Sky High

Acoma Pueblo, New Mexico
5 Strings, 1 Love



As Colin mentioned, you have to purchase a permit to take photographs at the Acoma (pron. ‘A-co-ma) pueblo. So all these images were taken with a big glossy ticket hanging from my camera. The tour was fascinating, and I now wish I'd taken more shots of the church, graveyard, mica windows and so on. But the most profound human space (the interior of the church) was closed to photography anyway. I really hope you all get to visit some day for a real look yourselves.

We heard that some Pueblo people jokingly refer to casinos as ‘the buffalo’, meaning the revenue from gambling has become as essential as the animals used to be. This became clear as we drove through the modern Acoma community, full of clean, well-built houses with modern-looking schools; all in stark contrast to Indian Brook in Nova Scotia, where federal neglect of housing leaves the community looking shabby and decrepit.

As we drove towards old Acoma, huge rocks began pushing up out of the dusty landscape.



Acoma pueblo perches on top of one of these outcrops. There are 300-foot cliffs on all sides, with spectacular views.



The adobe village on top is home to only a few elders now. The houses are owned and controlled by the family matriarchs, with title passing from mother to youngest daughter.
But everybody comes back to the pueblo for feasts on saints’ days.





The story of Acoma has long-running veins of sadness... Physical and cultural enslavement at the hands of the Spanish. The worst detail was perhaps the dictatorial priests who insisted on maintaining gardens and orchards on the top of the pueblo, despite the fact that water had to be hauled up by hand from wells on the valley floor.
The cruelty and arrogance of that task became all the more clear when we walked down the stone ladder which for centuries was the only way in or out of Acoma. Note the handholds carved into the rock... Water had to be carried in clay jars on your head. The road you drive in on today was constructed to haul up lights and cameras for a John Wayne film.



It’s a 10-minute walk back to the parking lot and interpretive centre. The rocks are full of subtle colours, including an unlikely purple.





We were the only people on our 8:30 AM tour, a reward for our up-and-at-em enthusiasm. Or perhaps a dividend of spending the night at a dry casino. I’ll always remember the deep quiet that seems to radiate up from the valley to the top of the mesa. Our guide said it was even quieter on September 11th 2001, when the sky was empty of the rumble and contrails of commercial jets.

Another reward for the early risers: More superb huevos rancheros, and on to Arizona.