This time, every year, Mexico celebrates the Day of the Dead. Families gather in cemeteries across the country on November 1 to reconnect with their dead, just as their ancestors have done for centuries.
For many others living in small communities, it is also about preserving the heart of their traditions, as celebrations in large urban centers are increasingly impacted by mass tourism.
“We keep our tradition, part of our heritage that my mother instilled in me,” said Antonio Melendez, 58. “We can’t let this go to waste.”
Observance dates back centuries
Melendez was among a crowd of people gathered at the cemetery, nestled in the maze of canals and brick buildings of Xochimilco, a neighborhood in southern Mexico City that continues traditions long lost in other parts of the country.
He gathered with his two daughters around his mother’s grave, marked by orange flower petals spread in the shape of a cross and bouquets of pink flowers, his mother’s favorite color.
Melendez said she died last year and the loss was still fresh, so he tried to remember her by continuing the same rituals he saw her perform growing up, this time with her daughters . He began preparing for the celebration four days before, making tamales from scratch and building a small altar for her in their home.
The Day of the Dead dates back centuries to ancient indigenous civilizations, who held feasts when someone died to guide them to the next life and had food on altars to sustain them during their journeys.
When Spanish colonizers arrived and began imposing Catholicism on indigenous communities, they mixed indigenous traditions with Catholic holidays. The celebrations of the dead then synchronized with All Saints’ Day on November 1 and ended on November 2.
As celebrations begin to intensify at the end of October, Mexican tradition dictates that on this night the deceased are closest to the living world and it is hoped to keep them company. Every family celebrates the holiday in different ways.
At the Pantheon of San Gregorio, elderly women carry enormous bouquets of orange blossoms, the emblematic flower of death. Some families sob in each other’s arms. Others sit alone next to the graves of their loved ones, in silence. Many others drink mezcal and tell stories of their family members.
“It’s like being with them”
Gathered with her daughter and granddaughter, Beatriz Chávez, 60, kneels before the graves of her son, nephew and father, quietly lighting candles.
“It’s like being with them another year, feeling like even though they don’t see them, we feel like we’re closer to them,” Chavez said, noting that she planned to sleep in the cemetery, as she did every time. a year since her father died when she was 10 years old.
Over the years, this tradition has been the focus of the Disney film Coco. A Day of the Dead parade in Mexico City was also featured in a James Bond film, although no such parade exists in real life. The annual celebrations then took up the idea of the parade from the film.
Today, people from all over the world have flocked to the Latin American nation, eager to experience the rich tradition for themselves.
But once-quaint celebrations in Day of the Dead hubs like Mexico City, Oaxaca and Michoacan have begun to overflow with tourists, who take photos of the mourners. In recent years, many Mexicans have also begun to mix the celebration with Halloween. Other new traditions – like the James Bond parade – have emerged.
Some, like Melendez, itch at work.
“Here, Halloween isn’t ours, it’s Day of the Dead,” he said. “It’s sad because it gets distorted. We lose the essence of who we are. It’s part of us, our roots.”
For Melendez, that adds an extra level of importance to the celebration at their small cemetery, which he and others say has remained true to centuries-old traditions.
This coincides with a broader debate unfolding across Mexico, amid an influx of American “expats” and tourists. As more people move or travel to Mexico City, rents have become so high that many Mexicans have been pushed out of the areas in which they have lived much of their lives, leaving frustration to simmer in a large part of the city.
Those who walk the graves and sell flowers and food in the streets see the changes less as a loss of tradition and more as an evolution – a way for younger generations to continue to pass on their heritage in their own way and to keep it alive. share with new ones. public.
