Jimm Budd's World

Where Mexico began

(en español también)

       Life has changed somewhat during the past two centuries in the little Guanajuato community of Dolores. To begin with, of course, it is now known as Dolores Hidalgo. In addition, it is the only place I have encountered where you can sample avocado-flavored ice cream. Or mole-flavored ice cream. Helados Aguilar even offers tequila ice cream. Mr. Aguilar has his competitors, but he was the first and insists his product still is the best.

       Not many tourists go to Dolores Hidalgo to savor the ice cream, although, once there, they may find there is little else to do. La Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Dolores, understandably, is the main attraction. It is, to be sure, a handsome church, completed in 1778, but what sets it apart is what happened there. According to the guide who attached himself to our little group, at 5 a.m. on Sept. 16 the parish priest, Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla shouted out those forgotten words, “Viva Fernando VII! Down with bad government! Death to the Spaniards.”

        That Fernando VII was Spanish seems to have been overlooked

         Fernando VII, you may remember, was the monarch who Napoleon ordered seized in order to place his brother Joseph on the Spanish throne. For some reason, Fernando was so well loved on these shores that when independence finally came, he was invited to reign over Mexico as emperor. However, by then, Napoleon had been defeated, Joseph departed and Fernando preferred to stay in Spain as king.

     You will hear no mention of Fernando, nor of Gachupines shouted from the National Palace nor from other public buildings across the republic at 11 p.m. any night that happens to be Sept 15th. This is not simply a matter of political astuteness and a desire not to offend. There are those who insist nobody really can say for certain what Hidalgo cried when he rallied the faithful to take up arms. No one was taking notes. As so often happens when history is being made, those present do not realize it. 

       Our guide also had an explanation  for the custom of repeating the Cry -- or repeating it in essence -- at 11 p.m., a much more comfortable hour, allowing everyone to enjoy what amounts to a second New Year’s Eve. If the words are going to be changed, then why not change the time, too? However, our guide declared, there is more to it than that. Sept. 15 is the birthday of Porfirio Díaz. Don Porfirio decided to combine the two celebrations. That fact also seldom is mentioned these days, or perhaps I gave missed it. Diáz served as President of Mexico for some three decades and officially is regarded as something of a tyrant.

       Lazaro Cárdenas initiated the custom of a president traveling to Dolores Hidalgo at least once during his term to repeat the Grito ceremony where it began. Recent presidents never have managed to find the time to make the trip.

       This guide of ours had appointed himself to his position. I doubt that he held a license, but he was a charismatic geezer. Dolores, the man declared, had grown from a town of 4,500 inhabitants when Father Hidalgo lived there, to 250,000 now. Nonetheless, it remains what it originally was, “the branch of a stagnant river.”  Hidalgo was considered a radical, and the Catholic hierarchy 200 years ago believed that by sending him there they had found a place where he could not stir up trouble. That was a mistake. There was little else in Dolores to do.

         Well, perhaps there was. Our guide went on to say that the city leads the nation in illegitimate births and that this is nothing new. Indeed, he claimed Hidalgo himself had more than a few children who, when they called him father, were not referring to his religious calling. This may be a contumely. But, then, perhaps you have seen the film, “The Crime of Father Amaro.”

         Having visited the parish church where Hidalgo rang the bells, I considered stopping by at the Hidalgo home, but, amazingly, there was a long queue outside. After a stroll around the plaza and a look in the ceramic shops, it was time to be on my way. It was Hidalgo himself who promoted the manufacture of tile and other crafts in Dolores. These items included machetes that perhaps were not intended simply as work tools. According to our guide, Dolores became a virtual arsenal. This may be why such a tiny village became the birthplace of Mexican Independence.

        The town of Dolores Hidalgo really is a place to stop only briefly while driving between Guanajuato and San Miguel de Allende, or in the other direction. The state awards only three stars to the best hotel in town. This should appeal to travelers watching their pesos carefully. There are a couple of apparently acceptable places to eat, but I preferred a gourmet rendezvous in San Miguel. Not wanting to spoil my appetite, I even resisted the temptations at Mr. Aguilar’s ice cream shop.

                 

Por quien doblan las campanas

por Jimm Budd           

          La vida ha cambiado en los dos últimos siglos en que fue la pequeña comunidad guanajuatense de Dolores. Para empezar, desde luego, ahora es conocida como Dolores Hidalgo. Además, es el único lugar que he encontrado donde se puede degustar un helado con sabor a aguacate. O helado con sabor a mole. Helados Aguilar ofrece hasta helado de tequila. El Sr. Aguilar tiene competidores, pero fue el iniciador y asegura que su producto sigue siendo el mejor.        

          No son muchos los turistas que van a Dolores Hidalgo a saborear el helado, si bien una vez llegados allí tal vez descubrirán que no hay gran cosa aparte de eso. Como es comprensible, la Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de Dolores es el principal atractivo. Desde luego es una bella iglesia, concluida en 1778, pero lo que la hace distinta es lo que ocurrió ahí. Según el guía que se unió a nuestro reducido grupo, a las 5 de la mañana del 16 de septiembre (de 1810) el sacerdote de la parroquia, padre Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla hizo tañir  las campanas para llamar los fieles y gritó esas palabras que se han olvidado: “¡Viva Fernando Séptimo! ¡Muera el mal gobierno! ¡Mueran los gachupines!”        Fernando VII, como usted recordará, era el monarca que Napoleón mandó derrocar para instalar a su hermano José en el trono español. Por alguna razón Fernando era tan querido en estas tierras que cuando llegó por fin la independencia se le invitó a reinar en México como emperador. Sin embargo, para entonces Napoleón mismo había sido derrotado, José se marchó y Fernando prefirió quedarse en España como rey.

           Esta noche no oiremos el nombre de Fernando ni el de los gachupines en el grito desde el Palacio Nacional ni desde otros edificios públicos en toda la república. No es simple cuestión de astucia política ni del deseo de no ofender. Hay quienes aseguran que nadie puede decir con certeza cuál fue la proclama de Hidalgo cuando convocó a los devotos a tomar las armas. Nadie estaba tomando notas. Como suele suceder cuando se hace historia, los que están presentes no se dan cuenta de ello.

           Nuestro guía también tuvo una explicación para la costumbre de repetir el Grito – o repetirlo en esencia – a las once de la noche, hora mucho más cómoda, que permite a todo el mundo disfrutar de algo así como una segunda Noche del  Año Nuevo. Si se van a cambiar las palabras ¿por qué no cambiar también la hora? Sin embargo, según nuestro guía hay algo más. El 15 de septiembre es el natalicio de Porfirio Díaz. Don Porfirio decidió combinar ambas celebraciones. Raras veces se menciona ese hecho en la actualidad, o tal vez no me he enterado.