Chapter Eight
FLUTE of the DIVINE
THE PICTORIAL MANUSCRIPTS OF ÑUU DZAUI GIVE DETAILED AND IMPORtant information on the nature of rulership in the ancient society that produced them. In general, political agency involves different sources of power: “Objective sources include wealth and factors of production, while symbolic sources include elements of a cognitive code, including religion and ritual” (Blanton et al. 1996: 3).
The symbolic source, with its cognitive code, is crucial in assigning and explaining (“legitimating”) the power of the noble houses that ruled the precolonial village-states. We clearly see this in the way the contents of these chronicles are organized along three main thematic lines: (1) the divine origin of the dynasty, symbolized by the Sacred Mother Tree of Yuta Tnoho (Apoala); (2) the descent from a specific hero, Lord 8 Deer, who had become a great ruler of Ñuu Tnoo through his victorious encounter with the Sun God; and (3) the line of descent, accompanied by observance of the cult of the Sacred Bundles of the Ancestors.
Each of these themes has its own structure and central symbols. The story of the origins has a strong vertical aspect in the interaction between Heaven and Earth. On the horizontal plane it moves from the center to the periphery, bringing light to the four directions. We might compare the structure of the story to that of a growing tree. The Sacred Mother Tree became codified as a concrete portable symbol, the royal Tnucucua staff. Similarly, the First Sunrise was symbolized by the Fire Drill. We suppose these items were present during the ritual performances.
The story of Lord 8 Deer has a clear dramatic plot, determined by a chain of causes and effects. This gives it the tragic flavor of a story about a hero and a heroine who cannot escape their fate. The story develops mostly on the horizontal plane, with references to the key directional sites South (Huahi Cahi), West and North (the Toltec realm), and East (the abode of the Sun God). Clearly, Lord 8 Deer’s ambitions were concentrated on Ñuu Tnoo, which thus became a “throne of blood.” An important symbol here is the arrow or dart: we find it in the Sacred Arrow that caused the death of Lord 2 Rain ‘Ocoñaña’ but also in the many arrows of conquest. In a flight of fancy, we can compare the structure of the plot to such a missile, which, once thrown with the atlatl, cannot change its course. The first turning point of the drama, the visit to the Huahi Cahi, cannot be undone but determines a fatal ending and therefore fills the beholder of the spectacle with a continuous and fundamental feeling of destiny and doom.
The EARLY PERIOD in the CODICES
The period of history treated in the codices can be placed within a chronological framework derived from archaeology. From that viewpoint, the codices start their story in the end of the Classic period, around A.D. 900. Pictography seems to have been introduced into Ñuu Dzaui from Central Mexico, where it has antecedents in the frescoes of Teotihuacan. Several chronicles indeed attribute this art to the Toltecs, that is, the cultural tradition of Teotihuacan, inherited and carried further by Tula and Cholula. Seen in this light, the First Sunrise of Ñuu Dzaui historiography symbolizes an intellectual event: the introduction of a new way of seeing, knowing, representing, and registering in painted scenes. The theme is reminiscent of the creation of light in Teotihuacan, the model for Mesoamerican civilization, the Toltecayotl.
On the other hand, the Classic to Postclassic transition, concretely the demise of the central power of Monte Albán, probably starting in the eighth and continuing in the ninth century A.D., brought important social and cultural transformations. For the first time the progress of Ñuu Dzaui society, which had been growing in prosperity and scale, entered into a huge regional crisis. The causes of that crisis—related to similar phenomena in other parts of Mesoamerica—are not well understood; they seem to have consisted of a complex interaction between adverse ecological factors and socio-political conflicts. A long-term exhaustion of soils and other natural resources—such as wood for making fire, burning chalk, and the like—led to erosion, which may have been aggravated through a combination of incidental disasters (hurricanes, earthquakes, fires) and political inadequacies. The intriguing fact is that Ñuu Dzaui society was able to recover and reach a new zenith of cultural development in the Postclassic, again connecting to the Central Mexican (Toltec) thrust in Mesoamerican civilization. From a Mesoamerican point of view, the cause of this success was religious devotion to the Sacred Bundle of Lord 9 Wind ‘Plumed Serpent.’ In this period the archaeological record shows an intensification of contacts and exchange throughout Mesoamerica. This interregional and interethnic communication, involving the spread of pictography, seems to have played an important role in giving new impetus to cultural creativity.
One would expect that in Classic times the Iya had participated in a cultural and political interaction sphere dominated by Monte Albán, bound together by trade or exchange networks and marital alliances. Although there clearly were Classic centers in Ñuu Dzaui, none of them could have mounted a significant resistance to the hegemony of Monte Albán in its period of florescence. From the perspective of Monte Albán itself, situated in an extremely rich valley, the mountainous and considerably less fertile and less inhabited areas of Ñuu Dzaui and the Sierra Zapoteca must have been seen as a periphery of relatively undeveloped, small-scale polities ruled by unsophisticated warlords. Still, the overall cultural presence of the centralized state created an interaction sphere in which those local big men were more or less aligned. The demise of Monte Albán was part of the earlier-mentioned crisis of Classic society as a result of the complex interaction of different causes. We suppose that the weakness of the center led to a progressive atomization of the peer polity network on the periphery. At the same time, the notion of a Ñuu Dzaui political and ethnic identity gained strength.
