The town’s 50,000 inhabitants are aware of their fragile existence.
Mexico
Narrow lanes echo tales of forbidden romance.
© D. A. Harvey/Magnum, Paris
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Rafael
Segovia
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| To say the least,
this Mexican writer, born in 1951, feels at home in all the arts, from photography
and filmmaking to the theatre, television and video. A literature professor and prolific
author of literary essays, Rafael Segovia has co-ordinated a string of cultural events.
He notably staged a performance presented at the 1986 Cervantino festival of dramatic
arts, The Poets’ Altarpiece, or Love and Death in the Golden Age. A collection of
his numerous literary essays is forthcoming. |
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Once
home to the world’s largest silver mine, this Mexican town has bred many zealous
and fiercely devout souls. Today, flocks of tourists, university students and a prestigious
theatre festival kindle its spirit
Nestled in a narrow
gorge of the Sierra Madre in the heart of Mexico, Guanajuato is one of those post-Columbian
towns hewn out of rock that seem to spring straight from the mountains. Contrasting
with the arid landscape of Cuanaxhuata (“the hill of the frogs”), this elegant 450-year-old
dame of the Spanish Era continues to protect herself behind fortifications from the
region’s fierce winds, just as she did for three centuries against repeated attacks
by the nomadic Chichemeca people, sworn enemies of the Spanish conquerors.
The town lies above a network of subterranean streets. Its majestic old mansions,
baroque and neo-classical churches, palaces, convents and hospitals have all the
charm of a bygone era.
Narrow winding streets that faithfully espouse the uneven terrain echo with the footsteps
of times past and the crystalline tinkle of fountains splashing onto stone slabs.
And a touch of forbidden romance still hovers on the Callejón del Beso (“Street
of the Kiss”), which is so narrow that a Romeo and Juliet who once lived opposite
each other stole furtive embraces leaning from their balconies. Their story ended
sadly: she was shut away in a convent and he was forced to flee into exile.
The
tale of a zealous explorer who dug for hidden treasure
The
spirit of Guanajuato, guarded by its stone walls, is impregnated by a rich memory
which doesn’t trap the town in a sleepy past. Once upon a time, it had just a single
street that wound its way through the rocks to reach a vast esplanade, now the Plaza
de los Pastitos. Today, modern highways cut through the mountains, giving better
access to this tourist and university town, which is also an economic and cultural
centre.
The little provincial burg of 50,000 inhabitants has been stirred from its slumber
by the thousands of tourists crowding its outdoor cafés, by businessmen drawn
to its prosperity, by miners who, like their forebears, still dig gold and silver
out of the ground, and by students who liven up a multitude of small squares with
their youthful enthusiasm.
Not to mention the din that has engulfed the town every October for the past 20 years
or so when the Cervantino dramatic arts festival draws leading international performers
along with hordes of onlookers–and not always the most educated sort. Their noisy
revelling drove the townspeople to ask the federal government to abolish the prestigious
cultural event.
As I make my way through this crowd, I cannot help wondering what life would have
been like had this town followed a more tranquil course than its turbulent history.
At times a bustling metropolis, at others a sleepy village, Guanajuato has evolved
with the flow of political events and the ups and downs of the mining industry. This
chequered course seems to have left its stamp on the local mentality. Aware of their
precarious existence, living off chance discoveries, forever waiting for riches while
fearing poverty, the inhabitants of Guanajuato are cautious, stubborn and fiercely
devout.
To prove the point, take the zeal of one Antonio de Ordoñez, who convinced
himself that he would unearth a hidden treasure. When the Valenciana mine, five kilometres
from the town, was abandoned in 1760, he refused to believe its resources were exhausted
and began a long and arduous prospection of the area. The adventure took him to the
brink of death and despair but his belief was not to be shaken.
After four years, his companions nearly gave up on him, but he used his gifts as
a preacher, alternating sermons and prayers, to persuade them to continue with their
quest. Four more years of ordeals and suffering passed. And then the longed-for miracle
occurred. Antonio de Ordoñez discovered the Veta Madre, the Valenciana mother
lode, one of the richest in the world.
A
525-metre descent into the bowels of the earth
Ordoñez
became wealthy and Guanajuato turned into the world’s biggest silver mine. Like many
other mines in the region, it is still in operation. Its main shaft is 525 metres
deep and it has almost 40 kilometres of galleries. In the beginning, the workers
went down slanting steps more than 700 metres into the bowels of the earth. Each
miner had to climb them 14 times a day carrying 75 kilos of ore every time. This
gives an idea of the wealth the Spanish Empire amassed over three centuries.
To thank God for rewarding his efforts, Ordoñez decided to offer part of the
riches he had drawn from the earth, so he built a magnificent church, one of the
most impressive in the whole country. The altarpiece covered with gold leaf, the
rich decoration and still largely intact paintings and artifacts make La Valenciana
church a unique example of Churrigueresque art, the Mexican baroque that smoothly
combines Indian and Spanish styles.
Once
the bastion of the strictest Catholic morality
A
quick tour of Guanajuato suffices to understand the predominant role played by the
Catholic church. In the 17th and 18th centuries alone, more than 15 convents, temples,
churches and chapels were built in an area of less than two square kilometres, which
is today the old city centre. Such religious zeal is also reflected in the street
names. Calle del Campanero (“Bellringer Street”), for example, commemorates Luis
Antonio Solorzano, the Santa Fé parish bellringer who ruled the townspeople’s
lives at the beginning of the 20th century, letting them know when it was time for
mass, when wakes for the dead were being held and, if necessary, when the curfew
hour had arrived.
For many years Guanajuato was a bastion of the strictest Catholic morality. The inhabitants,
locked inside the town as if in one huge house, all knew each other and anyone who
broke the rules of decency was singled out for reproach. It was fertile ground for
all kinds of outlandish passions, which Jorge Ibagüengoitia wove into thoughtful
and humorous stories. The work of this warm-hearted, talented Guanajuato native,
who died young in 1983, still inspires Mexican playwrights and new wave filmmakers,
immortalizing the surreal and conservative mood of this little town slowly being
eclipsed by modern life.
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Married
to the mine
Founded by
the Spanish at the beginning of the 16th century, the town of Guanajuato, capital
of the state of the same name, became the world’s leading centre of silver extraction
in the 18th century. Located in the centre of Mexico, Guanajuato has always had a
symbiotic relationship with its mines. Everything in the town testifies to this:
its picturesque “subterranean streets”, its sumptuous churches like La Compañía
and La Valenciana which are considered to be among the finest examples of baroque
architecture in Central and South America, the construction of numerous dams and
hydraulic installations, not to mention the mines themselves. The deepest shaft,
the Boca del Infierno (“Mouth of Hell”) plunges down a breathtaking 600 metres. The
historic town of Guanajuato and its adjacent mines were added to the World Heritage
List in 1988.
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