Last updateFri, 29 Apr 2016 3pm

An early adventure into the rugged, sometimes unfriendly, but stunning territory of the Wixaritari Indian tribe

Recently in these pages a brief discussion appeared (Reporter June 27, July 4, August 1) regarding Mexico’s Huichol Indians.  Inevitably, this meant references to ill-fated American journalist Philip True.  As many long-stretch foreign visitors and residents may recall, True wrote for the San Antonio (Texas) Express-News, headquartered in Mexico City.  He was murdered in Huichol territory December 16, 1998, aged 50.

Why local folks ask directions from gringos or ‘it saves time, no?’

A gentelman in an old fashioned slant-crowned sobrero and field-darkened huaraches stopped me in the middle of downtown Guadalajara the other day.

Oye señor,” he said, “can you tell me how to get to the Palacio Federal, por favor?”

The two of us stood in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, people pushing around us in both directions, some detouring into the street. Mexican faces. This wasn’t normal tourist territory and there wasn’t a gringo to be seen.

Hard times with memory, plunges into unfamiliar worlds, experiences, people, finding life-changing guides

Putting aside a recent dip into life’s and the electronic world’s bumpy lessons (illusive wifi presence) that mauled a useful column into unintelligible mush, ventures into new territory are exciting, metamorphosing experiences.  But such change demands both unwavering and lively attention.  Thus the Zen Master Ikkyu’s brusk command when asked by a student for “a maxim of highest wisdom.”  Ikkyu slashed his brush across his tablet:  “Attention. attention, attention!”  

People had been gambling if Chapo could get out of prison; now that is clear, the betting is: ‘Can he stay out?’

President Enrique Peña Nieto is generously feeding a eager and hungry nationwide gambling market, even among near-empty-pocketed campesinos.  He’s stimulating a Niagara-sized, eager exchange of money among betting-inclined folks who find the antics  of Mexico’s chief executive an inexhaustible source of bizarre-loaded – and richly humor-wrapped – gambling game.  (“Chinga!  Not even he would be loco enough to believe something like that doesn’t stink,” said one Jocotepec friend, speaking of Mexico’s president, whom he judged recklessly wayward).    

Raramuri, the wary individualistic, solitary indians of the barrancas

The Raramuri indigenous people, with a population of about 60,000, are the largest tribe in the Republic north of the Valley of Mexico. With quiet, individualistic determination they cling to the sheer rockslide flanks of some of the most remote barrancas of Mexico, surrounded by a demanding environment in which even the smallest error can be dangerous, a large mistake, fatal.