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Once upon a time, before the Internet, I was turning in episodes of Brainpan Fallout on a floppy disc (remember them?) in a Mexican restaurant. I was careful not to get salsa on them. “This is like one of your stories,” someone said.
As a science fiction writer, I don’t try to predict the future. I just have a feeling for changes I see happening and wonder What If, and If This Goes On. When I first started projecting Aztec and other preColumbian cultures into the future, it was seen as far-out and esoteric. Cortez on Jupiter, High Aztech, and Smoking Mirror Blues weren’t considered to be very bloody likely.
Now, in Silgo XXI, people keep telling me that the news seems like my stories, especially when things preColumbian manifest.
Officials in Mexico City's governing body estimate that a decade ago there were about 50 Aztec revivalist groups in the capital. Today there are closer to 300, all part of a movement calling itself La Mexhicanidad, one of the fastest-growing urban subcultures around.
Mexico City mayor Marcelo Ebrard wants all city employees, from hospital workers to bus drivers, to learn the Aztec language Nahuatl in an effort to revive the ancient tongue, the city government said.
And more recently, in a piece that compared the Aztecs to the Nazis, and criticized multiculturalism:
Imagine an alternative history where the Aztecs sail across the Atlantic Ocean to set up their pyramids of sacrifice in Paris.
And there are those who have given the Aztecs a New Age makeover, convinced that they were all really peaceful vegetarians, and all that talk about war and human sacrifice is just racist propaganda. You can see them climbing Teotihuacán and Mayan pyramids to recharge their energy on the Equinox.
More akin to my NeoAztecs and Aztecans is the Mexica Movement. Mexica being what the Aztecs called themselves.
Their website is interesting, going beyond the Chicano Movement’s visions of Aztlán. All the native peoples of the Américas including the mestizos (a word they don’t like) are one people, the Nican Tlaca, and their nation is Anahuac.
The United States of Anahuac . . . hmm . . .
Other words they reject are Hispanic and Latino, which they consider racist nods to European cultures.
I’d quote from them, but their homepage warns, in bigger letter than these:
ALL MATERIALS COPYRIGHTED DO NOT STEAL
They also have a page to help those who want adopt Nahuatl names.
I remember how thirty years ago, I was excited at meeting girls named Xochitl. These days I run into a lot of Nahuatl and Mayan names on Twitter and Facebook. Welcome to my world.
Meanwhile, our culture here in Anahuac is going Aztecan. Young people are being sacrificed, by each other, and by militarized law enforcement agencies. I wonder what gods they are being sacrificed to.
Ernest Hogan is addicted to getting published and to committing acts of creative blasphemy. He’s found people who think it's amusing, and who help him. He has made sacrifices over the years, and now there’s no stopping him.
0 Comments on Chicanonautica: NeoAztecs Among Us as of 8/21/2014 4:43:00 AM
With so many pieces of fiction being posted by other Bloguistas these past weeks--here and Here or HEREy aquí--I thought I oughta add to the pile.
Here's the opening to a novella I'm completing that I call "The Enigma of the Grandest Gardener of Texcoco." It's an historical fantasy set against the background of what is known of the history, culture and peoples of the Valley of Mexico, fifty years before el pinche Columbus started the illegal European immigration. It's got nagual animal-spirits, gardeners who use enchantment, a tragic princess and, yes, Tezcatlipoca--one of Ernesto Hogan's favorites. Monsters and mayhem, demons and deities, yes, and even a strange bit of romance.
Of course, if you know of an editor or publisher or agent looking for a unique 20k-word cross-over story, let her or him or me know.
es todo, hoy,
RudyG
The Enigma of the Gr
6 Comments on The Grandest Gardener of Texcoco, last added: 6/28/2011
You were able to draw in a non-fantasy reader (like myself) into the story quite quickly.The setting and character is unique, I like the character and animal guide right away. What I am ambiguous about is the conflict. I think that Protag wants a position and is waiting for an interview? Not clear to me. I do know of an agent that is interested in the supernatural, magical realism realm, however not interested in novellas or short stories. This story seems like it could be a novel.
