear without cloaks to better mark a difference in age. The women should wear a huipilli (sleeveless tunic) of rich color and pattern, and cuetl (wraparound skirt tied with a sash). Only the servant should wear a plain white tilmatli or huipilli.

Scene I

TECAYE: (seated high on the house right mini-temple steps) Is there word?

SERVANT: (standing) Yes, my liege.

TECAYE: Then give it your breath.

SERVANT: Motenehuatzin will arrive shortly, and Ayocuan draws closer as well.

TECAYE: (laughing) Ah, yes. Even from far afield you must have heard Ayocuan singing. Did you learn his refrain?

SERVANT: (singing) “Let the earth remain! Let the mountains stay!”

TECAYE: Yes, steadfast Ayocuan. Tell me also: have you procured the talking drums?

SERVANT: (speaks) Yes… (sings) Yes, my liege.

TECAYE: Prepare the torches. And, make sure the cacao has been ground. (remembering) Double the usual amount of cacao.

SERVANT: I go, my liege.

(Exit Palace Servant stage left)

TECAYE: Double the usual amount, because among our guests will be Xayacamach! Ah, the face and heart of that Xayacamach: great poet, life of the party, drinks too much xocolatl (extends hands and arms to indicate girth)! But, like the full moon, he seems to hold sway over many, including the prince, my son. My son, Cuauhtencoztli, pesters me to close the calmecac. Eagerly he swoops down upon every chance to tell me that poets and scribes and musicians and dancers and painters and sculptors should be few, and that what few there are should go learn their arts elsewhere, in Tenochtitlan, or Texcoco. He sees the world around him as if through a smoky mirror, he sees not that here in Huexotzinco we have cultivated formidable talent, especially in flower and song.

Plenty of chocolate for Xayacamach. He’ll probably bring his own! Let him drink all the chocolate he wants, he will still help me defend the aim of those who write the red, who write the black, who sing and dance with drum and flute.

(Enter Cuauhtencoztli stage right, running)

CUAUHTEN: I find you, father. Why do you sit here alone? Do you not wish to remember that the new eagle and jaguar warriors are to be celebrated tomorrow eve?

TECAYE: I hear you, my son, and I have heard you speak it so loud and so often that even had I the wits of a lizard, I would remember it. Do I not know that you are to become an eagle warrior? But tell me this: do you remember who is coming to visit this very afternoon?

CUAUHTEN: It’s…(thinking)… it is your clutch of composers, the lovers of flower and song. It will please me to see and hear Xayacamach.

TECAYE: Indeed. Will it please you to see and hear Xayacamach say that in order to honor the new eagle and jaguar warriors tomorrow eve, we need to hear an appropriate flower song composed?

CUAUHTEN: Certainly. Xayacamach himself can compose it, he would do us the honor…

TECAYE: Son, just as we have new warriors, we also have new flower song composers, and they deserve the moment to be celebrated as well.

CUAUHTEN: This appears plain and just, but can they not use a flower, a song, from their repertoire of red and black?

TECAYE: So they will do, as is the custom, but there will also be new with the old. I have already heard the new flower song in the calmecac, and I am much pleased. I anticipate my…what did you call it?…clutch of composers will stay a day or two to participate in the celebration.

CUAUHTEN: This is good and true, father.

TECAYE: Your old nemesis from the sporting contests will be here, too. What is his name… the prince of Cholula?

CUAUHTEN: (dejectedly) Monencauhtzin.

TECAYE: Now, don’t let him get the best of you. You’ve grown, you’re stronger and faster now than when he won that footrace. You need to show more confidence in your abilities, son!

CUAUHTEN: I’ll beat him back to Cholula!

TECAYE: More confidence in your abilities, not just of strength and speed, but also of flower and song. I hear Monencauhtzin has developed a gifted voice among composers.

CUAUHTEN: I’ll let you be the judge of that. For me, these skills fight like fire and water, father. One invigorates the flesh, the other dulls the senses.