The way this process is reflected in the painted records is fascinating. The first focus is on Yuta Tnoho (Apoala), which must have been a Late Classic religious center of pan-regional importance, dedicated to the Plumed Serpent. An archaeological marker of that status is the relief of a guardian warrior in the steep rock under the cave of Kaua Laki that overlooks the village. During the Classic, the Mixteca Baja had been a crucial area of cultural development, leaving numerous archaeological remains in the so-called Ñuiñe style. It was the place of origin of Lord 5 Wind, the first important priest to serve in Yuta Tnoho’s sanctuary whose name is recorded. Perhaps because of this circumstance and its particular interest in the most primordial times, Codex Yuta Tnoho gives special attention to places in the Mixteca Baja, situating the First Sunrise in Ñuu Dzai (Huajuapan) and a special new fire ritual in Yuhua Cuchi (Guaxolotitlan).
It was from the shrine of Yuta Tnoho that the spiritual inspiration for the new social order came: the ecstatic veneration of the Sacred Bundle of Lord 9 Wind, the “Heart of the People.” Those who embraced this devotion formed a new communitas (alliance) as “those born from the same Sacred Tree.” Generally, such crisis cult communities or millenarianist movements cut through existing social status distinctions, at least in their initial phase; later, they usually form a new establishment with a new hierarchical structure. This egalitarian ethos is very similar to the communitas created in rites of passage, which take individual neophytes out of the normal world and its status markers into a liminal sphere, where they are “reduced or ground down to a uniform condition to be fashioned anew with additional powers to enable them to cope with their new station in life” (Turner 1995: ch. 3). The ritual participation takes place in a “time out of time.” The cultic bond has an antitemporal, antistructural character, which lends itself to a mental breach with history.1 Indeed the Yuta Tnoho spiritual community—egalitarian and messianic in character—broke radically with the established royal families of the Classic period. Logically, the Mixteca Baja with its important Classic polities was the main area of conflict. As a movement of renewal, the Yuta Tnoho group was credited in retrospect with the construction of specific ceremonial centers and the setting of a new era, connecting places with sacred dates in nondurational time.
Nevertheless, in reality, dynastic prestige was still derived from Monte Albán, both as a paramount ceremonial center of nahual power and as a high-status residence. Concrete family ties were sought and established with descendants of the Classic nobility, especially through the female line. It was the Ñuu Tnoo dynasty that came to the foreground. Its origins are situated in the nature of the town itself. First, Lord 4 Alligator is said to have been born out of the local mountain. His wife, the Founding Mother Lady 1 Death, was a princess from Monte Albán, related to the Sun family and part of the Sacred Community of Yuta Tnoho. Their marriage coincided with the (re)introduction of devotion to the Sacred Bundle of 9 Wind. Their daughter married a prince from Monte Albán. In the next generation, the granddaughter of that Founding Couple, still strongly related to Monte Albán, married a prince of Ñuu Tnoo, who was descended from the local Spirits of the Serpent River. His calendar name was the same as that of the culture hero 9 Wind, while his given name recalled the victory over the representatives of the ancien régime, those who had turned into stone when the Sun of the new era had risen. He also belonged to the group of the Sacred Mother Tree of Yuta Tnoho and was hailed as king by the surviving Lords of the Ñuu Dzaui province of the Monte Albán realm.
At the same time, around A.D. 1000, the status of the Epiclassic site of Cerro Jazmín rose to that of a regional capital, Chiyo Yuhu. It dominated the largest valley of the Mixteca Alta, that of Yodzo Cahi–Atoco (Yanhuitlan-Nochixtlan), and maintained a “corridor” to the Valley of Oaxaca. Its ruler, Lord 8 Wind, celebrated his enthronement on the nearby Yucuñudahui, Rain God Mountain, another Epiclassic site undoubtedly of great religious importance in the region. The distribution of specific towns as tributaries among his descendants led to a disintegration of Lord 8 Wind’s realm. When his daughter began celebrating rituals for the Ñuhu bundle in Añute (Jaltepec), strategically located as the dominant place in the mentioned corridor, she de facto claimed independence from her father’s realm, thereby obstructing Chiyo Yuhu’s contact with the Valley of Oaxaca. In the resulting conflict, Añute allied with Ñuu Tnoo in the inaccessible high mountainous area to the south. The codices emphasize that Ñuu Tnoo and Añute were each constituted as mat and throne (yuvui tayu) by a group of lineage heads (iya), who controlled the participating or neighboring communities and consented in appointing a central Iya toniñe, “Lord of Blood,” for good order in matters of warfare and communal life.
The stories, as preserved, focus on elements that clearly lend themselves to dramatic reenactment. The structure of such a performance would have been similar to that of a ritual: the foundation of a new cult as a breach with the past, the takeover of Monte Albán as the escalation of the crisis, the war with the Stone Men as redressive action, and the new foundation of kingdoms as the social reintegration (cf. Turner 1990: 38). It is possible that the codices functioned in the context of ritual reenactments of these foundation stories, for example, during enthronement ceremonies.
