Dic 17 2012 Sierra Tarahumara: fleet-footed men

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  You have to go into the canyons, climbing walls, put on hiking boots, walking many hours, many days, to glimpse the reality of these communities presented with sandals and silences, because people just talk rarámuri, If anything has to say.

A few days traveling from Cardiff to London, on a train crossing barren grasslands and dark brick cities, clean, British. But a book took me far away, to northern Mexico, to the Sierra Tarahumara, so steep, so vertical that today nobody dares to peek into the world of rarámuris, it is inevitable that produce vertigo mountains and forget the men who inhabit.

The book: "Amara. A journey following the footsteps of the people rarámuri " recounts the experience of the author, Santiago Tejedor-codirector of Travel Journalism Master of the UAB-, After living with the Tarahumara families. A touching story that portrays the daily, night after night, of these communities. And then I felt the shock of an unfinished memories, because I was there, in these hills, without crossing the line of indigenous tourism, without feeling the cold of their huts. I lived on tiptoe encounter with the Raramuri and today, I, perhaps deserve a shout reflected in a handful of words written at the wrong.

The joyful color of his clothes hides the drama of a people that has always existed, that has grown with the same resignation growing mountains

It was some years ago. We reached the town of Creel, in the state of Chihuahua, aboard a car tried to go around the world. There he first felt the cultural collision between us and the Indians. The joyful color of his clothes hides the drama of a people that has always existed, that has grown with the same resignation growing mountains. They are the most visible to tourists, because they guard the Christian missions and they embroider the wicker baskets. Lakeside Arareco or place of Cusárare, women calm the landscape with their patience.

The men and many of the kids were perhaps avoiding paths, weeks hunting for rabbits as family, snakes or squirrels. You have to go into the canyons, climbing walls, put on hiking boots, walking many hours, many days, to glimpse the reality of these communities presented with sandals and silences, because people just talk rarámuri, If anything has to say. They are shy, or perhaps are prudent, are hard as granite rocks and their peaceful as its rivers. They have suffered, Like most other cities, the onslaught of the white man, the confusion of their creeds and progress ambush. Today guard their churches, while they dance traditions; continue to protect their rites of alcohol but the claim has diverted some and emptied the cabins.

It always has, Saw is the excuse to stay alive as rarámuris, as fleet-footed men, running tirelessly, fleeing from us.

But, many are in the formidable geography saw an opportunity to forget. They escape,there are hiding from the imposition of the rest of the world. It always has, Saw is the excuse to stay alive as rarámuris, as fleet-footed men, running tirelessly, fleeing from us.

Santiago Tejedor Account today comes news that the saw desperate. That the cold wins men's pulse, their animals dying, that crops fail, Some women throw themselves over precipices like someone stripped of all hope. I wonder if they push us, if we have not driven over the edge with our greed and our indifference expansive first after.

I arrive at Paddington Station, in London. It's cold. There are fast food outlets everywhere, people coming and going between the coffee holding hands, kiosks selling newspapers, many newspapers, but on their covers say nothing of a town dies.