San Juan Chamula, just 30 minutes outside of San Cristobal de Las Casas is a famous Tzotzil indigenous village, where visitors flock to witness the religious traditions that are unique to this community.





We met an Irish couple who recommended visiting. They said to go on a Sunday when the village people congregated in the square. They told us about the strange rituals and chicken sacrifices in the local church. I was intrigued.





We went as part of a guided tour from San Cristobal, which by the way, is very well connected for tours outside of the city. You can visit San Juan independently, but having a guide is important so you can get an understanding of exactly what is happening.





The Tour Begins





"If you kill a man, don't expect to live long..."





We sat at the back of the minibus and listened as the guide prepared us for the visit. He explained the history of the town, touching on the customs and religious beliefs of its inhabitants, the indigenous rites and unusual blend of catholic and pagan rituals with Indian and African influences that took place in the Church.





He warned us that photography was forbidden - his facial expression changed - he was deadly serious.





"The town people live almost to their own law, their own rules..." he began to explain. "If you kill a man, don't expect to live long. You could be tied to a pole and burned alive."





"Photography is not permitted inside any of the religious buildings. Please do not ignore this rule. If you break this rule it does not matter where you are from, it is the village's decision what to do. You may go to the prison." I slipped my camera into my bag.





Zinacantan - Who's Your Saint?





Our first stop was to a village just before San Juan, called Zinacantan. Here the same rules for photography applied but we were allowed to take pictures outside, albeit discreetly. We walked inside the church and it was more like a hall. There were no pews but there was seating around the perimeter of the building and statues of saints in large glass cases with wild flowers and candles all around them. There was a harp in the corner, and in the middle of the room was a large table with a dozen men stood around wearing huge black robes made of wool and sandals with 3 inch thick wooden wedges.





Our guide told us that these men were known as martomoetiks, alperesetiks and moletiks. Chosen by the inhabitants of Zinacantan they were each assigned a saint and with that, the responsibility of hosting the feast and celebration of that saint. Each saint had a statue dedicated to him/her in the church and sat in a glass case, adorned with hundreds of flowers and candles. These men had to make sure the flowers by their saint were fresh and changed regularly as well. They were responsible for subsiding all of this but it is considered a high honour to look after the needs of the saints, so expense is not an issue. In some villages there is a waiting list for these positions. Our guide told us that to look after John the Baptist for a year, the waiting list was 90 years long. "Grandparents will buy a place on the list as a gift for their grandchildren."





Dancing and Drinking in Church





One of the martomoetiks approached us with a cup that was filled with an alcoholic drink known as Pox (pronounced Posh). Our guide explained that the word Pox literally translates as medicine, and that the drink is commonly used for ceremonial purposes among the Mayans of Mexico and Central America. We each took a sip and the friendly martomoetik walked over to the harp at which another man sat playing. More martomoetiks joined and circled the harpist, and started stamping their thick wooden clogs on the ground, swaying from side to side.





"A common dance," explained our guide "...the stamping of the feet is significant and is their way of waking up the earth beneath them, uniting them with mother nature." They danced this lovely dance and passed around the Pox. I took a sip and passed it along, enjoying this version of Sunday service very much!





The Village





We left the church and were taken to a textile house where we watched the local women weave the clothes. "Women are best for this job", said the guide, "as they have good hands - they are more dexterous." A little like the women who worked in the cigar factories in Cuba, I thought, hand rolling every single Monte Carlo.





We had a traditional lunch prepared for us as well. The tortillas were pressed and made fresh.





San Juan Chamula - Life and Death





When we arrived at the village of San Juan Chamula I was mindful of my camera, took a few permitted outside photos and slipped the camera back into my bag.





Stepping into the church, my senses were filled instantly. Thousands of candles, melted onto the floor, illuminated the inside. Smoke from burning copal resin incense lingered thick and heavy in the air. There was nothing 'traditionally' Catholic about this church. The floor was covered in pine needles gathered from the surrounding mountains and dozens of people, families mainly - sat on the floor praying out loud, crying, pleading with the saints who were, as in Zinacantan, displayed in large cases along the two long walls of the church. Our guide explained that the local form of Catholicism is a blend of pre-conquest Mayan customs, Spanish Catholic traditions mixed with other religious rituals some of India, some of African origin. I noticed empty bottles of Coca Cola on the floor.





"It is believed that the act of burping rids you of evil spirits," explained the guide. "The most popular drink in Mexico is Coca Cola. Many people will choose this drink for the purpose of getting rid of the evil within them. You will also notice that each saint has on his clothes a mirror. This is to deflect the evil spirits that bring disease to the people."





A Chicken Sacrifice





My attention suddenly turned to a live chicken flapping it wings.





A mother was cradling her little boy on the floor. A teenage girl sat beside her. A Curandero (shaman/medicine man/woman) held the chicken and moved it over the candles and the child, chanting ancient Tzotzil dialect. Curanderos diagnose medical, psychological or ‘evil-eye’ afflictions and prescribe remedies such as candles of specific colours and sizes, and in some very serious cases - like this one - a live chicken for sacrifice.





All of a sudden she took the chicken and twisted its neck, swiftly breaking it and handing it to the teenage girl who was trying her best to steady its thrashing body. I later learned that the motion of moving the chicken over the sick person is significant for extracting the evil spirit that has caused the illness. The chicken is killed and burned or buried, never cooked and eaten, as it is thought to possess the evil spirit, which must be destroyed.





I left the church feeling a mix of emotions. There I was inside a candle lit smoke-filled chapel, amongst desperate, grieving families, chanting shamen and dead chickens. I felt suddenly aware of the fragility of life. It was powerful, it was magnificent and devastating all at the same time.





I'll never forget the colours, the smells, the sounds...and how the church and the people made me feel - so close to life, so close to death.