Gringo in the Sierra

Gringo in the Sierra

Story time:

About four years ago I was invited to a "tesquinero" in a remote Tarhuamara Indian community high in Mexico's Sierra Madre Occidental. (tesquino is a homemade corn beer and a tesquinero is a gathering, usually presided over by a shaman, where large volumes of tesquino are imbibbed). Tesquineros can get infamously rowdy and this particular area is also home to drug-traffickers that grow and transport marijuana and opium from poppies grown locally. Me and four other gringos (two women) were the only non-indian or non-narco types within 60 miles of canyons and mountains.

This tesquinero lasted three days and was a very special one. A bull was sacrificed by wrestling it to the ground by hand and slitting it's throat with a small knife. It was butchered by torchlight with chunks of meat thrown into huge kettles over open fires. As the shaman blessed the event, the crowd grew, and as more tesquino was drunk attention began to turn towards the gringo visitors.

Since we were guests of one of the more influencial Tarahuamara, we had been accepted into the group, but now it was dark, Francisco wasn't around, folks were getting drunk, some were armed with pistols and knives, and eyes were turning towards our gringa companions (the women).

At that point I squatted down in the crowd to watch how they were butchering the bull. All the chiles, beans, tesquino, tequila, and tortillas I'd been ingesting for days pressurized into a critical mass and without warning, . . I emitted a tremendous fart.

Well, that broke the ice. It seems people are the same everywhere, and after the laughing (and complements) subsided we continued to celebrate with our new found Tarahuamara and narco friends well into the wee hours.

the end

Si se puede