TECAYE: I do not think your senses will be dulled by Aquiauhtzin from Ayapanco—he’s built quite a name for himself as a daring composer, ribald, even. And the venerable Tlapalteuccitzin is expected as well, and Motenehuatzin…

CUAUHTEN: If you give me their names with their faces, I will remember them better.

Gerineldo and the Hairy Nalgas

One of my favorite classes in the Introduction to Literature (in Spanish) course is when we read the medieval ballad "Romance de la Melisenda." I then have the students listen to a certain Britney Spears recording to compare and contrast content and theme of popular music over some six centuries. This always fruitful class activity led to the conception of the poem below, in which the "lyrics" part of my poem mixes "Melisenda" with "Crazy" and medieval Spanish with modern American English. (Another popular ballad from the same time period was the "Romance de Gerineldo.")

Gerineldo and the Hairy Nalgas
never made it out of Juan’s garage.
Quique played the bass and Steve the drum set,
somebody sang while Juan played lead guitar.
They used to shake the house and rock the calle,
as they covered all the hits “back when,”
from Mecano up to Ozomatli,
Fabulosos Cadillacs también.
But their version of “You Drive Me Crazy”
was Juan’s creation and their biggest dream.
It was a sampler from the Romancero
that built a backstory for Britney Spears:
“El romance de la Melisenda”
about a princess who stayed up all night.
Juan got Melissa to perform the lyrics -
she was Steve’s girlfriend but Juan loved her right.

Baby, I’m so into you
Yo soy princesa, eres príncipe azul.
De mi cama salté,
Wearin’ nothin’ as if it were my birth day.
Every time you look at me
Los mis pechos laten, it’s easy to see.
You drive me crazy
No puedo dormir
Me dize mi abuela que
There’s nothing to fear.
Sooyy…loca, carpe diem’s right,
Baby, thinkin’ of you keeps me up all night.
Conde, you’re so into me
Yo soy la moça que te encanta a ti.
Dime, will you marry me?
Ya maté un hombre para llegar aquí.
Cada vez I look at you,
No sé qué hacer - ¿qué harías tú?
Me vuelves crazy
I just can’t sleep.
Me dizen mis doncellas que
I’m in too deep
Sooyy…loca, carpe diem’s right,
Baby, thinkin’ of you keeps me up all night.

Gerineldo and the Hairy Nalgas
never made it past the neighbor’s yard.
But Melissa learned that Juan was her man,
and soon “Just Married” was soaped on their car.
They had a son and named him Gerineldo,
not for them a name like “Luis” or “James.”
From the juglares to American Idol,
the more things change the more they stay the same.

La historia de Coatlicue (Artista invitada: Alicia Dudek)

As part of an assignment in my spring 2008 course, Flower and Song: Synthesis of Mexican Poetry, student Alicia Dudek illustrated the Aztec myth of Coatlicue. Alicia has graciously given me permission to reproduce her work here as Guest Artist!



Coatlicue, diosa de la tierra, barría en Coatepec, el monte de la serpiente.





Una bola de plumas de colibrí le cayó del cielo.



Coatlicue recogió las plumas resplandecientes y vibrantes y se las puso en el pecho.



Sorprendentemente, como milagro divino o bien como broma de los dioses, Coatlicue se quedó embarazada.




Pero su hija Coyolxauhqui se enojó y acudió a sus cuatrocientos hermanos para que atacaran a su madre. Decidieron matarla por su vergonzoso método de concepción.
Mientras tanto, Coatlicue dio a luz (y no sólo de manera figurada sino literalmente) al dios del sol.




Huitzilopochtli nació feroz, vestido en su armadura de plumas de colibrí y con su xiuhcoatl, una serpiente de fuego que era arma de los dioses.




Degolló a su hermana Coyolxauhqui y tiró la cabeza al cielo, donde quedó como la luna. Mató a sus cuatrocientos hermanos y los convirtió en estrellas.



Huitzilopochtli, el hijo heroico, se hizo dios del sol, y convirtió a su madre en diosa de la tierra.