Folktales, Morality, and Gender in a Nahua Community in Mexico

Transcription

Dominique Raby
The Cave-Dwellers’ Treasure:
Folktales, Morality, and Gender in
a Nahua Community in Mexico
In Nahua communities, both men and women may act as storytellers, but female
storytellers are fewer and perform in more intimate contexts. As a result, there is
to date no analysis of female Nahua storytelling. In this article, the author compares
two cognate folktales and underlines how each storyteller, a woman and a man,
deal with essential concepts related to morality and supernatural beings. Recent
studies on women’s folklore point out that women’s discourse often takes place in
a private context and uses ambiguity as an expressive strategy; this ambiguity, in
turn, is linked to the immorality or illegitimacy attributed to women’s words by
many societies. The Nahua case, however, suggests that Nahua female storytellers,
although performing privately, prefer a discourse that stresses themes of morality,
while some publicly renowned male storytellers may express ambiguous and amoral feelings. Ultimately, this disparity can be tied to the ambivalent opinion Nahuas
hold toward the Hispanic world and to recent changes in female identity.
Since the seventeenth century, the popular image of European storytellers, immortalized by the frontispiece of Charles Perrault’s Contes du temps passé (later reprinted
as Contes de Perrault [1697] 1980; see also Privat 2004), is one of an old woman surrounded by children. However, as Linda Dégh noted, research on märchen suggests
that in Europe and its colonies (as well as in Asia) “storytelling can be considered a
par excellence male occupation” (1995:62). Further, it is often the case that male
migrant workers exchange stories in their work places and bring them back home,
increasing the local repertoire. Women typically perform in their household or in
same-sex work circles, and prominent female storytellers more often claim male
rather than female relatives as their source of knowledge (Dégh 1995:62).
In Nahua communities in Mexico, storytelling is tied to sex roles in a similar way.
Renowned, “legitimate” storytellers are usually men, who may perform outside the
community or in front of a wide audience. Female storytellers speak mostly to an
intimate circle, usually including women and children from their own family. In the
Nahua community where this research was conducted, women claim they learned
Dominique Raby is an invited researcher at the Laboratoire d’Anthropologie Sociale, Paris
Journal of American Folklore 120(478):401–444
Copyright © 2007 by the Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois
Used with permission of the University of Illinois Press. No portion of this article may be
reproduced, photocopied, posted on another website or distributed
without the permission of the University of Illinois Press.
JAF 120_4 text.indd 401
11/12/07 12:28:01 PM
402
Journal of American Folklore 120 (2007)
their tales in the village environment principally by listening to men. No woman is
recognized as a prominent storyteller, although women now actively participate and
talk in political and other public meetings.1 This may explain in part why there are
to date no analyses of Nahua women’s folktales, despite the fact that Nahuas form,
with more than 1.7 million speakers, the most numerous indigenous group in Mexico. However, the publication of Doña Luz Jiménez’s extensive repertoire of folktales
and narratives in Nahuatl, from Milpa Alta near Mexico City, attest to women’s talent
in storytelling (Jiménez 1972, 1979; see also Karttunen 1999).
While female folktales are restricted to intimate settings and Nahuas generally
recognize only a few men as legitimate and knowledgeable storytellers, tales from
both sexes deal with the same topics. Through the use of traditional images, the
storytellers express views on current issues such as Nahua identity, long-term migration, and conjugal fidelity. As I will illustrate in this article, most of these themes are
ultimately linked to questions of morality. As a result, the study of women’s folktales
can provide a vantage point for examining the specific configuration of legitimacy,
intimacy, morality, and ambiguity in Nahua storytelling. To explore these issues, I
will first briefly discuss these and corollary concepts through some recent works, and
then I will examine the context of Nahua storytelling, as well as some methodological issues. After a discussion of the Nahua notions of morality and tlajtlakôlli (often
translated as “sin”) and their embodiment in supernatural beings named Cave-Dwellers, I will analyze how two storytellers, a man and a woman, present, through their
differential use of the Cave-Dweller characters, distinct views on reciprocity, sexuality, and wealth—the latter acquired through contact with the Hispanic or Western
world. The analysis will show how issues of morality pervade the storytellers’ discourse
and how they relate to the gendered context of Nahua storytelling.2
Ambiguity and Morality in Women’s Discourses
Recent studies in women’s expression in folklore reveal how multifaceted the “female
voice” is. While some scholars have expected women’s folklore to be an impoverished
imitation of male discourse and other writers have sought examples in which women’s folklore serves as a counterhegemonic contestation of the symbolic order, these
situations prove to be quite rare and are mostly restricted to particular contexts or
groups in a society. (For an example of the first case, see Rosenbaum 1993; for the
second, see Goodwin Raheja and Grodzins Gold 1994; Ortner 1990; Raby 2003.)
What seems to emerge instead is a constellation of situations that can be traced to
the speaker’s social position and life history, her audience, the context of a particular
performance, or her shifting identifications with various female characters. Women
often adapt to circumstances in order to deliver an acceptable message to their audience. For example, when asked to carry out a divination ceremony for a young woman, a Temne soothsayer of Sierra Leone may have a different discourse if the ceremony is held in the presence of the young woman’s kin, her in-laws, or just the young
women alone (Shaw 1990). Another common way to resolve the problem of adequacy between message and audience is coding—that is, making a story mostly understandable to women by relying on interpretive grounds that only women share (Rad-
11/12/07 12:28:01 PM
Raby, Morality and Gender in Nahua Folktales
403
ner and Lanser 1987). Hence, women’s words are often ambiguous and highly
contextual. For example, Bedouin women often present sentiments that are understood as immoral in their culture under the guise of formulaic poetry and intimacy
(Abu-Lughod 1986); an Appalachian storyteller has been shown to code messages
using performative features and the depiction of characters (Fine 1999); a “discomforting duplicity” is produced when North Indian women’s narratives express women’s conflicting desires and subject positioning (Meyer 2000:145); pre-Hispanic Nahua poetesses embody the ambivalent personality of a goddess to express, in specific
contexts, amoral views (Raby 1999); and deprecating symbols linked to femininity
are used by Hagen women of Papua New Guinea to portray their personal female
enemies (Strathern 1981).
All of these studies, which often make use of dialogical or intertextual analysis, deal
in some way with the interface between creativity and tradition. Poetry, songs, or,
most often, folktales are infused with the women’s personal views (whether discernible through context or discourse; see Abu-Lughod 1986:171–7), yet remain true to
inherited patterns of content and form. While folktales are shaped through such
transmission processes, storytellers are often not aware of the creativity they bring
to such tales (Belmont 1999:10). A good storyteller is one who will adapt, modernize,
and personalize an old story in order to make it enjoyable for his or her audience
while respecting the audience’s expectations for familiar tales (Dégh 1995:33–46;
Taggart 1986:438). For female storytellers, though, this adaptation may prove more
problematic. Rosan A. Jordan and Frank De Caro (1986:510–4) have pointed out
that, in addition to a preference for certain genres and styles, women’s storytelling is
characterized by a content that is closer to female concerns. Women must adjust their
sympathy for female characters and experiences to socially accepted views that often
do not offer a wide range of possibilities for such expression. To further complicate
the issue, women in so-called traditional cultures often conform to these socially
accepted views. Solutions to this dilemma may vary widely from one culture to another and from one performance by the same storyteller to the next, and discursive
ambiguity is a common strategy.
Nevertheless, women may, in some contexts, express unambiguous discourse. When
Urmila Devi Sood performed North Indian “tales of wisdom” (stories told during
women’s ritual that are explicitly distinguished from tales for entertainment), she
spoke as a middle-aged, upper-caste woman and as an experienced participant in
those rituals (Narayan and Devi Sood 1997). In the same fashion, when Bemba mistresses of ceremony gave rich details on girls’ initiation rituals to Audrey I. Richards
(1956), they spoke as the most knowledgeable persons on this important aspect of
their society. Nahua midwives, whose discourses to pregnant women and their families were reported by Fray Bernardino de Sahagún and his assistants in sixteenthcentury Mexico, were also highly recognized specialists (Sahagún 1950–82, book 6).
These women all perform as what Pierre Bourdieu calls “authorized spokespersons”
(1982:107–13): in their talk, there is a perfect equation between the discourse and
the social function of the speaker. Further, the group for whom she speaks (in her
own society) recognizes her legitimacy. It is no coincidence that the previous examples (and in Bourdieu’s principal example in the cited pages, not related to wom-
11/12/07 12:28:01 PM
404
en) are linked to religious rituals. In some contexts, women’s religious rituals are
explicitly presented as the legitimate complement to those of men, forming two
complementary aspects of religious and social life (see Collier and Rosaldo 1981;
Kaberry 1939). Knowledge, authority, and, perhaps even more importantly, prestige
are linked to these spokeswomen and their discourse, which celebrates women’s
ritual power. Not surprisingly, this discourse concerns morality, understood here as
what a society considers standards of good or required behavior, expressed, at least
in part, through its symbolic system and religious beliefs. Rich details generally unknown to men, emerging from the specific knowledge of the spokeswomen, elaborate
on cultural concepts or beliefs about femininity and maternity. However, to retain
its prestige and authority, the discourse and the performer must stay within the
boundaries of what the female audience defines as acceptable in their own society.
In the light of these works, how can one consider Nahua female storytelling? Unlike
the spokeswomen cited above, Nahua female storytellers do not talk with authority
or prestige; however, they may speak in order to personify morality. This particular
configuration seems to be linked at least in part to some characteristics of female
identity among Nahuas and their role in the community. That and the larger context
of contemporary Nahua life are the topics to which I now turn.
Nahua Folktales in Social and Historical Context
The Nahua Alto Balsas is a region composed of sixteen villages and a number of
hamlets with a total of more than 40,000 inhabitants, scattered on the banks of the
Balsas River in the state of Guerrero, Mexico. The region is characterized by a semiarid climate with very little annual precipitation (less than 650 mm or 25.5 inches).
The corn crop is unpredictable, especially in the last thirty or forty years (see Hémond
and Goloubinoff 2002). Subsistence corn farming is (and has always been) the core
of Nahua village identity. Men plant corn; women help in tending the fields and
harvesting and preparing corn for consumption. Both participate in the religious
rituals associated with the agricultural cycle. Beyond farming, commerce and migrant
work have been significant in the region since pre-Hispanic times. Recent decades
have seen the growing importance of the trade in arts and crafts, including the now
internationally known amate paintings that appeared in the 1960s (see Amith 1995;
Good Eshelman 1988, 1993; Hémond 2003). Today, whole Nahua Alto Balsas families
live in cities and tourist centers where they produce and sell handicrafts. Such families maintain strong ties with their Alto Balsas communities and come back for celebrations or if the family is designated for some position in the civic-religious hierarchy (the cargo system).3 Although handicraft production and sale in tourist centers,
which today forms the community’s most important economic activity, are strikingly successful and well integrated into the traditional Nahua economy (see in particular, Good Eshelman 1988), mixed feelings exist toward wealth, which is seen as
easily leading to selfishness, and toward influence from the Hispanic and Western
world. Nahuas, and particularly elder Nahuas, considered the Hispanic (and Western)
way of life to be amoral, because in their view it is based on the search for individual wealth, exhibits a lack of reciprocity, and encourages sexual promiscuity.
11/12/07 12:28:01 PM
405
The growing impact of modernity and globalization on the Nahuas seems to widen the gap between men and women, as men are more likely than ever to work alone
outside the community. Indeed, the flow of illegal migrants to the United States has
increased over time. Recent measures have been taken by the U.S. government in
response to stop the migration, which is often said to be linked, at least in part, to the
implementation of the North American Free Trade Agreement in 1994. Even so, young
men, often married and with young children, choose this option in greater number
due to the recent decrease of art and handicraft sales in Mexico. But they often stay
alone in the United States for up to seven or eight consecutive years before returning
to the community and their family. Young men returning from the United States
increasingly bring home Western ideas and may be at odds with their family. In some
cases they may import ideas and behavior from urban street gang culture, including
some forms of violence toward women. However, in Nahua communities where migration is widespread, positive impacts for women can also be seen. Since they manage the money sent from the United States, women may organize small-scale enterprises (García and Zárate Hoyos 2005); they also replace absent men in the lower
positions of the civic-religious system (Dáubeterre Buznego 2005).
Since 1990, tremendous changes have affected the Alto Balsas communities. At the
end of that year, Alto Balsas villagers were confronted with a hydroelectric dam project that would have flooded all their lands and relocated 30,000 to 40,000 inhabitants
(for detailed accounts, see Díaz de Jesús and de Jesús Alejandro 2000 and Hémond
2003:315–45, whom I am following here). In fact, the Comisión Federal de Electricidad (Federal Electricity Commission) had already begun working on the dam without informing the villagers. Facing denial by official institutions, the communities
formed a council, the Consejo de los Pueblos Nahuas del Alto Balsas (CPNAB, Council of Nahua Peoples of Alto Balsas). Actions (including road barricades, hunger
strikes, marches, demonstrations, and pilgrimages) were immediately taken by its
members, locally as well as in the state capital and Mexico City. They asked for and
obtained the support of Mexican and international intelligentsia; Nahua emigrants
in the United States brought decisive help by communicating their opposition to the
World Bank, which refused to finance the dam project before completion of the social
impact studies. In October 1992, in an unprecedented move, the Mexican government
finally cancelled the project.4
To date, the participation of women in this movement is not well documented, a
topic I hope to address in a forthcoming study. Women did play a significant role,
both as participants in the actions and in more traditional ways, such as in collective
food preparation. Women are particularly praised for having collectively prayed during the struggle, especially to Santiago (Saint James). This saint is perceived as a defender of the Indians, and he is linked to lightning, water, and the agricultural cycle,
and hence to territory. (For a discussion of the Santiago cult in the context of the
struggle, see Hémond 2003:367–408 and Oettinger 1995.) The Nahuas considered
the religious and moral participation of the women to be a decisive contribution to
the successful outcome of the struggle.
As Aline Hémond explains (2003), during the struggle, the value of Nahua culture
was strongly reasserted. For example, Nahuatl language was used in council meetings
11/12/07 12:28:02 PM
406
both to insure that all members comprehended what was being said and to prevent
mestizo (Mexican) county authorities from understanding the debates.5 In this reassertion of Nahua culture, women have a predominant role, often described in religious
and moral terms. As one man in the village told me: “Who would keep ancient, demanding rituals like fasting, except for women?” Furthermore, since the presence of
women is more continuous in the village than that of men, women appear as the
most devoted actors in the essential relationship with supernatural beings and gods,
a relationship that must take place in the village and its surroundings. The fact that
more women are monolingual and that they speak better Nahuatl than some men
may also play a part in their role as keepers of the tradition.
Finally, since 1990 women have increased in political influence. In the past, women were excluded from village political meetings, as were unmarried men and, in
some villages, dependent men.6 It was only in 1990 that all villagers over eighteen
regardless of gender were given the right to participate in meetings and vote in the
election for the comisario (mayor) (Hémond 2004:84). This change is linked to the
appearance of the multiparty system in Mexico in 1988 and the desire of indigenous
associations like the CPNAB and the Consejo Guerrerense 500 años de resistencia indígena (Guerrero 500 Years of Indigenous Resistance Council), affiliated with the
opposition party Partido de la Revolución Democrática (PRD, Party of the Democratic Revolution) to take political control of the villages. It was known that many
women and young people who played an important role in the dam struggle would
vote for the candidate associated with the PRD. Today in Alto Balsas, all the political
parties pay attention to women, since victory may depend on the female vote, which
is slightly larger than the male vote (Hémond 2004:86–7).
This new political power, gained through their participation in the dam struggle,
gives women additional strength to publicly criticize some male behavior. For example, according to one account by a former comisario in 2004, a group of women
challenged the election of the new comisario on the basis of his well-known history
of violent behavior toward his wife. Indeed, a prerequisite for holding this position
is being a model of good behavior, both at the family and the community levels (see
Celestino Solís 2004:79). Although the women’s request to choose another comisario
was not granted, this event showed that women could now strategically take political
action for their own sake. In informal gatherings, women regularly comment that
due to problems with alcoholism and domestic violence in the community, many
husbands are not playing their part, as it is understood by Nahua morality.7 Traditionally, Nahua marital relationships must be characterized by love, respect, and reciprocity; women use the word xkualli (not good, bad) to describe male deviant behavior.