Anonymous said, on 6/28/2011 5:32:00 AM
This is excellent. Reminds me of Marcos Lopez Llosa's (Peruvian author) nobel prize winning book "Storyteller" which I know you would enjoy. jvp
Anonymous said, on 6/28/2011 6:08:00 AM
From RudyG, Grandest Gardener author: Based on these 3 responses, maybe I should only post on LaBloga and forget about agents and publishers!
Actually, I just finished this novella and haven't submitted it anywhere else yet. Like Alvarado F. says, it could be a novel. It could be a good short story. It could be an epic or the start of a 3-vol. series. Right now, this is what it is.
Writers sometimes face what Alvarado raised: "Should I make it longer, shorter, one installment of many to come, in order for it to have a better chance at publication?" I think most writers come to the conclusion that once the story's done, that's how long it will stay.
The exception of course is when an agent/publisher says, "Do what I suggest and I'll help you get it published." When/if/should I hear that, I'd run with the suggestion. It's early yet. Quién sabe?
In the meantime, feel free to pass along the Gardener link to anyone you think might enjoy the piece. And if you know of an agent or publisher who might want to make me turn it into a full-fledged novel, give him/her/it una chansa to "suggest" it's worth becoming a novel. If I never hear from such, maybe I'll just put the whole chingadera up somewhere for at least you three "fans" to enjoy.
To "new fan & fellow writer": Glad you liked it and hope you get to see it published. To jvp: Excellent? Glad you thought so and I think the rest of the story reads that well. I'll definitely check out Llosa's Storyteller. Thanks for the input and suggestion. To anonymous: In answer to your remark about the plot: "Protag wants a position and is waiting for an interview? Not clear to me." Simón, it's a story about a job interview. I give you a lot more of the details in the rest of the 18k words. But, this "job interview" will make your worst job search seem like stepping over a dead gusano.
With another Thanksgiving mere days away, and evidence of parade preparations for Macy’s annual 2.5-mile extravaganza popping up all over Manhattan, talk around the office has taken a turkey-themed turn. As I listened to debates over the best way to prepare this symbolic bird, I started to wonder about its geographical origins. (more…)
This week's poetry Friday lands on All Saint's Day, the day AFTER Dia de los Muertos. Two years ago I wrote a poem celebrating the birth of my grandson Aiden and honoring my grandfather - Salvador Medina Camarillo who passed away from complications of cancer in 1987. The poem is called Cien Años - 100 years because his favorite saying was that he was going to live 100 years. He didn't quite make it but he was the strongest man I've ever known and battled cancer from the 1960s till the day he died. The year my grandmother died in 1984 - he had 7 major surgeries in one month and a few months later was out breaking concrete with a sledge hammer. You'd think that with such vitality and strength he'd be rough and gruff - but no, he was the gentlest, kindest man I've ever met. He believed in paying it forward, doing good just for the sake of doing it. He did the right thing simply because it was the right thing and never had an agenda. He and my grandmother Maria Guadalupe Gonzales Camarillo or Dona Lupe as she was known, would be proud of what all these bloggers are doing for Robert's Snow and I honor their memory with each post for it.
My Poetry Friday post is a Day of the Dead altar of sorts. I hope you enjoy this little taste of my culture. I welcome you to leave a little candle of a comment on this altar for your loved ones who have passed.
I've attached my Papa Chava's (that's what we called him) picture along with pictures and video of the Day of the Dead ceremony last night in Lincoln Park. Please keep in mind I was dancing so the video isn't very good.