Status—generally in terms of relationships with important religious places or with the prestigious remnants of Monte Albán—was a crucial factor in this process of recognition and political renuclearization. The newly appointed supreme caciques, or Iya toniñe, of the larger, richer, and more prestigious polities largely became the determinant protagonists of Ñuu Dzaui Postclassic history, but at the same time they had to manage a large number of other Iya and toho (principales) from semiautonomous lineages either in the tribute area of the Iya toniñe itself (“subject towns” and “wards”) or in its immediate surroundings (“satellites”). Ideally, they were the ndaha saha, “hands and feet,” that is, assistants of the main authority. These local lords probably had their own small-scale tribute networks as well as opinions and personal loyalties. Marital alliances and redistribution of precious goods (often procured by long-distance trade or exchange) were two of the most important strategies the Iya toniñe had to employ to bind them and keep the balance of power under their control. Thus permanent tension existed between the forces of integration into a larger political unit and those that aimed at preservation of local independence. This tension coincided with the rivalry between two overarching political models, which we might qualify as “centralism” versus “feudalism.”
The EPIC of LORD 8 DEER
It is against the background outlined earlier that we must analyze the life of the famous Iya Nacuaa Teyusi Ñaña, Lord 8 Deer ‘Jaguar Claw.’ His actions turned out to be determinant in shaping the geopolitical reality of the Postclassic. He was a special personage in many ways. His relatively humble birth made it possible for lower nobles and even commoners to identify with him. His association with the emblematic ruler of the Toltecs, Lord 4 Jaguar ‘Nacxitl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl,’ connected Ñuu Dzaui with the mainstream history of Mesoamerica, its great ideals of civilization, its power and symbolism. All this led to a conceptualization of Lord 8 Deer’s biography in terms of a historical and social drama. It was taken as a point of departure for a reflection on power itself and for its effects on the human condition.
Historical accident was transformed into literary legend, very much as Abraham Castellanos understood it intuitively in his Iukano. From the different codices we reconstruct an overall dramatic structure that has all the characteristics of the result of conscious composition. We can analyze this story using the well-known tripartite scheme of setup-treatment-denouement. Often used in narratives in the European tradition, right up to Hollywood movies, this scheme is also interculturally recognizable.
The setup is the introduction of the protagonist as a skilled young warrior, the son of the second marriage of the high priest, confronted with grave political conflicts. The first turning point is the visit to the Huahi Cahi, together with Iyadzehe Nuñuu Dzico Coo Ndodzo, Lady 6 Monkey ‘Quechquemitl (Power) of the Plumed Serpent.’ This was also a liminal event; the codices emphasize that the entrance into this subterraneous realm of dark powers was brought about by visionary (shamanic) rituals. This ambitious act sets the tragedy into motion but also throws a strange light on Lord 8 Deer’s later career: it was all made possible by the intervention of Lady 9 Grass from the Other World.
The treatment explains Lord 8 Deer’s adventurous rise to success and power of unbelievable and awe-inspiring dimensions: the establishment of the kingdom of Yucu Dzaa by conquest, the alliance with the Toltecs—specifically with that other legendary personage, the historical Quetzalcoatl—then the participation in the great campaign to the Maya area, and finally to the House of the Sun God. Both encounters—that with the Plumed Serpent and that with the Sun—took Lord 8 Deer over the threshold of daily experience. The first was brought about by the intermediation of the Goddess 9 Reed, the second followed the entrance into a nahual mountain. In both cases and in that of the earlier visit to the Huahi Cahi, a form of “rebounding violence” followed the liminal experience.2 The mystical enhancement of life force the hero brought back from the Other Side into the context of daily life was misunderstood in terms of political force and violence. The result was a series of conquests or killings. Thus a “ritual logic” seems to underlie Lord 8 Deer’s acts.
The second turning point, then, is the murder of Lord 12 Movement, his half-brother, and, directly related, the execution of Lady 6 Monkey, her husband, and his sons from an earlier marriage with Lord 8 Deer’s half-sister. It is interesting that both the first and second turning points focus on the relationship between Lord 8 Deer and Lady 6 Monkey; clearly, they were the protagonists of the original version of this dramatic composition. Confirming his power as a mighty conqueror and—we suspect—compensating the earlier frustration of his passion for Lady 6 Monkey, Lord 8 Deer in rapid sequence married several women. The rebounding violence, however, provoked other violence as a reaction and thereby the denouement of the tragedy: the revenge of Lady 6 Monkey’s son, Iya Qchi ‘Coo Yahui,’ Lord 4 Wind ‘Fire Serpent,’ who used the intrigues of the court to bring about Lord 8 Deer’s violent death.
Also, the other personages are portrayed in a dramatic way. Lady 6 Monkey is a victim of tragic irony: priests warned her during the wedding procession, but she had them executed. Lord 4 Wind’s escape after the murder of Lord 8 Deer and his reconciliation with the Toltec ruler Quetzalcoatl, attributed to the intervention of the Sun God, also seem to have been related in a sensational manner. Finally, the marriage of Lord 4 Wind and Lady 10 Flower ‘Spiderweb of the Rain God’ (iyadzehe Sihuaco ‘Dzinduhua Dzavui’), the daughter of Lord 8 Deer and his own sister, brings the different lines together in a reconciliatory ending.
On several occasions the narrative structure reminds us of that of a ritual, especially a ritual of passage in which the protagonist is separated from his original daily context, enters into contact with the Other World, and then reenters society with new vigor. On the other hand, the dramatization was clearly based on historical events. The process of literary creation can be dated with some accuracy. The biographies of Lord 8 Deer and Lady 6 Monkey contain a wealth of dates and precise details, which seem an awkward burden for oral transmission over a long period. This indicates that the story was written down (painted) shortly after its end, that is, soon after Lord 8 Deer’s death (1115) or, rather, Lord 4 Wind’s enthronement (1120). That would coincide with the introduction or first florescence of Ñuu Dzaui pictography (in an early form of the Mixteca Puebla style), a development we attribute to the contact with the Toltecs, who had inherited such a system from the civilization of Teotihuacan.
