Natalia Toral

Hello.

I hope you can make it to Halloween at Casa de Main.

I probably over did it on the information on this page, especially for a silly little dinner party, but I wanted to use my creative energy to put together an event (of sorts) so we can learn about another culture: Mexico and Día de Muertos!

The invitation and dinner details are at the bottom of this essay. Let me know if you can make it, I’d love to hear your stories.

Here’s some historical inspo

WHAT IS DÍA DE MUERTOS?

In most Mexican households (and maybe tout le monde), Día de Muertos is a 3-day celebration honoring the dead. On this day, the veil between the worlds of the deceased and the living becomes transparent; and it’s believed that spirits can break through from their afterlife and revisit Earth for one day: November 1, All Saints’ Day. To welcome the spirits back, families build ofrendas (alters) dripping with food, mementos, pictures, and figurines that resemble their lost loved ones

THE SWIFTEST HISTORIA

Two cultures were smashed together to create the present-day Día de Muertos.

Prior to Spanish colonization in Southern Mexico and Central America, the ancient Aztec empire hosted a month-long festival to pay homage and respect to the dead. They would gather en masse, built elaborate altars of cempoalxóchitl (the Nahuatl word for marigold) and worshiped Mictēcacihuātl; Lady of the Dead and Queen of the underworld who ruled the afterlife (talk about a badass line on a resume). Depicted as a crowned skull with her mouth open to swallow the stars and cast night over Earth every day. (NBD)

Eventually, post-conquest, the Spanish beliefs started to influence (and were forced on) the Aztec people and their ancient Mictēcacihuātl celebration was combined with the 3-day Christian observance of Allhallowtide (which is where we get All Saints' Eve aka Halloween, All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day).

Today, Aztec traditions are still centrifugal to the holiday, but it’s considered a Catholic celebration.

SUGAR SKULL

In 1910, a Mexican artist created a satirical icon called La Calavera Catrina, which was printed in a Mexican newspaper depicting a “dapper skeleton” of a victorian woman. The image was meant to poke fun at those who were aspiring to be more European in their beliefs of the afterlife. Over the next 100 years, Catrina became a focal point of the Día de Muertos culture. Proposing that posthumous everyone becomes equal, money has no meaning and we are all rich (and fancy Victorian women*) in the afterlife.

*that was a joke. ;)

Another notable work is a 50ft mural done in the late 1940’s by Diego Rivera (whose full name was Diego María de la Concepción Juan Nepomuceno Estanislao de la Rivera y Barrientos Acosta y Rodríguez) in Mexico City. The work’s name is almost as long as his! Sueño de una tarde dominical en la Alameda Central (Dream of a Sunday Afternoon) located at the Alameda Church in city center DF.

In 1985, a devastating quake ruined the buildings around the mural, but it was meticulously moved to a museum. Just look at how beautiful it is!

What sticks out to me about Halloween (and culture in general) is how we raise our kiddos to be fearful of things like skeletons (and all forms of death or injury). Skeletons aren’t scary until we convince ourselves they are: we’re all skeletons on the inside! And, Día de Muertos takes a joy-filled approach to respecting death—which is why many paint their faces in beautiful, lavish sugar skull styles. (And that’s why we’re going to do it too!)

CALAVERAS LITERARIAS

Writing rhyming poems called calaveras literarias (translation: skull literature) — mocking epitaphs for the dead or satire targeting the living — has become a proud tradition. Though the holiday is designed to honor the dead, it’s not a mourning celebration. Instead it focuses on celebrating a lost loved one’s life with happiness and humor. A long-held tradition is to instruct school children to use witty rhyme and repetition to write calaveras literarias that infuse levity in the death of a relative or other prominent figure.

Think of this as a roast of your loved one.

A FAMOUS DÍA DE MUERTOS CELEBRATION

In San Andrés Mixquic, a little town outside of Mexico City, Día de Muertos has become a main attraction to tourists. Similar to the images you’ve seen in movies, like Disney+Pixar’s Coco, the entire city comes to life with colorful banners, marigolds, altars, and skulls. Of particular interest in San Andrés Mixquic: on the nights of October 31-November 2, families gather at the central church and cemetery and build huuuuuge ofrendas on the graves. Incense and thousands of candles are lit, creating a stunning illumination (La lumbrada) in hopes their lost friends will ascend back to Earth.

MISC FACTS

Here’s some old-ass Aztec words in the English language, adopted from Nahuatl: shack, chia, avocado, guacamole, chili, cacao, chocolate, coyote, and tomato. Aztecs were healthy mofos!  (Except for the making pozole out of human flesh thing…) And, the Nahuatl culture, though slowly dwindling, is one of the most researched and documented in the world.

