Mexico’s Lively, Colorful Dances Kept Alive in Unlikely Places

The brassy effervescence of a mariachi band echoed through the Santa Fe depot in downtown San Diego as dancers from El Grupo Folklorico Chicano gathered at the entrance.

It was America’s Finest City Week and the Fiesta Mexicana was bustling with activity inside the old railroad station as the dancers--decked out in full regalia for a folk performance--prepared to play their part in the festivities.

Yolanda Guzman, an 11-year-old dancer with almost a year of experience with the troupe, was the first to arrive. Her mother, Cathy, used to dance with the group, and performing folklorico dancing has become “a family tradition,” she explained as she fussed over Yolanda’s embroidered costume.

Soon a carload of kids from 3 to 12 were rushing toward Yolanda, eager to begin showing off the new dances from the Mexican state of Guerrero that they had learned. Directors Glory Galindo Sanchez and Rafael Sanchez (no relation) readied the props for the performance, surveyed the performing space and patiently kept the little ones in line.

Pint-sized Tajin Sanchez, Rafael’s son, is only 3. He busied himself by fiddling with his shiny black boots as the girls adjusted their dangling gold earrings and put the finishing touches on their stage makeup in the makeshift green room behind the lobby that would serve as a stage.

When the group got the signal to start, even the rambunctious younger dancers, who had been horsing around on the sidelines like any other kids, lined up with smiling faces for their energetic entrance.

As Rafael announced, the program would consist of a suite of dances from Guerrero. Although there are six regions in Guerrero, only dances from Costa Chica, Tierra Caliente and Centro were used. The costumes--colorful turquoise skirts with embroidered cotton overblouses for the girls, and white cotton suits with colorful panuelos (scarfs) worn cowboy-style around the neck for the boys--would be as close as possible to those indigenous to Costa Chica.

All the dancers in the company participated in the Chilean-influenced dances of Costa Chica, circling their partners with gusto and tapping out the fancy footwork according to their abilities. It was a spirited performance that compensated for any lack in formal technique, and even the youngest dancers in the ensemble had something to contribute.

They took the greatest personal pleasure from la iguana, a dance depicting the slithering moves of a lizard. Here the boys had a field day, pouncing on the ground with each attack, as the giggling girls fended off their aggressions with swinging kerchiefs.

The ebullient finale was a May Day celebration that dispersed the dancers in a boisterous procession of swinging sticks and brightly colored paper ornaments. It culminated in a candy-throwing session, to the delight of the audience, just before they all marched off.

A train depot is about the last place dance enthusiasts might expect to see a performance, but it’s typical of the types of places Mexican folklorico dance groups call home in San Diego.

Despite the beauty, pageantry and vivid theatricality of Mexican folk dancing, local concert stages rarely showcase these hearty ethnic expressions. Nevertheless, the lively dancing that tells the story of Mexico’s colorful past continue to flourish throughout San Diego’s bicultural community.

Folk dancing thrives in offbeat settings--fueled by the enthusiasm of a few teachers and nourished by a new generation eager to absorb the dancing traditions.

The tenets of Mexican folk dance are taught in classrooms and cultural centers throughout the county, and several public schools, such as Sweetwater High, have formed folk groups of their own. Although individual ensembles come and go, these amateurs and a few professional troupes keep the art form alive by performing in schools or parks, and for private parties and conventions.

As a result, visitors to Balboa Park, Old Town or other public places are likely to see folk dancing performed outdoors--with no theatrical trickery or elaborate settings--often by performers as young as 3.

Centro Promotes Programs

The Centro Cultural de la Raza in Balboa Park’s Pepper Grove, an institution devoted to Indian, Mexican and Chicano arts and crafts, is a staunch supporter of folk dancing, sponsoring many of the programs throughout the area. The center provides training, workshops and rehearsal space, and organizes community events on both sides of the border to promote appreciation and understanding of folk dancing.

The center has its own troupe, the Ballet Folklorico Aztlan, directed by Viviana Enrique. But as her sister Veronica, director of the cultural center, said in a recent interview, “the center has sponsored many folklorico groups until they’ve become independent.” And most of those groups are either direct offshoots of Folklorico Aztlan or can trace their origins and development to the cultural center.