Considering the post-1990 changes as a whole, one observes a cluster of events
that, on one hand, associates women with morals and cultural continuity and that,
on the other hand, gives women the strength to make their voices heard publicly. It
must be noted that these new trends are based on the important role that Nahua
women have traditionally held in family and religious affairs, as well as on the place
that the wives of political officials have had in the civic-religious system.
The events of the 1990s did not pervade folktales in the obvious way that they did
in the amate tradition of painting,8 but the partial redefinition of gender roles inher-
11/12/07 12:28:02 PM
407
ited from them seems to be reflected in women’s storytelling. Migration is directly
addressed in men’s and women’s folktales, but it is at the level of gender representation that events like the right to vote or the revitalization of Nahua culture may have
had the most important impact on female storytelling. However, in the absence of
any large-scale compilation of the region’s Nahua folklore prior to the recent years,
it is difficult to evaluate the scope of this impact.
Traditionally, women are associated with the contradictory powers attributed to
earth figures and femininity by the Nahuas (see Beaucage, Boege, and Taller de
Tradición Oral 2004; Taggart 1983). These powers can be understood as dangerous,
infertile, and amoral or as benevolent, fertile, and closer to morality. In the community, the image of amoral women may appear in any storyteller’s narration today.
More often, though, female storytellers use their tales to exemplify the morality of
women (and, by the same token, of good men, traditionally understood), while some
male storytellers might choose to expose their own struggle with identity and the
immoral behavior they may adopt away from home. A former migrant worker and
renowned storyteller that I recorded, tomanoj (an Alto Balsas Nahuatl equivalent of
the Spanish honorific “don”) Ciriaco, regularly expressed such feelings. More than
those of women, his tales seem infiltrated with ambiguity, and he often seems to be
trying to balance the behavior that is expected of men and the amoral satisfaction of
desires, much as do the many young men who migrate outside the community. Indeed,
male storytellers who lived most of their lives in the village may mock these feelings
associated with migrant work and will attribute immoral behavior to Hispanics,9 rich
Nahuas, or, to lesser degree than migrant workers, to women.10
Women’s tales not only present moral female characters, they may also speak in
total concordance with socially accepted views, while at the same time being able to
criticize unambiguously, as they do in daily conversation, deviant male behavior and
its negative impact on both men’s and women’s lives. Representations of gender in
women’s folktales seem to reflect recent changes in Nahua social life more than men’s
tales do. This is probably because such changes affect women both as objects of representation (they are seen as more moral than men, in some respects) and as social agents
(since more than ever their role in the local discourse is to maintain morality).
Two Elders Who Shared Their Words
Topi (an Alto Balsas Nahuatl equivalent of the Spanish honorific “doña”) Genoveva
is a frail widow in her eighties who lives with her son and daughter-in-law and their
family. She attaches great value to traditional life and dislikes the invasion of Western
technology, although she consented to speak into a microphone when I told her that
it would help me give a better rendition of her tales. During recordings, her usual
audience—her grandson’s wife, young great-grandchildren, and neighboring children—would usually gather to listen to her tales. Topi Genoveva told me that her
interest in folktales developed because her husband was a storyteller, and she accompanied him to storytelling sessions while living at the rainy-season settlement. As a
young girl, she particularly liked songs, and she still remembers a few. She knows
about twenty-five tales and tells them in a quiet, gentle fashion, with few gestures;
11/12/07 12:28:02 PM
408
her versions are usually short and often provide a clear moral message. She has a
unique gift of surrounding her characters and places with an intriguing atmosphere
of mystery, which stems from her familiarity with the Nahua supernatural world.
Tomanoj Ciriaco is a self-confident, hospitable man in his early sixties. He has an
extensive repertoire of tales and is quite rightly proud of his great talent for storytelling. His wife and young adult sons would often attend our recording sessions, and
he would regularly consult them on what narrative to tell next. He learned most of
his tales while he was living in a tourist center, selling handicrafts and attending
storytelling evenings with other men, mostly from his own village. Tomanoj Ciriaco
remembers very long tales without hesitation and spins them out with many lively
details. His versions are very rich, and he delves into impressive psychological depth,
which gives his characters a mythic or novelistic complexity. Listening to his tales, I
was often left with the impression that the villain may not be so villainous after all
and that the hero was not exactly flawless.
Storytelling is falling out of fashion in the community in which I worked, and I
was rarely able to attend a spontaneous session.11 Most tales I heard were told at my
request, and all were recorded in my presence. I explained the aim of my project to
the mayor and to all storytellers. I had to be extremely specific about the nature of
my project with female storytellers (as well as with some men), because they often
would first deny any talent for or even knowledge of storytelling and then refer me
to renowned male storytellers like tomanoj Ciriaco. Such denials were not the formulaic denial of competence as described by Richard Bauman (1984:21–2) and Harris M. Berger and Giovanna P. Del Negro (2002:64); they reflected the idea that renowned storytellers are more talented and legitimate and should be solicited first. I
would often explain to the women that I wanted all voices to be heard in my work.
Everybody has his or her own way to tell, I would say, and I explained that I felt that
Nahua women’s words were very valuable too. To this, women would genuinely
agree.
Stories may be shaped in response to the ethnographer’s identity and expectations.
This stems from the reflexive consciousness and partial sharing of experience that
Berger and Del Negro (2002) show is at work in all verbal or nonverbal performance.
The fact that the ethnographer is part of the audience and is recording the event has,
of course, implications for content analysis. A discussion of objectivity and the multilayered notion of reflexivity is beyond the scope of this essay; instead, here I will
simply underline the importance of feminist thought in both the deconstruction of
the idea of pure objectivity (see Strathern 1987) and some subsequent repositionings
of academic stances (Mascia-Lees, Sharpe, and Ballerino Cohen 1989). While objectivity per se is not possible in social research, reflexive techniques partially allow
ethnographers to abstract data from its primary base, which lies in social interaction
between fieldworker and research participant (see Del Negro 2004:71, discussing
Georges and Jones 1980). Before I discuss the narratives, it will be worthwhile to
explore my position in the ethnographic encounter and to use a reflexive stance to
answer an important question I am often asked with regard to this women’s discourse
of Nahua morality: “Is it not simply that the women you spoke with want to impress
you as being moral?”
11/12/07 12:28:02 PM
409
Elaine J. Lawless (1993:12–8) has outlined how intimacy, group interaction, and
dialogical interpretation modify and illuminate a first telling. In my own work, each
of these components developed over the years. Intimacy with research participants
is a highly rewarding experience, for it replaces mutual incomprehension with shared
humanity. After we shared some highly emotional events together, I developed strong
bonds with topi Genoveva, as well as with topi Argeria, who considers me as her
daughter. To a lesser degree, I developed intimate relationships with other female
storytellers that I met more recently. As a result, I was able to identify the variations
in the storyteller’s tales that developed in the course of our relationships. Despite the
discrepancies in performances of the same tale recorded years apart, the question of
morality was treated consistently, even though I was becoming less and less a stranger to impress or to be taught in Nahua morals. The growing intimacy simply allowed
for the presentation of greater details about morality and tlajtlakôlli (sin) in the tales.
My relationships with men could not be as intimate as they were with women in a
society where the sexes are segregated, but I was able to notice consistency in tomanoj
Ciriaco’s and other men’s discourse on morality over time. One important factor in
the tale’s variation, though, was the presence of the tape recorder. (At the request of
storytellers, I would often listen to a story first and then tape it later, either immediately afterward or some days later). When the tape was on, all storytellers tried to give
a detailed and lively performance. In addition, one man tended to refrain from adding spicy details, while one woman seemed to stay closer to what she felt was the
“standard” or “true” version and limited conscious personal variations.
Accounting for group interaction was also important for understanding personal
variations and their appreciation by the audience. I was rarely alone with the storyteller during performance, and his or her family, the first audience of any storyteller,
was usually present; my Nahua assistant would often also be part of the audience. On
one occasion, while I was preparing to record topi Estrella for the first time at her home,
a woman in the audience told her half jokingly: “Don’t be shy. Tell it right! Say everything!” She assured us that she would do so, but at the end of the tale, her young adult
daughter criticized her performance. Referring to a short formula that appears twice
in the story, she said, “You didn’t tell it right, you usually say ‘for five, for six’ and today
you said ‘for five, for ten’!” There were probably other variations in her mother’s tale,
which she regularly heard since childhood, but she felt that that one was the most
significant. I assured her that this small variation did not bother me at all. These kinds
of unexpected or provoked group discussions, which occurred quite regularly, suggest
a reasonable consistency in storytelling, with or without my presence.
Dialogical and collaborative interpretation are exciting recent trends in folklore
studies and anthropology (e.g., Del Negro 2004; Lawless 1992, 1993; Limón 1989;
Narayan and Devi Sood 1997; Tedlock 1985, 1990). When a storyteller appreciates
such practices, which is not always the case, I would engage in extensive conversation
about the meaning of certain episodes in the narrative and the value given to characters’ behavior.12 These conversations often served as an occasion for storytellers to
spontaneously tell parts of their life story as explicative devices. My research assistants,
two young women from the community who helped transcribe and translate the
tales, also provided many clarifications used in this analysis, which would not have
11/12/07 12:28:03 PM
410
been possible without their knowledge. I have tested some interpretation in a more
dialogical way by presenting it to storytellers or assistants for discussion. All interpretations presented here were at some point elaborated in a collaborative process,
but the final analysis is mostly mine.
How the Cave-Dwellers Release Their Treasure
“Tlakôloleroj: The Farmer with a Small Plot of Mountain Land” is a tale “for children”
(para kôkonej) about reciprocity between human and supernatural beings.13 In the
tale, a poor, humble, and hard-working farmer unwittingly helps the Ôstôkchânekej
(Cave-Dwellers), and in exchange for this help, he receives a reward that will allow
him to provide for his own household and kin. This general pattern, which follows
themes from pre-Hispanic religious thought, is a favorite among Nahua and Mesoamerican tales, and it is often balanced with the punishment of rich, individualistic
people. The two Tlakôloleroj tales presented here are summarized in Table 1. As the
table indicates, though the two tales are quite different in many ways, they share a
common theme, the exchange of help between the Cave-Dwellers and a man, which
allows for a comparative analysis. Indeed, the fact that each storyteller decided to deal
with the underlying theme in contrasting ways makes a comparative analysis as applicable to these tales as if the two versions had involved strictly parallel episodes. My
analytic method draws from James M. Taggart’s work in rural Spain (1990); he shows
how male and female storytellers are engaged in a dialogue in the Bakhtinian sense
and exchange points of view on issues of primary importance to the community.
They do so by listening to each other and, while retelling the same tales, by changing
them in a subtle or obvious way according to their perspective (Taggart 1990:13).
Attending to such dialogue allows for a rich, in-depth understanding of the social
discourse on a particular topic. In the Nahua community with which I worked, the
cross-gender dialogue is not so direct, because men do not form a part of the female
storytellers’ typical audience. But little boys who may become storytellers themselves
listen to women’s stories, and women listen to male storytellers. Men and women are
obviously concerned with the same important issues, share their thoughts on many
occasions, and expose these concerns, each with their particular approach, during
storytelling performances.
The brevity of topi Genoveva’s tale (eight minutes) allows me to reproduce it here
in extenso.14 This will be followed by a summary of tomanoj Ciriaco’s longer tale.
(The full text of this twenty-seven-minute narrative is provided in the Appendix.) It
is important to note that the length of the tale is a matter of personal storytelling
style, not gender, as is the emphasis given to the psychology of the characters. In his
work on narrative theory, Harold Scheub (1998) drew attention to the powerful emotions a storyteller arouses in his or her audience. In fact, as Patricia Sawin (2002:42)
outlines, one of the threats posed by the female storytellers is that they may provoke
emotions that contradict the order of things in a society. To give a sense of topi
Genoveva’s ability to fill her stories with emotions, I have indicated in brackets and
italics my interpretation of the intonations she used to convey the feelings of her
characters.
11/12/07 12:28:03 PM
Table 1. Parallel Episodes in Two Tlakôloleroj Tales
Topi Genoveva’s Version
(“Buried Snake”)
Tomanoj Ciriaco’s Version
(“Snake Twins”)
1.
At the beginning of the rainy season, a poor farmer (the Hero) decides to sow his little plot of land.
Poor Hero and
his Wife have
no corn
Wife tells him that he was unable to find corn. She can not give him tortillas.
Hero tells his wife he is going. Wife says that
they have almost nothing left to eat.
Hero decides to go sowing without eating.
2.
Hero shows compassion and acts responsibly On his way, Hero finds a killed snake.
He buries it so that the vultures do not
eat it.
Hero works hard all day. The next day he
refuses to eat in the morning and tells his wife
to give his food to their children.
Hero works hard in the lower part of his land.
3.
At noon, he hears somebody calling him. He looks up the slope and sees . . .
Female Cave-
Dweller(s)
bring(s) food
two maidens. Curious but also suspicious, he meets them only after calling insistently
They offer him food.
—
a very beautiful woman who offers him food.
He goes readily to meet her.
Hero eats the food of the Female Cave-Dweller/s
She comes everyday. Hero never eats at home.
Day 2: Hero eats like first day.
Day 3: Hero eats with her on his lap.
Day 4: She says she will tell him something.
Day 5: She announces she is pregnant.
4.
Hero is invited to Female Cave-Dwellers say they are taking Female Cave-
Hero away. Hero is hesitant. They say they
Dweller’s home will take him to their home.
Female Cave-Dweller tells Hero to go to her
home and says that the crop will fail on his little
plot of land.
Hero first shows concern for his wife.
She says it is only for a week and tells him not to
confess their sin. She explains how to behave.
Hero accepts. They arrive at the cave.
5.
Hero is greeted by the Cave-Dwellers’ Mother.
Female Cave-Dweller presents Hero to her Father
as his new son-in-law.
At the cave
—
Snake mat and seat trial.
Father tells Hero what to do.
Female Cave-Dweller gives birth to two snakes.
Hero feeds and transforms them into “humans.”
She says it is time to go back to Hero’s home.
6.
Hero is given wealth
Cave-Dwellers’ Father gives him a bag of money for having shown concern for the
dead snake, who was one of them.
Cave-Dwellers’ Father says he has arranged
everything and gives wealth to his daughter for
Hero.
7.
Back at home
Hero arrives at home alone. Wife shows concern that Hero may have a new wife.
Hero reassures Wife.
Hero arrives at home with new wife and children.
Wife is happy that Hero has a new wealthy wife.
—
Cave-Dweller wife and children give new house
and store. They go back to where they belong.
Hero and Wife are rich.
Hero and Wife wait for the corn crop.
11/12/07 12:28:03 PM
412
“Tlakôloleroj: The Farmer With a Small Plot
of Mountain Land” by Topi Genoveva
There was a poor man, just a little farmer with a small plot of mountain land. Since
the rainy season had just begun, he starts to sow [corn seeds], just by hand. So the
following day he goes to sow, this little farmer. He has nothing to eat, he suffers. Now
his wife tells him:
— [sadly] Well now, I won’t [be able to] give you your little tortillas, you didn’t
find any corn, not even a little cuartillo!15
— [with courage] Well, even so, I’ll go just like this [= go without eating]. I’ll come
back earlier. I’ll work, even if it is only a little.
He went toward where he sows on the mountain. They say he went like this [=
without having eaten]. He went on the road, and there he saw a snake. It was there
lying on the road. He said to himself:
— [astonished and shocked] It looks like somebody killed it!! [slowly, as if checking
the snake] It is absolutely not alive. It seems that someone just killed it. Some people
just passed there!
Now since he had his uitsôktli—it is like a wooden stick used to dig—he started to
dig. He buried the snake. He tells it:
— [protective tone of voice] Here [on the road] the vultures will eat you. Here there
are vultures. Enter here! [in the earth pit]. Here you’ll rot away [in peace].
