HUNTING CROCODILES
Although crocodiles are a protected species today (as are sea turtles), for centuries they were a source of income for the inhabitants of this area. The price of the skins depended on the size of the catch. Perpetuo Socorro Garrido Tuz, better known as Chocolate, was a crocodile hunter for several years, in the Nizuc lagoon and its estuaries that are bordered by mangroves. Here are some of his experiences...
"Sometimes, to make a few more centavos, on dark nights we would go out hunting for crocodiles in the waters of Nichupté. We were in a chalana (small boat) being very stealthy. There were two of us, one rowing and moving the small boat forward, and another finding and harpooning the crocodiles. We took turns because sometimes luck was with one of us and sometimes with the other," he said.
"I was an expert in the art of "zingar", which is a way of propelling the little boat with the oar submerged near the stern, making circular movements and moving it from front to back. This allows you to move the boat, but the oar does not enter and leave the water, so there are no noises that alert the animals," he explained.
"We sailed slowly among the mangroves. In the bow was the hunter carrying una fisga (?harpoon) in his right hand and a lamp in his left hand. When I heard a noise, I would see what caused it. When the lamp was turned off, only the sound of our breath was heard, which mixed with the nocturnal symphony of birds, bats, mammals, insects and large variety of animals that are awake at night."
"Suddenly, two reddish eyes would seem to claim us, for being in such gloomy places. It was a crocodile, which, when it saw that we were getting closer to him, undertook a speedy underwater escape. We turned off the lamp and were aided by the stench or phosphorescence that his sudden escape caused in the waters. We'd exclaim, 'He's coming up to breathe', and again we'd shine the light into his eyes until he grew weary of his harpoon, which was made from a pine stick, with a three-pronged point, fastened to a string or leather strap."
"The rustic weapon shot thru the air and when it penetrated into the tough skin of the crocodile, the harpoon detached from the stick and we were towed for a while by the animal, until we succeeded in killing it by beating it in the head with a stick. Once the wild animal succumbed, it was thrown into the other half of the boat. Soon there would be others to accompany him, and on each expedition we killed seven of them," he said.
Chocolate remembers returning to the ranch covered in red insect bites from the mosquitoes, chaquistes and rodadors which were once abundant in the mangroves.
After they returned, they would skin the crocodiles somewhere on the beach and salt the skins to take them to Isla Mujeres. Francisco Martín Novelo, better known as "Pancholo", gave them thirty centavos for each foot of skin. They were paid centavos, because at that time, (1950), with a centavo and a half you could buy a well chilled soft drink; one chicken cost three centavos and one turkey cost four. As I said at the beginning, at that time, money was not the most important thing.
To conclude with the tale of crocodile hunting, don Chocolate narrates in the form of an anecdote, about the time they faced the largest crocodile they ever found. The animal was about 19 feet long, or more than six meters. They found this out after battling with him for several hours, which was a truly adventurous hunting experience.
He explained, "On average, the crocodiles of this region are about nine feet long, which is about three meters. We were accustomed to dealing with them, but not with that furious one we encountered on that black night who decided to make us pay dearly for taking his life. I want to make it clear that when locating a crocodile, all you saw was his eyes and the tip of his cold nose, which was barely visible above the water. His body was hidden since he was submerged, ready to attack or escape."
"When the hunter was near the beast, he shot the harpoon sharply into the skin between the eyes, which is what he could see. The problem was that with this huge crocodile, it didn't enter correctly, and therefore after several hours of chasing him and trying to harpoon him, we decided to shoot him in the head. It seemed like the thrashing was never going to end and he was about to sink our boat, but finally the crocodile died, and with difficulty we finally got him to the beach to remove his huge skin," concluded Chocolate.
In addition to crocodiles, they also hunted tigers (?probably cougars, margays, or jaguars), which lurked around the ranch attacking the animals in the corrals. Many times they caught them with traps or snares.Their skins were turned into chairs or seat covers. The dogs of the ranch were experts at running the tigers (chasing them?) but on many occasions they were devoured by the felines.
THE YEARS OF WORLD WAR II
Among the experiences of el Chocolate were the years of the second World War, and he spoke about this topic...
