Bali Ha'i-By-the-River

Night fell. Tuberoses and jasmine scented the sultry air. From behind a bougainvillea-twined wall rippled chords from a guitar, and a liquid voice lifted up the slow-cadenced melody of La Sandunga (graceful woman):

. . . I'm ugly, but I'm a lover, heart-heaven,

I'm like wild pepper, sweet mama, for God,

Burning, but delicious, heart-heaven.

Ay, Sandunga, Sandunga!

Elsewhere, marimbas and flutes picked up the tune. In a dusty square 600 years old, graceful girls gathered, and three days & nights of fiesta, fun and fireworks, drinking and dancing got under way.

A Noble Race. In such festivities, the little (pop. 10,000) Mexican town of Tehuantepec calls to mind the happy island of Bali Ha'i in James Michener's Tales of the South Pacific; actually, Tehuantepec is on an isthmus only 1,262 miles down the Pan American Highway from the U.S.A. Set in a thorny and desolate countryside, the town, watered by the Tehuantepec River, is a lush oasis, verdant with coconut palms and mango trees. But Tehuantepec's great traditional allure comes mostly from the beauty of its women, the famed Tehuanas.

Tehuanas are predominantly Zapotec Indians, a noble race with high-bridged noses, full lips and almond eyes. But among them, in many an eye of Tipperary blue, can be seen the heritage of an Irish volunteer detachment that fought there a century ago.The Tehuanas show off their beauty with a graceful carriage, gained by balancing burdens on their heads. They dress up in expensive, full-skirted costumes, often rich purple or Turkey red; at fiestas they wear necklaces made from old U.S. five-to 50-dollar gold pieces. Easy-laughing, they are honest, independent and, as the bulging-eyed gringo tourist who has seen the unabashed Tehuanas bathing in the river can testify, painstakingly clean. Inhibitions hardly exist, as even their superstitions show: if a man feels an overwhelming urge to smack a girl's bottom, Tehuanas think he'd better do it, rather than restrain himself and thus make the girl the victim of his covetous evil eye.

Fun at Funerals. In merriment-minded Tehuantepec, any pretext for a party goes; the commonest is a wedding. By custom, after the newlyweds retire, celebrators gather outside the bridal chamber, drinking and shouting broad sallies at the groom. Later, when he comes out to greet the crowd, firecrackers explode and an all-night fiesta starts. Scarcely less gay are wakes and funerals (where a favored dirge is the tune of Yes, We Have No Bananas). There are 21 scheduled community fiestas a year in the town.

Last week's communal wingding was staged solely to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the introduction to Tehuantepec of La Sandunga, originally a Spanish fandango. Because the song is now the town's own anthem, the occasion was marked with fitting energy. Through the first night the townspeople, bearing pinewood torches, paraded, fired Roman candles and danced. Next morning, with hardly more than a pause for some fiery 120-proof mescal (drunk with powdered cactus-worm salt for additional flavor), a new parade started.

That night the town crowned a queen, pretty Bernarda Morales, daughter of a warehouse watchman, and danced until dawn. For still a third day and night, the fiesta went on. Then, exhausted, Tehuantepec went to bed. Back of the bougain-villea-twined wall, a guitar plunked and a lazy voice rose up:

. . . Lips like crumbled coral, heart-heaven;

Open your arms, sweet mama, for God,

And there let me sleep, heart-heaven.

Ay! Sandunga, Sandunga!

* In the 1858-61 civil war between the Roman Catholic conservatives and the anticlerical liberals. The Catholic Irishmen saw it as a holy war, battled at Tehuantepec for two years, finally fell to the liberal forces of Porfirio Diaz, later (1877-1911) Mexico's Dictator-President.

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