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10. Nacori Chico
- University of Nebraska Press
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[First Page] [119], (1) Lines: 0 to 3 ——— 12.6pt PgV ——— Normal Page PgEnds: TEX [119], (1) 10 Nacori Chico Slung in a hollow amidst endless mountains lies the village of Nacori Chico. No road leads there, just steep trails over the mountains where riders have to travel for days to reach any kind of civilization. In this little corner of the world there are few modern conveniences, but there isn’t much lacking, either. The people here are able to supply their own corn, dried meat, tobacco, pepper, and sugar, and other than this they don’t have much need for anything else. These four to five hundred inhabitants live in blissful ignorance, sauntering about under the dazzling sun. What would they want with knowledge? They have what they need and everything else is nonessential and far, far away. This is a world of its own, existing deep within the mountains. The location of Nacori Chico is indescribably beautiful. I have seldom seen anything as stunning as when the evening sun sets and the contours of the village’s low rows of adobe houses stand out against the intense blue of the Sierra Madre. The settlement was built around a square plaza at the eastern end of which lay the ruins of an old Spanish church. In front of the building stood four church bells hanging from a crossbar. One bell even had the year 1718 engraved on it, but the church itself is older than that. The Spaniards were led to this faraway place in search of gold and silver, here where the mountains are unusually abundant in precious metals. Close to Nacori Chico, there was a thriving gold mine that supposedly had fantastic yields. It went by the name Toyopa and is one of the many “lost” mines from the Spanish rule. It isn’t so strange to think that these mines sunk into oblivion: for hundreds of years the Apaches ruled the mountains and rampaged the area so horribly that almost any mining over a period of time came to an end. 120 Nacori Chico [120], (2) Lines: 32 ——— 0.0pt PgV ——— Normal Page PgEnds: T [120], (2) We settled down into a small farmyard of sorts that bordered the old church ruins. It was pleasant there with the pigs, a pair of donkeys , a tame deer, and some lemon trees that hung heavy with golden fruit. A primitive grain mill stood close by, which consisted of two large millstones being driven around by an old donkey. The animal was blindfolded and tied to a long, extended pole and went around and around, hour after hour. I noticed that Yahnozah had a peculiar, searching look on his face when he rode into the village, and I asked him whether he had been here before. He told me that in his wild youth he had many times lain outside the rows of houses here fighting against the Mexicans. This, however, was one of the few towns in this region that the Apaches didn’t manage to conquer. In fact, not only Geronimo but also the great chief Cochise had to give up after four attempts to storm the town. And now, fifty years later, this old warrior peacefully rode in. When I asked Yahnozah how it felt to come inside these walls, he replied, “I not feel it is my place to be here. Long time these people my bitter enemies. Now I only see the ordinary and good people.” The village people themselves were no less astonished to suddenly have a real live Apache of the older generation among them. It was a clear, starry night, and as we lay there in our sleeping bags sheltered by the old church ruins, Yahnozah, as usual, began singing his native morning songs. Half the town came and gathered around. Behind shrubs and rocks and by the open portal hordes of people carefully stood poking their heads out and staring at us. Most of these people had relatives who in the course of time had been killed by Apaches, and Geronimo was considered the devil himself. They still feared the remaining Apaches who continued to roam the mountains, and very few of them dared to travel in through the Sierra Madre. Occasionally, the mountain Apaches would steal horses and mules from them. I saw an animal that had been stolen but later retrieved by the Mexicans. It bore the Apaches’ brand: two oppositefacing arrows. I was told many stories...