The literary theme, which is about kings, their impressive deeds, and their destiny, seems a typical product of court life. Its focalization is that of the ruling line, in accordance with its concern to legitimize its tribute rights through a historical-cosmological explanation of the existing order. The vision of the protagonist is not simply triumphal but rather an ambiguous blend of admiration and moral condemnation. The drama becomes even more complex through the crucial role of Lady 6 Monkey.
All these considerations point to the ambience of the court of Lord 4 Wind and Lady 10 Flower in Ñuu Yuchi in the early 1120s. Lord 4 Wind, the firstborn son of Lady 6 Monkey, was the killer of Lord 8 Deer; however, he was appointed the great ruler’s successor by Lord 8 Deer’s Toltec ally. Lady 10 Flower, his wife, was Lord 8 Deer’s daughter. This complex political situation precluded a simple vision of Lord 8 Deer as the protagonist of past events. Strong viewpoints of different factions had to be reconciled. The Huahi Cahi episode was used as a narrative device, both to enhance the suspense and explain the rise to power of Lord 8 Deer and to explain or justify his murder. The reference to the powers of the Underworld positioned all protagonists in an overarching fatal scheme. So the dramatic aspect of the story was emphasized, with, as we might call it today, considerable psychological depth. This was how the extraordinary vision of Lord 8 Deer as a tragic hero, both visionary and villain, victor and victim, may have taken form. We imagine it having been composed by a gifted storyteller—who may have participated in some of the events—and presented as a sahu at the dynastic ceremonies of Lord 4 Wind and Lady 10 Flower in Ñuu Yuchi. The scenery still inspires awe and suspense today. From the ridge where the pyramids and plazas of Ñuu Yuchi (Mogote del Cacique) are located, we have a splendid view of both rivals, Ñuu Tnoo (Tilantongo) to the northwest and Añute (Jaltepec) to the northeast, as a permanent stage for the ritual reenactment of this drama.
Supposedly, during the following centuries the story passed through a process of selection, elaboration, and resignification. Some details were preserved and highlighted insofar as they contributed to the totality of the epic, that is, made sense in terms of the narrative structure (the internal significance)—for example, because they contributed to understanding the underlying causality and dramatic effect of the events. Other details were included as references to well-known elements outside the story, such as famous or spectacular locations for key events. The importance of such external elements allows us to find references to them in different sources.
The fact that the drama focuses on the royal preoccupation with power and that its structure recalls a rite of passage suggests that it was meant to function within the context of rituals related to royal life, such as enthronement and marriage rituals. Many rulers derived their power from the Toltec-inspired reigns of Lord 8 Deer and Lord 4 Wind; the reenactment of the drama would have provided both a reaffirmation of their own historical legitimacy and an emotional contemplation of the dark sides of power. This is the context in which we suppose the codices were put to use: as materialized statements of the past that were the point of departure for a formal oral performance (storytelling) and ritual enactments.
In the concrete testimonies of this tradition, we find the distorting and disarticulating effects of the particular biases (focuses) of distinct noble houses and courts, each with its own interests and vision. On the other hand, clear intertextuality exists among the different products of the genre, which permits the reconstruction, at least in outline, of an original dramatic plot. It is extremely interesting that the surviving fragments contain distinct points of view, telling the story from the angles of different protagonists. Taking that reconstruction and multivocality as our point of reference, we can define the position of each work.
Codex Ñuu Tnoo–Ndisi Nuu obverse omits any reference to Lord 8 Deer’s involvement in the tragedy of Lady 6 Monkey—she is not mentioned in the Huahi Cahi scene—and focuses instead on his link with Lord 4 Jaguar and on his marriages. The birth of Lord 8 Deer’s son, Lord 6 House, is mentioned first because he was the descendant most interesting to the codex audience, as he was to continue what was considered the most important lineage—that of Ñuu Tnoo. In other words, we can qualify Ñuu Tnoo–Ndisi Nuu obverse as the vision of Lord 6 House’s faction, the dynasty of Ñuu Tnoo proper. In this perspective, Lord 8 Deer was a politically successful ruler who was unjustly killed. In accordance with this point of view, the ritual importance of Lord 5 Alligator is emphasized, as he was the father of Lord 8 Deer and the grandfather of Lord 6 House, but an explanation is also given for the death of Lord 2 Rain ‘Ocoñaña,’ the last representative of the earlier Ñuu Tnoo dynasty. Thus the reasons Lord 8 Deer became ruler of Ñuu Tnoo are well clarified. The legitimation of Lord 8 Deer (and his descendants) through his alliance with the Toltecs is given due attention, but the killings of Lord 12 Movement and the Xipe Bundle family are not mentioned, probably because they were considered detrimental to Lord 8 Deer’s reputation. Lord 4 Wind is simply left out of the codex. In this view, the reference to Lady 6 Eagle (Lord 6 House’s mother) in the scene before Lord 8 Deer’s death was likely not meant as an accusation but as an indication of her importance: Lord 8 Deer was doing the hunting for her. Nothing bad was to be said about that part of the family.
