Chiapas - god-forsaken Mexican state bordering with Guatemala, which due to its location at the very south of Mexico, remained forgotten for long time even by Mexican government itself. The main reason of this omission was lack of communications, which would connect the capital of Mexico with Chiapas. Mexico is still a huge country, the federative republic consisted of 32 states.

      Thinking about all this, I got little bit away from Coca-Cola mentioned in the headline. However, we are in the right place topographically.

      In those villages, where one of the largest Indian´s community of Mexico live, faraway from Christian God, I met Coca-cola or Pepsi-cola in almost every corner. Marketing of this world-wide company did an incredible piece of work here. They convinced indigenous inhabitants, that the drink, which their company produces, is the most effective medium for the expulsion of evil spirit from the body during Indian holy ceremonies.
 
     I got the opportunity to observe the atmosphere of some of the rituals in the Indian village named San Juan Chamula, situated near San Cristobal de la Casas.

      If you ever go to Chiapas, don´t miss San Cristobal by no means. It is a brightly colored city in the mountains, whose architectonic layout full of ground floor houses with colorful facades anticipates the proximity of Guatemala. Although San Cristobal is administrative center of Chiapas, the city is rather smaller, quiet and surprisingly organized and clean, regarding the fact it is nearly Latin America. You can even encounter the community of bohemian artists here, who often originate from Europe and whom the charm of the city brought to decision to settle permanently. Higher altitude can be felt especially at nights, when you hardly do without a warm sweater or jacket, if you want to enjoy walking San Cristobal´s long picturesque streets - the temperature sometimes falls to zero.

     That morning, when I was having breakfast at the hotel yard - in hacienda style, was fresh and cool as well. I was wearing my sweater, first rays of sun made their way through the mist in the sky and a steam came out of my mouth. One hour later, I was already sitting in the bus climbing the crooked mountain road towards Chamula. In the course of previous days, passing through various villages in Chiapas, I already noticed striking ads promoting Pepsi or Coca-cola. The billboards were usually placed on the walls of local houses, often made of wooden boards. I was curious, so I asked, why? What I had learnt, made me bursting out laughing and then I had to pay tribute inwardly to this tricksy way, in which Coca-Cola ensured a permanent sale in that otherwise forgotten region. During their prayers, Indians are used to burp to expel an evil spirit from the body and someone clever convinced them, that the beverage mentioned above serves that purpose perfectly. Each village has its distributor, who is, thanks to the job, the richest man in the community generally.

      Indians pray and practice their rituals in the churches, which used to be Christian once. At that time, missionaries came even to these mountain villages and built Christian churches, trying to convert aborigines to "only true religion" . Indians (Tzotzils in this part of Chiapas), however, didn't accept this new belief with open heart. They use interiors of the churches for their prayers, but the atmosphere and layout of the church are completely different from its original concept. There are no benches, furniture was reduced just on statues of christian saints, which Indians worship as they belonged to the long line of their various idols. In the same way they approach to Jesus or John the Baptist. John the Baptist, however, takes more honest position than Jesus in Indian cosmogony . Baptism is the only Christian ritual, Indians accepted and have been practicing till the present time. This is why a baptism dish can be found there, next to the statues. The sculptures, placed on wooden bases, are located along the church walls and each sculpture has a mirror stuck on its body. Even though Indians address to a holy image in the course of their prayers, they believe, they must find answers within themselves, in fact. The sculpture is just a tool of prayer, not its purpose. And the mirror is just projection of themselves.

     Tradition of christian processions domesticated here, although they look more like mexican fiestas, and they represent for villagers a great opportunity to rejoice, principally. In the course of the year, plenty of the processions are held, dedicated to saints, whose statues are in the church. Every Saint has its own celebration. Then, the particular statue is carrying through the village, meanwhile its people eat, dance and sing. If you wonder, who pays for all the glory, the answer is simple - a representative of the village, called "cargo". He is elected for one year and one of his duties is organization and financing of all these ceremonies-fiestas during his "electoral term". Nowadays, there is often in this role, the representative of Coca-Cola in a village, because the financing is far from being easy (on average USD 5,000 per year) and certainly does not include any state grant. All of expenses is mayor´s money.

