At times in my life my mind goes wandering off on its own, seeking out things that are best left unthought. Then I remember to stop thinking those things and I reel that sucker back in. Here’s a thought I sometimes have, that might be best left alone: if we dug up the bodies in a graveyard, what would they look like? Eeewww, should we just forget about that and move on? Well, right now is your chance to close the page and walk away, because we’re going to talk about it.
You’re still here?
OK, your choice…
The city of Guanajuato is built atop a honeycomb of mines, where the indigenous people laboriously harvested precious metals for their rulers and the rulers of Spain. It is a beautiful city, with plentiful walking spaces since the roads and parking lots are mostly underground in the old mines.
Historically the bodies of the dead were interred in above-ground crypts, 7 layers high. The interments were not permanent, as such: the relatives of the dead were supposed to keep paying on the use of the space, kind of like apartments for your elders. If you didn’t keep paying then your elders got evicted, and if they were really unlucky, they wound up standing upended in a showcase, mouth gaping in a silent scream. This is what you are going to see if you go there, to the Museum of the Mummies of Guanajuato.
The land in this area is quite arid, so some of the human remains have dessicated, not rotted. The internal organs have been removed and/or are not visible, but the skin, hair (combed and braided), teeth, fingernails, and most of the clothing is still there on display. I’ve been told that the mummies used to be in open air displays, but some visitors collected “souvenirs” and as a consequence all of the mummies have now been encased in glass display cases.
This disinterment is not an ancient practice, not nearly as ancient as you would hope. Some of these folks died in the early 1900s, meaning that their great-grandchildren may still be able to stop on by and say hello. But let’s not meet these recently-dead first. As we entered the museum we were first introduced to some older characters, and foreigners to boot; does this soften the blow a bit?
The first fellow is a medical doctor from France, who was disinterred in the 1850s. The display informs us that, regretfully, he left no heirs in the area to pay for his ongoing burial. He was a sharp-dressed man with a nice beard, but well, now he’s on display.
The second person we see is a female who appears to be of Chinese descent. This is the only burial with its coffin intact, according to the information on display.
After that we see more bodies, a lot more, over 100. My stomach was churning as I contemplated their lives,their families, their demises and unfortunate resting places. And I contemplated mortality, and how I am using this one precious life. Because after all, whether we end up on display or elsewhere, every body is going for the long dirt nap.
This fellow is purported to have been stabbed to death, and there is a visible hole.
I’ve decided to leave out some of the more disturbing mummies, those whose deaths were clearly too gruesome or too soon. Why should I draw the line there, when I’ve already crossed some boundaries? I do think there is a line somewhere, and this is where I choose to place it.
There is a lot of misinformation about the mummies, including some of what you’ll find on Wikipedia. For example, they might state that all of these people were buried in 1833, but the displays contradict this. If you’re looking to learn more, the most factual site I’ve found is located at txstate.edu.
(Please note, I paid the museum’s extra fee to take photos, and did not use flash photography.)