Codex Yuta Tnoho reverse essentially follows Codex Ñuu Tnoo–Ndisi Nuu obverse, but without reference to the narrative’s tragic structure. Only one element receives special attention: the ritual activities of Lord 5 Alligator, which serve as an explanation of Lord 8 Deer’s background. This emphasis links the codex to the point of view of the high priest of Ñuu Tnoo. In fact, that harmonizes well with the profile we would reconstruct of the person in charge of the obverse side, Codex Yuta Tnoho.
Codex Ñuu Tnoo–Ndisi Nuu reverse focuses on Lord 4 Wind, follows his children, and essentially gives us the point of view of the Ndisi Nuu and Ñuu Ndecu dynasties. Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 11 Wind are portrayed as the parents of Lord 4 Wind, but not in tragic detail. Only one indirect reference survives: the Owl messenger. It is this couple that went to the Huahi Cahi, but in another context and without Lord 8 Deer being mentioned at that occasion. Lord 11 Wind is not killed by Lord 8 Deer but dies of natural causes. The death of Lady 6 Monkey is not mentioned, only the fact that Lord 4 Wind’s half-brothers were taken prisoner. We hear about Lord 4 Wind’s escape, survival, and alliance with the Toltec king. His involvement in the murder of Lord 8 Deer is passed over in silence, even though that leaves the entire scene of the Toltecs persecuting him unexplained.
Codex Añute gives some dramatic moments from the life of Lady 6 Monkey, but the tragic end is left out; thus these elements do not point anywhere, as they only make sense within the full context of the tragedy. The result of this selection is that we hear about the princess’s heroic deeds in isolation, as a triumphal statement. No references are made to Lord 8 Deer as the cause of her death or to other persons surrounding him (Lord 12 Movement and so on). Even Lord 4 Wind’s involvement in his murder is ignored; perhaps it was a delicate topic that could have revived the ancient rivalry with Ñuu Tnoo. Instead, his marriage to Lord 8 Deer’s daughters is emphasized. In other words, Lord 8 Deer is simply used as a legitimation figure for the Añute dynasty. No reference is made to Nacxitl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl, which is logical, as Codex Añute does not follow the line of Lord 4 Wind but focuses on that of his younger brother, who had nothing to do with the Toltecs. As for the earlier period, the conflict that developed between Añute and Chiyo Yuhu is dealt with in some detail; it was of obvious importance in the story of Añute’s independence.
Codex Iya Nacuaa gives a clue to the dramatic story: it describes the relationships between Lord 8 Deer and Lady 6 Monkey (both go to the Huahi Cahi), between Lord 8 Deer and Lord 12 Movement (although the murderer is not identified), and between Lord 8 Deer and Nacxitl Topiltzin Quetzalcoatl (with details like the vision in Heaven). Lord 8 Deer’s killing of Lady 6 Monkey, her husband, and the children of his first marriage is presented in detail, as is the revenge Lord 4 Wind took for his father. Without doubt the Codex Iya Nacuaa version is the most dramatic and therefore probably the closest to the original composition. A unique detail is the importance of Lord 5 Rain ‘Smoking Mountain,’ presented as a friend but not a relative of Lord 8 Deer. Perhaps there was intermarriage between his descendants and the royal family of Yucu Dzaa, for which the codex was produced. The relative distance of that dynasty to affairs in the Mixteca Alta probably promoted conservation of the dramatic composition as a whole. There was no need to adapt the tradition to local bias.
Codex Tonindeye reverse is fairly similar to Codex Iya Nacuaa and may even be an earlier version of the latter, but it leaves out the 5 Rain figure. Much attention is given to the international character of Lord 8 Deer’s rulership (e.g., through the attendance of many nobles at his enthronement). By using the characteristic face painting, it shows that Lord 5 Alligator’s first wife belonged to the Zaachila dynasty. This connects with the importance given to the links between Zaachila and Chiyo Cahnu on the later painted “obverse” of the same codex, which motivated us to postulate that this part was painted in Chiyo Cahnu. We might conclude from this specific point of interest that the painter actually came from Chiyo Cahnu, worked on the Lord 8 Deer story on the coast, and then went back to his place of origin. Anyway, he seems to have traveled widely because his style is “international” in character. His paintings of Yuta Tnoho (36) and Monte Albán (19) suggest that he knew both places from personal observation.
None of these pictorial chronicles really favors the centralized power structure Lord 8 Deer was constructing. We are dealing here with products of a lineage historiography, committed to the concept of the coexistence of small sovereign communities or village-states, a landscape of mats and thrones. The epic we have reconstructed should explain to the Ñuu Dzaui audience that the ambition to form a single large state was a great and glorious one but ultimately dangerous or even, we would say, evil, inspired as it was by the forces of death, which would destroy the humans who tried to realize such a dream. One of the messages of the story of Lord 8 Deer is that political unity of all of Ñuu Dzaui was not to be. It had once been a reality, in a strange moment in time when a specific ambitious warrior, guided by the Gods, had made an alliance with the greatest Mesoamerican king of all time; there the foundations of all power and glory were laid. But such an ambition was too great for a man. One should not strive for such ideals but should stick to one’s position within the lineage and the tribute system, doing the rituals for the Ancestors and following a careful policy of marital alliances.