Cien Años
“Cien años” You would say In that Raspy, gruff Yet curiously gentle Voice “Voy a vivir cien años”
“Naci en el 1900” You’d tell me As together we sat In the patio filled with my Grandmother’s plants Playing Canicas, marbles that Lived in the bright Green MJB Coffee can
“Cien años” Square, determined jaw Resolute cara de nopal Face of un indo Beloved grandfather Affectionately called Papa
“Deje Mexico durante el revolucion” Sadness and shadows Flittering through your warm Brown eyes That must have seen So much Loss and pain Brave, brown man Strong and honest A working man
“Cien años” As we hoed the neat Rows of Corn, chiles, cilantro, tomate Bright red strawberries Freckled like me
“Conoci al Al Capone en Cheecago” Proud, smiling lightly As we picked the lemons, membrillo and laurel Destined for Grandma’s kitchen To become intoxicating smells Of a distant land. Later I learned of The stockyards, the stench Backbreaking work Racism and hatred He never once spoke of
“Cien años” Rolling massive flour tortillas In three quick thumps Of the Rolling pin Sas! Sas! Sas! And hands a perfectly round White moon To Grandma standing At the comal
“Somos Aztecas, indios” Crinkly eyes flashing Big dimple showing In your left cheek Same as mine Only deeper, much deeper The “X” marks the spot In a treasure map of a smile As we watch Los Voladores perform
“Cien años” As you sat at the table With the ever present Playing cards Shuffling with all the Finesse of a Vegas dealer And told me Of the first time you worked With your father At age 3 And earned Tres centavos One you bought an olla with Gave it and the remaining Centavos To your mother
“No cobramos por ayuda” Every time someone tried to pay For the sobadas Given By the healing hands Of a sobador, a huesero Those same hands That carved a cherry stone or a porous rock into the face of a monkey
“Cien años” Body racked with nausea Losing your thick black hair Fighting That asbestos-caused evil Cancer From working in that place That manufactured dishes Gave you a turkey a year, Franciscanware The apple pattern Desert Rose And the “Big C”
“Dios te lo pague, hija” Each time I did something For you Or my Grandma Out of love For no other reason But to lighten your load Do something for those That gave me so much
“Cien años” As you kissed the Forehead of your bride Still in love After decades of marriage Dancing with her To a bolero reminiscent of Times past
“Tengo que trabajar” After seven major surgeries The month after My grandmother’s death As we tried to get You to stop Working The hard muscle Of your indio labor Tucked under the wrinkled Mask of frailty
“Cien años” When the hospital Sent you home to die A thin man hiding his Pain Looking like A woodcut By Guadalupe Posada
“No tengo hambre” As I parade your favorite foods Chicharones en chile verde Frijoles del olla Burnt blackened tortillas I never understood Why you liked them that way Almost 86 On that April Fools Sunny day I called to see how you were And found you had gone To Mictlan "Fitting", I said As I held my children and cried Fitting for the practical joker You were
Today A great, great grandson Came backwards into this world Bearing your name – Salvador In the Aztec veintena of Tlaxochimaco The Offering of the Flowers
In his name Aidan Cesar Salvador Ehecatlpochtli I gift to you this Flower, this poem This bittersweet tear May you live on In our memories, our stories Our hearts and dreams Por much mas que “Cien años”
I began my Dia de los muertos early. I put in almost a full day of work at the office and then hopped a train to downtown L.A.'s Union Station. Once there, I walked through the train station at a fast clip carrying my bag of regalia. I crossed the street and walked through Placita Olvera - or Olvera Street. I took a few pictures of the altars there (more on that in another post). I ran across the street, swept through the inner plaza of La Placita - the oldest Catholic Church in Los Angeles, took pictures there and ran to catch a bus to Lincoln Park - Plaza de la Raza. I was lucky, the bus came within five minutes and I arrived at Parque de Mexico just in time to help set up the main altar.
This is some of the guys putting up a banner of Emiliano Zapata.
The main altar
The pungent smell of marigolds and copal perfumed the air as we worked together in harmony. I saw dear old friends, children who had played with my children now had children of their own. We worked hard and laughed a lot. We did the usual helping each other with headresses and regalia, admired each others handiwork and chatted away till the conch shells and drums called us to circle. Then we danced.
This is me in my regalia right before we entered the circle.
Dancing is praying for us. We dance in a circle. The main altar in the center belongs to our muertitos - that's where they dance. We danced for hours, well into the the night. Some of us took breaks but most did not. We danced in the four directions, giving honor to each. We prayed to Father Sky and bent down to Mother Earth. Rattles shook, drums were beating, flutes were playing, costumes and feathers were swirling. We honored our ancestors, we prayed on this sacred and holy night. We prayed. We honored. We kept our culture alive.
Some of the drummers.
The Virgen de Guadalupe is special to us.
