100%

Scanned image of the page. Keyboard directions: use + to zoom in, - to zoom out, arrow keys to pan inside the viewer.

Page Options

Share

Something wrong?

Something wrong with this page? Report problem.

Rights / Permissions

The University of Michigan Library provides access to these materials for educational and research purposes. These materials may be under copyright. If you decide to use any of these materials, you are responsible for making your own legal assessment and securing any necessary permission. If you have questions about the collection, please contact the Bentley Historical Library at bentley.ref@umich.edu

September 02, 1988 - Image 89

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Detroit Jewish News, 1988-09-02

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

NOTEBOOK

The
Oaxaca
Mystery

SUSAN LUDMER-GLIEBE

Special to The Jewish News

I

t is Saturday, market day, and I
am standing in the middle of the
grandest market in all of
Mexico. Some say that this mar-
ket in Oaxaca is the largest In-
dian market on the continent.
Zapotec and Mixtec Indians from
the surrounding mountain villages
begin their pilgrimage early. Many
arrived in town the night before.
Young women, their hair braided with
colorful satin ribbons, carry their
children gently in their robozos.
Like all traditional markets, this
one has a rhyme and reason all its
own that has endured over the cen
turies. The candle sellers are near the
flower ladies whose gladiola, glorious-
ly smelling stocks, lillies and roses en-
tice the wandering buyer.
The friut stalls, which the
smallest, most succulent melons, are
a stone's throw from the vegetable
booths. A few steps beyond and there
are the chile (pepper) ladies, with
displays worthy of Gauguin and Bon-
nard. The red,orange, green and
brown peppers lay in small piles like
still lifes. The chiles are so potent my
eyes begin to tear, though I have not
even touched them.
I move into the bright sunlight to
the open air area where older women
are talking and joking with one
another, ladling and stirring like
benevolent witches. Great cauldrons
of soups and stews, their scents billow-
ing in great clouds into the clear blue
sky, flavor the air.
At rough benches I consume a
simple meal for a few pesos. I continue
past the sombrero makers, the serape,

robozo, jorongo, pottery, rug and knife
stalls. I pass women weaving. I walk
by the chocolate stalls (for the mole
sauce special to the region) and the
herb lady, busy peeling cactus.
The market extends octopus-like

A traveler discovers
more than the usual at
an exotic Mexican market.

Baroque churches appear plain by
comparison, what kind of church
could this be? It's so simple, stark and
plain. As I listen to the women I am
astonished. Is it possible that they are
praying in Hebrew?

Evelyn Gurvitch Bryant

into the city streets. The intensity of
the colors, the foreign tongues (no
Spanish here), have made me dizzy. I
walk down a small side street and
hear voices. Not singing exactly. More
like reciting. I follow my ears and
enter a small, dark room filled with
Indian women.
Their heads are covered and they
appear to be praying. But in this town
of exquisite churches, whose golden
brilliance and ornamentation make

I walk outside into the street and
glance upward. There's the sign of
David against the whitewashed wall.
Above it are the words, "Iglesia de
Dios Israelita." Is this a synagogue?
I ask myself: Who are these In-
dian women and what are they doing
here?
Some 50,000 Jews live in Mexico
today. But these women were Indian,
no doubt about it. I recalled vague
stories about Indian Jews. And sure

enough, looking through my Fodor
and Baedeker guidebooks, I found
mention of Indian Jews, descendants
of Jews and Indians who had fled to
remote areas to escape persecution.
There was even a village, Venta
Prieta, not far from Mexico City that
attracted visitors from around the
world because of its well-known In-
dian Jewish community, complete
with synagogue and graveyard.
Twenty-four years ago, a reporter for
Life magazine and an ABC-TV crew
even arrived in the village to do a
story on the Indian families observ-
ing Passover.
It was only when I returned home
that I learned about these Indian
Jews of Mexico. Evidently, the Indian
Jews of Oaxaca, and those of Venta
Prieta and other congregants of the
"Iglesia de Dios Israelita" — although
they call themselves "Israelitas" and
consider themselves Jews — are not
recognized by the rabbinate of Mex-
ico. Though they speak Hebrew, they
also sing Protestant hymns. As one
Mexican journalist wrote, "They are
Jews because they want to be!'
It appears that members of the
"Iglesia de Dios Israelita" are Pro-
testants — members of a splinter
group of the Church of God that was
established in the early part of this
century, but which traces itself back
to Moses and identifies itself as a Sab-
batarian movement.
Evidently, sometime in the 1930s,
Licenciado Baltazar Llaureano
Ramirez "converted" some members
of the Protestant sect to Judaism!' To-
day, his disciples call themselves
Israelitas and claim descent from the
12 sons of Jacob. Mosaic laws are part
of their dogma, but they consider

THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

89

Back to Top

© 2024 Regents of the University of Michigan