The Parícutin, Parikutini, a place on the other side, a volcano covering layers of history and stories with layers of lava. A mass of microphenocysts, xanamu, microliths, and lapilli, emerging from the gargantuan centre of our globe. Streams of lava, destroying all life on the surface of the earth: its nature and woods, the pakua and the p’ukutapu, the villages and the tiósïo. The lava made no difference and went right through the sanctuaries as through the capua and the tirindarhu.

The Parícutin, Parikutini, the place on the other side, much further than the world of objectivity. A place where stories of supernatural forces are crystallised together with the force of nature. A bed of basalt covering layers of legends. From the myths of a miraculous tree where appeared the Santa Guadalupe, to rumours of a pact made with the devil. From the stories of a monkey and its cave paintings, to the discovery of a horse leg suspended in a tree. From the contemplation of a shining crystal appearing in the sky during a full moon night, to the rumours about black magic practices in the surrounding villages.

The Parícutin, Parikutini, the place on the other side, a world apparently without life, the devastated centre of a chaotic environment, surrounded by a constellation of cosmovisions, struggles, and traditions, surviving after the tabula rasa of the volcano. Or worse: the tabula rasa of the colonies, from the Aztecs to conquistadors, from modernity to neo-liberalism.

The Parícutin, Parikutini, the place on the other side, a parallel world where immanence and transcendence, life and death, geopolitics and witchcraft melt together.   




*Capua: the field

  Iretecharu: in the village

  Parikutini: the other side

  Pakua: the valley

  P’ukutapu: the wood

  Tiósïo: the church

  Tirindarhu: the place of the corn

  Xanamu: volcanic rock