I had the privilege this fall, at the end of October and the start of November, to participate in Dia de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, festivities in the towns of Patzcuaro and Tzintzuntzan in Michoacan, Mexico. These towns and others in the vicinity of Lake Patzcuaro are famous for their Noche de Muertos, or Night of the Dead, celebrations, in which families gather in the cemeteries to carouse and hold vigil from dusk until dawn (“Day of the Dead”). Graves and mausoleums overflow with flowers, candles, cherished heirlooms, photographs, and offerings of food and drink, while the darkness booms and blares with the tumult of mariachi bands contracted to underscore the happy atmosphere. As the spirits of the dearly departed rejoin the living in celebration, death is transformed from something scary and solemn into jubilant reunion.
Day of the Dead is a remembrance of those who have passed away. Their photographs and things they loved are placed upon an altar called an ofrenda, purpose built for the day and heaped with cempazúchitl flowers, the flowers of the dead, whose petals are plucked and placed in paths that lead the spirits of the departed safely to the altars set up for them.
The origins of this holiday are a matter of scholarly disagreement between those who attribute to it either prehispanic or European precedents. On the one hand, Day of the Dead resembles some European holidays; during Samhain, for example, which also takes place on the first of November, the spirits of the dead are invited for a meal (O’Driscoll). Elements of the festival also recall European danse macabre traditions (Gonzalez), and signatures like chocolate and sugar skulls and bread shaped like bones—called pan de muerto in Mexico—feature in practices throughout Europe (Malvido). On the other hand, defenders of an indigenous origin point to various prehispanic Mexican celebrations of the dead, including the Aztec Quecholli, which took place at the same time of year, and during which food was offered to warriors who had passed away (“Dos historiadoras”). To me, the evidence suggests a syncretism of prehispanic and European practices, which is perhaps appropriate to what I observed of Mexican culture: that it is diverse and mixed and in many cases well integrated—a robust amalgamation of myriad sources, like a river fed by many streams. Whatever else Day of the Dead may be, we can say that it is definitely Mexican, with all the ambiguities that entails. And UNESCO has inscribed it on its list of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, announcing—as though the issue were in doubt—its universal value and the importance of its preservation (“Indigenous festivity”).
If you didn’t know about Day of the Dead before 2017, or if you didn’t know much about it, then the hit Pixar film Coco probably put you in the loop. The film takes place on Day of the Dead and makes use of its traditions and imagery—much of which came alive for me (pun intended) after participating in Day of the Dead festivities. The ofrendas, the pan de muerto, the cempazúchitl flowers and the pathways of flower petals that guide the spirits of the dead—all this stuff just jumped right off the screen for me. “Hey, I know what that is!” It wasn’t just abstract or imaginary anymore. It was a living, breathing set of practices and traditions cherished and celebrated by millions of people every year. I don’t know about you, but for me, this kind of joyful togetherness is a big part of what makes life on this planet really worthwhile. It’s sad to think of practices like this, and many others in Mexico and around the world, as threatened by the bulldozers and road rollers of global capital, the leveling forces of a mass-produced nonculture without precedent, without heritage, without history, without memory or the accumulation of human feeling. This endless web of money-making strategies, endeavors, and schemes wants to suck the life out of whatever still has life left in it. The trees with the biggest roots, we cut down and turn into lumber. It’s just like the Lorax. I’m afraid to think of what the world might look like without those trees, those cultures that have put down deep, deep roots, into the earth, into the places where generations have lived, loved, sorrowed, rejoiced, and died.
Indigenous people and cultures are under pressure all over the world, and it’s important that we do what we can to protect and support them: by learning about them ourselves and by encouraging others to learn about them; by contributing to local communities and charitable organizations; by using our wallets and our votes to discourage the economic and political practices that threaten them—and ultimately, by opening our hearts and minds to others, and to other worldviews that may not look like ours.
Works Cited
“Day of the Dead.” Michoacan is Magical, http://www.lakepatzcuaro.org/dayofdead.html.
“Dos historiadoras encuentran diverso origen del Día de Muertos en México.” Opinion, https://www.opinion.com.bo/articulo/cultura/historiadoras-encuentran-diverso-origen-dia-muertos-mexico/20071102175414274661.html.
González, Agustín Sánchez. “Día de muertos, ¿tradición prehispánica o invención del siglo XX?” Arqueología Mexicana, https://relatosehistorias.mx/nuestras-historias/dia-de-muertos-tradicion-prehispanica-o-invencion-del-siglo-xx.
“Indigenous festivity dedicated to the dead.” UNESCO, https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/indigenous-festivity-dedicated-to-the-dead-00054.
Malvido, Elsa. “Orígenes profundamente católicos y no prehispánicos, la fiesta de día de muertos.” Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, https://liberaradio.com/origenes-profundamente-catolicos-y-no-prehispanicos-la-fiesta-de-dia-de-muertos.
O'Driscoll, Robert, editor. The Celtic Consciousness. Braziller, 1981, pp. 197–216.