Folklorico Aztlan was formed in Texas by Viviana’s mother, Herminia. Now Herminia acts as artist-in-residence on the subject for the Centro Cultural de la Raza, assisting her daughter in the teaching and artistic duties and sewing costumes for the dancers.

“Everyone has to help one another here,” Herminia said as she painstakingly put the finishing touches on an elaborately embroidered dress.

“The mothers and the children themselves work on the costumes and the headdresses. They even thread the beads and cut and sew--and they do the embroidery on the dresses. Sometimes the parents don’t care, but we teach the children to be responsible. We also stress to them: ‘Don’t be bitter if your parents haven’t had this cultural awareness.’

“I’m trying to give the children something--a part of their cultural history they can be proud to show to the world.”

“It’s a valid art form,” Viviana added, as she helped an eager little one into her ruffled costume. “ Folklorico dancing is not just an ethnic dance, it’s an art form. We teach our students that this type of dancing is just as worthy as ballet.”

The Dance Reflects History

As Herminia said: “ Folklorico dance also reflects historical events, from pre-Columbian times all through the ages. It features fertility rites and rites of passage. We teach the children what the dances mean and integrate the meaning with the steps.

“We teach them all about the costumes and why they are worn with a particular style of dance. You know the white carnation is a symbol of purity, and the little aprons mean the girl is a good cook. All the props are symbolic, and the children need to know what they mean.

“Headpieces need to be constructed, so they learn that, too. There is more to know about folklorico dancing than just learning the dances.”

Enrollment at the Centro Cultural de la Raza varies, and classes are a mixed of beginners and experienced dancers.

“You have to work with all elements,” Viviana noted. “We have all levels, and that can be frustrating. But basically, maintaining the traditions and teaching them to the children are very rewarding.”

As with any dance ensemble, male dancers are in short supply at the Ballet Folklorico Aztlan, but Herminia said: “Viviana is so skillful at choreographing the dances, we don’t really miss the boys.”

The Enriques cultivate dances from all the regions of Mexico--not just the crowd-pleasers performed by professional groups. They take the Indian concept of dance quite literally.

“We try to demonstrate these concepts in our work,” said Herminia. “Some people don’t like to include the repetitive dances. They say they’re too boring. But is it boring if the sun comes up every day? It’s part of the cycle of life.”

“We try to maintain the traditional structure, and we keep adding more (choreography),” said Viviana. “But you have to stay with the style. The reason I like Pueblo is that no other company around does these dances.”

The youngsters who gathered in the center’s costume workshop recently to prepare for a performance were very serious about their work, laboring diligently on their costumes and makeup during the workshop period.

Then it was time to show off their skills--and let off a little steam. An 11-year-old girl, Raquel Heredia, donned an oversized headdress and a brightly colored costume to do the dance of the quetzal (a bird with a huge crown). The Pueblo people adopted the bird as a symbol of freedom--it cannot live in captivity--and the energetic dance imitates its graceful flight.

Maria Barrios was on hand to help her 12-year-old daughter, Cynthia (a three-year veteran of the folk dance program), primp and preen for the rehearsal. Cynthia’s ornately sequined and embroidered costume was almost too cumbersome for dancing. But with ribboned hairpiece in place, there was no stopping the young dancer from pounding out the proud flamenco-like heel clicks of her variation. After the impromptu performance, Cynthia became a shy pre-teen again but acknowledged: “I was pretty good--almost.”

There are about a dozen other folklorico dance troupes scattered around the county, including the Grupo Folklorico Chicano, a group of traditional dancers that performs frequently in Old Town and at multicultural events throughout San Diego County. Rafael Sanchez and Glory Galindo Sanchez have been co-directing this ensemble since 1979. And while the composition of the group has varied considerably over the years, the artistic thrust remains constant.