"During the war years, we were instructed not to ignite even a match at night. We were required to sleep under large sails (?Obligados alargas duerme velas) and we had to suffer the unbearable noise of planes and ships near the ranch. I know there were some rustic airstrips nearby. They were from the chicleros, but it was said that the armed forces were using them."
"One day, we were astonished when a boat appeared before our eyes. We all decided it was a German submarine. Taking advantage of the ship "Maria Fidelia" which was at the ranch, we used her radio equipment to warn the island. Within an hour, the noise of the flying planes was deafening, there was rapid machine gun fire, and we saw the foreign ship sink."
"Sometimes there were bomb explosions that caused the sand beneath our feet to shake, but we never tried to know more than was necessary, not even when we encountered the Naval sailors who walked along the coast," he said.
RETURN TO ISLA MUJERES
When the copra business ended, Chocolate had to emigrate to Isla Mujeres. He said, "By that time, I was very old and I couldn't read or write, so it wasn't easy to find jobs other than fishing. When he was asked how he earned his daily bread when there was no work, he replied that he did all kinds of jobs, but it was always honest work. He said, "I taught myself to read, with the help of novels and with any books I could find. I bought a dictionary and I learned the meanings of many words. With that elementary knowledge, I enlisted in the Navy of Mexico, where after 5 years I retired with the rank of Corporal, because I didn't agree to be sent to Veracruz."
"When I left the Navy, I bought a boat and dedicated myself to catching turtles and fish and I had many customers buying my turtle meat, since I carried it from door to door," he said. He fished for 48 years and couldn't save a single centavo, because fishing always gave him enough to eat, and nothing more, with some noteworthy exceptions.
Chocolate prepares to say goodby, putting the cap that he was spinning in his restless hands onto his honorable head. He lamented, "There is very little left of Isla Mujeres, with so many people and so much modernness. My island has lost its charms and the few that are left are condemned to disappear."
When he vanishes behind the door, he leaves those who were listening and reliving his experiences with a sense of a large void. Chocolate feels nostalgia for those years that will never come back, because ice is no longer brought in bags labeled "Cisne" (Swan) with the brand Don Albino; because there no longer is "La Adelita" with a cart pulled by a donkey; because he no longer has serenades with Chino Fernandez, nor with Romeo Magaña and Gustavo Rodríguez; because today everything is about money; because the islanders like the Holboxeños (people from Isla Holbox) are leaving their homeland, because no one remembers the generation that is dying out.
While he could walk, he continued to work, repairing nets for catching lobster, shark, and fish. He made harpoons, and even stooped to pick up cans or metal whenever he could, to sell for a few centavos.
Confined to a wheelchair today, Chocolate Garrido maintains the good attitude and sense of humor that has characterized him since he was a child. He even smiles at his adversity, he jokes about everything, and when he is taken through the cobbled streets of his town, he closes his eyes and enjoys the sea breeze, he perceives the aromas of gasoline, of oil, and the sticky odor of copra, and he longs to put his bare feet in the fresh, soft sand that sheltered him at birth.
PS Clarification: Francisco Bautista Pérez, Historian of Quintana Roo, said that the ship María Fidelia was owned by Gonzalo Marrufo, who in turn passed it on to his son Jaime. Honor to whom honor is due.
Chocolate Garrido passed away March 19, 2015.
Written by Fidel Villanueva Madrid, Historian for the City of Isla Mujeres, November 2013 Original article in Spanish is below. Photos from in Recuerdos de Isla Mujeres.
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CRONICAS DE ISLA MUJERESEL CHOCOLATE GARRIDO
Cazador de Lagartos y Tortugas
Parte II
LA CAZA DE LAGARTOS
Especie protegida hoy, los lagartos (como lastortugas), fueron durante siglos fuente de ingresos para los habitantes de estaregión. Las pieles se cotizaban según el volumen de la captura. PerpetuoSocorro Garrido Tuz, más conocido como Chocolate,fue lagartero por varios años teniendo la laguna de Nizuc y susentreveradas rías bordeadas de mangle como campo de operaciones. Leamos sus experienciasen esa actividad:
“En ocasiones, paraganar unos centavos más, las noches oscuras salíamos a cazar lagartos en lasrías de Nichupté. Ibamos en una chalana con el mayor sigilo. Eramosdos, uno que remo y vara hacía avanzar la pequeña embarcación, y otro quelocalizaba y arponeaba los lagartos. Nos turnábamos porque a veces la suerteestaba de algún lado.” -indica.