He left it inside the earth pit. He buried it there. It is noon now. He is digging holes
to sow his land. And just there he sees a maiden. She is bringing him food, tortillas.
She tells him:
— [in a soft, welcoming voice] Siiir! Sir! Come here!
— What?
— Come here, we are calling you!
— [suspicious] Why?
He doesn’t want to go. Nobody ever came to see him there, so if they call him, what
could they give him? He can see that they are [two] women. They say:
— [with disappointment and impatience] Do come, sir! Come here and meet us!
— [with uncertainty] No, I will not go.
— Yes, come here! [in a lively tone] We will give you this!
He went to meet them. He tells them:
— What can it be?
— [lively] We brought you food. We brought what you will eat. Eat so that you
won’t suffer. [pityingly] You always come here just like this. Because you are a poor
little man, you don’t have [food] to eat. [persuasive] Now we give you food. Eat.
So he agreed. He ate, since he was hungry. They tell him:
— [confidently] Now we will take you away.
— [uncertain] Why? Where are you taking me?
— We will take you to our home.
— Aah . . . [having made up his mind] Well then, OK.
— Leave here everything you brought to sow [corn seeds], we are taking you
away.
11/12/07 12:28:03 PM
413
He went with these maidens. They [the maidens] are from the cave. They made
him enter there [in the cave]. They say:
— Here we will enter. Us, we are from here. Now we will give you some money so
that you will be able to eat. The older one, our father, will give you the money. Here
is our mother.
They brought him there [to the cave. The mother] tells him:
— [welcoming] Take a rest, sir, since you came!
— Yes. [with expectation] Now what are you [plural] going to tell me? Now those
ones who brought me here, why is it that they came to give me food?
He is told [by the mother, on behalf of the family]:
— Yes, we are concerned about you. Because you are a poor little man, how are you
going to eat? Did you know whom you really buried? You didn’t want the vultures to
eat it [the snake]. You showed concern for us. [sadly] They [the people who killed the
snake] just threw us [the snake as a member and representative of the Cave-Dwellers]
on the ground so that we would be eaten. And then you didn’t want this to happen.
Now we [the Cave-Dwellers] are concerned about you. Now we are going to give you
[in a clear voice] one bag of money! Now sow, so that you will eat [this coming crop].
— [hesitantly] Very well, if you give it to me.
— [affirmative] We do give it to you, with our heart we give it to you. Now sow.
Buy your corn so that your people will eat.
— Very well!
They gave him a bag of money, just because he buried the snake. That’s what they
told him. And he came back to his wife, [and] he tells her:
— I came back!
— [surprised] So you didn’t sow?
— I didn’t sow. I still have my little seeds with me. I’m not sowing. They [the CaveDwellers] took me away where they live, and they gave me this [the bag of money].
I buried a snake on my way, and they knew it. They came to give me food, and I ate.
I ate the food, what they brought I ate. Then they took me to their home. [happily]
They say that we’ll eat with this, we’ll buy our corn.
— [not so enthusiastically] Well then, OK. If they gave it to you, we’ll eat with it.
— Yes!
— [uncertain] Now, are you going to go again, where you went?
— [confidently and reassuring] No! They won’t take me there again. I wouldn’t say
that they will tell me to be their son-in-law. No! They just gave me this, because I
didn’t want to let the vultures eat it [the snake], where they [the bad ones] threw it.
— Ah, very well!
It’s finished now.
Narrative Summary of “Tlakôloleroj: The Farmer With
a Small Plot of Mountain Land” by Tomanoj Ciriaco
A poor farmer with young children goes sowing his small plot of mountain land at
the beginning of the rainy season. His wife tells him that they have almost nothing
left to eat so he goes without eating, leaving his share to his children. At noon, while
11/12/07 12:28:04 PM
414
he is sowing, he hears a voice: “Psst! You! Yes, you! Come eat, I brought tortillas for
you!” He sees a beautiful woman and does not hesitate much to meet her. She gives
him food to eat and tells him to keep refusing his wife’s food, for she will provide for
him. He wishes that he could marry her, but then realizes he shouldn’t feel that way.
During the following days, the man eats with the beautiful Cave-Dweller woman on
his lap until she announces that she is pregnant and that she will bring him to her
home and give him money. She says that the crop will fail on his little plot of land
anyway. He shows concern for his wife but finally agrees to follow the woman when
she tells him that they will come back to his home in a week. She gives him advice:
at the cave, he must not confess their sin. Her sisters will bring a seat and a mat made
of snakes: he must sit on the seat and must not lie on the mat. The man follows her
advice. Then the father of the Cave-Dweller woman, horned like a devil, explains to
the man what will happen next: his daughter will give birth to their children in a jar,
and the man must feed them with chocolate and bread. The Cave-Dweller gives birth
to two snakes. After four days the father tells the man to jump over the jar on Friday
so that the twins can be released. When the man does so, the snakes transform themselves into twin boys. The Cave-Dweller woman, the poor farmer, and their two sons
return to the man’s home with extraordinary wealth, including endless money. His
wife welcomes them all and is delighted. She suggests the Cave-Dweller woman become her husband’s wife and that she will cook for them, but the Cave-Dweller refuses. In the night, she builds a large, beautiful house. One week later, the CaveDweller woman announces her departure, saying that her children will stay with them
one more week. The mischievous snake twins play a trick on a rich merchant who
passes by and thus acquire everything needed to furnish the new house and even to
open a store. The following day, the children announce their departure. They assure
their stepmother that some day they will come back, and then they go away. (See the
Appendix for the full transcription of this tale.)
Cave-Dwellers and the Nahua Concept of Morality
Ôstôkchânekej (Cave-Dwellers or “owners,” for the word has both meanings in Nahuatl) are related to the rain dwarfs, lightning-bolt spirits, and mother earth figures
of pan-Nahua cosmology and tales. They are conceived as earth masters who can take
the form of snakes, deer, devils, or humans. Following the pre-Hispanic concept of
divine duality, they appear as a couple composed of a male and a female aspect (see
Beaucage, Boege, and Taller de Tradición Oral 2004; León-Portilla 1963, 1999). The
Cave-Dweller couple has several daughters, which establishes within the story the
female aspect of the family. They are possessors of a treasure, composed principally
of the “mother” (nântli) or “seed” (xinâchtli) of the money (represented as either a
small bright snake or a coin) that breaks itself endlessly into parts, thus multiplying
itself. The Cave-Dwellers can give some of their endless supply of wealth—money,
clothing, beautiful houses, livestock, even corn—to worthy people, but also to any
person who accepts in turn to live with them after his death. They live in a cave (ôstôk)
situated near the village, a strange and frightening place where only the reckless would
venture and where hopeless alcoholics ultimately end up. The male Cave-Dweller can
11/12/07 12:28:04 PM
415
delude (kîxkopa) people and make them see, in place of the cave, a church, a beautiful house, or whatever is the Cave-Dweller’s fantasy. Cave-Dwellers are possessors
not only of material wealth but also of wisdom and spiritual power (tlamachîlistli,
from mati, to know). Despite their obvious connection to death and the afterworld,
Cave-Dwellers are usually not the devils that inhabit the afterworld (chiknauhtipa),
which instead are identified as vultures or dead men. Following pre-Hispanic Nahua
thought, the cave and the afterworld are conceived of as embodying both benevolent
and malevolent aspects.
The modern-day rain dwarfs, lightning-bolt spirits, and Alto Balsas Cave-Dwellers
all originated from the pre-Hispanic Tlaloque, the helpers of the rain god Tlaloc,
ruler of the Tlalocan (an eternal spring paradise) with Chalchiuhcueye, the goddess
of earth waters. Tlaloque were said to live in hollow mountains (accessible through
caves) connected with the underworld and underground waters. In the mountains
they kept the rain, clouds, lightning bolts, winds, and cultivated plant seeds, as well
as a treasure of precious green stone, fine turquoise, and jewelry. In pre-Hispanic
times, in addition to being the mark of nobility, precious stones were associated with
agriculture and fertility, as they were symbols for raindrops, water, children, agricultural plants, and the gods’ hearts (see López Austin 1997:216–21; also Raby 2003:163
n. 9). The people of Tlalocan were strongly associated with mother-earth goddesses.
Among them Cihuacoatl, Snake-Woman, could take the form of a snake or a deer.
Today in the Alto Balsas, Cave-Dwellers are principally providers of a “treasure,”
not rain or cultivated plant seeds, although the agricultural symbolism inherited from
the Tlaloque remains strong. This treasure has changed: it is no longer composed of
the precious stones and jewelry worn by pre-Hispanic Nahua rulers and related to
agricultural symbolism. The treasure now contains objects associated with the Hispanic world (such as money, beautiful houses, horses, and so forth) and mostly acquired by the Nahuas through commerce with them. Male and female Cave-Dwellers
are differentially related to Hispanics and agriculture symbolism. Male Cave-Dwellers are often described as Hispanics and, in tomanoj Ciriaco’s tales, they play the part
taken by the devil and other villains in stories of European origin. The notion of the
devil as Hispanic and related ideas about ethnic identity are common in Nahua tales
(Beaucage 1992:97, 1994; Taggart 1983:76–81; 1997:223–41) and in many Mesoamerican oral traditions.16 But Alto Balsas female Cave-Dwellers do not show these
characteristics so clearly and appear as earth figures, more closely related to farming;
as such, they reflect the contradictory powers attributed to the earth by Nahuas. As
for Hispanic women, they are represented by another character, named the King’s
Daughter (Rey Îchpôch): she speaks Spanish and is rich and ultimately immoral. The
King (or rich Hispanic man) may replace the male Cave-Dweller in his villain role.
Relations between the hero and the Cave-Dwellers, as well as between the hero and
Kings or Kings’ Daughters, symbolize the perception that Nahuas have about ethnic
identities and hierarchy. Hispanics are a source of wealth, but they can fool poorer
Nahuas. Nevertheless, Nahuas can win them over thanks to their higher morality.17
By morality, I mean Nahua ideals of social behavior and relations with the divine.
In her work on sixteenth-century Nahua-Christian moral dialogue, Louise Burkhart
(1989:28–9) showed how the Nahua idea of tlajtlakôlli, a concept of pre-Hispanic
11/12/07 12:28:04 PM
416
origin, is distinct in many ways from the Christian concept of sin. Tlajtlakôlli is associated with damage and is perceived more as a threat to the cosmic and social order
rather than to the individual soul. Proper behavior allows people to maintain a necessary equilibrium, and immoral acts can be punished by supernatural beings. Homicide, adultery, theft, sorcery, and failure to share with others are considered serious
tlajtlakôlli (Burkhart 2001b). In the Nahua Alto Balsas, reciprocal gifts of work (tekitl)
and goods characterize social relationships. To love (tlasojtla) and to respect (tlâkaiita) are synonymous with reciprocity (Good Eshelman 1993:434; 1996:277). This
general rule is found inside the marital relationship, the nuclear family, and the extended household, as well as in the relations with other kin and friends, within the
community as a whole, and between humans and supernatural beings. Reciprocity
is considered a voluntary act, but in fact giving and receiving are subject to much
social pressure (Good Eshelman 1993:84). Human actions that violate reciprocity at
any level, including all those mentioned above, are tlajtlakôlli.
As providers of wealth and somewhat devilish in nature, Cave-Dwellers, especially the males, are linked to the perceived amorality of the Hispanic/Western world.
But since the Cave-Dwellers, in particular the females, are related to the earth, they
also stand for Nahua morality and its basis in their traditional, agricultural way of
life. The supernatural family acts as provider of justice and fully participates in the
reciprocal nature that characterizes social and spiritual relationships. Françoise Héritier (1996:12) has stressed that no symbolic system is totally closed nor follows its
own logic to the end: all constantly negotiate with reality and present “gaps” that can
become loci for social creativity. The Cave-Dwellers present an interesting example
of a symbolic gap that can to lead to such malleability. Their multidimensional nature
(representing both Nahua agriculture-linked values and Hispanic economic power)
intrinsically links morals, wealth, and gender, and is a fertile soil for storytellers, who
can make use of the Cave-Dwellers’ characteristics to convey quite different messages, while still being true to the common representation system.
I will now compare the two versions of the Tlakôloleroj tale in terms of three
themes: reciprocity, expressed in connection with corn and wealth; marital relationships and sexuality; and the morality of the female Cave-Dwellers.
Corn, Wealth, and Reciprocity
The Tlakôloleroj tales are set in a time when husband and wife work separately: at
the beginning of the rainy season, the poor man must plant his field alone in the
potentially dangerous environment outside the village. Furthermore, there is no corn
to eat, and the crop is jeopardized. The two versions of the farmer character (the hero
of the story) experience this difficult situation in quite different ways; topi Genoveva’s
farmer is moral and generous, while tomanoj Ciriaco’s hero, although also generous,
is subject to weakness in temptation. Although both men are rewarded by the CaveDwellers, these divergent male attitudes result in quite opposite outcomes.
In topi Genoveva’s version of the tale (which I will call the “Buried Snake” version),
the hero buries a dead snake that he encounters on the road. The act of burying the
11/12/07 12:28:04 PM
417
snake to allow it to rot away is strongly related to the agricultural cycle and fertility.
In the Alto Balsas region, the earth is said to eat the dead humans in exchange for the
food it gave them in their life. In contemporary local historical accounts, a diminution
in rainfall is related to the displacement of a representation of the Santo Entierro
(Christ in his Tomb) from the village where I did my research to the neighboring
town of Taxco by Mexican soldiers during the War of Independence or the Revolution. Like the dead of the community, the dead Christ, buried in the earth as an offering, is essential for the agricultural cycle (Good Eshelman 1993:172–3; Hémond
2003:404). Burying the snake is thus an important act linked to the fertility of seeds
and the reciprocity between humans and the earth. Here, morality is equated with
the farmer’s way of life, where respect for the dead is essential for good corn crops
and, ultimately, life. The items given and the length of the stay at the Cave-Dwellers’
place are less important in this version. Nevertheless, the overall nature of the bond
between the Cave-Dwellers and the man is more crucial in terms of Nahua identity,
based in corn farming. Thanks to the gift, the poor man is able to restore the broken
cycle of exchange and reciprocity with his kin and friends.18
In tomanoj Ciriaco’s version of the narrative (hereafter called the “Snake Twins”
version), the farmer’s tlajtlakôlli (eating with a beautiful girl on his legs and getting
her pregnant) brings sterility to his little plot of land. It broke the cycle of exchange
between the farmer and the land and resulted in the death of the corn. The CaveDwellers displaced the reciprocity on another level and gave the hero a new way to
provide for his family needs—much as, in real life, uncertainties of the crops push
farmers into a cash-based economy. The snake seat and mat scene symbolizes the
change experienced by the hero. Under the section title petlacoatl (snake-mat), the
sixteenth-century Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1950–82, book 11:80–1) describes snakes
that weave themselves and form a seat (icpalli). If one can sit on such a seat without
fear, one will become rich and powerful, which is effectively what happens to the hero
in tomanoj Ciriaco’s tale. Icpalli seats were used by rulers in pre-Hispanic times and
were symbolically linked to their political power. We have seen how Cave-Dwellers,
as treasure keepers representing the Hispanics’ economic power, are understood as
modern versions of the pre-Hispanic rulers. Having a store in their community is
certainly one of the greatest financial achievements of which Nahua people can dream,
and stores and their goods are associated with the Hispanic world. Real-life sudden
wealth is often rationalized as a pact between the new rich and the devil. Tomanoj
Ciriaco’s seat trial may also represent the hardship endured by a man during his stay
in the Hispanic or American worlds. The refusal to lie down on the mat could symbolize the need to resist the temptations, sexual and otherwise, of these worlds and
the necessity to come back to the community.
In contrast, the “Buried Snake” version states that cash-based activities should only
help farmers to live as farmers, not transform their lifestyle. In the female version,
the Cave-Dweller money is given in order to buy corn and restore reciprocity with
kin and other allied persons, while in the male version the Cave-Dweller’s gift is used
to attract more money by selling goods. Here, no reciprocity with other people is
mentioned, which stands against Nahua values.