      Back to the church now. Along the walls just statues of saints with crocks of mirror like on sweet hearts of fair, the air mixed with the smell of burning candles and pineneedles, which lie on the ground. The layer of needles is here to underline the sanctity of the place determinated for prayers, his excellence. It supposes to separate praying persons symbolically from the ground related with tasks of daily routine. It is a sign of respect towards the idols.

      Throughout the church a calm whisper of prayers, incantation and monotonous singing of brujas (witches-shaman) sound, mixed together with laughter of playing childs. Mostly women are praying here and while they are sitting on needles, bottle of Coca-Cola on one side, bottle of something stronger on other side, because alcohol is also part of meditation, their children amuse leisure playing touchlast.

      On the steps of chancel, which does not fulfill its original purpose any longer, just makes part of ritual open space, one of the brujas is sitting. Wrinkled old woman with long gray hair tressed in two plaits, is singing a curse, in the end of which she wrings the neck of a sacrificial animal. Poor hen... Next to her, another woman is sitting, monitoring bruja´s invocation anxiously, half in admiration, half in fear. I do not know, what was the subject of ritual in this particular case, if a rival in love or cursed cattle. Anyway, bruja´s face promised rehabilitation. Actually, didn´t promise, emanated something that was beyond any doubts. I could not stop watching her, but I felt that I was interfering with something, which didn´t belong to me. The woman really raised a respect. 
 
     Therefore I steped forward to the chancel, turned back and watched, what was happening in the church. Indian mothers with two bottles of spirit probably ended with their meditation and began to talk. Children were running around them now and all together were laughing, even their mothers. I just wanted to take this live image away with me. 
 
     As there was another churche in cemetry situated in the end of the village, which I wanted to see and there was not much time left before bus departure, I steped forward towards entrance door, across all the invocations, gaging, aroma of spirits, candles twinkle and laughter of childs.

     I went through a market in zocalo in front of the church, buying a few wizen clementines from an old Indian woman dressed in typical highland suit - white shirt, long black wool skirt and woolen violet scarf, used for carrying of diverse stuff - starting with a shopping, ending with a baby.

      I continued further, along the streets of this, not very tidy-looking, Chamula village. Houses made of wooden boards, sometimes a stone building belonging to a little bit more prosperous resident, a lot of trash and mess mixed with mud after rain. At the turning to the cemetery, there was a stall with coal-roasted chicken quarters, which did look damn tasty and so they smelled. I wished, I had not breakfast so much.

      I came to the cemetery dotted with simple wooden crosses either in white, blue or black colour. The colour determines whether there is buried a child, adult or old person. White - baby, blue - adult, black - old person.

      No tombstones, only mounds of clay and crosses with names. I waved in and out among the mounds towards the church in the middle of the cemetery. To be precise, towards its four walls, which remained after fire. Before the fire, this church was the main place of rituals and praying. One night the church outblazed and only the perimeter walls left. Villagers managed to carried some of its statues out of the burning church, the ritual centrum, however, was moved to the church in the square. Indians blamed for the fire just the statues. They say, that the sculptures of saints failed to protect the church. What are these saints good for, when they even didn´t manage to save their church?? And since they were really, really angry, they covered heads of statues with scarfs and turned them towards wall in the new church. Some of the statues had no their celebration that year. They didn´t deserve it.

      From the burnt church, I sliped through narrow bayways between graves almost directly to the bus stop. My journey continued from Chamula through waterfalls Aqua Azul to Palenque - mystical Mayan site in the middle of tropical forest. Next time, I would like to tell you something about this Chiapas forest jewel and about other beauties of this piece of the world and its untouched nature with amazing mountains sceneries, waterfalls and canyons, where, for example, crocodiles allow orange yellow butterflies to rest on their heads to clean their skin. Beautiful and astonishing symbiosis ... Good bye!