Mexico City 8

Posted on January 29, 2003 in Myths & Mysticism Photos Vacations

“The chief function of goddesses in this religion seems to be to get chopped up or beheaded”, said Lynn as we viewed some eroded outdoor statuary that the curators of the National Museum of Anthropology deemed worthy of sacrifice to Mexico City’s acid rains.

“That’s not always the case,” I rebutted. “But the story of Coatlicue and her daughter is a bloody one. And don’t forget that Hooey-eh-plblah-plblah-plblah — damn I hate Nahuatl names — her brother also killed 400 gods.”

She granted me that and we went back inside to view the human faces of Aztec townspeople. I snaked my way back around the backside of Coatlicue where the displays showed images of another prominent blood god, the more famous Quetzacoatl — the Feathered Serpent. I was trying to remember a little of my high school German so I could surprise one of the geriatric tourists who shifted the weight between their legs as their guide extolled the virtues and dark secrets of Aztec religious art.

The National Museum of Anthropology’s world renowned image of pre-Hispanic Mexico’s mother goddess, Coatlicue, has all the lithe beauty of a horrendous tombstone. The 18th century padres who saw what the workmen had dug up near the Cathedral were so unable to sleep comfortably knowing that this transmogrified tuber root stood above ground that they had her reburied. A fresh appreciation of the country’s untainted Indian civilization led to her resurrection in the 19th.

She stands now near the famous Calendar Stone, one of the principal if puzzling treasures of Mexico’s ancient heritage.

When Aztec art portrays a divine being, it seldom attempts to present a factual view. The famous Coyolxauhqui Stone that led electrical company workers to notify archaeologists of the refinding of the Templo Mayor was an exception. Aztec gods and goddesses are mounds of attributes and symbols grafted to human or animal torsos. Chimeras possessing the parts of jaguars, macaws, or other creatures appear commonly.

To understand Coatlicue, you must realize that the snakes sprouting out of her head are not snakes but fountains of blood. Diego Rivera caught this in his recreation of the death of decapitated ballplayer (based on a Veracruz relief) which is shown above. Snakes represent the life force. When you slice an artery or a vein, they spring out and escape.

Some anthropologists and folklorists who have studied the legend of the Virgin of Guadalupe believe that the apparition may be related to this great mother of gods and goddesses. They say that the Spanish padres who first recorded the tale misheard an Aztec word which means “She who steps on snakes”. The less politically correct among them go farther and suggest that Guadalupe sounds even more like Coatlicue who, in certain codexes, does not appear so grotesque as she does in the Museo de Anthropologia idol: she’s just an old lady wearing a skirt of snakes.

Looking at the idol alone, I have a hard time seeing the resemblance. Examining the legend of the Virgin of Guadalupe, I must note that where the Coatlicue is an old woman, Mary manifests as a young girl of fourteen years of age. The legend of Coatlicue, however, possesses some fascinating parallels to the life of the Madonna, most particularly in that both conceived a son without sex.

The story of Coatlicue’s death and her son’s revenge goes like this:

While sweeping her domain at Coatepec (Serpent Mountain), Coatlicue became pregnant when a ball of feathers got past the snakes and into her cervix. News of her pregnancy upset the children. Her daughter, Coyolxauqui, roused her four hundred brothers — the Centron Huitznahua — and led them in their mother’s assassination. Just as she died, however, Huitzilopochtli whose name means “hummingbird on the left” leaped from her womb and butchered Coyolxauhqui before he slew all four hundred of her brothers.

The Aztecs, whose conquest of the Valley of Mexico made them the dominant power in the region, felt pretty sure that they were the Chosen People. When the Emperor Ahuizotl conquered most of what is now central Mexico, he felt so loved by the gods that he decided to move Coatepec (which is located near Tula about 60 miles to the north) into his capital city. The conqueror didn’t bother quarrying the mountain and moving it in pieces to his island capital: a spiritual relocation suited him just fine. The final overarching shell of the Templo Mayor went up, a gigantic stone depicting the carved up cadaver of Coyolxauhqui went down at the foot of its stairs, and Ahuitl consecrated the enlarged monument with the blood of up to 20,000 prisoners he’d taken in his campaigns.

The resulting nausea of most of his population and its memory probably aided the work of the Spanish padres who came a little more than 30 years later. A nonviolent goddess suited the lower classes just fine. Jesus shed enough blood for their spiritual needs. He and His mother still loved the children of the Valley of Mexico, even though the Spanish reduced them to slaves.

Some afterthoughts

• The evangelists certainly knew the value of a young girl against an old hag. Had they pitted “she who steps on snakes” against Xochiquetzal, the goddess of flowers and female sexuality, they might have had a harder sell.
  
• Don’t laugh about the name of the Aztec war god, Huitzilopochtli. The Aztecs knew just how aggressive hummingbirds could be when defending their flowerbeds. I recently witnessed one driving off intruders from the nectar-sweet garden behind the Griffith Park Observatory. He whirled and parried their encroachments. His use of physical prowess despite his small size could certainly inspire Aztec Eagle Warriors and Jaguar Knights.
  
• I found the Coatlicue idol more interesting in her particulars than her whole form. Hence my exclusion of a weak photograph from Paths of Light. Click on the link if you want a glimpse of her in her full serpentine, sepulchral glory.