“Yo era experto en elarte de zingar, lo cual consiste en impulsar una chalana con el remo sumergidopor la popa. Con movimientos circulares y de adelante para atrás se logra moverla embarcación, y como el remo no entra y sale del agua, no se producen ruidosque alerten a los animales.” – explica.
“Navegábamos despacioentre los manglares. En la proa iba el cazador portando una fisga en la manodiestra y una lámpara en la siniestra. Cuando escuchaba algún ruido alumbrabapara averiguar de qué se trataba. Mientras la lámpara estaba apagada solo elruido de nuestra respiración se escuchaba, confundida con la sinfonía nocturnade aves, batracios, mamíferos, insectos y toda esa enorme gama de animales queparecen despertar con las sombras.” – relata.
“De pronto, dos ojosrojizos parecían reclamarnos por estar en tan lúgubres lugares. Era un lagarto,el cual, al ver que nos aproximábamos más a él emprendía veloz huida submarina.Apagando la lámpara lo seguíamos ayudados por las ardentillas o fosforescenciasque su vertiginoso escape ocasionaba en las aguas. ¡Ya salió a respirar!exclamábamos, y de nuevo la luz a sus ojos hasta que se cansaba y se ponía atiro de nuestra fisga, hecha ésta de una vara de pino de cinco o seis cuartas,provista de un arpón de tres puntas, sujeto a su vez de una cuerda o sondaleza.
Surcaba el aire la rústica arma. Al penetrarla dura piel del reptil el arpón se desprendía de la vara y éramos remolcadosun rato por el lagarto, hasta que lográbamos abollarlo y matarlo a garrotazosen la cabeza. Sometido el salvaje animal, era lanzado a media embarcación. Prontootros le acompañarían, pues en cada expedición de caza matábamos hasta siete deellos.”
Recuerda Chocolateque regresaban rendidos al rancho, colorados de tanto piquete de mosco,chaquiste y rodador, insectos que hasta hoy abundan muy especialmente en lasáreas de manglares.
Al regreso, en cualquier lugar de la playa,desollaban a los lagartos y salaban las pieles para llevarlas a Isla Mujeres.Francisco Martín Novelo, más conocido como “Pancholo”,les daba treinta centavos por cada pie de piel de lagarto. Eran centavos quevalían porque en esa época, (1950), con centavo y medio se tomaba cualquiera unrefresco bien helado; un pollo costaba tres centavos y un pavo cuatro. Comodecía al principio, el dinero no era lo más importante.
Para concluir con la caza de lagartos, narra Chocolate a manera de anécdota, que enuna ocasión se enfrentaron al lagarto más grande que pudo encontrar. El animalmedía 19 pies, más de seis metros; eso lo supieron luego de batallar con élvarias horas, pues cazarlo fue una verdadera aventura.
“En promedio loslagartos de esta región andaban en los nueve pies, o sea, tres metros de largo.Con esos estábamos acostumbrados a lidiar –advierte- nocon aquel que una negra noche nosencontramos furioso y decidido a vender cara su vida. Quiero dejar claro, queal localizar un lagarto lo que uno veía eran sus ojos y la punta de su heladanariz, la cual apenas asomaba del agua. Su cuerpo no podía estimarse pues lomantenía sumergido, listo para el ataque o la escapatoria.”
“El cazador cuandotenía a modo al bicho, le lanzaba con certera puntería el arpón penetrándole la piel entre los ojos, que es lo querealmente veía. El problema con ese descomunal lagarto fue que no le entraba elfiloso artificio, por lo que luego de varias horas de perseguirlo y tratarinútilmente de arponearlo, optamos por dispararle un balazo en la cabeza. Unaandanada de coletazos que parecía nunca terminaría estuvo a punto de hundirnuestra chalana, más al final, el lagarto se murió y a duras penas loremolcamos hasta la playa para arrancarle su extensa piel” - concluye.
Además de lagartos cazaban también tigres.Tanto abundaban que merodeaban por el rancho atacando a los animales de corral.Muchas veces los capturaron con lazos o trampas. Sus pieles eran convertidas enasientos y respaldos de butacas. Los perros del rancho eran expertos encorretear a los tigres, más en muchas ocasiones fueron devorados por losfelinos.