11/12/07 12:28:04 PM
418
Marital Relationships and Sexuality
Reciprocity, monogamy, and relative male dominance characterize the ideal Nahua
couple. While both storytellers agree on this, the female story stresses reciprocity and
monogamy, and the male version places greater emphasis on male dominance and
underplays the destructive aspect of sexual misbehavior. In topi Genoveva’s story, the
wife reminds her husband of his duty: he should be able to provide corn. Because of
his failure as a husband and provider, she is unable to fulfill her part by providing
him with his daily food. Later, the hero is suspicious and reluctant to meet the maidens. There is no mention of attraction, and he finally approaches them to satisfy his
curiosity about the gift and to obey the quite assertive maidens. Topi Genoveva is
careful to mention that he accepts the food (which can be an ambiguous gift in this
context; see below) only because he is extremely hungry. It is inappropriate for a
married man to approach young women to whom he is not related, and a husband
should normally eat food from his wife every day, as part of their reciprocal duties
and love. Topi Genoveva presents a model of male morality who acts positively towards
women, while the maidens and the Cave-Dweller family are entirely benevolent.
In the “Snake Twins” version, the situation is more complex and ambivalent. The
hero is a hard worker; he refuses the food his wife prepares for him and gives his share
to his children, even before his encounter with the maiden. But in this context, refusing food from his wife could be symbolically equivalent to refusing intimacy with
her, in the same way that accepting food from the Cave-Dweller will lead ultimately
to her pregnancy.19 Refusing his wife’s food is an unintentional break of reciprocity
that is the first step toward tlajtlakôlli. On the other hand, giving his share to his
children indicates that he is a good father. These features—loosened ties with his wife
and being a good father and provider—are related to the Cave-Dwellers’ choosing
the hero to be the husband of their daughter and the nurturing father-to-be of the
snake twins. The story reflects the storyteller’s position as an ex–migrant worker. The
tales symbolize how husbands, absent for months at a time, fear their wife’s infidelity with men who stay in the village, practicing subsistence farming (Carmack
1979:359), and how they are confronted by the moral dilemma of their own temptation for adultery (Taggart 1983:168–71). Tomanoj Ciriaco insists on both female and
male weakness and offers a rare positive outcome of male adultery. In doing so, he
highlights the creative aspect Nahuas recognize in disorder, despite its dangerous
nature (Burkhart 2001b:146).
When the farmer returns home in the “Buried Snake” version, his wife shows no
real enthusiasm for the given wealth. She is obviously concerned with a possible next
step in the exchange cycle. In a nice intertextual dovetailing, she fears that their story
will be a “Snake Twins” one and that she will have to share or lose her husband. Her
husband reassures her: he has no reason to think that this will be the case, that the
Cave-Dwellers will make him their son-in-law. His encounter is a short, already completed one. The female storyteller is sensitive to women’s concerns and has her character asking legitimate questions about the future of the couple. When topi Genoveva presents the poor wife as worried about her uncertain future, a condition shared
by many women, she has the audience take pity (kinelia) on her character. This emo-
11/12/07 12:28:05 PM
419
tion, pity, is highly valued by Nahuas, and it helps to show the wife in a good light as
she questions her husband’s behavior. In contrast, the wife in tomanoj Ciriaco’s
story is overjoyed at the sight of so much wealth. She readily accepts the presence of
her husband’s lover and wants her to live with them forever. Here the wife is shown
as supporting her husband in all his decisions without asking questions. (Husbands’
lovers are rarely so readily accepted by Nahua wives in real life.) While the sight of a
beautiful woman blinded her husband, the poor farmer’s wife is also blinded by the
sight of wealth. She totally approves of her adulterous husband and pushes him
further into tlajtlakôlli, something the Cave-Dweller herself did not allow (when she
refuses to sleep with the farmer at his home). Although the wife can pass for a good,
moral woman who obeys her husband, her lack of moral consciousness parallels her
husband’s; she is presented as an ambiguous character, both moral and amoral. Here
the Cave-Dweller and her children can also stand for families maintained by men
while they live for several years outside the community, especially in the United States.
This “second wife” may be associated with wealth, but she must ultimately, says the
tale, stay where she belongs (outside the community) and respect the marriage previously contracted by the husband. As for the first wife, she must not worry about
this rival and must be grateful for the wealth earned outside the community by her
husband.
Topi Genoveva is not the only female storyteller who presents a moral view of
marriage and married women in narrative. In “The Ritual Kin,” topi Argeria shows
how elder women try to prevent an incestuous relationship between two youngsters
that would end in a disastrous, immoral marriage; in the tale, their efforts are not
understood by men. In “Oviana” (AT 313), a tale commenting on the hardships
endured by newlyweds in relation to the groom’s female kin, tomanoj Ciriaco has
the married couple condemned to violence and lust, while in topi Estrella’s version
the outcome is much more optimistic and celebrates the strength of true love and
commitment in marriage. Another set of cognate tales, Nahua versions of the “American Orpheus” myth studied by A. H. Gayton in 1935, involve the failure of a marriage
due to tlajtlakôlli. Tomanoj Ciriaco, Emilio, and Ignacio give the sexual needs of the
wife as the main reason for the marriage’s failure, while topi Genoveva and Florencia
(who cannot depict the relationship as a moral marriage in this case) mostly blame
male misbehavior. A third female storyteller, topi Paula, tells a slightly different story
and splits the fault equally between wife and husband (Raby 2006). Above, I have
shown how the multidimensional nature of the Cave-Dwellers allows women to
highlight the moral/female/agricultural aspect of these supernatural beings to shape
their stories, while remaining true to the symbolic system. In the Orpheus tale, no
Cave-Dweller is present. As a result, to pass their message while remaining true to the
plot of the tale, female storytellers must make extensive use of the coding techniques
discussed by Joan N. Radner and Susan S. Lanser, in particular “appropriation,” in
order here to “focus the attention on the hard lot of women” and “their courage”
(Radner and Lanser 1987:416).
Returning to the Tlakôloleroj tale, it is not unusual for women to describe a reasonable resolution of the conflict between family loyalty and the desire for wealth and
for men to describe their struggles with wandering sexual desire: in women’s and
11/12/07 12:28:05 PM
420
men’s stories in Spain, traces of the same struggle are also found (Taggart, personal
communication). In the final episode of the two Tlakôloleroj tales, the original couple is united strongly once again: husband and wife support one another, following
the Nahua ideal of marital life. But topi Genoveva built her story so that the man can
act and support his wife in a way that is closer to both women’s concerns and desires
and to the Nahua moral ideal of monogamy. Unlike the male storyteller, she does not
use the Cave-Dweller woman as an immoral character who breaks up the Nahua
couple, even temporarily.
The Morality of the Cave-Dweller Maidens
In the tales, Cave-Dweller maidens appear at noon or at midnight, dangerous transition times in the daily cycle. Following traditional symbolism, the maidens are hence
associated with disorder that may filter through these connecting points. Like the
moon, which presents through its nightly appearances and whose phases are associated in Mesoamerica with the sterility or fertility of both the earth and women (see
Lopez Austin 1997:135), the Cave-Dweller maidens alternate between appearance
and disappearance.20 In tomanoj Ciriaco’s tales, the instability of the character is
much more strongly highlighted, and the maiden can be either benevolent or malevolent. We have seen how the “Snake Twins” maiden is associated with tlajtlakôlli,
which brings sterility to the earth. In contrast, the Cave-Dweller snake (probably one
of the daughters) in topi Genoveva’s tale is a victim of malevolent people who killed
it and left it at the mercy of hungry vultures—that is, destructive devils. Opposing
the vulture and the snake clearly places each animal on its own side of the frontier
between immorality and morality, at least for the time of the tale.
This gendered pattern in the treatment of the morality of Cave-Dwellers by male
and female storyteller is common. Consider the Swan Maiden motif that opens AT
560 (“The Magic Ring”): this tale is entitled “Juan Ash-Filth” by topi Genoveva and
“The Old Bachelor” by tomanoj Ciriaco. The tale begins with its hero, unable to find
a wife, receiving advice from an old, wise person. As one might expect, the wise person is a woman in the female version and a man in the male one. In the narrative, the
hero must go to a lake, wait for maidens to appear, and retain the clothing of the
youngest one while they bathe. If the hero follows the advice, the maiden will marry
him. In tomanoj Ciriaco’s version, most of the maidens show inappropriate behavior:
they laugh loudly, pull off their clothing without restraint, and bathe noisily. The
youngest one, on the contrary, is gentle and quiet, although the tale makes it clear
that she is this way because she is very young and not yet a full-grown maiden. When
the hero asks her to marry him, she suggests that he should ask one of her elder sisters,
for any one of them would readily say yes to all his demands, including sexual ones:
as for herself, she is too young to marry. She finally agrees to follow the hero because
she feels her family will reject her now that she talked alone with a man. As in the
Tlakôloleroj tale by tomanoj Ciriaco, the Cave-Dweller father shows genuine love for
his daughters, but nevertheless the maiden fears that her father will beat her for her
tlajtlakôlli. In topi Genoveva’s version, no indication is given of any inappropriate
behavior by the maidens (who first appear as deer). The girl refuses to marry the hero
11/12/07 12:28:05 PM
421
because he is too poor and hence unable to sustain a family. Instead, she suggests that
the young man should follow her and live at her father’s place. Among Nahuas, patriuxorilocality (the practice of having a married couple live in the bride’s father’s
house) often takes place when the girl’s family is of higher status: she thus offers a
reasonable solution that is in concordance with the Nahua order. This episode shows
how the Cave-Dwellers represent the in-laws of a man, himself symbolized by the
hero. While male storytellers and audience members identify themselves with the
hero, women rather identify themselves with the Cave-Dweller maiden. In stressing
the Cave-Dwellers’ morality and love for their daughter, the female storyteller not
only presents female supernatural beings as benevolent but also presents (through
this metaphor) her own or any female listener’s consanguine family as moral and
protective of their daughters. The male version shows a tenser relationship between
the daughter and her parents, who, in his tale, are moral but would reject the girl
should her reputation become threatened.
Later in the two versions of the tale, the girl refuses to sleep with her new husband.
Rather, she gives him a money nântli (an endless supply of wealth) and a new house,
arranges for him to marry another girl “who looks just like her” (a King’s daughter),
and disappears. This disappearance allows a tlajtlakôlli to happen: the theft of the
money nântli (the source of endless wealth) organized by the new wife and her father.
In topi Genoveva’s version, the Cave-Dweller disappears in a more reassuring manner: she leaves a ribbon to link her to him, knowing that her return will eventually
be needed by the male hero. (Specific supernatural powers were attributed to divine
pieces of female clothing in pre-Hispanic times in the region.) Indeed, the hero calls
her back thanks to the ribbon. She then gives him advice, providing him with animal
helpers who will bring back his money nântli. In the male version, the Cave-Dweller
leaves a dress to her husband before disappearing, but it is a mere “souvenir” without
power. She does not return to help the hero, who instead receives advice from a little
male dog. Again, the female storyteller stresses the need for a protective and reciprocal relationship. In the female version of the tale, tlajtlakôlli comes from a Hispanic
woman (the King’s daughter). In contrast, the male storyteller expresses feelings of
abandonment by and uncertainty toward unpredictable women, both Nahua and
Hispanic.
The trial of the snake seat and snake mat, present in tomanoj Ciriaco’s Tlakôloleroj
tale, appears in these two versions of the AT 560 tale and in “Oviana” (AT 313) by
topi Estrella. In tomanoj Ciriaco’s version of AT 560, the snake sisters are (as in the
Tlakôloleroj tale) fearsome and threatening: here the Cave-Dweller maiden’s sisters,
in their human form, first run to eat the hero, but they are stopped by the maiden.
The sisters later bring the frightening snake seat and snake mat: these snakes are
obviously the girls in their animal form. On the contrary, in topi Estrella’s “Oviana,”
the female snakes (in form of the seat) are delighted to greet their new parent and
kiss him. Here, the hero is quite annoyed by this excessive show of love, but he is not
afraid. Topi Genoveva does not highlight the scene in her version of AT 560 but has
her hero avoid the chair altogether; he just kneels and waits for the Cave-Dweller
maiden to come and rescue him. Again, in the women’s version, the immoral, threatening aspect of femininity is downplayed or even replaced by love and joy. (I suspect
11/12/07 12:28:05 PM
422
that topi Estrella’s intent here is to highlight the love of female kin, while topi Genoveva’s message is that one should avoid migrating or staying in patriuxorilocal residence
for too long and that one should trust one’s wife in these situations.) In other tales,
where the male Cave-Dweller (not the maiden) is the main character, the same pattern is at work. In his “Juan Ash-Filth” (AT 506–7), tomanoj Ciriaco presents the
Cave-Dweller as a womanizer who steals the hero’s wife, while tomanoj Alberto describes the Cave as nothing less than both Hell and the City, where the Cave-Dweller
and his assistants chastise sinners.21 In contrast, in her favorite tale (“The Doctor”),
topi Argeria shows how the Cave-Dweller, although devilish in nature, helps a poor
man who is left in tlajtlakôlli by his fellow villagers because nobody wants to be
godparent to his children. The Cave-Dweller agrees to act as godfather and teaches
the hero how to heal people with medicinal plants and Western equipment. With this
new occupation (and a little diabolical help in his work), the man becomes a rich but
respected member of the community. While the men insist on the immoral nature
of the male Cave-Dweller, topi Argeria establishes him as a problematic and lastresort savior of morals and communal harmony. She also gives her hero an occupation that allows the family to stay in the community and use its environmental resources.
Conclusion
In telling Tlakôloleroj tales, topi Genoveva speaks as the personification of morality,
while tomanoj Ciriaco, the former migrant worker, shows a more ambiguous discourse
about morality. The male storyteller embodies all of the complex issues involved in
his position: a migrant worker influenced and attracted by the Hispanic/Western way
of life, confronted by his temptation for adultery, and tending to mistrust Nahua
women. As shown above, immorality can be associated with masculinity as a direct
component of men’s greater contact with the non-Nahua world. The two storytellers
make the most of the multidimensional characteristics of the Cave-Dweller family
to make their points. Both emphasize characteristics associated with the Cave-Dwellers of their own sex and attribute these characteristics to the whole Cave-Dweller
family: Hispanic and immoral as the male in tomanoj Ciriaco’s tale; Nahua, agricultural, and moral like the female in topi Genoveva’s (who, in addition, ignores the
immoral aspects of femininity). In crafting her representations, the female storyteller does not need to get around difficulties in the plot by coding techniques (as she
must do in shaping tales without Cave-Dwellers). These supernatural beings are
malleable and may embody almost all Nahua symbolic representations. Moreover,
the female tales about Cave-Dwellers embody Nahua morality and ideals, while coding is defined as a way to express subversive or disturbing ideas (Radner and Lanser
1987). For male and female storytellers using the Cave-Dweller characters, it is mostly a matter of choice between two main configurations, or elements of them, and of
passing ideas under the cover of metaphor. Hence, topi Genoveva presents a perfect
representation of Nahua identity and valued behaviors, shared by both humans and
supernatural beings. Male and female characters comply with this morality, expressed
in terms of land fertility and straightforward reciprocity (between humans and su-
11/12/07 12:28:05 PM
423
pernatural beings and among humans). The dilemma of poverty is resolved by shortterm help from cash-based activities (represented by the bag of money), which does
not result in adultery, a broken family, or the abandonment of Nahua tradition. In
presenting all Nahua women (both human and supernatural) as moral—and in another tale associating tlajtlakôlli with the actions of a Hispanic woman—the female
storyteller further strengthens the link between traditional moral values, Nahua identity, and women. In fact, in systematically erasing unpleasant aspects traditionally
attributed to femininity, the storyteller applies the same strategy used by sixteenthcentury Nahua midwives who ignored these aspects when they ritually recalled the
deeds of the earth mother (Raby 2003:302).
