Restoring the past

Claudia Patricia Escalante is the architect in charge of the restoration project, which is supervised by the state and national INAH (National Institute of Anthropology and History) and the local departments of Urban Development and Public Works.

After clearing the grounds of weeds and rubble and removing trees whose roots were destroying walls and tombs, she and her team began restoring 17 tombs dating from the nineteenth century and excavating a far older ceremonial site. 

According to Escalante, looting, lack of upkeep and the construction of the adjoining Hermanos Aldama School and DIF facilities all took their toll on the graveyard. In addition, Day of the Dead altars themselves added to the destruction. Sawdust used to decorate the tombs leached compounds that further decayed the gravesites. 

Escalante was selected to head the restoration because of her longtime interest in the cemetery. “I have been studying the panteón for many years,” she said. “I researched the local files and the national archives in Mexico City. I wrote my bachelor’s and master’s theses on the panteón, and my degree is in restoration.” 

Escalante explained that the cemetery was once much larger but the land was divided to make way for the Hermanos Aldama School and the DIF building. In the eighteenth century, the lot where the school stands was the site of the San Rafael hospital, founded to minister to the many victims of epidemics at that time.

According to Escalante, people of all social classes were buried at San Juan de Dios, although they were segregated. The deceased of the middle class were buried where the school is located, the poor found their final rest where DIF is situated, and the wealthy were interred in the extant graveyard.

The dead tell a tale

In addition to the restoration, a thorough historical and anthropological study is also being performed at San Juan de Dios. “We have determined that San Juan de Dios was a multi-ethnical cemetery,” said Escalante.

“There was even an indigenous ceremonial site. When I began the restoration, I got permission from the local government to enter the site and take an inventory. Although the panteón was always closed, several times I found lit candles, offerings of cucharilla (a type of cactus) and corn gorditas (thick tortillas) near the indigenous ceremonial site. Someone was entering the cemetery, but I do not know how.”

Escalante said that six or seven percent of the tombs are empty and their headstones have been removed but will be replaced during the restoration. She added that most of the inscriptions on the gravestones have been erased by time, but that one of the tombs in better condition is that of a freemason, distinguished by the symbols carved in the stone. According to Escalante, most of those buried in San Juan de Dios were very young, indicative of the high mortality rate of children in the previous three centuries.

The historical and anthropologic studies at San Juan de Dios are led by historian Graciela Cruz and forensic anthropologist Dehmian Barrales, respectively. Barrales said that so far they have uncovered two skeletons embedded in the north wall that borders on the DIF structure.

“The first, which we named ‘Doña Antonia,’ belonged to a Caucasian Spanish woman in her mid-60s or 70s who had been in excellent health,” said Barrales. “The skeleton was almost complete and exhibited only slight osteoporosis and osteoarthritis due to age.

It is probable that she had no had children; if she had given birth, the osteoporosis would be more advanced.” Barrales’ examination revealed that Doña Antonia did not suffer nutritional deficiency during her life and her bones did not show any severe “stress marks” due to physical activity. “The lack of stress marks leads us to believe that she was a wealthy woman.”

The other skeleton belonged to an Otomí girl about 12 years old. According to Barrales, she suffered from poor nutrition and had a hard working life, deduced from the stress marks on her bones. “Her hair, which was 1.2 meters long, was intact, so we called her the ‘girl with the tresses.’” 

Barrales said that both Doña Antonia and the girl with the tresses lived in the eighteenth century and both were buried twice. According to him, Doña Antonia was first buried without a coffin, which resulted in mummification.

Years later, her mortal remains were exhumed and placed in a small coffin in a niche in the north wall. The body of the girl was placed, unprotected, in another nearby niche following exhumation. 

The anthropologist also said that several executed insurgents from the War of Independence were buried in the poor section of San Juan de Dios, currently the site of the DIF facility.

Six decades of dedication

Don Emigdio Ledezma, a 70-year-old resident of Colonia Aurora, has come to the panteón of San Juan de Dios on November 1 and 2 for 64 years. He visits the tomb of two siblings, María del Carmen, who died when she was one year and eight months old, and Ceferino, who died as a newborn. “They were the youngest of my five siblings. The rest are still alive—Luis, José, Gloria and I,” said Don Emigdio. “When my parents died in the seventies, I took care of my siblings’ grave.