Lord 8 Deer’s story is also that of an outsider who tries to enter into the “family of the Iya” on his own terms, actively pursuing the achievement of status instead of having acquired it by inheritance. He put himself at the service of the expanding Toltec empire and its ideology of hegemonic centralism, promoted by one who, like himself, was an outsider and a highly charismatic ruler. As an ally and a vassal of that tremendous outside power, in a success story so inexplicable it was attributed to the influence of the Huahi Cahi, Lord 8 Deer was able to impose himself on the many existing noble houses as the new ruler of Ñuu Tnoo and the strongman who was unifying Ñuu Dzaui as a large incipient state of its own. After his alliance with the Toltecs and the blessing of Quetzalcoatl, which made him Iya toniñe in Ñuu Tnoo, Lord 8 Deer confirmed his right to the throne by marrying a princess of the prestigious leading noble house of that town on the specific holy day used by members of this lineage for marriage ceremonies. Intrigues and sinister acts of violence accompanied Lord 8 Deer’s “coup d’état” and provoked equally violent reactions, resulting in the unprecedented murder of the man who was a heroic empire builder to some and a cruel usurper to others. The lineages resulting from his different marriages would divide and dispute the heritage.
These events, already full of suspense, gave the Iya much food for thought and became the obligatory reflexive “literature” for political rituals. Here the ruler’s actions and status were interpreted in terms of divine influences. The contradictory nature of ambition and power was highlighted: forces that could both elevate the human being to unsuspected performance and corrupt him deeply and totally give both legitimacy and warning to future rulers to be conscious of their place and their limitations.
At the same time, the idea of a common Sacred Mother Tree and a common dramatic history in the drama of Lady 6 Monkey and Lord 8 Deer, as well as common rituals and common points within a sacred landscape, contributed to the vision of a specific heritage, a “Ñuu Dzaui narrative identity,” transcending the particular community and related to the Toltec ideal of a multicommunity empire and a multi-ethnic civilization. The codices must have played a crucial role in the spread of this ideal and identity.
The POLICIES of POWER
Although Ñuu Dzaui was never again united under one ruler, the idea of real or fictitious kinship bonds within the “great family of kings and queens” subsisted as the conceptual basis for a well-calculated marital alliance policy, aimed at enhancing the prestige of each noble house and keeping its cacicazgo (and corresponding tribute rights) united. As we have seen, the dynasty of Ñuu Tnoo retained the status of the “central lineage,” with the privilege of appointing new rulers in cacicazgos where the local dynasty had died out. This concept seems to echo the Toltec ideal of a centralized, metropolitan rule.
After the death of Lord 8 Deer, the policies of the noble houses passed through successive phases of expansion and reduction in a pageantry of fluid political formations. Through felicitous alliances, heritage strategies, and occasional conquests, a few major village-states obtained overall importance in the Mixteca Alta: they included the ancient Ñuu Tnoo, its southern neighbor Chiyo Cahnu, Ndisi Nuu, and Ñuu Ndecu. Originally, all four of these village-states seem to have formed one single territory. Their dynasties frequently intermarried, in a continual process of fission and fusion of heritages. It is difficult to determine the exact range to which their power extended.
Around these centers existed a number of smaller polities with their own ruling families. They were supposedly independent, but one wonders how real and viable that independence was. Affirming their relationships, the noble houses of these various polities exchanged goods with one another. It is difficult, however, to establish the difference between the tribute goods given by a vassal-iya to the Iya toniñe and then redistributed by the latter and the presents exchanged between equal Iya as good neighbors who respected one another. This fluid sphere, dominated by the central concept of reciprocity between humans and Gods (expressed in offerings) and between subjects and rulers (expressed in tribute), was what the Spanish conquerors encountered and interpreted in terms of European feudalism.
Given that strong social hierarchy, a continuous legitimation aspect permeates the Ñuu Dzaui historiography. But there is more. This agrarian society was not yet victimized by class struggle. The protagonists rivaled each other in prestige; precious objects were emblematic of that relative equality. But, in a nonmonetary economy, the accumulation of material wealth was not an aim in itself. Theirs was a gift-giving society, with a strong reciprocal ethos still found in Native American communities. The rulers were the receivers of tribute, which enabled them to create networks of ritualized exchange between persons and groups. Their power was always subject to the divine forces of Nature. This concept is expressed in the Nahuatl metaphorical description of the ruler as a flute of the deity. On the day of accession, the high priest Quetzalcoatl reminded the new Mexica tlatoani of this mystical and moral vision of power:
Put forward all thy effort, give all, put forth all thy spirit.
Sigh, be sad, call out in sadness to our Lord,
to the Lord of the Near, of the Nigh.
He is not perchance seen as a man,
for he is the night, the wind.
Submit thyself to them, weep, sigh.
And may there be peace, calm,
on the reed mat, on the reed seat,
on the place of honor of the Lord of the Near, of the Nigh. . . .
Thou art the replacement, thou art the image
of the Lord of the Near, of the Nigh.
Thou art the backrest, thou art the flute;
he speaketh within thee;
he maketh thee his lips, he maketh thee his jaw,
he maketh thee his ears. . . .
Perhaps just for a little while thou dreamest, thou seest in dreams.
Perhaps he just passeth his glory, his honor before thy face.
And perhaps just causeth thee to smell
—perhaps he just passeth before thy lips—
his freshness, his tenderness, his sweetness, his fragrance,
his heat, his warmth, which come from him,
the wealth of him by whom we live.
(Sahagún 1950–1978, book VI: ch. 10)
According to this ideal, for the rulers authority means carrying the cargo, the staff, the bundle. Glory is a dream; the realm itself is just a loan, a slippery place where one might fall and be hit by sticks and stones. The exploits, experiences, and relationships of these rulers and heroes, in turn, constitute the history of the primordial or real protagonist, the community, founded in a specific place and associated with a specific sacred date under the aegis of a particular Divine Patron.