“We’re more grass roots than theatrical,” said Glory, a former student at Centro Cultural de la Raza. “What we do is authentic--as authentic as possible--and we try to keep adding new styles to our repertory so we represent ALL styles of folklorico dance. We attend meetings all over the country to learn more dances.

“We just learned several folk dances from the state of Guerrero,” she noted, “and I don’t think anyone else does them around here. But even in this one region, there are six different styles of dance, so you can never stop learning yourself if you want to keep up.”

In its latest incarnation, Folklorico Chicano is composed primarily of children--in fact, one of the performing “couples” is a pair of 3-year-olds. But, as Glory pointed out, “We have had a lot of youths--kids who might have been involved in gangs if they had not taken up folklorico .”

Both Glory and Rafael are featured soloists as well as administrators of the company. They also teach folk classes--and of course, that means teaching cultural and historical facts about their art form as well as dancing.

“In order to get a feel for the movement, you have to know the history,” Glory said. “There’s a reason for everything you wear and the type of movement in the dance. Some of the movements reflect the fact that the people lived among horses, and that feeling is in the dancing. History is the main thing in ballet folklorico. That’s why we focus on the children. You have to teach these things to the new generation, or else it dies with you.”

‘Our Essence--Our Special Gift’

Ask Rafael why he’s so committed to the Folklorico Chicano and he’ll tell you, “We do it because it’s our essence--our special gift. Not just for the Mexican people, it’s for a diversity of people in all communities. When we learn new dances, we share them (with other folk ensembles). These obscure dances are not for us to keep for our own group.”

Another active troupe with its roots in the Centro Cultural de la Raza is Grupo Folklorico Nayar. It was founded in 1973 by Folklorico Aztlan alumnus Carlos Santoyo, a cultural awareness facilitator and teacher for the Sweetwater Union High School District. Santoyo maintains folk dance troupes at several public schools in addition to his work with Folklorico Nayar. In fact, Santoyo is responsible for much of the folk dance activity in and around San Diego.

Between seminars that have kept him away from home most of this summer, Santoyo talked about his mission:

“I work at various schools teaching all aspects of folklorico dancing. I lecture, I teach dance and choreography, and I hold workshops. A lot of different styles developed in different regions of Mexico. Even the music sounds different, so I teach the history of the different styles, not just the steps. I even teach costuming, and I design my own costumes.

“There were a lot of influences that caused each region (there are 29 states in Mexico) to develop a different style. The climate, the social and political situation had an impact on the dances, so it’s important to learn about them.”

As Santoyo explained, the word folklorico is derived from English--not Spanish.

“It was coined to describe dancing based on folklore. There are ancient dances based on Indian mythology, like the deer dance (a ritualistic hunting dance). But most of the Mexican dances and songs were meant to mock the Spanish styles,” he said.

“The Spanish created a caste system and the Indians were considered the lowest. So the dances were really travesties of the Spanish dance, and the verses were anti-clergy and anti-aristocracy. But each of the individual tribes developed their own folk styles. Moorish and African dances (absorbed from the Spanish slaves) were incorporated. Even European rhythms were introduced into Mexican folk forms.

“The colorful costumes were imitations of the upper class. The women used ribbons and colorful designs that were as close as they could afford to the elegant costumes of the Spanish. But most of the costumes you see today--with the wide billowing skirts--are recent innovations from the 1920s. They’re not really authentic.”

To enhance theatricality, organized folk troupes adapt traditional costumes and embellish ancient folk forms.

“Some of the dances were so simple, they didn’t look like much taken out of context. I choreograph the dances based on what I see the people do, but in order to put it into a theatrical form, I have to make a lot of changes. There is really no authentic folklorico dancing. I create certain feelings and textures, and I teach my dancers to look professional,” Santoyo said.

For Santoyo--and for all the other dedicated artists involved in folk dancing--keeping the traditions of the Latino heritage alive is a labor of love.

“Dance is a living entity. It requires people. It’s something that must be passed on to each generation. And I love teaching. I love seeing the traditions passed on. When I get the children, they are like raw stone. You have to chisel away--just like making a piece of sculpture. But once they learn, it helps them gain self-confidence,” Santoyo noted proudly.