OH, I KNOW they’re not really Indians. They don’t ride horses, and they don’t shoot bows and arrows. They don’t scalp people either, or bury captives up to their necks in the sand near a bed of angry ants and an empty honey pot.*
These people are Huicholes, indigenous (there, that’s more like it!) people from the Mexican State of Nayarit, though I’m told this couple hails from elsewhere.
Huicholes are known for their incredible artwork with tiny, colored beads. We have a number of their beautiful pieces hanging on the walls of our Hacienda.
Every year when the Day of the Dead arrives, this couple comes to town. They sell their lovely wares on the sidewalks of the big plaza downtown.
Saturday they set up shop near me as I sat with an espresso, keeping my child bride company while she hawked her pastries from a big basket, something she does most weekends.
Luckily, I had my camera with me.
* It’s the Comanches that do such horrible stuff. And they don’t want to be called indigenous either. Or redskins.