In the presentation of female characters, in particular the Cave-Dweller maidens,
tomanoj Ciriaco is closer to the benevolent/malevolent set of characteristics traditionally given to earth figures and femininity in Nahua culture. The maiden in Tlakôloleroj
is the instigator of sexual disorder, while at the same time she is the fertile producer
of children and wealth. But his representation of masculinity and Nahua identity is
certainly equally ambivalent. The male hero struggles with his desires and conscience
of immorality, hesitating between his lust and his allegiance to his first wife and
children. The tale stresses that no wealth is desired by the poor farmer; rather, it is an
unsolicited gift. However, the tale does tightly connect sexual misconduct and individual wealth, suggesting that they are both dangerous desires. The original family
will be reunited, but only after a series of tlajtlakôlli events and the temporary selfsacrifice of the first wife, as it happens too frequently when young husbands must
stay years away from home. As a result of these twisted developments, the reunited
and happy family is projected outside the traditional Nahua world, as shown by their
newly found wealth and independence from corn farming. The male storyteller makes
more use of the male side of the Cave-Dwellers, whose father, as a devil and yet a
benevolent character, embodies contradictory feelings held by the Nahuas toward
economic activities not related to self-sufficient farming. In giving them male heirs,
the hero’s intimate contact with the Cave-Dwellers may represent the desire to improve integration into the Hispanic world and wealth into Nahua life. Both elders
whose tales have been presented here agree that traditional Nahua way of life is
moral and that transformations toward the Hispanic way of life and values are linked
to tlajtlakôlli. For the male storyteller, who often expresses personal feelings, questions, and values that do not fit in well with the Nahua tradition, this results in an
ambiguous representation of self and masculinity, not unlike the ambiguity that is
often said to pervade women’s discourse.
Throughout world cultures, it is not uncommon for women to tell moralistic folktales that fulfill their responsibility to teach and socialize children. Women’s ritual
tales told by Devi Sood, cited above, can also be used to instruct children (Narayan
and Devi Sood 1997:18). The unconscious “semiotic discourse” that Yasmina Sarhrouny (2001) sees at work in her Berber grandmother’s folktales—narratives that
“liberat[e] the desires women usually repress to fit within cultural norms”—is represented as the only nonconformist expression the storyteller can use as a teacher of
cultural concepts and social behavior. Teaching good behavior to children is certainly what Nahua male and female storytellers do through some of their tales; how-
11/12/07 12:28:06 PM
424
ever, this is not the most important function of Nahua storytelling, which is generally considered as both entertainment and a transmitter of knowledge. Moreover,
compared with the European tradition, female heroines are particularly rare in Nahua
folktales. Important female characters usually appear as supernatural beings, and
folktales are seldom used to socialize young girls. There are, however, some short
exemplum tales in the culture told principally by women and involving immoral female
Nahua characters, which are directed at girls of marrying age (not children) and
enjoyed by adult women too. (There are exemplum tales for boys that present immoral young men and their dreadful ends.) The female exemplum tales present a
strong moral message that is the complement to the moral female characters in marvelous tales. In Nahua storytelling, the morality expressed by women is not only
targeted at audiences composed of children to be socialized. While young women
may have different views, female elders put the emphasis on morality because they
strongly believe in the necessity of maintaining true Nahua order and identity, which
they feel protect women and benefit the whole community against the growing presence of disorder.
Paralleling Edwin Arderner’s suggestion (1971), studies often associate women’s
words and the talk of young men with lower status (see Abu-Lughod 1986:250–1;
Messick 1987; Ramanujan 1991), both forming, in ambiguity and intimacy, a subordinate or a dissident discourse. Nahua storytelling suggests that this configuration is
not the only possibility. Even though Nahua female storytellers are not considered
legitimate (in the sense given in the introduction) and do speak in intimate circles,
their discourse reinforces fundamental Nahua values and morality. In contrast, some
male storytellers, such as the ex–migrant worker presented here, are considered good
and legitimate tellers, yet they may utter a discourse that often seems in contradiction
with Nahua morals, without operating as stories of reversal. Closer to the traditional way of life, women and nonmigrant men (often of low status) embody the
essence of Nahua values and morality. The moral ambiguity found in the ex–migrant
men’s discourse is not associated with low status. It is probably the prestige of the
Hispanic or Western world, superimposed on Nahua morality, that creates this particular configuration. In a situation somewhat reminiscent of Edmund R. Leach’s
well-known description of Kachin men (1954), in which two contradictory and hierarchically related systems of values exist in a culture, it is the desire for wealth and
prestige that is linked to amorality that leads to ambivalent discourses.
Women’s efforts to promote traditional Nahua ideals and identity seem sustained
by recent changes in the region. Their position as “less assimilated” than men, their
participation in the struggle against the hydroelectric dam, their involvement in religious affairs, and their new political power all give additional strength to their voice.
Being both Nahua and strong is part of the revitalized identity of some communities,
and women embody and transmit this identity particularly well. They also build a
case for protecting themselves against male abuse: from the stance of morality and
adherence to Nahua ideals, they can criticize deviant male behavior more easily. Like
the Maya women discussed by Geneviève Saumier (2001), they develop original ways
to incorporate change and improve their position while remaining true to their indigenous identity. And since Nahua women perform for an audience of both boys
11/12/07 12:28:06 PM
425
and girls under the protection of intimate social settings, storytelling may take part
in the long-term process of the repositioning female identity and gender relationships
in Nahua culture.
Appendix: Complete Transcription of
“Tlakôloleroj: The Farmer With a Small Plot of Mountain Land”
by Tomanoj Ciriaco
They say that one man, he is poor, really poor, and he has little children. This man
thought [about what he should do]. He said:
— My wife, I think I’ll go and clean up our little piece of mountain land. I’ll
plant.
The rains are coming. [She says:]
— Well fine.
She says:
— But how are you going to plant? We have nothing to eat!
— Even so, I’ll come to eat only once in a while. Sometime I won’t come [home],
whatever, but I will plant.
— Well fine, then.
The rains began, he went [to plant. His wife tells him:]
— I’ll prepare your tortillas [for you to bring to where you are planting].
— No, I’ll be back to eat in a while.
— Very well. As you wish.
— Fill a gourd of water for me, just a very little gourd.
— [to herself] But how is this? He will be only drinking and not eating . . .
He went to plant. He began in the lower part of the plot. He began to plant, to
plant. He is hurrying. Until midday, he doesn’t even look at the sun to know if it is
midday. How could he eat? He doesn’t have any tortillas. It wasn’t until late in the
afternoon that he came back home. He says:
— My wife, I am back.
— You’re back. Well come quickly and eat.
— Well fine, I am very hungry. I’ll go planting again tomorrow.
— Well, fine.
The following day he went again. She says:
— I will prepare your tortillas.
— No, if there is something to prepare, better you prepare tortillas for my children.
— Very well.
He went back [to his land]. He is hurrying, hurrying to plant. At midday he suddenly heard:
— [clear voice] Psst, you. You! Come quickly and eat. I brought your tortillas!
He looks everywhere.
— [surprised] Who is this one? Nobody is supposed to bring me food. My wife is
not supposed to bring me food.
Now he looked up, he is just hearing:
11/12/07 12:28:06 PM
426
— [insisting] Psssst! You, come quickly and eat. I brought your tortillas!
Now they say he looked at the top of the land—he is in the lower part. He looked
at the top, and there is this beautiful woman, really beautiful. He says:
— You are calling me?
— Yes, I am calling you. Come!
[surprised] But who is she? he thinks. Who is she, who wants to feed me?
Well, he saw her. It is true. She is really there, this beautiful woman. She says:
— You, I brought you tortillas. Now come quickly and eat!
— Ah . . . [making up his mind], well, fine.
— Now I’ll tell you something. When you’re finished, don’t say one of those sacred
words you use [on earth]. Don’t say, “May god pay it back to you.” No. Just say, “I’m
full. Put away everything.”
— Very well, fine.
They say she brought chicken broth at midday. He ate, ate. He says:
— Let’s eat together!
— As for myself, I already ate.
— Well, fine.
He ate. When he finished, he said to her:
— Well now, you can put away everything.
— Good. Now tomorrow don’t eat before leaving home. Tomorrow I’ll come
early, and you’ll eat here.
— Very well then, fine.
— I’m leaving now [= goodbye].
— Well, fine [= goodbye].
This man really liked it.
— [surprised] But who is she? [softly] I would even marry again, she is so beautiful . . . [more clearly] I shouldn’t say such nonsense. I’m probably just happy because
I ate. She fed me, but she won’t bring me food again.
When he came back home this afternoon, he didn’t eat. [His wife] says:
— Come quickly and eat!
— But I’m not hungry!
— [surprised] How come you’re not hungry? You didn’t eat!
— It’s like this: I’m not hungry. Let our children eat.
— Very well. As you wish.
She didn’t press him to eat.
— Tomorrow I’ll go back.
— Well, fine.
The following day again he went early. Again he arrived and hurried up planting,
and again at midday he heard her saying:
— Psst! Come quickly and eat. I came back!
He looks at the sun. It is midday. She did come at midday—as she said—to bring
him food. He saw the woman again.
— I came back. Come quickly and eat!
— Well, all right then.
He eats, eats. Again it is chicken broth. He ate the meal.
11/12/07 12:28:06 PM
427
— I’m full. You can put away everything.
— Good. Tomorrow, I’ll wait for you here. We’ll eat here. I’ll come again to give
you food.
— Well, fine.
He came back home in the afternoon. He arrived and said:
— I’m back!
— You’re back?
— Well, yes.
— But I’m not hungry.
— [insisting] Hurry up! Come quickly and eat. [confidently] How would you just
endure like this. Yesterday you didn’t eat, and today again you won’t eat?
— But I’m just not hungry. Eat, all of you [both you and our children].
— Well, fine.
He didn’t eat.
— Tomorrow I’ll go back.
— Well, fine.
The following day he went again early. Again he hurried up planting. This time he
looked up to see if it’s midday. He knows that she will come and give him food, and
again at midday he heard that she is calling him:
— Psst! You, come quickly and eat. I came back.
— Very well.
She came and gave him food, and then said:
— I say, wouldn’t you agree with what I am thinking?
— What?
— [hesitating a little]Yesterday, I didn’t say anything. I thought you wouldn’t want
to. But now I’ll tell you, “Wouldn’t you stretch your legs?” I will sit on your legs, and
you will embrace me with one of your arms.
— If you wish [it to be] so . . .
He agreed, that man:
— [to himself] She may sit on me.
And he embraces her with one of his hands, and with the other one he eats. He
says:
— Well, let’s eat that way together!
He’s eating. He’s eating with her. He got full:
— I’m full. It’s fine with me if you go now.
Ah! [cheerfully] The man was even more grateful, because he’s embracing her [while
eating. She said:]
— If you are not afraid of me, then I’ll be back tomorrow.
— Well, fine.
The following day, again he says:
— My wife, I am going again.
Well, in his home he never eats. He always eats there at midday. She says:
— Won’t you bring your tortillas?
— No, I’ll come to eat later.
11/12/07 12:28:06 PM
428
— Very well.
So again he went the next day. Again he hurried up. Again at midday she says:
— Psst! Come quickly and eat again!
— Very well.
She came and talked to him. [surprised tone of voice] She always brings chicken
broth. She never changes it. She always gives him chicken broth. She says:
— Come quickly and eat. I came back.
— Well, fine.
— [confidently] Wouldn’t you let me sit on your legs?
— Well, yes.
— Then stretch your legs again.
He stretched his legs again. She sat on his legs, and he embraced her with one hand,
eating with the other one. She said:
— I’ll come back tomorrow, if you’re finished now. [in a clear voice] Tomorrow
we’ll talk.
— Well fine, then.
Because she sat on his legs, she knows she is pregnant now. In the afternoon, he
went home:
— No, I won’t eat.
— Well, fine.
— Tomorrow I’ll go again.
— Well, fine.
And the following day he went again, early. He arrived at his little plot of land. He
worked a lot. He plants, and at midday again he heard her calling him:
— Psst! You, come quickly and eat!
— Very well!
He knows by now, it’s as if she was his wife:
— [not surprised, in an ordinary tone of voice] You came?
— [same tone of voice] Yes, come quickly and eat again.
— Well, fine.
— Wouldn’t you want me again that I sit on your legs?
— Sure, fine.
Again he stretched his legs. Again he eats with only one hand. With the other he
embraces her. She says:
— [hesitating] Well, I want to tell you, [clear voice] but don’t get angry . . .
— [suspicious] Why?
— Well, that’s why I said we would talk. I am pregnant, I am not only myself anymore.
— [surprised, a little angry and jealous] Why, why are you pregnant?
— [explaining rapidly] Don’t you see? You are blessed [= you were created by god
and baptized]. But for me, I am not: now even if I only sat on you, it [the pregnancy]
would happen to us. Now I am pregnant. I already told my father and my mother, so
it would be better if you leave this little plot of land of yours. Let’s go. [affirmative] I
11/12/07 12:28:07 PM
429
am going to give birth! [insisting] Let’s go. Leave behind your little plot of land. I’ll
give you money, you’ll see. [in a deprecating manner] Leave this plot of land. You
won’t get anything from it anyway. Let’s go to my home.
— But my wife doesn’t know about it!
— Even so, we won’t stay long anyway, only one week. We’ll stay just one little week
at my home. Then we’ll go to your home. I know you are really poor, but then I will
build you a house. I will make you a house.
[cheerfully] He really likes this.
— [rapidly] Fine then, let’s go.
Too bad for the little plot of land! They went together to her home. She asked
him:
— Where are you coming from?
— Just from there, not far away.
She took him inside the cave. A kind of door suddenly appeared. She just pushed
it. They entered. He saw her father. He has rounded horns. Her father lives there. He’s
a devil. And her mother, she’s like a woman and has no horns, but she is also a CaveDweller. [The daughter] tells [her father]:
— Daddy, I brought your son-in-law!
— You brought my son-in-law?
— Well yes!
[The father] asked [the man]:
— Is it true that my child is your wife?
— Well, yes.
[Before they came, the woman] told [the farmer]:
— If they ask you [if I am your wife], [confidently] don’t confess [what we did],
for they will beat me. Just say “well, yes.” Then, my sisters (they are many maidens),
if they bring you the chair, [confidently] just sit on it. They are all snakes [in the seat
of the chair], all entangled. You’ll sit on that chair. They will bring you up, and they
will lick your legs. Don’t be afraid. If they bring you the mat, [confidently] don’t lie
down on it, because it is all snakes. They are all mat-snakes, those ones. Even if it is
only their arms [the girls’ arms as snakes?], they will eat you. The seat, you can sit on
it. Don’t be afraid. It [the snake-seat which will be bothering you at that moment and
our stay at the cave] won’t last long. Tomorrow, after tomorrow I will give birth, and
then we’ll go. You’ll keep our children only four days here, then you’ll bring them [to
your home].
— [cheerfully] Well, all right then.
So she said:
— I brought your son-in-law, Daddy!
— You brought him?
— Yes.
— Is it true that my child is your wife?
— Well, yes, she gives me food over there.
— Ah, well, take a rest [= welcome], son. Take a rest. Let’s go, my girls, bring your
brother-in-law this chair!
11/12/07 12:28:07 PM
430
[lively] They went running for the chair, all [made of] snakes. Really! They raised
their heads on the chair, and he sat there. He felt that they lifted him off the ground,
but he was told to not be afraid, to sit down. Then [the father] said [to his daughter]:
— My darling, bring the mat, just that one.
The man saw it, all made of mat-snakes. They made a mat out of the snakes, and
he said:
— I’ll be fine on the chair.
[The father] told [the girls]:
— He is sitting on the chair.
— Well then, fine.
Then [the father] told [the man]:
— Well son, I told your wife [his Cave-Dweller daughter] that it was better [confidently] to bring you here. [in a deprecating manner] Your little piece of land, just
leave it behind.
— [worried] But my wife, she must be very worried!
— Even so, you’ll depart soon. You have a wife, but my child said that she would
[confidently] build you a house. [affirmatively] You are really suffering [because you
live in poverty], aren’t you?
— Yes, it is true that [sadly] I am really suffering.
— Just leave it. You came here now. We will give our child her inheritance, what is
her due.
— Well, fine.
[From here to the end of the tale, a lively tone of voice is used.] Two or three days
later, his wife gave birth. [The father] told [the man]:
— See that jar, that’s where your wife will give birth.
— Very well.