Some time ago, a tree fell on the small grave, which is near the center of the panteón, and it was damaged. I do not have the money to repair it completely, but each year I make some repairs myself.” Don Emigdio says that his little sister died of pneumonia and his baby brother died at birth. “In those times, women did not go to the hospital to have their babies; a midwife assisted them. The midwives were authorized by priests to baptize babies if they had little chance of living. It was the belief that if a child died without being baptized 
his or her soul went to limbo, which we considered a dark place. After being purified, it entered purgatory. To avoid this, the midwives baptized very weak babies. In the case of my brother, my father told the midwife to baptize him as Ceferino, after my grandfather.” 

Welcoming the spirits home
By Jesús Ibarra

Like a painting, we will vanish Like a flower, we will shrivel Like the plumage of a heron we will leave Ending, here over the land –Nezahualcóyotl (1402–1472)

Death has been venerated by the peoples of Mexico since pre-Hispanic times. The ancient cultures had differing views of death. 

For example, the Aztecs believed the spirits of the dead had different destinies depending on how they died. Those who died of natural causes went to Mictlán (“place of the dead”), a nine-leveled realm shrouded in darkness. Tlalocan was the home of Tlaloc, the god of rain, and was considered a worldly paradise; those who drowned went there. Xochitlapan (Land of Flowers) was the destination for small children.

Tonatiuhchan and Cihuatlampa formed the sky, the place where the sun lived. Warriors who died during battle or in a sacrifice went to Tonatiuhchan, in the eastern part of the sky. Cihuatlampa, the western part of the sky, was the destination of women who died in childbirth. 

In San Miguel, the Spanish tradition of venerating the dead was instituted by Fray Domingo Cedano and Fray Bernardo de Cossín, and these customs mixed with indigenous traditions. Beginning in 1555, on November 1 the natives gathered around the first chapels built by the friars, bringing corn from their own fields and tamales. Using corn masa they fashioned figures representing the souls of their beloved dead.

At sunset they lit fires outside the chapels to guide the souls to the place where their relatives awaited, offering food and water to the thirsty and hungry souls after their journey. 

The return of the spirits is celebrated during the first two days of November. The angelitos, “little angels” (children) are welcomed on November 1, and November 2 is reserved for the spirits of adults.

Ofrendas, or altars, are set up on October 31, laden with foods the departed favored such as tamales, atole, water, sugar skulls and other sugar figurines (most often lambs) called alfeñiques, and pan de muertos, bread of the dead. Often alcoholic beverages are added on the second day to slake the thirst of adult spirits. Photographs of the dead and favorite personal belongings are often assembled. The altar reinforces family unity, faith and the hope of another life.

Going to the cemetery on the evening of November 2 is also a tradition in Mexico. People adorn the tombs of their beloved with cempasúchitl (marigolds) and candles and pray during the night.

The elements of an altar

Root vegetables, such as jícama or sweet potato: burial

Alfeñiques (lambs and other sugar figures): offerings for the “little angels” 

Fresh fruit: good deeds

Dried fruit: indulgences during life

Tamales, tortillas and atole: good examples left during life

Fiambre (meat with vinegar): the sorrows of life and brevity of pleasure

Candles: the light of faith

Cempazúchitl (marigold): happiness Water: purification and quenching thirst  Bread of the dead: Daily meal

Skulls: inevitability of death

Copal: prayers to the Lord

Songs and dances by concheros: tribute to God to ask forgiveness for faults 

Calaveritas (funny poems about the dead): Mexican bravery and humor 

An artisan of alfeñiques

María Luisa Ramírez has been making alfeñiques since she was a little girl. She began by helping her grandmother and her aunts, and 15 years ago she opened her own stand in the temporary marketplace in front of the Oratorio. Each year, she begins making the alfeñiques in May.

“They are made of confectioner’s sugar mixed with lime juice and covered with granulated sugar,” she explained. “We paint them with vegetable dyes. To form the figures, we use cork molds we make ourselves,” said María Luisa.

“I have never counted how many figures I make. When I think there are enough, I stop making them. I sell nearly all the alfeñiques, but if some are not sold I give them to the kids in my neighborhood.” The main figures María Luisa has in her stand are lambs, pigs, skulls, tombs and even witches, a tradition acquired from the American Halloween.

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