Skin of the Natives | Prologue

Skin of the Natives is a 12 assignment excursion documenting the indigenous communities of Mexico by photojournalist Saul Flores.

I remember listening to the shaking voice of my great grandmother as she struggled to narrate the story of Juan Diego to me for the first time. As legend goes, the story of Juan Diego starts in the Hills of Tepeyac, right in the middle of Mexico City. It’s the story of an indigenous peasant whose miracles and apparitions guided millions of Mexican indians to unite under the Catholic faith–a revolution of sorts.

The story of Juan Diego includes a chapel, a shawl, and the miraculous unification of the Mexican people. This is more than a story, it’s an event that became a critical pillar of Mexican culture. Today, Mexico is haunted by horror stories like Ayotzinapa — the case of the 43 missing students from Guerrero who were allegedly kidnapped by the Mexican government.

It’s on the Hills of Tepeyac where Juan Diego, a devout neophyte, had his first apparition of our Virgen de Guadalupe — our celebrated Mexican Lady.

I started this project because it’s what needed to be done to uphold the humanity of the Mexican people. Naive? Probably. It’s an excursion, a diary of a young pilgrim. It’s a story about the backroads that take you through the 31 states of Mexico. A 12 assignment series that explores the people that you don’t hear about in the news. Skin of the Natives marries literature, image, and sound, to tell the stories of the Mexican people.

I find myself in the middle of San Cristobal de las Casas with a rosary in hand, and a pocket full of scratched out, misguided directions. After a 15 hour bus ride through desert, forest, hills and mountains, I’m lost and looking for a group of people hidden quietly in the autonomous lands of Mexico, the Zapatistas. My search for these people is driven and fueled by my growing love for the deep narrative woven by General Emiliano Zapata — an icon of the Mexican revolution.

This is how it all begins.

Zapata, a key figure during the Mexican revolution, has become an iconic figure for the people of Mexico. Like Juan Diego, he has become a voice for indigenous rights throughout the world, and continues to act as a symbol of unity. Meanwhile, the Zapatistas were born from the ideology of their leader, Zapata.

I arrived to San Cristobal with the intention of finding the Zapatistas and sharing their story. What I found was hundreds of locals entertaining my conversation, leading me to dead ends, and claiming the disappearance of the group. I was a bit confused and disappointed with my unrealistic expectations. A 15 hour bus ride full of illusion and excitement abruptly ends when your reality quickly starts to seep into your body.

The towns of people that I encountered were cold and cautious towards foreigners that came from outside communities. It’s what’s expected when you’re wandering with a camera and backpack in autonomous towns. Actually, I guess it’s what’s expected when you’re wandering in towns that are at war with the Mexican government — or at least that’s what they told me.

The story of Juan Diego and his first apparition starts on December 9th, 1531, as he was walking back to his home at the Franciscan mission station. Juan, a Nahuatl native, claims that he was making his usual journey home when he first saw Her. It’s here that the Virgin Mary appeared and revealed herself as the Mother of God, and instructed him to build a chapel on the Hill of Tepeyac. Stunned, he quickly delivered the message to the bishop and was almost immediately rejected. “Bring back proof,” the bishop told Juan Diego.

Well, at least those were the words of my great grandmother. I couldn’t help but think of her as I made my way through the hillsides of Chiapas. Lost, and driving aimlessly through the cloud forests, I found my thoughts intertwining with the curving roads. It was on this unexpected route that I got my first glimpse of adventure.

After hours of driving through the mystic fog, I finally arrive to the Holy lands of Acteal, Mexico. I spot a staircase spiraling down the side of the mountain, dropping into the clouds. Seeing as how I was on a curb in the middle of the Chiapas mountain range, I really couldn’t go anywhere else, so I held onto my rosary and walk into the cold mist.

After a 15 minute blind descent down the cascading steps, I’m greeted by the leader of the Abejas at the foot of the mountain. Behind him are hundreds of natives wearing a sea of brightly colored threads. He stops me, pauses, looks behind him as if to attain approval from his people, and then states, “Look around you. He’s our farmer, he’s our tailor, he’s our cook, and you? What purpose do you serve here?” So I take a deep breath as I try to calm my shaking hands, and tell him, “I’m a photographer, and I’ll make sure you’re efforts don’t go unnoticed. I’ll make sure to tell your story.” To my surprise, he moves aside, and the sea of people parts to let me in.

I see Juan Diego, his Lady, and the Chapel.

And it was built by Las Abejas, or “The Bees” — A pacifist resistance group in Chiapas, Mexico made up of several indigenous communities. A blend of ‪‎Tzotzil and Maya living high in the mountains of Chiapas. I had failed to find the Zapatistas, but I did manage to stumble my way into an unexpected community who claimed to be their sister group.