— She will give birth on that jar, and here is the lid. She will give birth there, and
here is chocolate. You’ll boil it for your children, and this bread, you’ll break it into
pieces for them to eat.
— Very well, fine.
They gave everything to him, and the next day his wife gave birth. She told him:
— It’s beginning.
— Well, fine.
— Take me to where the jar is.
He took her to the jar. She just sat there on the jar and gave birth to two little snakes.
He said:
— Now, ah, it’s fine.
He took her to the bed, and she told him:
— Now, take care of your children.
— Very well.
One day, two days, three days, four days passed. Then her father came to see him:
— So, how are your children? Are they growing up?
— [surprised tone of voice] Yes. They are growing up, but they are snakes . . . They
are fattening. They will be one week old.
11/12/07 12:28:07 PM
431
— Well, tomorrow, Friday, jump over them, over the jar. Tell them “Let’s go my
children, get up, we are leaving!” You’ll see. Your children will get out [of the jar].
— Well then, fine.
He fed them early and told them:
— Let’s go my children. Get up, we are leaving!
And he saw them opening the lid. [surprised tone of voice] Two little boys, they get
out of the jar and told him:
— Daddy, Daddy [in Spanish]! Here we are!
— Here you are, my children!
They are really smart, really big. They are able to walk.
— Daddy [in Spanish]—they called him daddy—now we are big.
— Well, you are big, my children.
His wife told [her father]:
— Daddy, now that my children are big, [confidently] I’ll bring my husband to his
home. Tomorrow or after tomorrow we’ll leave, because his wife is really worried. I
have to bring him back.
— [resignedly] Well, fine, my child. If you say it’s time for you [plural] to go, then
go. We will wait for you [plural] to come back [= you are welcome back]. Now, here
is money to load a [female] mule with. Bring it along. And here is clothing to load a
[male] mule with. Bring it too. [To the man] Let’s go, son. Saddle this [male] mule
for your [Cave-Dweller] wife to ride. And there is another one for your children.
He saddled the four beasts. [The father goes on:]
— All those beasts here will carry your properties. Change your clothes. There are
a lot of clothes here, lots of fabrics. Put them on. And for your [human] wife, there
are a lot of fabrics. Put new clothes on. And also here for your little [human] children
to put on [are new clothes].
— Well, fine.
— Here is one [female] mule of money. [confidently] Spend it. This money will
never end, and your [Cave-Dweller] children will know how to arrange your house.
— Well, fine.
Two days later, they came back [to the man’s home, and the daughter] said:
— Well, we are leaving, Daddy. We are leaving, Mommy [= goodbye].
— Well, fine [= goodbye]. Go quickly [since you have to].
The gentleman loaded the things. On a female mule he put a load of money. He
brought a lot of money, and on a male mule a load of clothes, all clothes. And then
he had his children mounted on another beast, and his wife also. And then he made
the beasts walk. He arrived at his home. And his [human] wife, she really went everywhere to look for him, [such as] where he plants. And she thought:
— [surprised but assertive] He is certainly dead. He was not eating anymore. He
died somewhere, but he doesn’t show up anywhere.
They got tired from looking for him:
— How will we know where he fell down? He never eats.
And they saw him again. They arrived early in the morning. The sun was getting
up, and [the human wife] said:
— [worried] Ah, my children, who is that [non-Nahua] gentleman? I see him com-
11/12/07 12:28:07 PM
432
ing straight here. I better tell him that he must go on. Where is he going to tie his
beasts here? There are too many of them. [To the man] Sir, sir! Here we have no room.
It’s really a small place. Are you coming here?
— [cheerfully] Well yes! It’s me, my wife!
— [astonished and a little reproachfully] But where were you? I thought you were
dead!
— No, here I am!
— [surprised] And now, is she your wife?
— Yes, she is my wife.
The woman really liked her [the Cave-Dweller]. His [human] wife is beautiful too.
[This gives an additional clue as to why she is not jealous of the Cave-Dweller.]
— [surprised and a little suspicious] Where did you go and get her?
— Well, I went and got her over there.
— [cheerfully] Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m not angry. I’m even grateful to her for
bringing you back. So you brought back corn.
They unloaded everything.
— Let’s shell it right away! I’ll heat up my nexcontli [cooking pot used to prepare
corn for grinding]. I’ll go and grind the corn. You’ll eat soon!
This [Cave-Dweller] woman, they also told her:
— Take a rest! [= welcome, come in]
Well, she said first:
— Are you home? [greeting]
— Take a rest!
— Don’t get angry, I brought back our husband. He is your husband, too. And he
is my husband, too. Now that I brought him back, you will sleep with him. You know
how you used to live? I leave it to you [to live like that again].
— I don’t worry a bit about this! What interests me is what you bring. Is it corn?
Now they have to unload it, so I may put my jar to boil.
— No, it is [cheerfully] money! Money! Take whatever you want and go buy corn
quickly. If they sell some somewhere, buy corn with this here. Here are clothes; change
your little children. And for yourself too, here are fabrics. Just sew yourself what you
want.
The wife, she was absolutely delighted! She told [her husband]:
— Ah, my god, [cheerfully] where did you find her?
— Well, I met her over there, and now she is my wife.
— Ah, husband, if it doesn’t make her angry [= offended, since this is a delicate
topic], just live with her. I will just make food for you both. I will be so grateful if I
can eat. I will be so grateful if I am free from want. Live with her. Sleep with her!
— Well, fine, you’ll tell her. What could I say [= you must arrange that between
yourselves]?
They have a large plot, but the house is very small. They can’t [afford to] build a
big house. In the afternoon, [the Cave-Dweller] told him:
— When we finish eating, later in the afternoon, show me the boundaries of your
plot. I’ll build our house.
— As you wish, fine.
11/12/07 12:28:07 PM
433
He showed her the boundaries of his plot, and that day she began to measure. She
marks the future house [on the ground]. She made it very large, with several rooms.
Then she told the wife:
— Now [you two] sleep, sleep with our husband. For me, I won’t sleep. I will build
our house. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll have a large house, which will be comfortable
for all of us.
— [insisting] No, later you will say it is bothering you not to sleep with him. No,
I’ll just be your cook. Just give me [food] to eat. [proudly] I am not lazy. You, live with
him.
— No, I brought him back. Now you’ll live with him the way you used to.
— Well, as you wish.
She began that night. Since she has a lot of spiritual power, she erected a very good
house with several rooms. [The next morning] she said:
— Now, my husband, I built our house. Get up [plural]!
To the [human] wife, she said:
— Get up [plural]. Look how I built our house. Let’s move in!
The wife was so delighted, she thanked her. She [the human wife] said:
— But how could she build us a house so rapidly? [To the Cave-Dweller] God’s
child—she can call her “God’s child,” it doesn’t matter now that the husband is living with his human wife again [= there is no more tlajtlakôlli, sin]—God’s child,
[persuasive] don’t worry. Don’t get overtired. Live with him. For me, I am delighted
that you built our house.
— Well, the house, that’s nothing [= you are welcome].
One week after, [the Cave-Dweller] said goodbye to her husband. She told him:
— [sadly] Well, my husband, I am leaving. I am not granted permission to stay
longer. At least I stayed one week. Now live here with your wife. You [plural] will
never finish the money; there will be money forever. And I leave our children here;
they will only stay one week more. [confidently] I will be waiting for them over there
[at the cave]. They will arrange your house. Let them do what they want. Don’t scold
them. Don’t beat them, even if they do something to somebody. They’ll fool somebody,
or throw stones at him, or something like that. Don’t scold them. Always be nice to
them. If somebody gets angry, just pay him. If the kids do something to somebody,
don’t scold them. Let it go. Our children will arrange your house.
— Well, that’s fine.
She went away, and the [human] wife began to cry:
— [worried] Ah, I told you it would bother you [the Cave-Dweller]. What is bothering you? I was saying that we would live nicely with him. Let’s live together!
— No, it is just like this. I stayed one week with you, and my children will stay one
more week, but don’t [you two] scold them.
— No. I love them as if they were my own children.
— Well, I am leaving now.
She went away. She just disappeared. Gone! Her children stayed. They really have
bad manners. It is hardly dawn, and they [their parents] look for them [the twins]:
they are already gone! [The twin boys were away from home all day, getting into
mischief.] Then people come to complain. They [the twins] made somebody cry, or
11/12/07 12:28:08 PM
434
they threw stones at somebody. And the mother [of the child who was attacked]
comes angrily to the father [of the twins, who answers them]:
— Don’t get angry, God’s children. We’ll pay for this. Our little children really have
bad manners, but I don’t get angry. We’ll pay for this. We will pay you.
One week later, [the twins] said:
— Daddy, we’d better go for a walk. The time has come for us to leave. Our mother said that after a week we should go back to her. Now, we will come back. Don’t
worry. If not today, we will come back tomorrow. We are just going for a walk.
— Well, fine.
The two children went away. They walk, walk, and they arrived at some mountain.
There they meet some muleteers. They [the muleteers] are transporting lots of house
goods. They go fast. [One of the children] tells [the other one]:
— Companion, where are we going?
— Just here.
The two children talked together.
— Just here.
The younger said, no, it is the elder. [The storyteller hesitates slightly here, and it
seems that he is first unsure which brother said this line; then he is confident that it
is the elder.]
— [confidently] Now, you, bite that man. Just transform yourself into snake. Bite
him on his leg. The boss, I’ll cure him. No, I’ll tell him that our father is a healer. And
meanwhile you’ll go to our house and tell our father. You’ll bring him this medicine,
and he must massage [the bitten muleteer with it, but in payment] all the house goods
he brings must stay there. All of them. Only his [the muleteer’s] servants may go. If
he doesn’t want [to leave the house goods], he will surely die.
— Ah, well then, fine.
— Go quickly. Bite him!
They say that the little boy, the younger one, really did transform himself into snake,
and then he did come back home. And the elder one, he brought a gun, and he goes
on watching. He just pretends, and then they hear the boss crying. He was coming to
sell his goods:
— Ah, boys [in Spanish], a snake bit me. A snake bit me!
He bit him just in the thigh. He was mounting a horse, and he saw only two boys.
They told him:
— Sir, what happened?
— Ah, boys, a snake just bit us!
— Ah, damn it! It bit you! I am here to find it [the snake]. I was told that a snake
is biting people around here, but I didn’t see that it was biting you!
— But it did bite us!
This gentleman is just walking around, his leg swelling rapidly. He asked:
— [worried] Boys, don’t you know somebody here who could cure me? Certainly
I’ll die [if I don’t get help]!
— Sir, let’s go to my house; my father is a healer.
— Really?
— Sure.
11/12/07 12:28:08 PM
435
— Then let’s go.
— But first I’ll massage you.
He massages him, and it did cool down a little [= become partially healed, reduce
in swelling]. Then he took him to his home. The muleteer said:
— Let’s go that way, where the boy is going!
He took him to his home [and the muleteer said to himself]:
— [surprised] His house is really beautiful. The man who will cure me is a rich
man, too. [To the father, respectfully] Are you home, sir? Are you home, sir?
— Take a rest!
His younger son already came to tell him. He told him:
— Now you’ll cure him, just accept that you can, and you will cure him.
— Very well, then.
— And then everything he has must stay here, if he agrees [to pay this price for the
cure]. If not, he will die.
— Well, fine.
So:
— Are you home, sir?
— Take a rest, sir! What is this about?
— Is it true, sir, that you can heal people?
— Sure, I can.
— [worried] Well then, cure me. A snake bit me. It [the poison] is really spreading.
Please!
— But you will pay for this.
— How much, sir?
— That entire load you are bringing, all of it must stay here. If you don’t want to
[pay], just go on your way!
He [the muleteer] doesn’t know what to do. He tells him:
— Sir, I really want to be healed. Everything I have must stay here, including all
my donkeys [which are carrying the goods]?
— [confidently] Everything [including the donkeys].
— [confidently] But my servants must go [with me].
— Well, fine.
— Heal me quickly!
They got him down from his horse. They really carry him. His leg is really swollen,
and the man began to massage him. And where he massages, it becomes less swollen.
Then he put him to sleep. He fell asleep. It was a while before he woke up, this man.
He massages him everywhere. When he woke up, he asks:
— How do you feel, sir?
— I still feel it [the pain] a little.
— Get up, and see if you can walk. If you need more, I will massage you more.
— Ah sir, it will be fine. Just massage me one more time.
He was cured.
— Now, sir, is our arrangement still on?
— Sure, may all my house goods stay here. We are leaving.
— Well, fine.
11/12/07 12:28:08 PM
436
They went away. All the house goods stayed there. The boys are really delighted:
— [excited] Look, Daddy, look! We told you that we had to prepare to leave. I
thought we couldn’t [do so rapidly what we had to do before leaving], but now we
can leave soon. We’ll leave tomorrow. That is why we did this. We planned to bite that
man to fill our house quickly!
— [worried and uncertain] Ah, my children, why did you do this?
— Well, just like that. It was our duty to fill our house, and [confidently] we will
leave tomorrow.
The house goods just stayed there. They began to arrange them, and he could open
a store. He began to sell [goods]. He had a lot to sell. All the goods that were left there.
The following day the boys went away, and their mother began to cry. She said:
— Don’t go away, my children!
— We have to go, but we will be back one day.
They went away. Only [the man and his wife] stayed there. The tale is finished.
Notes
I would like to thank all of the members of the community in which I worked and, in particular, all the
storytellers and my host families. I am deeply grateful for their generosity and care and their help in
every aspect of my work. I also express appreciation to my Nahua teachers and assistants: transcription,
translation, and analysis of the narratives would not have been possible without their knowledge, meticulous work, and talent. I am truly indebted to Louise M. Burkhart, who supervised my postdoctoral
research at the Institute for Mesoamerican Studies, for her help and advice. Thanks also to Jonathan
Amith for his generous help when I was preparing for my fieldwork. I presented earlier versions of parts
of this work as a guest speaker at the State University of New York at Albany and Universidad Nacional
Autónoma de México. I am grateful to everyone who gave me comments on all of these occasions, particularly Louise M. Burkhart, James M. Taggart and Robert M. Carmack, Alfredo López Austin, and
Guilhem Olivier, as well as the two anonymous readers for the Journal of American Folklore and the editors Harris M. Berger and Giovanna P. Del Negro. I maintain responsibility for any mistake or imprecision found in this work. This research was possible thanks to a postdoctoral fellowship from the Fonds
de Recherche sur la Société et la Culture of Quebec, Canada.
1. This contrasts with situations where there is a general prohibition against women performing or
speaking publicly (for example, in Afghanistan; see Mills 1991) or where women are allowed to speak
publicly through specific genres only (as among the Warao of Venezuela; Briggs 1992). In some Canadian and American cases, the situation presented by Dégh is inverted. A woman born in a city and married in a village, for example, may have a wider repertoire than her husband (Pocius 1976). But women
will often have some reluctance or impediment to perform publicly because it is considered inappropriate or immoral or because of her husband’s jealousy (Pocius 1976; Sawin 2002).
2. My first stay in a Nahua Alto Balsas community was in 1989, as a graduate student in the archaeological team of Dr. Louise I. Paradis (Université de Montréal), and I have visited the region regularly ever
since. This article presents some of the results of fieldwork conducted between 2002 and 2006, when I
stayed for more than one year in the community, several months at a time. I recorded ninety-six narratives, mostly folktales and a few examples of other traditional genres. Forty-eight of these were recorded
from eight women, whose ages ranged from their forties to their eighties. I recorded between one and
twenty-one tales from the same storyteller. I also recorded forty-eight tales from seven men, aged thirtyone to more than seventy. I recorded between one and twenty-four tales from a same male storyteller.
Most of these narratives were transcribed in Nahuatl and translated into Spanish with the help of two
young women of the community. Because of the sensitive nature of the material I have collected, all
names in this article are pseudonyms. Further, I have withheld the name of the village in which I worked
11/12/07 12:28:08 PM
437
and refer to it here only as “the community” or “the village.” For Alto Balsas Nahuatl words, I follow the
orthography adopted by Eustaquio Celestino Solís, Nahua anthropologist from Xalitla in the Alto Balsas
region; Nahuatl words from colonial sources are given in the standardized “classical” orthography.
