My friend and I were visiting the Puuc region, most famous for the nearby ruins of Uxmal, and we decided to forego the pricier resort hotels near the ruins in order to get a little taste of village life.
And dear reader,if you might allow me a slight digression: I want to be clear. I have no beef with the pricier hotels near the ruins. In fact, I have a sentimental attachment to the Hacienda Uxmal ever since, for reasons I still cannot figure to this day, another friend and I found ourselves with the best room in the place - it was a split level suite vaguely resembling an upscale tv set from the 1960's show Bewitched with a touch of Mexicana and a gorgeous tiled veranda that looked out over the pool. The only thing I had done is asked, like I had read to do in a guide book, for a room in the "old part". Hotel literature told us the likes of Jackie Kennedy and Reza Pavlovi had stayed there.
Although now the late Shah has been replaced with Queen Elizabeth in the current hotel bio. It must have been the off season. I'll never know what possessed the staff to show two slightly overheated and bedraggled strangers a kindness. Needless to say we booked an extra night and they will always have a special place in this traveler's heart.
The tiny puebla of St Helena did not disappoint. Uniformed schoolchildren frolicked in the street, a wake and a funeral happened, and in the mornings, sauntering in their embroidered white tunics, the women, with brightly colored plastic tubs of corn on their heads, on their way to visit the molino, the corn grinder, the first stop in preparing to make the day's tortillas. This is an archetype that has been played out daily in small villages all over Mexico for centuries, but this was the first time I'd seen it. The temperatures were high and the church bells rang at 6 and noon and then once more in the evening. We never made it to the tiny community museum near the church.
It was enchanting and we found ourselves having dinner at the only restaurant in town, a charming hut on a hillside owned by a German woman. The electricity had gone out so we were dining by candlelight and, as travelers often do, we had struck up a conversation with the only other diners, a couple from Belgium. And, in the way of strange coincidences that often happen in Mexico, my dining companion had studied on Navajo reservation some twenty years before with a colleague of the couple. A Good time was being had by all.
In the middle of our most enjoyable meal, a couple of local men came in and had a serious and animated conversation in Spanish with our hostess who went over to her cash box and gave them some money. Later, she explained to us that there had been a dsipute between two men in town resulting in a firearms being discharged and one man in the hospital. The man with the gun was now claiming he was out hunting turkeys but still found himself in jail. The two men in the restaurant were friends of the guy in jail. The only way they were going to spring their buddy was to essentially crowdfund his bail village style. Our hostess had donated to the cause. But unlike bail the way we may think of it in the states, the funds being raised were going to pay the wounded man's hospital bills and help support his family while he recovered. In short, the offending party had to make it right and the victim was supported in their recovery. This struck me as both incredibly practical and extremely compassionate. I think this is the first example of indigenous wisdom and restorative justice that I had ever witnessed. It was a different set of values in action. The goal seemed to be to restore order and equilibrium not to punish or shame. Suffering was kept to a minimum for all involved yet some sacrifices were made. How smart was that? Just seemed like a good way to turn a hard situation around and make it win win for everyone.
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