As dawn broke on a sacred mountaintop in northern Mexico, a group of indigenous pilgrims dragged a sacrificial calf into their stone circle and slit its throat. They then dipped candles in the warm blood still gushing from the animalâs throat and lit them, creating a circle of light.The heart was next. The tribesmen cut it from the calfâs chest, cooked it in campfire ashes, and ate it as a gesture of respect for the dead animal.The ceremony was a plea to the tribeâs gods to defend their ancestral lands from transnational mining companies and their people from displacement at the hands of predatory drug cartels. The WixĂĄrika have inhabited this region of northern Mexico that stretches across four states to the Pacific coast. Today, the WixĂĄrika number 45,000, and they worry that these emerging threats signal the erasure of their culture.Ceremonies like this one are fueled by peyote, a hallucinogenic cactus sacred to the WixĂĄrika, or Huichol, people, and vital in facilitating conversation with their gods. But thanks to a booming illegal peyote tourism industry nearby, even that part of their culture is in jeopardy.The WixĂĄrika have taken practical measures against these existential threats but they believe they need divine intervention to ensure their survival. VICE News accompanied the indigenous groupâs leaders on their annual pilgrimage to the Cerro Quemado, a cactus-covered mountain in San Luis PotosĂ where they believe the sun was born. This yearâs voyage took on added urgency as it came just days after two WixĂĄrika activists were murdered in nearby Jalisco state.Miguel VĂĄzquez, a prominent land rights activist, was fatally shot by gunmen believed to work for the Jalisco New Generation cartel in the town of Tuxpan de Bolaños on May 20. His brother AgustĂn was killed after visiting him in the hospital that night.One of Mexicoâs most powerful criminal organizations, the Jalisco cartel has invaded WixĂĄrika territories in northern Jalisco and the surrounding states in the last year, displacing local residents or forcing them to grow opium.The situation is getting worse. The WixĂĄrika have policed their own communities for generations but locals in Tuxpan de Bolaños have had to step up their patrols since the beginning of the year, citing a lack of protection from the state.âWe WixĂĄrika are prepared to do whatever it takes to defend our land,â Ubaldo Valdez Castañeda, an activist from Tuxpan de Bolaños, said during a press conference in January. âWe donât have guns, but weâll arm ourselves with whatever we can get our hands on.âDespite the communityâs resistance, the murder of the VĂĄzquez brothers showed how vulnerable it is. The killings also shed light on the collusion between local police and organized crime.Jalisco attorney general Eduardo Almaguer said his office was investigating municipal policemen who had arrested the suspected murderers in an altercation earlier that day, only to release them moments before the shooting.âHow can we trust the Mexican authorities?â said Santos de la Cruz Carrillo, a WixĂĄrika lawyer and activist. âIf this is happening, itâs because the state is letting it happen instead of protecting its citizens.âThe WixĂĄrika vigilantes are armed only with axes and machetes, but Carrillo insisted the community wouldnât be intimidated. âAn attack against any of us is an attack against all of us. Weâre going to fight this and move forward.âThe WixĂĄrika are not the only native group tired of being on the receiving end of government corruption and lawless drug cartels. Last month Mexicoâs National Indigenous Congress and the Zapatista National Liberation Army â Mayan descendants who led an uprising in 1994 and still control parts of Chiapas state â nominated a Nahua medicine woman to represent them in next yearâs presidential elections.MarĂa de JesĂșs Patricio MartĂnez is the first indigenous woman to run for president, and her campaign is focused on drawing attention to the threats that the government, corporations, and criminal gangs pose to indigenous communities across Mexico.âTheyâve displaced us and appropriated our lands,â she said. âWeâve seen complete destruction carried out by those at the top.âPatricioâs chances of winning the presidency are slim, but her symbolic run is aimed at creating a national support base to defend Mexicoâs indigenous communities.Greater destruction looms over the WixĂĄrika in the form of lucrative concessions to companies to mine their land. Despite the San Luis PotosĂ state government declaring it a Sacred Natural Area in 2001, Mexicoâs federal government has continued handing out the concessions.The most prominent beneficiary, Canadaâs First Majestic Silver Corp, owns concessions that cover 12,298 acres in the area. First Majestic says it ârecognizes the need to protect the cultural heritage of the Huicholesâ and âhas worked with government to ensure that operations on the property will not disturb these sacred zones.âBut members of the WixĂĄrika Regional Council, who have filed injunctions in a bid to revoke at least 78 concessions, said that mining causes severe environmental damage that puts their heritage and local ecosystems at risk.âWe demand that the Mexican state cancel each and every one of the mining concessions in Wirikuta,â said councilor Aukwe Mijarez during the mountaintop ceremony.First Majesticâs Mexican subsidiary Minera Real Bonanza responded to these concerns, saying the company was âcommitted to supporting the preservation of the sacred sites of the WixĂĄrika culture,â and was building wastewater treatment plants and had ceded 1,880 acres of concessions in the area closest to the Cerro Quemado.Most of the pilgrims arrived to the sound of tribal music played in the middle of the night, with coyotes howling in the distance and lightning flickering over far-off peaks. Wearing traditional dress and elaborate feathered hats, the WixĂĄrika sprinkled an offering of ground maize over the campfire and chanted for hours in a trance-like state.After sacrificing the calf at dawn, they prayed in a tiny chapel whose walls are lined with animal scalps and psychedelic artwork. Then came a breakfast of peyote, orange slices, animal crackers, and Coca-Cola.âWeâre upset that people come here and steal peyote because for us itâs a deity, not a drug,â Mijarez said. âItâs part of our identity and we respect it.âWith police turning a blind eye to recreational use from tourists, Mijarez warned that outsiders are now testing their limits and illegally exporting the plant.âWe want this plant to be conserved because itâs part of our culture, but every year it gets harder and harder to find.âIf supply were to run out, the WixĂĄrika would lose contact with their gods, further undermining their ability to resist other threats like mining and organized crime, Mijarez said.âIf they exploit the spiritual center of our universe, weâll become extinct.âDuncan Tucker is a freelance journalist based in Mexico.
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Standing up to the cartels
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A national issue
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Peyote in short supply
Under Mexican law only the WixĂĄrika can consume peyote, but New Age enthusiasts are eagerly simulating this experience by partaking in an illicit peyote-based tourist trap booming in nearby Real de Catorce. The dusty former ghost town is brimming with non-indigenous fixers offering tourists peyote and a place to trip. For the WixĂĄrika, the trend adds insult to injury.“If they exploit the spiritual center of our universe, we’ll become extinct.”
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