3. The cargo system (also called the civic-religious hierarchy) is typical of Mesoamerican indigenous
communities. It is generally described as a set of hierarchical political and religious positions, assigned
usually for one year. All men may have access to the lower positions. The prestigious higher positions
imply great expenses and require access to a large work force. Consequently, only wealthy married men
can move up and hold these positions. The cargo system ensures both wealth redistribution in the community and hierarchy reproduction. On the civic-religious hierarchy in the Alto Balsas region, see Celestino Solís (2004) and Good Eshelman (1993:307–59).
4. The opposition used and benefited from the national and international climate. Across the nation,
there was cultural insecurity in the context of the preparations for NAFTA, and Mexicans were all the
more sensitive to the flooding of an important archaeological site and the possible loss of the amate
tradition. (Later, of course, the Zapatistas would resist NAFTA.) Furthermore, pan-indigenous consciousness was increased by the rejection of the celebrations of the five hundredth anniversary of Columbus’s
“discovery” of America, and the CPNAB participated in the Global Forum of NGOs during the Earth
Summit in Rio de Janeiro in 1992. The CPNAB used as the legal basis of its struggle the recently ratified
international conventions on indigenous rights, which were included in the Mexican Constitution in
1991 (Convention 169 of the International Labour Organization integrated in Article 133) and 1992
(multiculturalism integrated in Article 4). The CPNAB participates in international events (including
some at the United Nations) and promotes the creation of an Autonomous Indigenous Municipality of
Alto Balsas (see Díaz de Jesús and de Jesús Alejandro 2000:146–58; Hémond 2003:320–3, 334).
5. The Nahuatl language in the region is currently in the process of revitalization. See the work of
CIESAS linguist José Antonio Flores Farfán and Nahua researcher Cleofás Ramírez Celestino (Flores
Farfán 2001; Flores Farfán and Ramírez Celestino 2004); see also the statements of the Alto Balsas Nahua
association CPNAB in Díaz de Jesús and de Jesús Alejandro (2000). The work of Flores Farfán and Ramírez
Celestino include the publication of two folktales (1995, 1997), and more should be available with the
forthcoming work of Jonathan Amith and his “Nahuatl Learning Environment” on the Web.
6. Traditionally in Alto Balsas, only male heads of family are considered full citizens (tekitlakatl). A
woman may become a tekitlakatl only if she marries a non-Nahua, who would not be considered for
citizenship in the village (Celestino Solís 2004:78). Women heads of family (single mothers, divorcées,
or widows) have special social obligations paralleling those of men (Good Eshelman 1988:84–6). Typically, a dependant man is a young married man who lives with his father or an old man who lives with
his son. It is generally recognized that since pre-Hispanic times, the Nahua kinship system was one of
cognatic or bilateral descent, with a strong bias toward patrilinearity for land and house inheritance and
patrilocality for marital residence. Brothers and sisters, as well as female kin, often manage to live in the
same neighborhood and keep strong bonds all their lives. Marriage is decided in common agreement by
the youngsters, but it must be approved at least by the young man’s parents.
7. For a beautiful life story by an Alto Balsas Nahua woman exemplifying how violence and alcoholism
fall in the domain of social deviance, see Toumi, Gaspar Canuta, and Ramírez Celestino (1983).
8. The struggle against the hydroelectric dam was widely represented through the amate tradition (Amith
1995; Hémond 2003), mostly by male painters. Santiago and the snake were used in amate painting to
represent good and evil; the dam was represented as a snake in one amate, accentuating the malevolent side
of earth figures. But in the revitalization process, the political discourse principally used the Nahua preHispanic past, not current myth or folktales. The regular use of the pre-Hispanic past in Mexican politics
since the eighteenth century may explain this choice. But one may also observe that Nahua folktales are
primarily about social and family relationships that, in a society where the main chief is elected every year,
have no direct symbolic link with politics. (This is unlike societies where political power is attributed along
kinship lines; for an example of differential use of myth by political factions in such a society, see McArthur
2004). Cave-Dwellers, supernatural beings who present Hispanic features and appear in folktales, could
have been chosen to represent external threats. As earth masters, however, they are said to resent roads,
dams, or any similar damage to their territory. The pre-Hispanic past, with its stories of conquest and resistance, was a more logical choice as a source of imagery in political discourse.
11/12/07 12:28:08 PM
438
9. Nahuas unite all non-Natives, including non-Mexican, in the broad category of koyômej (coyotes),
which can be then specified further (Beaucage 1994:160). Since it is not always clear if characters in the
tales represent Mestizos (or Ladinos), Spaniards, or Creoles, I will follow Taggart (1983:2) in referring to
this category of people as Hispanics. They may also symbolically refer to Americans in the context of
migration to United States.
10. Ideally, I would have liked to present the discourse of women storytellers who participate in economic activities outside the village. However, long-term female migration is a relatively recent phenomenon, and it usually involves young or middle-aged women. Furthermore, storytellers are most likely to
be found among elders. Female storytellers and women who migrate are in the minority, so it is more
difficult, although certainly not impossible, to find a storyteller who would represent this category of
women. In this article, the words of female storytellers are those of elders who have lived all their life in
the village. Comparison of tomanoj Ciriaco’s repertoire and those of other men from the perspective of
occupation—one of the main identities placed by Bauman (1971) at the base of folklore performance—
will be made in forthcoming work.
11. The reasons given by the storytellers for the fading interest in folktales point to changes in economic activities, which do not allow for as many public gatherings as before. To this may be added the
exponential growth in the number of televisions in homes since the 1990s.
12. Folktales, considered by the Nahuas to be transmitted rather than personal speech, allow one to
utter the unspeakable. For a variety of reasons, trying to explain the meaning of the tales or talking about
potentially dangerous supernatural beings (outside the protective frame of the tale) can be interpreted
by some storytellers as intrusive. As Dégh puts it, “[t]he tale—not necessarily the narrated content but
its expressed social message—is true. But this truth is protected by the accepted ‘untrue’ nature of the
tales” (1995:37). For the Nahuas, “untrue” could be replaced by “impersonal,” since many folktales are
told as myths and considered true. Further, certain topics would be off limits. For instance, I knew that
conversation about sexuality was inappropriate; comparing men’s and women’s tales was also delicate
because, in a society where male and female performances are unequally valued, it was readily interpreted as evaluating their respective competence. The nature of folktale transmission, where changes in
images and motives that affect meaning are generally linked to an unconscious process of memorization
and omissions (Belmont 1999:69–70), makes some points awkward to discuss. Nevertheless, I am presently working with topi Argeria on a thoroughly dialogical interpretation of her tales.
13. Similar tales are analyzed by Taggart (1983:114–60). The title “Tlakôloleroj,” given by the storytellers themselves, refers to a man who cultivates a tlakôlolli, a little piece of land that is “twisted” (chueco in
Spanish). Because of its location on a hill or mountain slope, neither beasts of burden nor plough can
be used and the tlakôlolli must be sowed by hand with the help of a digging stick (uitsôktli in Nahuatl,
espátula in Spanish). That the hero can farm only a tlakôlolli is an indication of his poverty. The word
“tlakôlolli” may also refer to any newly cleared piece of land.
14. I did as little editing of the texts as possible, deleting only obvious repetitions in the prose. I also
decided to eliminate most of the numerous kihlia(j) (he/she/they tell(s) him/her), which is often reduced
to a mere “ki” sound, because that construction offers no information on who is speaking to whom.
(Gender is not indicated in Nahuatl verbs, and the third-person subject of both singular and plural is
marked by the absence of a pronoun; the only indication of a plural would be a final j that is inaudible
in the contracted form.) I used dashes instead to indicate turns of speaker. In brackets are some specifications that I felt were helpful in understanding the literal translations. The sign “=” introduces the
English equivalent of a Nahuatl expression. The storytellers frequently change verb tenses in their telling
of the tale, and I kept those changes in the transcription.
15. A cuartillo is about 1.5 quarts (1.5 liters). According to Catharine L. Good Eshelman (1988:138),
a couple with two or three children, owning a few pigs and one or two donkeys, consumes about one
hundred cuartillos (one carga) of corn monthly, hence more than three per day. The hero could not find
corn. This was probably because every person that he could ask for help or credit would deny it to him,
because he already owed them corn or money and could not pay them back, or because they were themselves too poor to lend him even a cuartillo of corn. Tortillas are flat cakes of ground corn that are the
staple of every meal; the expression “my tortillas” is synonymous with “my meal.”
16. The male Cave-Dweller is described as using Spanish expressions, riding a horse, and wearing
11/12/07 12:28:09 PM
439
beautiful, expensive clothes. He is a koyôtl (coyote), a non-Native, a man melâj de sapatos (wearing shoes;
lit., “really of shoes”); he may have horns and take the Spanish name diablo (devil). For comparison with
representations of the Tlaloque, winds, lightning bolts, earth figures, water beings, notion of the devil as
Hispanic, and the afterworld in tales from other regions and time periods, see Beaucage (1992:84, 88);
Burkhart (2001a); Coe and Whittaker (1982); Good Eshelman (1996); Knab (1983, 1991); López Austin
(1967); Preuss (1982:48–51); Reyes García and Christensen (1989); Sandstrom (1991:242–51); Taggart
(1983:114–74; 1997); Taller de Tradición Oral (1984–90); Taller de Tradición Oral and Beaucage (1996:41–
2); Tepole (1982:78–81). For discussion of these figures outside the Nahua world or Mesoamerica, see
Burns (1983:122–34); Gayton (1935); Gossen (1999:15–26); Ingham (1986:103–6, 116); Laughlin
(1977:28–30); Perrin (1987:9–20, 96–119; 1989).
17. In the tales I have collected, economic activities that take men outside the village are commerce
and farm work in regions with irrigated lands; the relations to Hispanics, however, are rarely elicited.
Hispanics appear symbolically in the forms of Cave-Dwellers and Kings, and the relations with them are
rarely linked to precise, real-world economic activities. The new developments of handicraft selling are
not mentioned, but whole families that grew rich and abandoned traditional corn farming are present
in the tales and refer symbolically to the new situation. The relationships between Nahuas and Hispanics
or foreigners in the context of economic activities may take a number of forms; a non-Nahua can, for
example, be a client, sponsor, or landlord in towns and tourist centers or a boss or foreman in farms and
businesses in Mexico or the United States. Economic hierarchy also exists among Nahua villages. Here,
I will not try to analyze the specific relations of power in each of these configurations, as I do not think
these distinctions are directly reflected in the folktales.
18. The term used in the tale is mogêntej (your people), from the Spanish word gente. The traditional
Nahua household is a group of people, mostly kinsmen, who “live together, prepare and consume food
in common, share a common domestic budget and store the staple corn in a common facility” (Sandstrom
2000:59). This concept is expressed in the Alto Balsas region as “working as one in only one place” (Good
Eshelman 1993:93). A larger group beyond the immediate household is referred to as nogêntej (my
people). “These are people one ‘loves and respects,’ with whom one maintains exchange relations. They
include those to whom one is related through kinship, ritual kinship, and friendship ties” (Good Eshelman
1993:128).
19. I say “in this context,” because the nurturing responsibility of a woman expresses her love not only
for her husband but also for her children (see Good Eshelman 1993:113; Taggart 2003:8). On the Nahua
connection between food and sexuality, see Taggart (1983:146–7; 1992:80–1).
20. The Cave-Dweller maiden is not identified with the moon in the community: the moon lives tlakpak
(in the heights), and she is one of the many aspects of the Virgin Mary, Tonânatsin (Our Venerated Mother). However, as she appears in the tales, the maiden shows many parallels with the Nahua moon elsewhere.
In pre-Hispanic cosmology, earth mothers, the moon (in its male and female aspects), and sexuality are
closely related. According to one pre-Hispanic myth, the moon was the daughter of the earth goddess
Coatlicue, Snake-Skirt, an avatar of Cihuacoatl, Snake-Woman (Sahagún 1950–82, book 3:1–4; Milbrath
1997), much like the Cave-Dweller maiden. According to another pre-Hispanic Nahua myth, the sun was
a poor, sick, and courageous man, while the moon was a rich but vain and cowardly male ruler (Sahagún
1950–82, book 7), recalling the wealthy and amoral side of the Cave-Dwellers (and showing the antiquity
of the contrasting values of wealth and poverty). Among the Nahuas of the state of Veracruz today, the
moon, as Tonantsin, the Virgin Mary, also lives in a cave; she is the mother of the sun, Jesus Christ (Sandstrom 1991:242, 244). In an Alto Balsas folktale (Flores Farfán and Ramírez Celestino 1995), the sun and
moon are mischievous male twins, and the twins in tomanoj Ciriaco’s tale may be the sun and moon or
may represent aspects of the moon. The jar in which the twins are born is a pre-Hispanic representation
of the moon and in this case also clearly stands for the female womb. Since the whole story unfolds over
four weeks (see Table 1)—that is, one moon cycle—one can easily relate the tlajtlakôlli and the dead sown
field to the sterile new moon, the pregnancy and growing of the twins to the increasing quarter, the birth
out of the jar and the newfound wealth to the fertile full moon, and the gradual disappearance of the CaveDweller mother and sons to the decreasing quarter. Affirmation that the twins will come back announces
the next cycle. All Cave-Dweller maidens in the tales have a moonlike tendency to appear and disappear. I
plan to discuss the moon and Alto Balsas cosmology in forthcoming works.
11/12/07 12:28:09 PM
440
21. This vision of the cave seems directly influenced by the amate tradition that, during the struggle
against the dam, merged in an unprecedented manner the images of the snake, the city, and evil.
References Cited
Aarne, Antii. 1964. The Types of the Folktale: A Classification and Bibliography, trans. and enl. Stith Thompson. Helsinki: Academia Scientarum Fennica.
Abu-Lughod, Lila. 1986. Veiled Sentiments. Honor and Poetry in a Bedouin Society. Berkeley: University
of California Press.
Amith, Jonathan D., ed. 1995. The Amate Tradition: Innovation and Dissent in Mexican Art. Chicago:
Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum.
Ardener, Edwin. 1971. Belief and the Problem of Women. In The Interpretation of Ritual. Essays in Honour
of A. I. Richards, ed. Jean S. La Fontaine, pp. 135–58. London: Tavistock Publications.
Bauman, Richard. 1971. Differential Identity and the Social Base of Folklore. Journal of American Folklore
84(331):31–41.
———. 1984. Verbal Art as Performance. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press.
Beaucage, Pierre. 1992. Héros civilisateur ou oppresseur ridicule? La représentation de l’étranger dans la
littérature orale maseual (nahuat) du Mexique. In L’étranger dans tous ses états: enjeux culturels et littéraires, ed. Pierre Beaucage and Simon Harel, pp. 81–98. Montreal: XYZ.
———. 1994. The Opossum and the Coyote: Ethnic Identity and Ethnohistory in the Sierra Norte de
Puebla (Mexico). In Latin American Identity and the Constructions of Difference, ed. Amaryll Charrady,
pp. 149–86. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Beaucage, Pierre, Eckart Boege, and Taller de Tradición Oral del CEPEC. 2004. Le couple Nature / Culture
(encore!): Les femmes, l’Ours et les Serpents chez deux groupes autochtones du centre du Mexique.
Recherches amérindiennes au Québec 34(1):53–68.
Belmont, Nicole. 1999. Poétique du conte. Essai sur le conte de tradition orale. Paris: Gallimard.
Berger, Harris M., and Giovanna P. Del Negro. 2002. Bauman’s Verbal Art and the Social Organization
of Attention: The Role of Reflexivity in the Aesthetics of Performance. Journal of American Folklore
115(455):62–91.
Bourdieu, Pierre. 1982. Ce que parler veut dire. L’économie des échanges linguistiques. Paris: Fayard.
Briggs, Charles L. 1992. “Since I am a Woman, I Will Chastise My Relatives”: Gender, Reported Speech,
and the (Re)Production of Social Relations in Warao Ritual Wailing. American Ethnologist 19(2):337–
61.
Burkhart, Louise M. 1989. The Slippery Earth: Nahua-Christian Moral Dialogue in Sixteenth-Century
Mexico. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press.
