MEETING THE TARAHUMARAS

1994

During one of my home leaves while working in Geneva, I decided to travel through the Cañón del Cobre (Copper canyon) in northwest Mexico and while doing so visit a Tarahumara town.

 

The Copper Canyon is magnificent, larger and bigger and much more beautiful than its better known grand canyon, but much less publicized and that is a good thing, as sometimes too many visitors to a beautiful area can ruin it, on the other hand visitors bring wealth to a region. The dilemma is constant and it is not for me to clarify it here but when I travelled, the train ride was from the city of Chihuahua to the port of Los Mochis or vice versa.  I took it from Chihuahua, a two days trip that allowed you to stop overnight in Creel, more or less in the middle of the trip, in comfortable cabins and in between trains, travel either to the edge of the Canyon or to the surrounding areas. It seems today you can even go down the canyon, there are lifts or something like that, but when I was there was either on foot, quite a few days march and not in my style, or just you admired the canyon from the edge.

 

I decided to visit the Tarahumara town that was relatively close by, and there were many reasons for this choice.  First: my maternal grandfather had some Tarahumara blood, I do not really know if half or one fourth, but there were some drops and therefore I also have my small share.  Second: although I do not know a lot about their culture and traditions, I do know they are very strong people, they run, mostly barefooted, for many kilometres and are known to win a considerable number of races – men and women alike. Third: they are brave people. Proud of their race and their ancestry. Fourth and most important: I wanted to do it!

We arrived in Creel in the middle of the afternoon, with enough light still to visit the neighbouring caves and vestiges of the native culture, their caverns and burial places and admiring the magnificent Copper Canyon. After and overnight stay in Creel, my guide picked me up and we drove sometime until we arrived at a little hamlet that had a school for Tarahumara children. There were two classrooms and the teacher explained to me that it was a live-in school as most children had to walk several kilometres from home to the school and could not do it daily, so before risking missing the students because it was too far, the system offered them room and board from Monday to Friday or Saturday and they went home during the week-end.  Another advantage of this was that the kids were assured decent meals, maybe not rich but plentiful and healthy.

 

The kids were looking at me like a strange animal, in part because they did not get many visitors and also because I was speaking Spanish, which for them was their second language, as they spoke and took classes in Tarahumara language.  Their faces glowing and of course I wanted to take pictures of all of them, but before that I had to get their consent.  They graciously agreed although not all of them looked happy at my camera, some were like doing me a big favour and not posing for the tourist!

 

 

They were great to photograph, more or less smiling but showing such pride on who they were and what they were achieving that really struck me, so upon return to Europe I managed to put up an exhibit and sale of some of my photos of the region, was able to collect a considerable amount of money that was sent to the school through the good services of one of my best friends in Mexico and from what she reported, they were able to buy linen for their dorms, pencils and copybooks and few other things needed there.  I also received some thank you letters written by the kids and a bag, embroidered with my name that was used sooo much, it has died of old age and use.

 

After that visit to the school we returned to Creel to take the train and continue the incredible trip to Los Mochis.  The landscapes are just magnificent and breathtaking.