Death in another light Written and Photographed by Tyrel Nelson
There wasn’t a cloud over the Pacific. Drinking my black
coffee atop Hotel La Cabaña, I couldn’t take my eyes
off the skies. The fresh bay breezes cooling my face were quite
invigorating. It was a picturesque morning in Puerto Ángel,
Oaxaca. Suddenly, an unexpected question brought me back to the
girl with whom I’d been chatting with over breakfast.
“How do Americans view death?” asked Tanya, before
sipping from her cup of Joe.
“I’d say most of us are scared of it,” I replied.
“What about you?”
“In México, we see death as just another part of
the life cycle,” the lively brunette added.
“So, you don’t take it seriously?” I further
pried.
“We try to live in the moment instead of fearing death
our whole lives. We also try to have fun with it. That’s
why Mexicans celebrate Day of the Dead and have such pretty cemeteries,
for example,” Tanya explained while her brown peepers focused
on something behind me.
I looked over my left shoulder and noticed what had sparked this
topic. Below the railing of our thatched rooftop was a splendid
cemetery. I was immediately impressed with the colorful graves
and towering trees that dominated the small hillside.
“It looks beautiful,” I said.
“It is. You should go inside sometime,” the Cuernavaca
native suggested.
I agreed. Over the next half hour, the conversation changed to
other subjects, such as Gabriel García Márquez and
rock music, but I still couldn’t get that marble town out
of my head. I had to see it.
A few days later, I found myself eagerly approaching death’s
door. I had been anxious to tour the tombs ever since Tanya’s
recommendation, but it wasn’t the actual reason for my perspiration.
The February sun was searing, causing my pack to stick to my soaked
back. Despite the sweat stinging my eyes, I was nonetheless set
on what lay on the other side of the baby blue archway. I wiped
my brow with a sopping bandana and entered Puerto Ángel’s
cemetery.
Although I was meandering amongst the dead, the verdant hillside
was very much alive due to its vistas, alluring adornments, and
sharp colors. The funerary grounds provided an excellent view
of the ocean waves that calmly flowed in from the bay and lightly
splashed upon Playa Panteón. Moreover, the tombs were delightfully
decorated. Countless candles, infinite flowers, and beautiful
black pottery rested on the resting places. Sparkling white, striking
yellow and stunning blue hues also enriched the necropolis.
Intrigued by the stillness of the site, I carefully snaked uphill.
I explored the cemetery in utter silence, constantly weaving around
leafy trees and shrubs to photograph the comely crypts in my path.
The dead air made me feel like I was the only person in the world
as I ascended God’s acre. I finally reached the hilltop
and ogled the eternal homes for what seemed like an eternity.
I also admired Puerto Ángel’s charming cove while
catching my breath. With a second wind at last, I enjoyed the
Pacific gusts sweeping across my face for several minutes before
heading back down.
Descending through the deceased, I saw a middle-aged man dusting
off a few graves near the exit. I noticed he was looking at me
from under the weathered brim of his brown cowboy hat. However,
the guy didn’t say a word. He simply nodded and grinned.
Oddly enough, I understood; no words were needed. I realized that
his smile was mirroring mine. In fact, I thought the man’s
quiet pleasantry was rather appropriate. It represented the quiet
pleasantness I had just experienced throughout the graveyard.
And as I squinted at the sun blazing high above the cemetery gates,
I also realized that death never looked so bright.
From September 2005 until August
2007, Tyrel Nelson worked as
an AmeriCorps Construction Assistant, leading volunteer crews
and building houses on behalf of Twin Cities Habitat for Humanity,
which is based out of Minneapolis, MN. Tyrel currently lives
in Ecuador, where he has been teaching English since September
2007.
