We moved freely in Yanga visiting various places. The cultural center was very small but it was closed for lunch. So we strolled down to the "mercado" the market, it was very busy with vendors calling out the freshness of their goods and the best prices in town. They all seemed to be doing a good job selling a wonderful variety of goods. In mostly all Mexican towns, people shop for their groceries every day. It is fresh, no additives or chemicals to prolong shelf life. They sell a wide variety of fruits including; papayas, guanabanas, bananas, tunas, tamarindo, guayabas etc. The vegetables and grains we saw included verdolagas, romeritos, nopalitos, frijol, abas, lentejas as well as live poultry, chivos, rabbits (Javier complained about all the flies around the meat vendors). Many housewives were purchasing items for that night's dinner.
After the open air market, we went looking for the park and statue erected in honor of Yanga.
It is an imposing monument for a town this small(about 22,000) but it does open up a chapter of Mexican history long forgotten. We asked a few citizens about the town's history but the young ones had no knowledge, they said it always been there. I spoke to the caretaker Don Ursulo, who was watering the lawn and sweeping the area. His physical features are strongly Indian and his skin is very dark. He informed me that the statue was for the slaves who worked the immense sugar cane plantations that existed during his youth. He moaned that this industry is quickly dying because young people "no saben como trabajar la tierra" they don't know how to tend the earth. They all prefer to go to "el norte" where the work isn't back breaking. " "Pero yo todavia cuido mi terrenito de caña" I still care for my cane field. I would say the gentleman was about 80 years old.
Javier continued taking pictures. These are just a small sample of his great collection. I bid a warm goodbye to Don Ursulo the and I couldn't help notice that the poverty of the Mexican men who work the land comes with a certain amount of dignity: the dignity of their work, and their honesty. There is no free lunch here.
We were no more than two hrs. from Tlacotalpan. Javier was like a little boy on Christmas eve; he couldn't wait to get there and start filming his favorite Jaranra musical groups. I must say that I never met a men who likes music so much and who can't read a single musical note. He doesn't know the difference between middle C and G flat and worse yet, he is tone deaf... in spite of all these handicaps, Javier has a deep love for his music and a profound respect for musicians. So... were off to Tlaco.
After the open air market, we went looking for the park and statue erected in honor of Yanga.
It is an imposing monument for a town this small(about 22,000) but it does open up a chapter of Mexican history long forgotten. We asked a few citizens about the town's history but the young ones had no knowledge, they said it always been there. I spoke to the caretaker Don Ursulo, who was watering the lawn and sweeping the area. His physical features are strongly Indian and his skin is very dark. He informed me that the statue was for the slaves who worked the immense sugar cane plantations that existed during his youth. He moaned that this industry is quickly dying because young people "no saben como trabajar la tierra" they don't know how to tend the earth. They all prefer to go to "el norte" where the work isn't back breaking. " "Pero yo todavia cuido mi terrenito de caña" I still care for my cane field. I would say the gentleman was about 80 years old.
Javier continued taking pictures. These are just a small sample of his great collection. I bid a warm goodbye to Don Ursulo the and I couldn't help notice that the poverty of the Mexican men who work the land comes with a certain amount of dignity: the dignity of their work, and their honesty. There is no free lunch here.We were no more than two hrs. from Tlacotalpan. Javier was like a little boy on Christmas eve; he couldn't wait to get there and start filming his favorite Jaranra musical groups. I must say that I never met a men who likes music so much and who can't read a single musical note. He doesn't know the difference between middle C and G flat and worse yet, he is tone deaf... in spite of all these handicaps, Javier has a deep love for his music and a profound respect for musicians. So... were off to Tlaco.
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