We are the Mexica, we are Azteca, we are indigenous, indios, we are the sacred corn. We are devout people, devout to the religions of our choice, devout to our traditions, devout in our love of patria (country) and of our homeland. There is a prayer we say at the end of each ceremony that talks about how we are the sacred corn.
When I'm standing there exhausted after dancing for hours in prayer, when my senses are filled with copal smoke, drum beats and that otherworldy sense of sacred space, when I'm there with my face pointing to the sky, hands and arms raised to the heavens, when I'm saying this prayer aloud with 100 other dancers - then I know that we have something precious, a treasure in our culture and that it will live on forever so please don't ask me to assimilate and don't think I'm un-American because I love who I am. I stand on the strong roots of my past, I dance with my ancestors and I am so proud to be a Mexica woman.
Wow. Just... wow! How amazing to be part of something so primal and important and fun and beautiful at the same time.
Plus, the headdress... wow!
SamR said, on 11/2/2007 7:43:00 AM
That was great! Thank you so much for sharing that!
jama said, on 11/2/2007 8:18:00 AM
What a beautiful, touching poem. You wrote it with so much heart and love. Thanks for sharing part of your culture, too.
Kelly Fineman said, on 11/2/2007 8:53:00 AM
Lovely, Gina. Your poem to your grandfather was gorgeous. Did he really know Al Capone?
And your post about el Dìa de los Muertos was really excellent, too.
TadMack said, on 11/2/2007 10:30:00 AM
When we were at Mills, the school had an altar, and it was the most awesome thing -- it started small, and ended up this huge, complex mememto mori that was so touching. Thank you so much for sharing this, Gina. It's really beautiful as is the poem.
Se puede vivir cien años!
Gina MarySol Ruiz said, on 11/2/2007 11:51:00 AM
Thank you all. Kelly - I'm not sure he really knew him but my grandfather never lied. If he said he met him, then he met him. Whether or not he knew him well is a different story and one I doubt I will ever know.
Check out the rest of the day of the dead posts and photos - I put up two more posts loaded with images.
Sara said, on 11/2/2007 2:17:00 PM
I savored every line of your poem. It was heartfelt and dignified and funny and sad...everything your grandfather must have been. Thank you for letting me meet him.
And the rest of the post: I'll echo the wows. When you said, "dancing is our prayer," I thought: sign me up for that church.
Crispus Attucks said, on 11/2/2007 11:40:00 PM
Thank you, Gina. Everyone of your posts is an experience that I treasure.
Goddess of the Americas Castillo, Ana (ed.) Riverhead Books, 1997 ISBN-10: 1573226300 ISBN-13: 978-1573226301
This a brilliant collection celebrating the love of and devotion to the enduring influence of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Castillo includes male and female writers, agnostics, traditional Catholics, feminists, and Santeras in this eclectic homage. This anthology contains essays, memoir, poetry, and rhetoric celebrating a complicated relationship with our diosa, one that is much less European and traditionally Catholic, something much more than that. This is a deity that is full-bodied, sensual, actively involved in the thrum and unraveling and reclamation of the world.
In the preface, Castillo writes that this brown-skinned Mary appeared in 1531; but in reality, existed as Tonatzin, a thousand years before the conquest. The thread that weaves these essays together, is the fascination with the ways in which Tonatzin, the moon goddess, morphed into this particular image of Mary. She is essentially Latina, essentially an emblem of indestructible indigena roots, which survived through a syncretic practice. (Much like the ways Mejicanos/Chicanos themselves survived the conquest.)
Authors such as Elena Poniatowska, Luis J. Rodriguez, Sandra Cisneros, Denise Chavez, and Gloria Anzaldua write with clarity, precision and grace, depicting a 'Virgin' that has survived the conquest and embodies a multiplicity of identities, based on the multitude of goddesses that are her antecedents. Shaped in their image, this goddess is rooted in the cyclic and eternal, sprung from our roots, from the religion that held us before there was religion. This goddess is one with qualities the colonizers could not imagine, let alone control. This Virgin is an amalgam of lover, consort, liberator, guardian of the living and the dead, wellspring of the revolutionary.