———. 2001a. Before Guadalupe: The Virgin Mary in Early Colonial Nahuatl Literature. Albany: Institute
for Mesoamerican Studies, University at Albany, State University of New York.
———. 2001b. Sin. In The Oxford Encyclopedia of Mesoamerican Cultures, Vol. 3, ed. D. Carrasco, pp.
146–7. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Burns, Allan F. 1983. An Epoch of Miracles: Oral Literature of the Yucatec Maya. Austin: University of
Texas Press.
Carmack, Robert M. 1979. Historia Social de los Quichés. Serie Seminario de Integracion Social Guatemalteca, no. 38. Guatemala City: Editorial José de Pineda Ibarra and Ministerio de Educación.
Celestino Solís, Eustaquio. 2004. Gotas de maíz. Jerarquía de cargos y ritual agrícola en San Juan Tetelcingo, Guerrero. Mexico City: Centro de Investigaciones y Estudios Superiores en Antropología Social.
Coe, Michael D., and Gordon Whittaker. 1982. Aztec Sorcerers in Seventeenth Century Mexico: The Treatise on Superstitions by Hernando Ruiz de Alarcón. Albany: Institute for Mesoamerican Studies, State
University of New York.
Collier, Jane Fishburne, and Michelle Z. Rosaldo. 1981. Politics and Gender in Simple Societies. In Sexual
Meanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality, ed. Sherry B. Ortner and Harriet Whitehead,
pp. 275–329. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Dáubeterre Buznego, María Eugenia. 2005. Aquí respetamos a nuestros esposos: migración masculina,
11/12/07 12:28:09 PM
441
conyugalidad y trabajo femenino en una comunidad de migrantes de origen nahua del estado de Puebla. http://cmd.princeton.edu/taxco.shtml, accessed August 12, 2006.
Dégh, Linda. 1995. Narratives in Society: A Performer-Centered Study of Narration. Helsinki: Academia
Scientiarum Fennica.
Del Negro, Giovanna P. 2004. The Passeggiata and Popular Culture in an Italian Town: Folklore and the
Performance of Modernity. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press.
Díaz de Jesús, Marcelino, and Pedro de Jesús Alejandro. 2000. Alto Balsas, Guerrero: An Experience in
the Struggle for Autonomy. In Indigenous Autonomy in Mexico, ed. Aracely Burguete Cal y Mayor, pp.
134–58. IWGIA Document, no. 94. Copenhagen: International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs.
Fine, Elizabeth C. 1999. “Lazy Jack”: Coding and Contextualizing Resistance in Appalachian Women’s
Narrative. NWSA Journal 11(3):112–37.
Flores Farfán, José Antonio. 2001. Culture and Language Revitalization, Maintenance, and Development
in Mexico: The Nahua Alto Balsas Communities. International Journal of the Sociology of Language
152:185–97.
Flores Farfán, José Antonio, and Cleofás Ramírez Celestino. 1995. El Tlacuache-Tlakwatsin. Mexico City:
CIESAS/ECO.
———. 1997. La sirena y el pescador. Aalamatsin wan tlatlaamani. Mexico City: CIESAS/ERA.
———. 2004. Crafting Means to Empower Nahua Language and Culture. Cultural Survival Quarterly
27(4):55–8.
García, Marta, and Germán A. Zárate Hoyos. 2005. Nahua Women in Alto Balsas, Mexico: Administering
and Generating Remittances for Human Development. http://www.globaljusticecenter.org/papers2005/
garcia_zarate_eng.htm, accessed August 12, 2006.
Gayton, A. H. 1935. The Orpheus Myth in North America. Journal of American Folklore 48(187):263–
93.
Georges, Robert, and Michael Owen Jones. 1980. People Studying People: The Human Element in Fieldwork. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Good Eshelman, Catharine L. 1988. Haciendo la lucha. Arte y comercio nahuas de Guerrero. Mexico City:
Fondo de Cultura Económica.
———. 1993. Work and Exchange in Nahuatl Society: Local Values and the Dynamics of an Indigenous
Economy. Ph.D. diss., The Johns Hopkins University.
———. 1996. El trabajo de los muertos en la Sierra de Guerrero. Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 26:275–
87.
Goodwin Raheja, Gloria, and Ann Grodzins Gold. 1994. Listen to the Heron Words. Reimagining Gender
and Kinship in North India. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Gossen, Gary H. 1999. Telling Maya Tales: Tzotzil Identities in Modern Mexico. New York: Routledge.
Hémond, Aline. 2003. Peindre la révolte. Esthétique et résistance culturelle au Mexique. Paris: CNRS Éditions.
———. 2004. Lois hier, coutumes aujourd’hui . . . Les enjeux politiques à travers un exemple indien au
Mexique. Trace 46:82–98.
Hémond, Aline, and Marina Goloubinoff. 2002. Le “Chemin de Croix” de l’eau. Climat, calendrier agricole et religieux chez les Nahuas du Guerrero (Mexique). In Entre ciel et terre: Climat et sociétés, ed.
Esther Katz, Anamária Lammel, and Marina Goloubinoff, pp. 253–76. Paris: Ibis Press/IRD.
Héritier, Francoise. 1996. Masculin-féminin. La pensée de la différence. Paris: Odile Jacob.
Ingham, John M. 1986. Mary, Michael, and Lucifer: Folk Catholicism in Central Mexico. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Jiménez, Luz. 1972. Life and Death in Milpa Alta: A Nahuatl Chronicle of Díaz and Zapata, trans. and ed.
Fernando Horcasitas. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
———. 1979. Los cuentos en náhuatl de doña Luz Jiménez, trans. and ed. Fernando Horcasitas and Sarah
O. de Ford. Mexico City: Universidad Nacional Autonoma de México.
Jordan, Rosan A., and F. A. de Caro. 1986. Women and the Study of Folklore. Signs: Journal of Women in
Culture and Society 11(3):500–18.
Kaberry, Phyllis M. 1939. Aboriginal Woman, Sacred and Profane. London: George Routledge and Sons.
11/12/07 12:28:10 PM
442
Karttunen, Frances. 1999. The Linguistic Career of Doña Luz Jiménez. Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl
30:267–74.
Knab, Tim J. 1983. Words, Great and Small: Sierra Nahuat Narrative Discourse in Everyday Life. Ph.D.
diss., State University of New York at Albany.
———. 1991. Geografía del inframundo. Groupe de recherche sur l’Amérique Latine, no. 19. Montreal:
Université de Montréal.
Laughlin, Robert M. 1977. Of Cabbages and Kings: Tales from Zinacantán. Smithsonian Contribution to
Anthropology, no. 23. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Lawless, Elaine J. 1992. “I Was Afraid Someone like You . . . an Outsider . . . Would Misunderstand”:
Negotiating Interpretive Differences between Ethnographers and Subjects. Journal of American Folklore 105(417):302–14.
———. 1993. Holy Women, Wholly Women: Sharing Ministries of Wholeness through Life Stories and
Reciprocal Ethnography. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Leach, Edmund Ronald. 1954. Political Systems of Highland Burma: A Study of Kachin Social Structure.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
León-Portilla, Miguel. 1963. Aztec Thought and Culture: A Study of the Ancient Nahuatl Mind. Norman:
University of Oklahoma Press.
———. 1999. Ometeotl, el supremo dios dual, y Tezcatlipoca “dios principal.” Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl
30:133–52.
Limón, José E. 1989. Carne, Carnales, and the Carnivalesque: Bakhtinian Batos, Disorder, and the Narrative Discourses. American Ethnologist 16(3):471–86.
López-Austin, Alfredo. 1967. Términos del nahuallatolli. Historia Mexicana 17(1):1–36.
———. 1997. Tamoanchan, Tlalocan: Places of Mist. Niwot: University of Colorado Press.
Mascia-Lees, Frances E., Patricia Sharpe, and Colleen Ballerino Cohen. 1989. The Postmodernist Turn
in Anthropology: Cautions From a Feminist Perspective. Sign: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 15(1):7–33.
McArthur, Phillip H. 2004. Narrative, Cosmos, and Nation: Intertextuality and Power in the Marshall
Islands. Journal of American Folklore 117(465):55–80.
Messick, Brinkley. 1987. Subordinate Discourse: Women, Weaving, and Gender Relations in North Africa. American Ethnologist 14(2):210–25.
Meyer, Rachel S. 2000. Fluid Subjectivities: Intertextuality and Women’s Narrative Performance in North
India. Journal of American Folklore 113(448):144–63.
Milbrath, Susan. 1997. Decapitated Lunar Goddesses in Aztec Art, Myth, and Ritual. Ancient Mesoamerica 8:185–206.
Mills, Margaret A. 1991. Gender and Verbal Performance Style in Afghanistan. In Gender, Genre, and
Power in South Asian Expressive Traditions, ed. Arjun Appadurai, Frank J. Korom, and Margaret A.
Mills, pp. 36–77. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Narayan, Kirin, and Urmila Devi Sood. 1997. Mondays on the Dark Night of the Moon: Himalayan Foothill Folktales. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Oettinger, Marion, Jr. 1995. ¡Santiago y a ellos! Folk Art as an Agent of Change. In The Amate Tradition:
Innovation and Dissent in Mexican Art, ed. Jonathan Amith, pp. 101–11. Chicago: Mexican Fine Arts
Center Museum.
Ortner, Sherry B. 1990. Gender Hegemonies. Cultural Critique 14(Winter):35–80.
Perrault, Charles. [1697] 1980. Contes de Perrault. Geneva: Slatkine.
Perrin, Michel. 1987. The Way of the Dead Indians: Guajiro Myths and Symbols. Austin: University of
Texas Press.
———. 1989. Creaciones míticas y representacíon del mundo: el hombre blanco en la simbología Guajiro. Antropológica 72:41–60.
Pocius, Gerald L. 1976. “The First Day that I Thought of It Since I Got Wed”: Role Expectation and
Singer Status in a Newfoundland Outport. Western Folklore 35(2):109–22.
Preuss, Konrad T. 1982. Mitos y cuentos nahuas de la Sierra Madre Occidental. Mexico City: Instituto
Nacional Indigenista.
Privat, Jean-Marie. 2004. Si l’oralité m’était contée. Cahiers de littérature orale 56:23–52
11/12/07 12:28:10 PM
443
Raby, Dominique. 1999. Xochiquetzal en el cuicacalli. Cantos de amor y voces femeninas entre los antiguos Nahuas. Estudios de Cultura Náhuatl 30:203–29.
———. 2003. L’épreuve fleurie. Symboliques du genre dans la littérature nahuatl du Mexique préhispanique.
Paris: L’Harmattan.
———. 2006. Sur les ailes du vautour. Dialogue autour d’un récit de voyage dans l’au-delà, chez les
Nahuas du Haut Balsas (Mexique). Paper presented at the Séminaire d’Ethnologie Américaniste,
Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Paris.
Radner, Joan N., and Susan S. Lanser. 1987. The Feminist Voice: Strategies of Coding in Folklore and
Literature. Journal of American Folklore 100(398):412–25.
Ramanujan, A. K. 1991. Toward a Counter-System: Women’s Tales. In Gender, Genre, and Power in South
Asian Expressive Traditions, ed. Arjun Appadurai, Frank J. Korom, and Margaret A. Mills, pp. 33–55.
Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Reyes García, Luis, and Dieter Christensen. 1989. El anillo de Tlalocan. Mitos, oraciones, cantos y cuentos
de los Nawas actuales de los Estados de Veracruz y Puebla. Puebla: CIESAS/Estado de Puebla/Fondo de
Cultura Económica.
Richards, Audrey I. 1956. Chisungus: A Girl’s Initiation Ceremony among the Bemba of Northern Rhodesia.
London: Faber and Faber.
Rosenbaum, Brenda. 1993. With Our Heads Bowed: The Dynamics of Gender in a Maya Community.
Albany, NY: Institute for Mesoamerican Studies.
Sahagún, Bernardino de. 1950–82. Florentine Codex, General History of the Things of New Spain, ed. and
trans. Arthur J. O. Anderson and Charles E. Dibble. 12 vols. Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research.
Sandstrom, Alan R. 1991. Corn is Our Blood: Culture and Ethnic Identity in a Contemporary Aztec Indian
Village. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
———. 2000. Toponimic Groups and House Organization: The Nahuas of Northern Veracruz, Mexico.
In Beyond Kinship: Social and Material Reproduction in House Societies, ed. Rosemary A. Joyce and
Susan D. Gillespie, pp. 53–72. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
Sarhrouny, Yasmina. 2001. Women in Oral Literature: Dreams of Transgressions in Two Berber Wonder
Tales. http://www.scholars.nus.edu.sg/post/morocco/gender/sarhrouny2.html, accessed August 12,
2006.
Saumier, Geneviève. 2001. Les lois révolutionnaires des femmes au sein du zapatisme: du texte aux acteurs.
Recherches amérindiennes au Québec 31(1):71–82.
Sawin, Patricia E. 2002. Performance at the Nexus of Gender, Power, and Desire: Reconsidering Bauman’s
Verbal Art from the Perspective of Gendered Subjectivity as Performance. Journal of American Folklore
115(455):28–61.
Scheub, Harold. 1998. Story. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Shaw, Rosalind. 1990. Gender and the Structuring of Reality in Temne Divination: An Interactive Study.
In Customs in Conflict. The Anthropology of a Changing World, ed. Frank E. Manning and Jean-Marc
Philibert, pp. 335–60. Peterborough, ON: Broadview Press.
Strathern, Marilyn. 1981. Self-interest and The Social Good: Some Implications of Hagen Gender Imagery. In Sexual Meanings: The Cultural Construction of Gender and Sexuality, ed. Sherry B. Ortner and
Harriett Whitehead, pp. 166–91. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
———. 1987. An Awkward Relationship: The Case of Feminism and Anthropology. Sign: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 12(2):276–92.
Taggart, James M. 1983. Nahuat Myth and Social Structure. Austin: University of Texas Press.
———. 1986. “Hansel and Gretel” in Spain and Mexico. Journal of American Folklore 99(394):435–60.
———. 1990. Enchanted Maidens: Gender Relations in Spanish Folktales of Courtship and Marriage.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
———. 1997. The Bears and His Sons: Masculinity in Spanish and Mexican Folktales. Austin: University
of Texas Press.
———. 2003. Como los niños aztecas aprenden a ser adultos: inculcando el respeto hoy en día en una
comunidad mexicana. Paper presented at the III Reunión del Grupo de Trabajo de CLACSO (Consejo Latinoamericano de Ciencias Sociales) de Familia e Infancia, Valdivia, Chile.
11/12/07 12:28:10 PM
444
Taller de Tradición Oral del CEPEC. 1984–90. Maseualsanilmej. Cuentos indígenas de la región de San
Miguel Tzinacapan. 12 vols. San Miguel Tzinacapan, Puebla: CEPEC.
Taller de Tradición Oral, and Pierre Beaucage. 1996. La bonne montagne et l’eau malfaisante. Toponymie
et pratiques environnementales chez les Nahuas de basse montagne (Sierra Norte de Puebla, Mexique).
Anthropologie et Sociétés 20(3):33–54.
Tedlock, Dennis. 1985. Popol Vuh: The Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life. New York: Simon & Schuster.
———. 1990. From Voice and Ear to Hand and Eye. Journal of American Folklore 103(408):133–56.
Tepole, Miguel Ángel. 1982. Uejkauitl nauaueuejtlajtolli. Cuentos nahuas. Mexico City: CONAFE/SEP.
Toumi, Sibylle De Pury, María Antonia Gaspar Canuta, and Cleofás Ramírez Celestino. 1983. Le paradis
sur terre: récit de la vie d’une femme à Xalitla, Guerrero. Paris: Association d’ethnolinguistique amér
indienne.
11/12/07 12:28:10 PM

Folktales, Morality, and Gender in a Nahua Community in Mexico

Transcription

Documents pareils

Chaucer`s Canterbury Tales (2AN1201)

Mise en page 1 - Storytellers of Canada

EMBO goes East

Nanay Materials in a 19th-Century Russian Phrase Book

Preface

- Canadian Manufacturing

Following THE footprints

plaquettte finale 36pages.indd