Mexican mayor says 'I do' to caiman reptile in colorful tradition
This ritual, rooted in more than 230 years of tradition, represents the union of two of Oaxaca state's indigenous cultures - the Chontal and the Huave - and is believed to bring prosperity to the community.
This year, Mayor Daniel Gutierrez took part in the ceremony, marrying "princess girl," a female caiman, a reptile that closely resembles the alligator.
The caiman is known by the name given to her by the town: Miguelana Estela del Mar Zavaleta Ramirez.
As part of the ritual, the reptile is adorned in a white wedding gown and paraded through the town, visiting homes as residents dance to festive music.
Finally, Gutierrez seals the symbolic union with a ceremonial kiss, symbolizing his love and commitment to his ethnic group.
The caiman symbolizes the Huave princess, while Gutierrez represents the Chontal king. As the legend goes, a royal marriage between the two groups centuries ago ended a long-standing conflict. Hundreds of years later, the ritual continues as a symbol of peace and unity.
"For us, it's a ritual in which we ask mother earth and our creator for abundance in our harvests, fishing, and every product our region can offer," said Luis Manuel Lopez, a resident of the town.
The celebration spans three days of music, dance and vibrant cultural displays. The reptile is dressed by a woman known as the godmother in three different traditional dresses, including a regional Zoque dress adorned with bright colors, a multicolored skirt and floral headpieces.
The symbolic ceremony, held before a crowd of townspeople, marks the culmination of the patron saint festivities in honor of San Pedro Apostol.
"Huamelula is so rich in tradition and culture that today, like every year, Huamelula is in the eyes of the world,' Gutierrez said.
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a day ago
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Mexican mayor says 'I do' to caiman reptile in colorful tradition
SAN PEDRO HUAMELULA, Mexico (Reuters) -In the southern Mexican town of San Pedro Huamelula, a unique celebration takes place each year: the symbolic marriage between the town's mayor and a live alligator-like reptile. This ritual, rooted in more than 230 years of tradition, represents the union of two of Oaxaca state's indigenous cultures - the Chontal and the Huave - and is believed to bring prosperity to the community. This year, Mayor Daniel Gutierrez took part in the ceremony, marrying "princess girl," a female caiman, a reptile that closely resembles the alligator. The caiman is known by the name given to her by the town: Miguelana Estela del Mar Zavaleta Ramirez. As part of the ritual, the reptile is adorned in a white wedding gown and paraded through the town, visiting homes as residents dance to festive music. Finally, Gutierrez seals the symbolic union with a ceremonial kiss, symbolizing his love and commitment to his ethnic group. The caiman symbolizes the Huave princess, while Gutierrez represents the Chontal king. As the legend goes, a royal marriage between the two groups centuries ago ended a long-standing conflict. Hundreds of years later, the ritual continues as a symbol of peace and unity. "For us, it's a ritual in which we ask mother earth and our creator for abundance in our harvests, fishing, and every product our region can offer," said Luis Manuel Lopez, a resident of the town. The celebration spans three days of music, dance and vibrant cultural displays. The reptile is dressed by a woman known as the godmother in three different traditional dresses, including a regional Zoque dress adorned with bright colors, a multicolored skirt and floral headpieces. The symbolic ceremony, held before a crowd of townspeople, marks the culmination of the patron saint festivities in honor of San Pedro Apostol. "Huamelula is so rich in tradition and culture that today, like every year, Huamelula is in the eyes of the world,' Gutierrez said.
New York Times
27-06-2025
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The Brazilian Artist Who Listens to Minerals
The car sped southward from Belo Horizonte, the highway climbing out from Brazil's third-largest city into the surrounding hills. Red dust from oncoming convoys of heavy trucks drifted onto the windshield. On board, Luana Vitra — one of Brazil's fastest-rising young artists and the offspring of a long lineage of manual workers in this rugged, iron-mining region in the southeastern state of Minas Gerais — was offering a quick précis of the land and local temperament. 'We have a culture that is made from iron,' Vitra said. 'What our ancestors lived inside the mines made us the way we are now.' People in Minas Gerais, she said, were shaped by a legacy of watching out for others and forming survival strategies in mines where labor was exploited and collapses were frequent. Her grandfather, she added, attributed his longevity to the prayer to Saint George — who is associated in Afro-Brazilian religion with Ogun, the spirit of iron and metallurgy — that he kept tucked in his helmet. 'Iron is very much in my history,' she said. The daughter of a carpenter and a teacher, Vitra grew up in Contagem, a city in the Belo Horizonte agglomeration known for its concentration of heavy industry. Now, at 30, she has emerged as one of the most visible and distinctive — in Brazil and abroad — of a wave of young Black Brazilian artists who are finding new languages with which to explore their histories and connect to the world. She places her region's materials — particularly iron ore and copper — at the heart of elegant, often room-scaled installations, their characteristic reddish tones set against deep blue fabric or painted backgrounds. The compositions extend to beads, ceramics, glass and clean-drawn lines on various surfaces. They favor symmetry, with a ritual feel that nods to Afro-Brazilian religion — the metal arrows, the talismans — but also to broader and nonspecific sacred geometries. Shaping every installation, she said, is an 'equation' — not mathematical but metaphorical, calibrating the emotional architecture that results from particular material combinations, as if working from 'a periodic table with feelings connected to minerals.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
New York Times
20-06-2025
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When the Past Is Lost
This personal reflection is part of a series called The Big Ideas, in which writers respond to a single question: What is history? You can read more by visiting The Big Ideas series page. Steel beams hanging in the air,twisted by the intense glass scattered across the floor,melted by the intertwined in all directions,exposed by blackened by soot,resulting from the burning of a country's memory … I wrote these lines shortly after Sept. 2, 2018. It is a day I will never forget. That day, the National Museum of Brazil in Rio de Janeiro was devastated by an intense fire. For those of us who work in Brazil's cultural sector, the fire was the realization of our worst nightmare. The tragedy did not come without warning. The risks the museum faced were well-known. The lack of proper maintenance was obvious throughout the building. Along with my fellow museum officials, I frequently pushed government officials for more resources, but these efforts were not successful. If I had to choose one building in Brazil that should be protected and preserved, it would be the museum, and not just because of its collections. The site is connected to many notable moments in Brazil's history. Since 1892, the museum has been housed in the former royal palace. The building was home to the Portuguese royal family after they fled to Rio de Janeiro to escape Napoleon. After Brazil's independence, it was the residence of Brazil's emperor. The museum, which was founded on June 6, 1818, by King John VI of Portugal, is Brazil's first scientific institution. Before the fire, the museum contained over 20 million items, including unpublished documents from Empress Maria Leopoldina, ethnographic objects from Indigenous Brazilians, significant specimens of the country's biodiversity, fossils and rare minerals. The blaze destroyed about 85 percent of the museum's collection. In the aftermath, one of the hardest moments for me was paradoxically also one of the most inspiring. The day after the fire, while smoke was still everywhere, a large group of people, including some high school students, approached the remains of the museum. For security reasons, the police did not let them get close to the building. After some tense negotiations, the group was allowed to do what they came for: The members formed a human chain and embraced the remains of an institution that — in reality — belongs to them, the public. When I remember this scene, it is hard to hold back my tears. We, the guardians of their cultural heritage and history, failed them. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
