The slow brewing pain in México´s heart

 

Spanish Edition.

Oficio de tinieblas (The book of Lamentations) by Rosario Castellanos.

Oh, man… where to start? Ok, this book took me a while, you have to thoroughly munch each bite; at the very first pages, I thought it was kind of dry, but no, not at all, if I had to pick a word for this book it would be: desolation.

I like to view it as an onion, with rich and insightful layers after layers, pick any of them and get your mind pumping.

The first layer is the plot, a fictionalized account of an historical event: The Chamulas´ revolt in Chiapas, México around 1867. It has a very complex background and a lot of factors that played a part leading to those events. As an historical vehicle it is very precise and well developed.

On another layer, we have a central figure in those events: the crucifixion of an indigenous child by the hands of the Chamulas to get an indigenous Christ. As a central figure, as you can imagine, it shies away of any simplicity. For starters, debate still stews about the veracity of this claim. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time something is enhanced by one side´s version and in this case, the reports are versions given by the ladinos (mixed raced) and the Spanish. But that is another whole can of worms, going by the official version, well… wtf?! How this could happen? So, here it comes the next layer: an enlightening one, the exploration in the mindset (still from outside though) of the Chamulas and all the players in this event.

It throws the idea of what logic could take us to this central figure, what level of despair can brew such a mix. It is heartbreaking at its core, the need to find a way to plead to an imposed alien divinity because you are forbidden the comfort of your previous beliefs and rituals, the systematic breaking of your people and the central control tool: the church itself. How do you plead, amidst the unreality of this situation?

Remember the complex background? Now we have an extensive display on how we got that impossible plead. The slow and painful process of colonization of México: the race mixing. You have indigenous, Spaniards and ladinos. But not every person of mixed race would be a ladino, oh, no. You need another important factor that is language: the ladinos speak Spanish, not Tzotzil. From there, you have the usual division of "important" or "lesser beings", of power, land, money, education, ownership, servitude. And so, every group has its own world. Don’t forget to add the church squeezing, the removal of lands, of a way of life, poverty, ignorance, sexism, political views. These themes are really lengthy and complex and thus the genius of Castellanos of building the plot and setting so evenly.

Peeling a bit of the layer, a sound understanding of the roots of racism and classism we still suffer in México. This is a prickly subject, a lot of Mexicans get offended when this topic even pops up, you know? Denial.

Next layer: the characters. Oh, god, this woman was incredible. If you peel and remove all the previous layers, you still have a masterful rendering of human nature by itself. Every group, every character is meaningfully carved and fleshed, using no easy fix, avoiding the temptation to draw the good and the bad teams, not here, there is an unflattering desolation for everyone.

And just below that one, I was just… mind blown. A raw element that the characters carry around is found: they are alone, completely alone, even among their peers. That desolation is almost material, when she shows the power of roles, the other, that eternal human factor in finding your place in the world. Everybody was alien to the rest, their understanding of each other constricted because of their role as a ladino, Spaniard, Tzotzil. As men, woman. As servant, master, head of a community. As a father, mother, child, neighbor. Identity and the failure to grasp this understanding, to be even conscious of the need or lack of.

On the layer of style, lets´ not forget Castellanos was a skilled poet. The prose is a delight to read, you can almost feel the desolation drip from it. Classy stuff.

There is a lot more to say, to think and ponder, this book is a complete masterwork. Rosario Castellanos dropped the mic.