The El Tajin Edition

Papantla/El Tajin

The magical ancient city of El Tajin sits about ten kilometers away from the town of Papantla, where we’re staying. 

We visited the site today and arranged for a private tour – in English – from our new friend Eusebio – who goes by Chebo. It sounds like there is some question about who built El Tajin – but for purposes of our blog we are going with what we learned from Chebo. Chebo told us that El Tajin is all about the Totonac people. From what Chebo said, I think the Totonac people were kind of successors of the Mayans, coming a little bit later in history.

Chebo is himself Totonac. He speaks the language, and he grew up on the grounds of El Tajin – living there until his grandfather passed away some time ago. Chebo explained that even now there are three Totonac families living on the grounds – but only until the last of the older generation pass away. 

Chebo related that until Cortez and the Spanish came to Mexico the Totonac people were poly-theistic. They were artistic, kind, and intelligent – but were not war-like. 

In the days when El Tajin was in its prime there were two basic classes of people: the elites – those who practiced medicine, teachers, merchants, etc. – and the workers – who built the temples (involved moving lots of rocks), farmed, etc.

The name El Tajin refers to the Totonac god of rain or, as Chebo told us, thunder. The people of El Tajin made ritual sacrifices to the gods. Surprisingly, the Totonacs only sacrificed the elites. I guess because the gods didn’t think of it as much of a sacrifice to give them a lowly worker. 

According to Chebo the elites were happy to be sacrificed because this is how they would achieve the transcendent – or immortality. 

I’m reminded of a scene in a Norwegian tv show – Norsemen – that my friend Corey had us watch a few years ago. It’s based on the Vikings (not the football team – the real Vikings from Scandinavia) – probably around the same time frame as El Tajin. Anyway, one of their practices was sending the old people away when they reached a certain age; I think when they were seen as a drain on the resources of their home or village. See this link for more information on that. They were supposed to jump off of this cliff to their death – and, I guess, be happy about it.

Anyway, in the tv show the old guys respectfully decline to jump. 

“Umm, yeah, I don’t really want to jump right now. Maybe someone else can go . . .”

”Well, I’m okay. Maybe Torsten wants to go . . .”

”Yes, well, it doesn’t look that inviting to me really.”

In the end they establish their own little band of old people outside of town . . .

Back at El Tajin, Chebo pointed to some original hieroglyphs that depicted an elite being sacrificed. Chebo focused on the fact that the elite guy being sacrificed looked very content to have someone drive a knife into his jugular. Not sure if maybe that was just ancient propaganda: 

“Hey – it’s fun to be sacrificed. See how much the last guy liked it . . .”

I guess it was only men that were sacrificed. Kind of a trade off. Do you want to be an elite – with lots to eat and multiple wives and stuff, but who ends up being sacrificed in the end? Or would you rather be a worker, carrying rocks around to make a pyramid – and then getting only five days off per year. 

It’s a tough one . . .

Some of the other cool features of El Tajin . . . The temples were built so that the sun would always rise and set in particular ways around the equinox and solstices. Also on the grounds were like seventeen of these “ball” courts for an ancient game that Chebo said was kind of like volleyball, only with a 6-8 pound ball. It was a popular spectator sport and there were bleachers built into the temple walls where people would watch, cheer, and gamble on the results. Like modern football, but I guess if you were an elite and you “won” the game you would be sacrificed.

Can’t you just see it:

”Oh, I think that was your point for sure. I was definitely the last one to touch the ball . . .” 

”I was so looking forward to winning, but it just wasn’t my day I guess. Well, we’ll be seeing you . . .”

The weird thing is that there were like eleven people visiting El Tajin when we were there. Huge grounds, amazing temple/pyramid things – and no one around. Chebo says there are MANY more people coming now than when he was young. After they put a paved road in – I guess in the ‘90s – things really picked up. But if this were in America – or in a place that Americans would willingly travel to – there would be thousands of people visiting El Tajin every day.

Not that that would be a good thing necessarily. Just an observation.

Okay, one more thing I’ve been thinking about and wanted to share . . .

When we first crossed the border I noticed all of these signs along the highway reminding people that seatbelts are required in Mexico. 

“Hmm. Good. These people are concerned with safety. That bodes well for our journey.”

But then I started observing the reality of how people drive. 

• Families of four sharing one moped – driving 50 mph down the highway – with no helmets on. But hey – the kids are in the middle – so it’s all good . . .

• People piled into the backs of pickup trucks as they motor along. Many times standing up. 

• Heck, even the police are standing up in the back of pickup trucks. While carrying big guns. What could possibly go wrong?

• Driving a moped while holding a weed wacker – so that the weed wacker sticks out about 5’ on one side of the moped.
• Or, one of my favorites – two guys on a motorcycle while the guy in back is carrying about 200 pounds of 10’ long lumber on his shoulder. I don’t know how they even get going or, worse yet, stop. Craziest thing I ever saw . . .

The most fun was a “school bus” that we saw the other day while on one of the bumpy dirt roads that Diana didn’t like. Of course, it’s not a school bus at all. It’s a pickup truck that someone has modified in order to add two bench seats – one along each side of the truck bed. There are about a dozen high school students riding the “bus” and the road is so bad that the pickup truck has to slow down to about zero in order to go over the bumps without kids going flying out the back . . .

Turns out it’s much easier to negotiate the bumps and get back up to speed in between them when you are on a bike . . . The upshot is that I was able to chat with the kids on about a dozen occasions as we all maneuvered down the road.

They laugh and holler and ask questions in Spanish. I answer as best as I can. 

“Somos de Norte Americanos.”

”Somos de Minnesota. Hace mucho frio.” (Diana edited this last sentence because, I think, she is embarrassed by how illiterate her husband sounds in Spanish. What I really said was more like “Es frío” or “It’s frío.” They understood – so it’s all good . . .)

And then I ask how old they are. They’re quince – fifteen – or at least the girl who responded was. I try to get them to bring up the blog on their phones – but I don’t think blogs are a thing for Mexican kids – or is that just for kids generally? 

Eventually the bus finds some good pavement and they’re gone – because once there was good pavement they were going like 50 – with all the kids in the back on the bench seats. Not exactly how we would do it in America . . . But then, Diana and I aren’t wearing seat belts either . . .

Hopefully they’re all okay. Maybe they can grow up to be the elites – but hopefully not the ones that happily sacrifice themselves . . .

For us – on towards Puebla and then Mexico City. Maybe the elevation in that direction will make things a bit cooler . . .