Friday, August 24, 2012

Taos -- The Red-Willow People




Mack Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

 
The Red-Willow People

The original Taos is not the plaza, but rather Taos Pueblo (www.taospueblo.com), some two miles north of town.  Home to the Red-Willow People, the Pueblo occupies some 90,000 acres of northern New Mexico, and has been their land for at least a thousand years.  The North House and the South House in the Pueblo proper date back a full millennium, which makes them coeval with Westminster Abbey.

Hey, maybe Taos Pueblo and the City of Westminster could make a twin cities agreement.

A beautiful little stream flows between the North House and South House, bordered with willows and benches, and visitors are asked not to wade in it or drink from it since it is the source of water.  Someone had tossed an ordinary new kitchen mop into it, though, and one wonders what domestic squabble that was about.

One ‘net encyclopedia advises that the Red-Willow People are “secretive” and “conservative.”  This is errant nonsense; they are in fact hospitable and open to the point of garrulousness.  Remember that Taos Pueblo is an autonomous state, though they do not yet require passports.  When visiting any autonomous state, say, Canada, one does not judge Canadians to be secretive if the ministry of defense does not provide the visitor with detailed information about the airport radar codes.  Similarly, Canada could hardly be considered conservative for not cluttering Ottawa’s Parliament Hill with chain coffee shops, hamburger joints, and neon signs advertising “Genuine Canadian Dancers in Costume.”

It’s their home; they want it to look nice.

Several hundred folks still live in the North House and South House, and by mutual agreement without electricity or piped water.  San Jeronimo / Saint Jerome Church is illuminated with gas for night liturgies, and otherwise people do very well with doors, windows, skylights, and probably early bed-times. 

Most everyone else lives in houses close to the crops, presumably with electricity and water.

The government offices near the front entrance – or, rather, border crossing – are connected to utilities, and the rulers’ pickups are parked out back next to the visitors’ restrooms.  Does the leader of any other nation drive a pickup truck with muddy boots and workman’s tools in the back?  I think he’d help you fix that broken gate you’ve been meaning to get to.

One of the most prominent features just inside the entrance is the tower of a ruined church.  This is the site of the first St. Jerome, from 1619.  That church was destroyed in a revolt against the Spanish in 1680, and was rebuilt a few years later.  In 1847 the United States acquired (nice euphemism) New Mexico, and there was a great deal of confused fighting in and around Taos.  In one of the rowdier misunderstandings, the new American Governor of New Mexico was scalped.  In front of his wife and children.  And then he was murdered.  Again in front of his wife and children.  Now that’s a bad day at work.  Whether or not the Red-Willow People were involved, the U.S. Army thought they were, and attacked the Pueblo.  The result was a massacre of several hundred people who had sought refuge in their parish church.

This isn’t Disneyland, okay?

The new Saint Jerome’s, about a hundred yards away, dates from 1850; the remains of the previous one are a memorial and a cemetery.  Just as we wouldn’t want furriners bopping around our maw-maw and paw-paws’ graves with cameras and fizzy drinks, visitors are not allowed to enter that bit of truly sacred ground.

We visited early in the morning to avoid the mid-day heat.  Early hours are also the best time for pictures because you can do the Ansel Adams thing so much more easily with the area mostly empty of people.  You’ve seen pictures of the buildings all your life, but for some reason few people photograph them framed by the shifting blues and greens of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

The sunlit and almost golden facades of the buildings are at first silent and seemingly deserted, but then the shopkeepers begin opening their doors and putting out their signs, and suddenly there’s a lot going on.  The shopping is fun, and the artisans enjoy talking about their work, and Mom’s work, and how Grandpa worked, both at the craftsman’s bench and on the land. 

We met Mrs. Chili Flower in her nice shop, which features jewelry made by her family.  Her son, Richard, also sells by the side of the road west of town close to the Rio Grande Gorge.  Just look for the sign that says “No Vending on Highway Right-of-Way.”  Hey, New Mexico is calm like that.

The Red-Willow People speak Tiwa, Spanish, and English, and the last, at least, quite idiomatically, not that anyone from Texas can with reason critique any accent at all.  A bit of culture shock at first, but then you’ll feel quite at home.

They’re really nice folks; you ought to go visit them.

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