Novel Street Scenes
"In attempting to describe some novelties of a city like Parral, then and at the present time, let us fancy ourselves at a magnificent lookout on the mountain back of…
From: 1893 C.E. To: 1917 C.E.
Location: Hidalgo del Parral, Chihuahua, Mexico
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Thirty Years with the Mexicans: In Peace and Revolution by Alden Buell Case, 1917.
All northern Mexico is semi-arid. The rainy season ordinarily extends from the latter part of June to the first of September. Fifteen inches is more than the average annual rainfall on the central plateau, and there are years when the clouds yield less than four inches. In these years thousands of cattle die upon the ranges, and the non-irrigated crops of corn and beans are exceedingly light, if not failures.
The hottest month is just before the rains — May or June. While the sun is fiercer than in Chicago, the air is never stifling. The shade is always comfortable and the nights are cool. Sunstrokes are unknown. Thunderstorms are often terrific. Occasionally a dust blizzard of a day's duration sweeps the country. Yet, taking one month with another, the coast, the table-lands, and the mountains, Mexico's climate is extraordinarily fine.
In attempting to describe some novelties of a city like Parral, then and at the present time, let us fancy ourselves at a magnificent lookout on the mountain back of the missionary's house. The city lies spread out below us. Those solid buildings are adobe, mostly one-story, as you see. Over there on the outskirts the houses show their original clay colour; but notice the attractive finish of the buildings along the principal streets. The door and window casings are of neatly cut stone, quarried near by. The ordinary windows are simply openings in the walls which may be closed and barred from within by heavy wooden doors; in addition to these, the better class of houses now have modern glass windows.
The flat roofs are of well-prepared mud spread to a depth of four or five inches over the timber foundation, which is laid with slight incline across the adobe walls. The better roofs have a covering of brick or cement. If they do not always afford adequate protection from the rains, they are a complete barrier against a burning sun. The Mexican buildings, however lacking in variety and beauty, are far better adapted for that climate than the light wooden structures so common in the States.
Down here is a man walking upon his housetop. As house joins to house, nothing would prevent this man from passing to his neighbour's roof and so on to the end of the row. "Let him that is on the housetop not come down to take anything out of his house." In case of sudden danger of Indian attack in the city, this man we see could best make his escape to the hills by not coming down from the roof.
On the farther side of the street immediately before us is a stone fountain. See the women with their earthen water jars. They come, sit a few minutes upon the curb, leisurely gossip one with another while filling their jars, then, dexterously adjusting them on their heads, they give place to others coming on like errand. Here, at the right, is another oriental scene — a baker shop with its immense adobe oven. For some time before the bread is ready to go in a fierce fire is kept burning in the oven. When sufficiently heated, the embers are swept into the far corners and the baking is thrust in. Various sorts of fuel are used, even brush, and, for kindling, dry grass. We recall "the grass, which is to-day in the field, and to-morrow is cast into the oven."
For a near view of the street scenes our own house-top gives a more favourable lookout. We descend and climb up to the flat roof. This front wall of the house, rising some thirty inches above the level of the roof, forms a kind of breastwork; and now, inconspicuous ourselves, we may watch at leisure the movements below. Were I needing firewood, I should hail that countryman approaching with his pack of burros before him. There are a baker's dozen of the long-eared animals, each with a bulky and well-balanced load of wood bound skilfully upon his back.
While we were still asleep they were already on the road and are tired, if they but knew it. See how the panting beasts jostle one another as they attempt to avoid this enormous wagon which wishes to take all the road. But their driver is experienced, and they are obedient. This man will ask fifty cents a load for his wood; and it is well worth it, but competition is brisk, and he may take three reals (37 1/2 cents) or even two, and with the proceeds carry a scant burro-load of provisions to his family on the lone ranch.
Look! Coming up the street to meet the wood-carriers is what appears to be a section of some corn-field which has taken to itself legs and is marching into town. At first glance one sees nothing but huge corn-shocks — fifteen or twenty of them — and seemingly alive! As they approach they are nodding right and left to every passer-by. Now you see some legs treading the sound stone pavement, and an occasional donkey nose peering through the stalks. Winter fodder will never be cheaper. Some one will beat down the moderate price asked and take the lot. To-morrow will bring many like offers, and on each of these November mornings dozens of cornstalk droves will present themselves upon the streets.
Not far behind this rustling forage comes a caravan on wheels — three, four, five wagons, tremendously heavy, drawn each by fourteen mules. They come from the railway station laden with mining machinery and general merchandise. They go in caravans for mutual protection and assistance by the way. Those two machinery carros will soon mount the heavy grade toward the mill above town. At its foot they will halt and "double teams." Then, amidst the lively hallooing of various drivers and incessant shrieking of whips, twenty-eight plucky kickers will strain every muscle to place the freight at its destination.
See the two-wheeled carts jogging everywhere over the stones! Some of them sport one mustang, others two. Here is a combination of horse and donkey, but the stocky mule rivals the ubiquitous burro in this kind of labour. This passing cart has a bulky load; nor is it light, judging from the way the mules are breathing. The boxes are piled high upon each other. No small skill is required to adjust such loads that they may preserve their proper balance. I once witnessed a curious accident caused by the sudden shifting of cargo on one of these two-wheeled affairs. As the lofty load lurched backwards, the astonished mules were lifted from the ground and in spite of their excited struggles were soon swinging in mid-air above the heavy cart. It was a lively scene, but, curiously enough, the incident terminated without serious injury to any of the parties concerned.
Nothing interests a stranger more than the picturesque street venders. Over here is a baker's man with an enormous basket easily balanced on his head. It contains bread, hot from the oven, rolls in variety, coarse water cakes, and French-like loaves a little finer. He calls, lustily, "Pan caliente! Ya se acaba!" Fresh bread! It will soon be gone! At the corner over there you see a woman seated beside her low table of cakes and candies. When not occupied with customers, she is softly whisking the flies from the sweets, while from the corner of her eye she watches the pilferingly inclined hands of passing urchins.
This boy carries upon his head a tempting basket of baked sweet potatoes, whose merits he loudly advertises. Others have boiled corn-in-the-ear or fruits. Were it early morning we should see the milk-sellers — burro, boy, and jars of milk, all in one figure. In certain parts the milkman brings the cow, or goats, to the customer's door, and in his presence fills the receptacle. He (or she) passes from door to door leaving in waiting hands little foaming jars, until the milk route ends or the fountain has been drained.
Another scene: it is a funeral procession. There is no hearse; no carriages. The deceased, in open coffin, is borne on the shoulders of men. Distinctly we see the reposing figure, face turned skyward. The mourners are few, and poor. The coffin is not only rude; it is a rented one. After the burial it will be returned to the shop and the small rent paid. Few own their own burial lots. In a few years their bones may be thrown out to give room for other occupants of the ground. Mexican funerals among the better classes are marked by the same ceremony and elegance known elsewhere, but such as here described are the more common.
Case, Alden Buell. Thirty Years with the Mexicans: In Peace and Revolution. Fleming H. Revell. 1917.
About TOTA
TOTA.world provides cultural information and sharing across the world to help you explore your Family’s Cultural History and create deep connections with the lives and cultures of your ancestors.
