Malinche (23 page)

The editors at a publishing house in Spain got in touch with me and suggested I write a biographical novel about Malinche's life. I loved the idea and that's how the project got started. Of course, it turned out to be more difficult than I was expecting. I spent two years doing research and my husband, Javier Valdés, helped me with this arduous task.

There is actually very little information on Ma-linche. What we know about her comes from the historical chronicles of the period, which don't total more than a few pages. So my job was to try to imagine what Malinche was like, how she thought, how she interpreted what she witnessed, because I find it interesting that people see the world not as it is, but rather as they are. Taking this into account, it is essential to analyze someone's belief system before judging their behavior. In making a novel out of her life, of course I had to use real events as the basis, and that's where I had to immerse myself in the history, religious thought, and the astronomical, cosmic, and biological knowledge of the period in which Malinche lived.

Because Tepeyac is where Tonantzin, the quintessential mother figure, is worshipped. And because in that same spot, on the twelfth day of the twelfth month, twelve years after Cortés's arrival, the Virgin of Guadalupe, the symbol of cultural and religious syncretism, would appear. I put Malinche there just hours before her death, entrusting her children to Tonantzin, on a twelfth day, the same day that Malinalli was born, as a way of closing, with her, a female cycle of regeneration and life.

Malinche is the name the indigenous people gave to Cortés, because it was similar to Malinalli, which was Malinche's real name. I don't know exactly at what point Malinalli became Malinche and Cortés was no longer called Malinche. Malinalli is a plant, a twisted climbing vine that was used for building houses, but it was also an astrological sign. Today,
malinche
is used pejoratively to describe someone who denies their heritage, someone who values other cultures above their own.

Historical facts cannot be judged from a modern perspective. When Cortés arrived in the New World, Mexico as we know it did not exist. There was an empire that had imposed itself by force and from which everyone wanted to escape. Malinche was a slave who before being given to Cortés had already been given away twice before. She had no obligation to be loyal to an empire that had subjugated everyone, with no respect for their rights. But that was not the most important thing; what is most relevant is the way in which she carried out her job as the “tongue,” as the mediator between two worlds, between two visions.

It was a pleasant experience, because the indigenous peoples have a wonderful vision of the cosmos, of the Earth, and of nature's forces. If only we could recover that sacred connection with the world that surrounds us. For our ancestors, every daily task had a meaning that went far beyond simple personal satisfaction. They knew that everything has an effect on everything else. There is nothing that we say, think, or do that goes unnoticed. And now, thanks to the latest discoveries in quantum physics, we know what this means. In these absurdly materialistic times, awakening our cosmic awareness would be a real alternative.

Malinche was driven by a desire for freedom, something very different from the ambition that motivated Cortés. Someone given as a slave three times, who had to “conquer” her masters in order to be treated well, must have nurtured inside herself the desire to be someone special. To be treated better. To be appreciated. When Cortés offers her freedom in exchange for her work as a translator, that automatically gives her power. The power to translate. The power of the word. The power to control information.

The Aztec hieroglyph that represents the twelfth day—the day that marks Malinche's destiny—has a skull in profile. Instead of hair, the skull has
malinalli,
the fiber also known as coalman's grass. It is the symbol of that which dies and is transformed. It also alludes to a new people, snatched from the jaws of death by their mother, who wrapped them in
malinalli
in order to make them whole again, with new life. Malinche wrapping up her son with her own body has all of these meanings.

Throughout the conquest and for many years following it, the indigenous world was devalued, the European overvalued and the mestizo, or mixed race, had a conflicted, divided identity. Reconsidering the conquest allows one to see the indigenous world in a different way and, of course, the mestizo world as well. This new position shifts the idealized European world into a more realistic light and allows people of mixed race to see themselves in a more comfortable way, and even proudly.

The cult of the Virgin of Guadalupe is the most important in my country. Each year, her shrine is visited by millions of pilgrims, and the holiday devoted to celebrating her includes pagan rituals dedicated to Tonantzin. One could say that before we were Mexicans, we were Guadalupans. The Virgin of Guadalupe was the most important cohesive factor, second only to the conquest. The image of the virgin came to us from Europe but it contains a series of absolutely clear syncretic indigenous elements, which blend two cosmologies into one. This attempt at cultural and spiritual reconciliation is one of the most important elements of the unifying spirit of the Mexican people: our mixed heritage. All of us mestizos are survivors of the conquest and we all must accommodate two, or more, cultures in order to exist.

That is exactly the question I asked myself, and the answer lies in the codex that accompanies this book. In it, I tried to capture the images that Malinche would have painted to tell her story. Jordi Castells created the codex, and in order to do so he had to carry out an intense period of research on pre-Hispanic codices. The result is excellent.