LOS AÑOS DE LA SEGUNDAGUERRA
Entre las vivencias de Chocolate están las de los años de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Sobreeste tema reseña:
“Los años que duró la guerra fuimosinstruidos de no encender ni siquiera un fósforo por las noches. Obligados alargas duerme-velas, debíamos sufrir el insoportable ruido de aviones yembarcaciones en las inmediaciones del rancho. Sé que había algunas rústicaspistas de aviación cerca. Eran de los chicleros, pero las fuerzas armadas lasestaban utilizando; eso se decía.
Un día apareció ante nuestros atónitosojos una embarcación. Todos decíamos que era un submarino alemán. Aprovechandola presencia del barco “María Fidelia” en el rancho, usamos su equipo de radiopara avisar a la isla. En una hora el sobrevolar de aviones fue ensordecedor yrápidamente, ametrallada, vimos hundirse la nave extranjera.
Algunas veces hubo explosiones de bombasque cimbraron la arena bajo nuestros pies, más nunca nos atrevimos a tratar desaber más de lo necesario, ni siquiera cuando atendíamos a los navales querecorrían a pie la costa.”
EL RETORNO A ISLAMUJERES
Cuando la copra ya no fue negocio, Chocolate hubo de emigrar a IslaMujeres. “Ya era muy mayor de edad–cuenta- y no sabía leer ni escribir, porlo que no era fácil encontrar empleo que no fuera en la pesca.”
¿De qué no trabajó Chocolate para ganarse el pan de cada día? Dice que le hizo detodo, pero siempre realizó trabajos honrados. “Aprendí a leer solo –expresa- ayudándomecon novelas y con cuanto libro caía en mis manos. Compré un diccionario yconocí el significado de muchas palabras y con esos conocimientos elementalesme alisté en la Armada de México, de donde en 5 años me retiré con el grado deCabo, pues no estuve de acuerdo en que me mandaran hasta Veracruz.
Con mi liquidacióncomo naval compré una lancha y me dediqué a la pesca de tortuga y escama –prosigue- e hice buena clientela para mis ventas de carne de tortuga pues lallevaba de puerta en puerta.”
Cuarenta ocho años pescó y ningún centavo pudoahorrar, pues la pesca siempre ha dado para comer y nada más. Salvo algunas muyhonrosas excepciones.
LO QUE QUEDA
Chocolate se levanta para despedirse. Lagorra que daba vueltas en sus manos inquietas va a parar a su honorable cabeza.E insiste: “Ya muy poco queda de IslaMujeres, con tanta gente y tanta modernidad. Ha perdido mi isla sus encantos ylos pocos que le quedan estáncondenados a desaparecer” –lamenta.
Cuando se desvanece tras la puerta, deja enquienes le escuchamos y registramos sus vivencias un vacío más grande que elque su alma guarda. Chocolate siente nostalgiapor aquellos años que jamás volverán, porque ya no se trae el hielo enmarquetas con el ”Cisne”, aquel barcode Don Albino, porque ya no las lleva hasta “LaAdelita” un carretón jalado por un borrico; porque él ya no lleva serenatasni con el Chino Fernández, ni con Romeo Magaña y Gustavo Rodríguez; porque hoytodo es dinero, porque los isleños como los Holboxeños se están yendo de sutierra, porque nadie se acuerda de una generación que está muriendo.
Mientras pudo caminar, el hombre se siguiódefendiendo. Reparaba redes langosteras, tiburoneras y atarrayas. Hacíavarillas para arpón, y hasta se agachaba para recoger latas o metales cuyaventa le dejaba algunos centavillos.
Confinado hoy a una silla de ruedas, Chocolate Garrido mantiene a pesar detodo el buen humor que desde pequeño lo ha caracterizado. Sonríe hasta de laadversidad, hace bromas de todo, y cuando lo llevan por las adoquinadas callesde su pueblo, cierra los ojos y disfruta de la brisa marina, percibe el aromadel quinqué de petróleo, el aceitoso y pegajoso olor de la copra, y añora entresus pies descalzos la fresca y suave arena que lo cobijó al nacer.
COLABORACIÓN DE: Fidel Villanueva Madrid
Cronista Vitalicio de la Ciudad de IslaMujeres.
Mail: ixcheel_48@hotmail.com
Noviembre de 2013.
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