An illustrative example is the round Sacrificial Stone of the Aztec Emperor Tizoc. The reliefs carved around it show a series of conquests: the Mexica ruler, represented as a Toltec warrior with the attributes of Tezcatlipoca, the God of royal power, subdues a number of kings accompanied by the glyphic signs of their communities and also dressed as the Patron Deities of those towns. The list far exceeds the number of conquests generally attributed to Tizoc. It goes back to the first conquests of the Mexica: Colhuacan and Tenayuca (also mentioned as such in Codex Mendoza). Looking more closely, we see that Tizoc is actually identified only once by his onomastic glyph (the perforated leg), namely during the conquest of the land of the Matlatzinca (represented by matlatl, a net); in all other cases the conqueror is just an anonymous form of Tezcatlipoca. Seeing Tizoc as the principal actor, many scholars take his appearance as conqueror of the Matlatzinca as the first scene and interpret the addition of other scenes as an act of propaganda, a claim to conquests he never made (Marcus 1992: 368–371). A more logical reading of the sequence would be to start with the conquest of Colhuacan by Tezcatlipoca, with Tizoc at the end subduing the land of the Matlatzinca and three other village-states. This is confirmed by a very similar sacrificial stone, found more recently, associated with the reign of an earlier Mexica ruler, Moctezuma Ilhuicamina. It shows the same conquest scenes without those that in our reading would belong to Tizoc (cf. Solís 1992). No false claims to glory, then, were intended. On the contrary, Tizoc simply inserted himself into a historical sequence as the most recent manifestation of Tezcatlipoca, who was the “True Conqueror” and true builder of the Mexica empire. Far from exhibiting propagandistic personal pride, the monument reflects humble devotion to higher powers. At the same time, it expresses the connection between the place and its Patron Deity as crucial within the historical consciousness.
By being commemorated and communicated within the community, often in a ritual context, this history of particular individuals becomes a story of the people. The shared experience of hearing that story, participating in its emotion, and being conscious of its dignity creates the feeling of communitas and shapes group identity. The marriage between the Iya and Iyadzehe not only defines their rights and those of their descendants to receive tribute but above all establishes a relationship between communities or factions. The memorable deeds and experiences of such emblematic persons in the past, dealing with difficult situations and political perils, become precious words of counsel for all, preserved by venerable elders such as the one described by Burgoa—not so much to please but to teach and to remind us of our human condition.
The sahu is first and foremost a moral message. Ultimately, it is about identification with the tragic heroes of the past, about respect for the Ancestors and the cosmic forces, about commitment to a just social order, about what people should and should not do. Beyond the tributary interests and the coercion of rulers there is a moral power in everyone, an ability to fuse the experience of daily life with the realm of the Sacred. This is a power connected with respect, a vital force (sa ndai sa ndatnu) meant to heal and strengthen the community. Tragedy occurs when this spiritual power of the nahual is misunderstood in a hegemonic way as a form of rebounding violence, a capacity for conquering, oppressing, and killing.
Speaking at a Black Hills Survival Gathering, Native American poet and activist John Trudell reflected:
There is no such thing as military power. There is only military terrorism. There is no such thing as economic power. There is only the economic within these illusions so we will believe they hold power in their hands. But they do not. All they know how to do is act in a repressive, brutal way.
The power. We are a natural part of the earth. We are an extension of the earth; we are not separated from it. We are part of it. The earth is our mother. The earth is a spirit, and we are an extension of that spirit. We are spirit. We are power. . . .
When I go around America and I see the bulk of the white people, they do not feel oppressed. They feel powerless. When I go amongst my own people, we do not feel powerless. We feel oppressed. (quoted in Churchill 1988–1989: ii–iii)
It is in accordance with this reflection that we read the Ñuu Dzaui codices. Originally, power does not come from military or economic means but from Earth, that is, Nature, and the Gods that represent and inhabit Earth. Power is experienced as a personal visionary life force, a moral power to confront challenges and crises and to realize our creative potential in the context of the common good. Still, it is to be assumed that in the institutional life of the village-state, this power became more and more an emblem of daily administrative routines and social hierarchy. The metaphor of birth out of trees, rivers, caves, or earth can be interpreted in terms of the direct bond between the dynasty and Earth, that is, Nature, providing legitimation for the ruler on the community level. In a parallel way, the focus of Mesoamerican dynastic historiography on the single charismatic personality of Quetzalcoatl as the ultimate provider of royal status can be interpreted as the influence of a centralist ideology, according to which many distinct aristocracies (all with their own circumstances and privileges) were connected with the overall imperial reign of the Toltecs and therefore with the concept of a supreme “king of kings.”
Ironically, it was this supra-local ideology that Hernán Cortés—identified directly or indirectly with the same Quetzalcoatl—used to legitimate his power. Similarly, the colonial cacique no longer referred to the divine origin of his dynasty or to the legendary Quetzalcoatl but situated his ideological fundament in the meeting of his direct ancestor with “El Marqués,” Hernán Cortés, considered emblematic of the new order. Accordingly, many elements in the colonial pictorial manuscripts indicate that the cacicazgo had become part of the Christian culture and the Spanish empire. At the same time, they reflect a conceptual continuity. Just as the beginning of Mesoamerican history had been marked by the First Sunrise, now la luz del evangelio meant the birth of a new Sun or era. Christian Saints were the new forms and names of the age-old Patron Deities of the villages, of the days of the calendar, and of the people themselves. Crosses were put on the boundaries. Churches, with their own cult acts such as baptism and Mass, substituted and absorbed the ancient ritual cycle of the temple-pyramids. Constituting new ceremonial centers, they appear painted on top of the toponymic signs. The message remained the same: they symbolize the special relationship of the community with its divine Patron.
