Everyone knows, or at least has a vague notion of the Aztec or Mayan civilisations. But have you ever heard of the Purépechas?
The Purépechas are also pre-Hispanic people, forming part of the Tarascan Empire, which extended roughly in the place of the current state of Michoacan and flourished notably around the lake of Patzcuaro. Their most formidable enemies were the powerful Aztecs.
Victims of repeated attacks by the latter throughout the 15th century, the Purépechas joyfully welcomed the first Spanish settlers… it was a mistake! In 1529, the brutal conquistador Guzman settled in the region and brought five years of violence to its inhabitants, before finally being recalled by the Spanish government, arrested and imprisoned (one can only imagine the level of cruelty).
In his place and in order to bring some order, the respected judge Vasco de Quiroga was sent from Mexico City in 1536. Erudite, man of culture, philanthropic and determined to make the Purépecha culture flourishes, Quiroga was inspired by the humanist ideas of Thomas More (1478 – 1535) and in particular his work Utopia. He encouraged education, the development of food self-sufficiency in the villages, and the equal contribution of all inhabitants to the community, thus avoiding any dependence of the Purépecha people on the Spanish landowners and mining lords of the region.
Quiroga also helped each village to develop a unique handcraft in pottery, basketry, guitar, jewelery, masks, these ancestral knowledge continues to this day.
From Zamora to the old capital Tzintzuntzan, passing through Uruapan and Patzcuaro, we cycled through the beautiful country of the Purépecha.
Ignorants of this community, our surprise is great, after about twenty kilometres of climbing in the mountain, to enter the small village of Cocucha in festival, the inhabitants having all dressed their most beautiful traditional clothes to celebrate Saint Bartolomé. Even greater is our astonishment when we hear that they do not speak Spanish! The official language and the one taught since birth is Purépecha. Spanish is only used for business or to communicate with tourists.
It is under a torrential rain that we finally reach the village of Angahuan, a traditional town with its wooden houses, stuck in the mountain at 2380m of altitude and surrounded by pine forests. Women with long braided black hair, wearing traditional ankle-length pleated skirts and wrapped in colourful shawls bustle about the shops while men with tanned skin and large sombreros stride along the slippery cobbled streets. Children play with a lasso and the remains of an ox’s horned scalp a little further on. It is cold and wet. We dread pitching a tent but the only hotel in the village is closed. We prepare to go to the nearby church to seek asylum, when a man finally approaches us with curiosity. After the usual questions and introductions, he directs us to a room on the outskirts of town and offers us the services of a friend to guide us to the incredible attraction of the region: the Paricutin volcano.
This volcano is exceptional in many ways. Legend has it that in 1943, a farmer was working in his cornfield when the earth began to split apart, spewing steam, sparks and burning ash. Cleverly, the man didn’t wait for the rest of his time to get out of the way, as a volcano slowly but surely began to emerge from the bowels of the earth.
For a year, the volcano slowly formed, continued to grow and spew lava until 1952, engulfing two villages in the process, but leaving enough time for the inhabitants to escape. One of these villages was no bigger than a ranch, but of the second, all that remains is the bell tower and altar of the magnificent church, enclosed forever in a lava casket.
We chose to explore the flanks of this mystical volcano on horseback, discovering its ravages with fascination and appreciating the splendour of nature rising from its ashes in a brilliant green. The five hour ride on wooden saddles will leave us with glitter in our eyes and a great bruise on our buttocks!