Día de Muertos never had a parade until the James Bond movie Spectre depicted a really badass parade in Mexico City. Now, it’s a thing in most of the country.

Traditional faire of Day of the Dead include tamales, pozole, pan de muertos, beans, flan, and drinks like horchata, Pulque (like tequila), and Jamaica (hibiscus juice, which I’mma make)!

Mole is a real head scratcher but here’s a few takeaways: there are countless kinds of mole (30+?), and all usually have a long list of ingredients, many without chocolate, and they come in several colors (green, red, black), but all of them have one common denominator: chilies and spices! The reason for the variety is that the word “mole” derives from the Nahuatl word molli, which just means “sauce.” Oaxacan mole is likely the most famous and the state is nicknamed “Land of 7 Moles”. So, mole is like your grandmother’s chicken soup recipe: slight variations depending on family preference, region and economic resources.

WHY THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME...

I was born in Mexico City, where I was initially raised by my indigenous Mexican family speaking Spanish and climbing ancient pyramids with my primos. But just as I was learning to swim without floaties and poop on my own, a devastating earthquake shook from Popocatépetl (the stratovolcano just outside of DF).

My parents were rock musicians and their recording studio was turned to rubble. I was put on plane with a family friend and sent to live with my white grandparents in Long Beach, CA—resulting in a separation from my Mexican family that would never be amended.

My Bend-born, blonde-hair, blue-eyed mom lived in Mexico through her early 20s recording albums and was able to learn so much about the society—including Spanish. She was welcomed into the locals’ way of life with open arms and has shared much of the culture and family ways with me, like how my abuela made her rice, tacos de flor de calabaza and pozole. But at best, it’s a very distant connection to Mexican culture...and I still want to know more.

My Mexican father has dedicated his life to rock and roll. He’s been in legendary Mexican bands like Los Locos del Ritmo (think The Beatles in Spanish) who pioneered rock music in Latin America, and was a part of the 2007 documentary Rock n Roll Made in Mexico: From Evolution to Revolution. Currently, he’s traveling the world (as an old dude) in a rock band called El Trí known as “the Rolling Stones of Mexico”. He’s a maestro of piano and highly regarded in the music community worldwide.

But, sadly, I’ve spent little time with the guy because of his lifestyle.

In 2011, for Día de Muertos, I visited my dather and the Toral family in Mexico City and it moved me. Every house we visited had an ofrenda—elaborately decorated with photos of lost loved ones, pets, ancestors. They sat around telling anecdotes of their lives, and I felt like I was getting to know the family I’d never meet. It was strangely celebratory! Mexicans don’t welcome death as a friend, but it is revered and accepted as a part of life. Stories told are usually funny and bring joy to mourning.

One such story was about José de León Toral, my great-great uncle who assassinated the Mexican president General Álvaro Obregón in 1928. They weren’t necessarily proud of his act, but at a family reunion dinner, I met the last living de León and casual jokes were said about her lineage.

My cousin Ernie (the fella with his hands behind his back in the picture of us near the white VW Bug and on the right with overalls when we were lil bebes), passed away a couple years ago. He had a congenital liver problem that went unnoticed until one day he just passed in his sleep. He was 6 months older than me. I was only able to hangout with him in these two pictures, but he left a lasting impression on me. I will have his picture on my Día de Muertos ofrenda.

WHAT TO EXPECT AT CASA DE MAIN

I want to dig into my distant history as a chilanga, born of a Mexicano and a gringa, plus have a good time with you: enter a dinner party about muerte!

Let’s slip into the traditions of a Mexican household on All Hallows’ Eve. I’m going to make traditional Mexican recipes of mole (the hard way), salsas, breads and cócteles.

Bring with you a memento or photo of a lost loved one, pet, or admired figure. For example, when I experienced Día de Muertos in Mexico City, it wasn’t too long after Michael Jackson had died, and it seemed like the whole country was selling tiny clay MJs. Similarly, they also had tiny, big-boobed, Anna Nicole Smiths (see first picture on the page). But, we’ve lost some good ones this year: RBG, etc. Feel free to represent those kinds of folx (if you like).

We’ll paint our faces. I’ll have a full spectrum of high-quality face paint, jewels, brushes and flowers and will happily help skull you up. You can do as much or as little as you feel comfortable.

After dinner, we’ll gather around the ofrenda and tell anecdotes of our lost pals. You never know…at midnight we just might see them again.

Feel free to bring drinks, if you’d like.