Thus, while the colonizers took the stubborn ambitions of a Genovese sailor and the ruthless tactics of the conquistadors as the point of departure for writing their triumphant history, the Mesoamerican mind saw in that violent encounter between civilizations the dazzling mockeries and mysterious designs of the Plumed Serpent.
Local lore conserves traumatic images of the struggle against the invaders: double-headed eagles—dangerous nahuales in the form of the Habsburgers’ totem—attacked the village to kidnap and kill the children. The spiritual confrontation between the two cosmovisions is often reflected in stories about the arrival of the Cross, the Virgin, or the Patron Saint. In San Antonio Sinicahua it is said that the cross now adored in the town’s church was found in the forest on the mountaintop.3 Originally, it had four equal branches. When the people wanted to place it in the church, it could not pass the entrance. It was left outside the church, and the people went to sleep. The next day they discovered that the cross had disappeared: it had gone to the sacred mountaintop above the village where the Rain lives (a place locally called Ñuu Sau, equivalent of Huahi Dzavui). The priest had it brought back from there and, to allow it to enter the church, had two branches trimmed. Thus it got its present vertical shape, with its arms shorter than its head and feet. The cross did not disappear again, but it was annoyed because of the pain inflicted on it when its arms were shortened. One year there were terrible rains, and the harvest was lost. Shortly thereafter, the priest died. Since then, each May 1 the inhabitants of the village take the cross from the church up to the mountaintop (Ñuu Sau) and bring it back the next day. This is part of the feast of the Santa Cruz (May 3), which is generally associated with the solicitation of rain at the end of the dry season and the beginning of the sowing time. A twin of the original cross still exists; it remained in the forest on the mountaintop (Ñuu Sau). When people try to get close to it, it disappears underground.
This story is a beautiful philosophical reflection on the interaction between two religious traditions. The cross, representing the power of faith, was originally situated in Nature, in a shape that symbolizes the force of the four winds and the equality of the four cosmic and social divisions. With the introduction of Christianity it was subjected to an institutionalized cult, the church, but its shape had to be adapted; it became more vertical, hierarchical, at the same time losing much of its strength (its arms). To reconnect the cross with its original power, the community carries it back to its true place, at the same time reenacting the story of the Son of Man who was sacrificed to save humanity.4
There are stories and rituals such as this that connect experience and moral conviction to the landscape. As we saw earlier, the human community is situated within a wider context of mountains, rivers, caves, and valleys, which are the seat of divine powers: the intimate rock shelters that are the “houses of the Rain God” (huahi Dzavui, vehe Sau); the green ponds where the Plumed Rain Serpent dwells; the diverse cliffs and caves that are the houses of the Earth Spirit (Ñuhu), the ancient rulers (Ndodzo), and the Lord of the Mountain (Tova Yucu); and mysterious places of origin (Dzoco Usa) or awe-inspiring entrances to the Realm of Death (Huahi Cahi). The landscape is further marked by human constructions of temples, churches, and chapels (all: huahi Ñuhu) or sweathouses (ñehe) consecrated to the Grandmother (Sitna, Nanañuu).
It is on this natural and cultural landscape that the stories told in the codices are inscribed. By living in that landscape, we experience it and connect individual and collective memories to it, make it the scenery of our stories. In deciphering the pictographic record, we resignify the surrounding space. When we look again to the mountaintops of Ñuu Dzaui, with the remains of ancient sanctuaries and gray Ndodzo rocks rising above the valleys of drifting clouds, the red eroded slopes, the cliffs with dark and misty pine forests, into the blue light of dawn, we connect them in our mind to human experience, a familiar dimension of actors, ideas, and passions:
Human activities become inscribed within a landscape such that every cliff, large tree, stream, swampy area becomes a familiar place. Daily passages through the landscape become biographic encounters for individuals, recalling traces of past activities and previous events and the reading of signs—a split log here, a marker stone there. All locales and landscapes are therefore embedded in the social and individual times of memory. (Tilley 1994: 27)
Such a meaningful universe inspires power, giving its inhabitants a sense of belonging and social identity in spite of poverty and pain. A telling example of this worldview is the representation of the Yuta Tnoho valley, with its cave, rivers, and cascade, as the body of the Plumed Serpent (Codex Tonindeye, 36). The story-landscape nurtures our identity as peoples: “Our desires are that which evades us in the very act of propelling us forth, leaving as the only indicator of who we are, the traces of where we have already been—that is to say, of what we have already ceased to be. Identity is a retrospective notion” (Braidotti 1994: 14).
It is this memory and this identity, so strongly present in the codices, that the colonial enterprise of the Spanish empire and the Mexican republic has tried to erase, together with the whole notion of a cultural landscape as a moral value. The original “creature feeling” was replaced by the use and misuse of nature as a mute resource. Today an ever more rapacious exploitation is rapidly swallowing our physical and social environment, leaving it barren and contaminated. The ancient Ñuu Dzaui belief that fright (susto), hunger, and sickness will befall those who do not respect the Ñuhu regains validity and forces itself upon us.