Claudia Santos’ spiritual journey has left a mark on her skin.
Soon after the 50-year-old embraced her pre-Hispanic heritage and pledged to talk for her ancestors’ worldview in Mexico City, she tattooed the symbol “Ollin” — which translates from the Nahuatl language as “movement” — on her wrist.
“It’s an imprint from my Nahuatl name,” said Santos, wearing white with feathers hanging from her neck. She was dressed to perform an ancestral Mexica ceremony on Tuesday within the neighborhood of Tepito.
“It’s an insignia that represents me, my identity.”
Since 2021, when she co-founded a company that raises awareness of her community’s Mexica heritage, Santos and members of close Indigenous communities gather by mid-August to honor Cuauhtémoc, who was the last emperor or “tlatoani” of Mexico-Tenochtitlan, because the capital was known before it fell to the Spaniards in 1521.
“It’s necessary to be here, 503 years after what happened, not only to dignify Tepito as an Indigenous neighborhood where there was resistance, strength and perseverance,” Santos said. “But also because that is an brisk portal, a sacred ‘teocalli’ (‘God’s house’, in Nahuatl).”
The site that she selected for performing the ceremony has a profound sacred meaning in Mexico’s history. Though it’s currently a Catholic church, it’s also the location where Cuauhtémoc — a political and spiritual leader — initiated the ultimate defense of the territory that was lost to the European conquerors.
“Our grandfather, Cuauhtémoc, continues to be amongst us,” said Santos, who explained that the location where the church now stands is aligned with the sun. “The cosmic memories of our ancestors are joining us today.”
Though he was not present through the pre-Hispanic rituals, the priest accountable for the Tepito church allowed Santos and fellow Indigenous leaders to maneuver freely through the esplanade of the temple. Their preparations began early each morning, rigorously placing roses, fruit, seeds and sculptures of pre-Hispanic figures amongst other elements.
“I’m very thankful to be given the possibility of occupying our sacred compounds once more,” Santos said. “Making this connection between a non secular and a spiritual belief is a joy.”
Before Tuesday’s ceremony, as this yr’s activities began August 9, a Mayan spiritual guide was also invited to perform a ritual on the church’s principal entrance.
“This is an act of kneeling with humbleness, not in humiliation, to make an offering to our Creator,” said Gerardo Luna, the Mayan leader who offered honey, incense, sugar, liquor and other elements as a nourishment for the fireplace.
“The fire is the element that links us to the spirit of the Creator, who permeates the whole lot that exists,” said Luna, also praising the chance to practice his beliefs in a Catholic space.
“There are other ways of understanding spirituality, but there is just one language, the one among the center,” Luna said. “Our Catholic brothers breathe the identical air as us. We all have red blood in our veins, and your bones and mine are the identical.”
Some locals approached the church and joined each Mayan and Mexica ceremonies. They were drawn in by the sound of a conch shell that was blown to announce the rituals and the smoke released by the lighting of a resin often called “copal.”
Lucía Moreno, 75, said that participating made her feel at peace. Tomás García, 42, added that he’s Catholic, but these ceremonies “purify” him and permit him to let go of any wrongdoing.
The “tlalmanalli,” because the Mexica ceremony is understood, is as an offering to Mother Earth. All members of the community are encouraged to participate and profit from its spiritual force.
“What people take with them is medicinal,” Santos said. “It is all blessed, so people leave with medicine for all times, which they’ll use in moments of sadness.”
She was not all the time aware of the depth of the Mexica and other pre-Hispanic worldviews, but a few many years ago, feeling that Catholicism not fulfilled her spiritually, she began on the lookout for more.
She researched Buddhism and Hinduism. She practiced yoga and studied the awakening of the mind. But still, she wondered: “What’s in my country? Why, if other nations have gurus, aren’t there any widely known spiritual references in Mexico?”
And then she found them. The Mexica provided her with answers. They were smart, spiritual people, who resisted what others brought upon them, all the time connected to their ancestors and the profoundness of their land.
As a part of her transformation, she received a latest name, this time in Nahuatl and tied to the pre-Hispanic calendar. And so, just as her parents baptized her in the exact same Tepito church where she now performs Mexica rituals, she embraced her current spirituality in a “sowing” ceremony, where she became “Ollin Chalchiuhtlicue,” which implies “precious movement of the water.”
The name, she said, also comes with a purpose. As directed, she defined her life mission after the ceremony. Santos selected to comply with Cuauhtémoc’s final wishes for his people: Maybe the sun has gone down upon us, but it’s going to come out again. In the meantime, we must tell our youngsters — and their children’s children — how big our Motherland’s glory is.
“Through the spirituality of our Mexica tradition we’re taking back our dignity and the essence of our Indigenous community,” Santos said. “Being here today is a joy, but additionally a piece of resistance.”
“Tepito exists since it has resisted, and we are going to proceed resisting.”
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