In self-governed lands, I found myself surrounded by revolutionary murals, native threads dipped in hues of purple and blue, and a grieving community to one of Mexico’s worst massacres. As it turns out, I arrived to the birthplace of resistance. The day I arrived marked the 17th anniversary of Mexico’s first massacre.

The Acteal massacre took place on December 22, 1997. As 45 indigenous people were attending a prayer meeting in the community, a paramilitary group called Mascara Roja, or Red Mask, entered the Cathedral and assassinated children, women, and men that were members of the pacifist group. Rumor says that the massacre took place as the Abejas announced their allegiance to the ideology of their brothers, the Zapatistas.

I was in search of revolution, resistance, and a Mexico ready to implode; what I found helped me reframe my understanding of the country.

Since the Bishop Juan Zumarraga denies Juan Diego his wish to build the chapel on the Hills of Tepeyac, the young man returns, and encounters the Virgen de Guadalupe once again. In disappointment, Juan Diego announces his failure to the Saint, and states that as a “back-frame, a tail, a wing, a man of no importance,” he was not able to achieve his mission. He insists over and over that She reassign the responsibility to someone more worthy. But it was Juan Diego who she had chose for this noble task.

When he returns to Tepeyac for the second time, he finds a Bishop more willing to listen. Instead of immediately denying his request, the Bishop asks Juan Diego to bring proof of the existence of La Virgen. So, Juan Diego returns and greets Her for the third time. As he meets her, She promises to provide a proof of her existence the following day.

As the night progresses, Juan Diego’s uncle becomes severely ill, which forces him to miss his promised appointment with the Virgen. Instead, he searches for a bishop to hear his uncle’s final words as he lay in his death bed. Embarrassed that he missed his visit to see the Virgen, he decides to take another route into the town.

The Virgen intercepts him and asks him where he’s headed. Juan Diego explains the illness of his uncle, and frantically apologizes to the Virgen.

“No estoy yo aqui que soy tu madre?”

“Am I not here, I who am your mother?”

She assures Juan Diego that his uncle has been cured, and asks him to climb the hill and collect the flowers growing at the top. In obedience, Juan Diego finds an abundance of flowers where only cactus and scrubs grow. Using his shawl (tilma) as a sack, he returns to the Virgen and offers the flowers. She then rearranges the flowers, and asks him to take them to the Bishop.

The next day Juan Diego arrives in Mexico City, opens his tilma, and the flowers pour onto the floor. The bishop notices that, on the tilma, the flowers had left an imprint of La Virgen de Guadalupe’s image.

In Acteal, I found an indigenous Tilma.

The image, imprinted on the tilma of a l6th-century peasant, led millions of indigenous indians in Mexico to convert to the Catholic faith. It’s those same indigenous threads that I fell in love with in Acteal.

Acteal is the cradle of resistance. A community composed of 48 indigenous groups from around Chiapas, unified through peace and their solidarity with the social struggles of their communities. They are a beautiful and humble people who hope to peacefully coexist with their government while maintaining their indigenous culture.

The next day, Juan Diego returns to find his uncle recovered. His uncle recounts that even he himself had seen Her at his bedside. She had instructed the uncle to tell Juan Diego of her apparition and of his cure. It was a miracle for Mexico.

It’s in moments of pain and agony that miracles appear, and it’s through the Virgen that the indigenous people are once again uniting. It’s as if the story of Juan Diego is resurfacing now, through Emiliano Zapata, as Mexico faces its most difficult time.

I came to Acteal out of pure faith, and stumbled into a community uniting to commemorate their victims. This year was a little different. Instead of sending prayers for the fallen 45, they were patiently waiting for the arrival of a new group.

Imagine standing on Holy grounds, where the bloodshed of 45 innocent people was once spilled. Imagine hearing their chants piercing the cold mountain air, and now imagine moving quietly, photographing invisibly, and seeing the family of the Ayotzinapa victims walk into Acteal.

La Virgen appears in Acteal.

Sometimes, we’re placed in scenarios to observe and then share the story of a people. As journalists, we search for the factual, the palpable, the real; a determined effort to observe and authenticate, and afterwards, to report. But sometimes we’re in situations that move us, that make us feel as if it’s no coincidence that we’re there.

We collect people, witnesses, and participants. Through a simple lens, we document and collect stories to fully pay respect to a situation. Then, a person or a group of people begins to be better understood. A voice begins to form.

I was placed in Acteal, Mexico, to witness the unity of a new Mexico. To witness the unity of the indigenous people through La Virgen, through Juan Diego, and through Emiliano Zapata.

And this is how the story begins.

Read chapter 1 | Skin of the Zapatistas