I devoted the day to go down into Ciudad Obregón, the old town of Cajemé, to learn more about the Yoris. I took the long way there, going through kilometer after kilometer of spiney low brush, until I hit the first ag fields, which again impressed me by their vastness, and by canals that seemed to have cut to great depths to carry a very large amount of water. Alas, these days they carry but a trickle, and half of the fields are fallow. Most of the production is of corn, wheat, potatoes, garbanzo beans, and other annuals, so leaving the fields fallow means a profit loss but is not that difficult. I did see a few pecan orchards, as inroads to the “hardening” of water use, because orchards cannot be let dry out and die in bad years, which is the problem confronting agriculture in the Central Valley these days.
Ciudad Obregón has a half million inhabitants and is definitely not as handsome as Los Mochis. It is an ag center, with all the right support industries, but the streets are heavily potholed and is not as clean. There are of course a few nice neighborhoods, but I think they are few and far between.
My first step was in the Museum of the Revolution, where I expected to learn a lot more about the conditions that led to the Mexican Revolution (1910-1917). The museum leaned heavily toward the hero worship of the Sonoran Alvaro Obregón, the successful fighting general of Venustiano Carranza, who in turn was the fellow who ultimately consummated the revolution and became president. The opposition were Villa, Zapata, and other leaders of the Convención de Aguascalientes but they lost the bid for the presidency. Since I like Villa, I have always looked with jaundiced eye on Obregón and Carranza, and have assumed that when Obregón became president was the start of the pervasive corruption that has plagued Mexico ever since. Turns out that after Obregón finished his mandate he returned to the life of a garbanzo bean farmer in the Valle del Yaqui, where he made significant contributions to the art of farming (eventually he sought reelection as president, got himself elected, and was assassinated a week after winning the election, so that was the end of that).
Feeling I had not learned a whole lot I headed for Cócorit, a handsome Yaqui settlement established in 1617 by the Jesuits and the seat of the Yaqui Museum. I may have mentioned this before, by I would not recognize a Yori if he or she were to bite me in the nose. They are typical Mexicans, with the brown blood of the native inhabitants running strongly through their veins, just like we all have (in lesser or greater extent). In any case, the young woman and man attending the museum welcomed me with sincere friendship (it seems not many people take the trouble to navigate the way to their museum), and I spent a happy hour learning about the uses and customs of the Yoris, their environment, traditions, dances, and herbalist medicine. The culture is strongly dominated by the Catholic doctrine, and the high points of their religious fervor are the different festivals that take place through the eight Yori pueblos. The role of mayordomo of one of these festivals is a very serious one, and the ritual dances, such as the Danza del Venado and the Danza de los Matachines, are full of significance and adoration of Mother Mary.
From the museum I learnt that the Yoris had farmed this region since time immemorial, taking advantage of the floods of the rivers, which just like in the case of the Nile, brought both moisture and fertile mud unto the fields.
Looking at the map I also learnt that Bahía de los Lobos (referring to sea lions) was part of the delta, so I figured I had to see it. It was a long drive down deserted roads that went from good to terrible, but at the end I made it to the town of Bahía de los Lobos, which looks like something straight out of an apocalyptic novel. From there to the beach I had to push another 10 kilometers through salt flats and sand dunes bare of any vegetation. When I finally reached the shore I found it eerily empty, and with the shocking contrast of the bare land coming in contact with a deep blue sea. I had imagined coconut palm trees and small beach stands with beer and seafood!
Back in Ciudad Obregón I dined like a king on Caldo de Médula and juicy Agujas Norteňas. Very delicious.
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