This is a Raramuri, or Tarahumara, family (well, part of one). My buddy Steve Dieterichs took the photo when he, Jay Burchfield and I hiked Copper Canyon in 2003 (semi-glory photo). To the right of the camera angle is a shallow cave where the family lives most of the year. To the left is a beautiful view across the Canyon and down into the town of Batopilas. Behind the camera about 200 yards is a small compound with several hovels, a fire pit, and general gathering areas. Steve also took this photo, which is at the "compound":

Our guide, Manuel Gil of Batopilas, told us that visitors like us are rare. We were especially treated when they offered a sample of their tesguino, which was grainy and sour but strong.

The Tarahumara are reclusive. They were among the last indigenous peoples exposed to Hispanic Mexico. Online descriptions usually point out their greatness as long distance runners, their resistance to both Aztec and colonial conqeust, and their unique foot relays where men dribble and pass a hard ball with their feet over long distances (Jay says, "never challenge a Tarahumara to a wooden ball-kicking contest"). Cultural regressionists say they are endangered and need help. Mexican governments want to give them public housing. And the local tour industry hypes them as a curious people selling colorful hand-made textiles.

Now the Raramuri are the subject of a feature film, Cochoci, by two Mexican first-time directors. This is not a documentary. It is a story of two Raramuri boys grappling with a coming-of-age dilemma in their home environs--the ruggedly beautiful Sierra Tarahumara of Copper Canyon. According to the film's description on the Toronto Film Festival site,

Cochochi transcends its simple plot of two children looking for a lost horse. [Co-directors] Cárdenas and Guzmán make highly sophisticated commentaries on the realities facing the Raramuri and their customs. They capture the languidness and tranquility of a life without telephones (where all long-distance communication is by radio), and tackle the question of how to lead a life in both one’s indigenous language and in Spanish.

More broadly, the film is foremost among a "new wave of cinema" emerging from Mexico. Last week NPR ran this story discussing an "explosion of new talent." In contrast to a decade ago when Mexico's film industry was cliche, the new talent is showing aspects of Mexico's culture that have never been portrayed in film. Critics are on board with incredible praise, like the vice-chairman of Columbia Tri-Star pictures:

Times occur when suddenly in one place there's a sudden mushrooming and expansion of talent. You can think of exampels of the Impressionist painters in France 150 years ago, and there are other examples in cultural history, and I think this is one of those moments in Mexico.

I think the NPR story is very well done--it's vivid, current and relevant. But I am struck by a comment toward the end of the story trying to account for the origins of this cultural movement. The reporter notes that this new generation of film makers is

"the first to grow up under post-NAFTA era of globalization, which pried open Mexico's closed economy. That was followed by Mexico's transition to democracy."

Isn't this a fascinating bottom line? NPR compares a movement with French Impressionism and then attributes that movement to free trade and liberalization. Wow!

I will see the film when its available, but I'm leery it will overly victimize the Tarahumara. The Tarahumara I met--ever so briefly--were strong and happy. Thanks to Liz Zechmeister of UC-Davis political science for the pointer. Comments open for feedback, Tarahumara stories, what not.