The Tides of Time
I’m sitting on the beach watching the waves peel and crash; the ocean looks glassy. The sea-scented air feels refreshing, and the sun radiates a warmth that is more than skin deep. Children and their parents are playing in the white wash, giggling as each crashing wave seems to catch them by surprise. Grandparents look on from under umbrellas, shouting warnings, laughing and complaining to one another. “We didn’t have waves in my day… these kids don’t know how good they have it…” It’s peaceful and beautiful; almost paradise.
It’s hard to believe this lovely place has such a bloody past. History in Mexico is a record of one ferocious conquest after another. In the 16th century, not far from where I’m sitting now, Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés built a port in Santiago, retired here, cut down all the old growth Manzanillo trees, for which the area was named, and built an armada to bring his greedy conquest to the the Philippines. He and his kind destroyed an ancient culture in search of gold and in the name of God. Cortes and his conquistadors crucified thousands of Indians, watching them slowly roast at the stake after oiling their feet so they would burn better.
Yet the Spanish were not the first to commit horrible crimes here. For hundreds of years before the arrival of Europeans, the Aztecs slaughtered thousands every year to appease their gods and ward off catastrophe. In one week they offered 20,000 hearts of murdered slaves to their gods. Entire towns and cities were wiped out. They painted their famous pyramids yearly in the fresh blood of their victims. You don’t hear about that on the tourist tours.
In Cortés’ wake came a regime of cruel dictators who enslaved and oppressed on a mass scale. These dictators created a caste system, rating the worth of the natives; they ground the people down under their well-polished heels. After the first bloody revolution, little changed, which led to another revolution in 1910. Even now there is a brutal war going on against the drug lords of Mexico; decapitations, assassinations, and mass executions are in the news every day.
We are told never to forget the holocaust, so that it may never be repeated. But it seems the holocaust was one instance in a long line of heart-wrenching atrocities that man has committed against each other. Mexico’s story is not unique; nearly every nation in the world has a bloodstained past. It seems to be the human way. What will it take to rouse our collective consciences? One has to wonder how we live with ourselves.
The atrocities of history are dulled and forgotten with time like so many sand castles and footprints in the surf. It’s the crimson sunset that tells humanity’s true history. Can the tides of time wash all of that away?
This post was originally a guest post on the Roaming Tales Blog.
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