Short films by Esteban Rael and Sofia Lee Moran capture Atrisco Land Grant traditions

By Michelle Otero

Capillita altar circa 1930

Agnes Herrera Lovato’s childhood in Atrisco was shaped by “dichos” (proverbs).

“No escupas al cielo porque te cae en la cara.” (Don’t spit at the sky because it will fall on your face.)

“Cada chango a su columpio.” (Each monkey to his swing.)

Her parents, Hipolito and Sofia Herrera, used these proverbs to teach Agnes and her four siblings about life. In turn, Agnes and her sister Irene share this wisdom and other stories of their Atrisco upbringing in two short documentaries based on over 100 hours of interviews with 20 Atrisco Land Grant heirs.

Stories as social science

Directed by Esteban Rael, filmed by Sofia Lee Moran, and produced by Henry Rael of Arts of Aztlán, the project came about in 2008 when Bernalillo County was in the process of investigating a sector plan for the historic Atrisco core.

Henry Rael, an Atrisco resident, was interested in how planners would get a sense of community identity.

“The usual process is to conduct surveys and use that data to determine ‘community values.’ In the past, communities made decisions about how they would grow and plan for the future based on their collective wisdom as passed on through stories,” says Henry Rael. “Along with our creative partners we proposed doing a video oral history project so stories of the elders could once again help shape the future of this urban core.”

He secured a grant from the Atrisco Heritage Foundation, and the team went to work.

Moran, a renowned photographer whose craft has taken her all over the world, returned to her Atrisco roots to film her first documentary. Her mother Connie is an heir to the land grant, and her late father Joe Fernandez was well known and respected in the community for his organizing work.

Barela's Grocery 1946

Gravedigger’s wife or Rorschach blot?

Carlota Sanchez Herrera - circa 1940

Of the interviewees, she says, “They all kind of have those similar stories about being raised on farmland, using every bit of everything that they grew, about their parents being very strict, and having to walk miles and miles.”

And yet the films are not redundant. Instead the viewer is left with a deeper understanding of a community comprised of its stories, as though each interviewee brings a special dish to a communal meal – from one neighbor, a homemade tortilla; from another, a bowl of frijoles with green chile grown on her land.

Many heirs, for example, remember Isabel, the gravedigger’s wife. She and her husband lived next to the “campo santo” (cemetery).

“Everybody called her a ‘bruja’ (witch),” says Mariana Sandoval.

“She wasn’t a ‘bruja,’” says Ramón Herrera. “She was an old lady. But in Atrisco, if you were old, you were a ‘bruja.’”

Betty Barela says, “She would change shapes. Maybe she would be a dog or a rooster…and just harass the people.”

“She was not a ‘bruja,’” says Lorenzo Candelaria. “She was a brilliant businesswoman.”

He tells the story of his grandfather’s burial. “Of course there was no money. And apparently nobody gave her the sheep that it took for the old man to dig the grave. She cursed the whole thing. She said, ‘Until you give me my sheep that man’s soul will not rest.’ Of course, it was because she needed the sheep. That’s how she made her living. So she ended up getting the sheep.”

Honoring tradition to shape the future

Atrisco Armijo School circa 1928

Director Esteban Rael calls the time he spent interviewing residents in their homes and scanning their photos to include in the films “sacred.”

“It was as though they were transported back in time,” he says. “Alex skinny-dipping in the acequia. The girls talking about how they would put together the ristras. Or walking in a funeral procession. Or going to the ‘bailes’ (dances).”

What makes this project unique is both its sacredness and its practical application. The films have been screened at the Diamantes Luncheon, honoring Atrisco heirs aged 70 and older, and at the third annual Celebración de la Merced, a gathering for Atrisco heirs at the National Hispanic Cultural Center. A group of architecture and planning students at the University of New Mexico’s Design Planning and Assistance Center (DPAC) studio were required to watch and listen to excerpts of individual histories in preparation for creating proposed urban designs for the Atrisco community.

“The students heard stories about the important role that the acequias played in people’s lives,” Henry Rael says. “And by these stories, the students were inspired to design so that a new generation of children could connect to this land in a more meaningful way.

“What motivated the project from the beginning was creating an opportunity for dialogue between one generation and the next. I am personally most proud that this base of stories has had many opportunities to manifest a voice for that generation in this world, in this current time.”

To obtain a copy of the films, Contact Henry Rael .

—Michelle Otero is a freelance writer.