Of particular interest to me was Sandra Ciseneros' essay entitled, 'Guadalupe the Sex Goddess'. It in, she traces the Virgin's pre-Columbian roots as icon of fertility and sexuality, central to a cosmology in which female sexuality was valued, not denigrated. In that cosmology, Guadalupe's antecedents included Tonatzin, the moon Goddess who embodies the feminine principle of cyclical re-creation. She (Guadalupe) is also linked to Tlazolteotl, patron of sexual pleasure and Tzinteotl, goddess of the rump. Lastly, there is a connection Tlaelcuani, the filth-eater, she who transforms the ugly, the corrupted, into the sanctified and renewed.
Cisnero on her significance:
When I look at the Virgin of Guadalupe now, she is not the Lupe of my childhood, no longer the one in my grandparent's house in Tepeyac, nor is she the one of the Roman Catholic Church.
...Like every woman who matters to me, I have had to search for her in the rubble of history. And I have found her. She is Guadalupe the sex goddess, one that makes me feel good about my sexual power, my sexual energy, who reminds me I must...speak the most basic, honest truth...write from my panocha.' (p.49)
This is the vivid imagery, the hidden history I need in order to shape a reconstruction of identity, one woven woven with both Catholic and more ancient threads. This is the Goddess that saves everywoman, blesses everyman, and transforms physical violence and abuse, celebrating the sacred, sexual body.
A formidable read. This book has helped me think about what in means to be a Latina, in a personal and epic sense.
1 Comments on To Whet your Appetite for the Divine Castillo, last added: 2/11/2007
Once upon a time, before the Internet, I was turning in episodes of Brainpan Fallout on a floppy disc (remember them?) in a Mexican restaurant. I was careful not to get salsa on them. “This is like one of your stories,” someone said.
Other words they reject are Hispanic and Latino, which they consider racist nods to European cultures.
Started to read your novel and sincerly hope it's published - wonderful inventive honest creative original ...from a new fan & fellow writer
You were able to draw in a non-fantasy reader (like myself) into the story quite quickly.The setting and character is unique, I like the character and animal guide right away. What I am ambiguous about is the conflict. I think that Protag wants a position and is waiting for an interview? Not clear to me. I do know of an agent that is interested in the supernatural, magical realism realm, however not interested in novellas or short stories. This story seems like it could be a novel.
This is excellent. Reminds me of Marcos Lopez Llosa's (Peruvian author) nobel prize winning book "Storyteller" which I know you would enjoy.
jvp
From RudyG, Grandest Gardener author:
Based on these 3 responses, maybe I should only post on LaBloga and forget about agents and publishers!
Actually, I just finished this novella and haven't submitted it anywhere else yet. Like Alvarado F. says, it could be a novel. It could be a good short story. It could be an epic or the start of a 3-vol. series. Right now, this is what it is.
Writers sometimes face what Alvarado raised: "Should I make it longer, shorter, one installment of many to come, in order for it to have a better chance at publication?" I think most writers come to the conclusion that once the story's done, that's how long it will stay.
The exception of course is when an agent/publisher says, "Do what I suggest and I'll help you get it published." When/if/should I hear that, I'd run with the suggestion. It's early yet. Quién sabe?
In the meantime, feel free to pass along the Gardener link to anyone you think might enjoy the piece. And if you know of an agent or publisher who might want to make me turn it into a full-fledged novel, give him/her/it una chansa to "suggest" it's worth becoming a novel. If I never hear from such, maybe I'll just put the whole chingadera up somewhere for at least you three "fans" to enjoy.
To "new fan & fellow writer": Glad you liked it and hope you get to see it published.
To jvp: Excellent? Glad you thought so and I think the rest of the story reads that well. I'll definitely check out Llosa's Storyteller. Thanks for the input and suggestion.
To anonymous: In answer to your remark about the plot: "Protag wants a position and is waiting for an interview? Not clear to me." Simón, it's a story about a job interview. I give you a lot more of the details in the rest of the 18k words. But, this "job interview" will make your worst job search seem like stepping over a dead gusano.
Thx, for the kind words, Gente,
RudyG
Hi Rudy, Monica Frazier sent me this blog of yours. I read your pages. I'd like to discuss your writing career with you. Get in touch.,
Lopopololiterary.com
Toni Lopopolo
You can also send me your email address and I can forward to my agent Toni.