5. Sugar Skulls And Marigolds — Churros y Chocolate & Other Journeys South

Sugar Skulls and Marigolds

Our 1985 visit to a Oaxacan outdoor market just before Day of the Dead was like stepping through a time warp. Foods that were served in pre-Hispanic times sit next to gaudy piles of plastic toys. Traditional items echo the past and forecast the future.

When the Spaniards conquered Mexico, they brought Catholicism with them. Their dream of converting the Indians was not completely successful, however. The indigenous people adopted the new religion, but blended in their ancient rituals. November first and second are All Souls’ and All Saints’ Days in the Catholic world. The Day of the Dead in Mexico, however, is unique.

On this day, many Mexicans believe that the souls of departed ancestors return to visit relatives. To welcome them, families visit the cemeteries and construct altars in their homes. For several weeks before the celebration, the markets are filled with special items.

We visited the huge and sprawling market in the town of Oaxaca. An extra section had recently been marked off to the side of the main market. It was soon filled with booths, vendors, and throngs to people. For one-stop shopping, this was the place to put together an entire celebration.

We first entered the flower section. An essential decoration for altar and cemetery is the traditional Mexican flower called the cempashuchil—in English, marigold. It was the Aztec flower of the dead and was used in pre-Hispanic times in ceremonies. Truckloads are shipped into the city to fill the demand. These orange flowers fill the cemeteries on the special night, glowing like embers as they are lit by the light of hundreds of candles. Sanctifying the home, they are mounded on the family altars and strung in garlands. Expectant families spread paths of golden petals in front of their homes to lead the spirits back to their earthly dwellings.

Booths filled with hand-dipped candles stretch along one side of the market. The tapers hang in waxen clusters, swinging freely as crowds of people push by. Some are decorated with bands of color or foil flowers. Tall candelabras, made of a traditional black pottery, will light the altars at night.

The pungent smell of incense rises from the next section. Copal, the resin from a tree of the same name, has been used for centuries in Aztec rituals. Vendors wrap the piles of yellow crystals in newspaper. Celebrants will burn this on the altar in a three-legged brazier that is identical to those used by their ancient ancestors. A ring of tiny souls circle the top of the clay brazier.

The most popular section of this special market displays the sugar skulls. Pyramids of white sugar skulls, decorated with foil eyes and colored icing flourishes, wait to be claimed and named. They grin frostily at the purchasers as the vendor writes the name on the forehead. Some are purchased for the dead. Others are to be exchanged as we exchange valentines. They come in all dimensions, from life-sized to thumb-sized. Most are white, but a few mavericks are pink or blue. They echo back to a time of sacrifice, a skull for the eating.

The next section provides an education in the Mexican attitude towards death. In my northern culture, it is feared and hidden. Any joking reference to death is labeled “black humor.” Here, a walk past the tables of deathly toys reveals the contrast. Rows of tiny, garbanzo-headed priests file by in their foil robes, carrying a coffin aloft. Grinning death heads bounce on springs above their mortal bodies. There are teachers, politicians, laborers—no one is spared this inevitable fate. A skeleton drummer plays in front of a row of cadaverous bike riders. Sugar lovers sit atop a tombstone, sharing a picnic. Chocolate skulls, sucker skulls made of ground pumpkin seeds, skulls of plaster with tissue eyes that glow when the lighted candle is placed within. Death is familiar, a part of life in Mexico.

Crowds cluster around the stands of the game sellers. The cemetery is a place for children on November first. They purchase dice, or the game of Lotteria, or Snakes and Ladders, to be played by candlelight on top of the marble slabs.

Food is an important part of this season. Women purchase ingredients to prepare the special foods enjoyed by their loved ones during their lives. Now they will be returning to share in them again, taking the essence and the odor, leaving the substance for those who still live.

Chocolate, a ritual food in pre-Hispanic times, is prepared in much the same way as when Montezuma drank it from golden goblets. Also mixed with ground almonds and sugar, it is formed into balls, cylinders, and patties, and piled on the market tables. It will be mixed in pottery jugs and beaten to a froth to be enjoyed by the living and the dead visitors.

Indian women push through the crowds with baskets of crunchy, deep-fried chapulines. Found in the swamps surrounding Oaxaca, they have been snack food for centuries. We know them as grasshoppers.

A large section of the market is reserved for the selling of pan de muerto, bread of the dead. Shoppers fill their baskets with the sweet, yeasty loaves, which will become part of the altar decoration and the sharing that is important during these special days. Pan de muerto comes in many forms. One of the most traditional is the round loaf decorated with crossed bones. The crusty surface is glazed and decorated with sugar sprinkles. Many loaves are shaped like religious figures and have small baker’s-dough faces tucked into the top. You can buy giant round loaves, decorated with flowers and leaves made of colored dough. Some vendors give out samples to entice buyers to their stands.

As we pushed our way out of the market, we saw echoes of a third culture that one day might become a part of this celebration—a stall filled with fat, plastic pumpkins and flying witches. American Halloween, more in evidence in Mexico City, but headed south.

* * *