Los Bagres, Durango, Mexico
July 30- August 10, 2021
This was my first time back to Mexico in 15 years, when I landed in the airport I rented a car and drove 4 hours through the mountains to my maternal homeland in Los Bagres, Durango.
I arrived on the day of the Fiestas de St. Domingo, the biggest celebration the town hosts. The town had skipped last year’s due to Covid concerns. Bagres is a small town, population is roughly less than 200 people most of which now have summer homes in the town and live in the US. During my time there I stayed with my grandma and her close friend, Modesta. My aunt, who had just gotten her papers a week prior also was in town during my stay.
The town has no cell phone reception or wifi other than a little peak you have to climb to called “La Cruz”. I spent most of my days in Bagres, hiking the land, visiting the graveyard and the river, rummaging through family photos and foraging fruits and vegetation from the land and my Mami Mitty’s huerta. At night, I wondered the dimly lit streets, smoked some local weed, went to the vollyball canchas with my family and hiked up to La Cruz a few times to get a good view of the stars.
I, unfortunately, did not get to use all the film I brought on this trip as the camera my lovely studio mate and friend, Daniel had lent me’s battery died halfway and there was no way I was going to be able to replace it during my stay. But I was able to capture some of the flowers at night, the aftermath of the fiestas, the men on horses that I met on my morning stroll, my great grandmother’s grave, my Mami Mitty on the door of the hotel room she stayed in the night before she got married, a hotel that is now only ruins and a few other memories that I cherish.
I also did not get to visit the land I had been most wanting to see, Zapiguri, this is the original maternal homeland, the place where my mother and grandmother were born, the place where many of the stories I grew up with originate. This town lies further out into the mountains and the only way to get there is by crossing the river. A river that due to the rain was swollen during my stay and therefore uncrossable by foot. On top of crossing the river, it is an extensive hike by foot to get there. Life can be such a tease sometimes, I traveled so far and was so close to the town I only faintly remember yet this body of water, something relatively small yet powerful, prevented me from being able to see the thing I longed to see. Perhaps it was the land’s way of ensuring that I would return.
Photos using Cannon Ae-1 and 35mm Portra 400 film
