Street Cries, 1858.

The soundscape of Mexico City in 2011 is no doubt quite different than it was in the mid-19th century. Yet one of the striking features of everyday life in the metropolis, is the persistence of street criers. It is quite common on city streets, for example, to hear hawkers announcing the sale of ice and water, and at night, tamales. I was therefore pleasantly surprised when I ran across the following excerpt published by pioneer anthropologist Frederick Starr, the majority of which he had transcribed from the classic book, Life in Mexico by Mandame Calderon de la Barca. It becomes clear in reading the piece, that the network of hawkers and street criers of the 1850s was eminently and understandably more complex than its current incarnation. Nevertheless, a certain level of continuity seems apparent.

STREET CRIES.

Street cries are numerous, characteristic, and curious in the capital city. So far as I know, they have never been carefully studied. It is impossible to enter here upon such a study. An interesting paragraph, published in 1858, may be quoted for preservation of customs of that date (Manual del viajero en Mejico, pp. 131-133. Marcos Arróniz : Paris, 1858. This is, by the way, copied after Madame Calderon de la Barca: see Life in Mexico, pp. 53, 54).

“The dawn of day is announced in the streets of Mexico by the sad and monotonous cry of a multitude of carboneros (charcoal-sellers), who stand at the doorways and cry with all the force of their lungs: Carbosiu ! (carbon senor) 'charcoal sir.' A little later is heard the melancholy voice of the mantequilla (butter) sellers, who without stopping in their march cry Mantequia . . . mantequia de á real y dia medio (Butter . . . butter at a real and a half). Cesina buena! (good salt beef) is the announcement with which the carnicero (butcher) interrupts him, with a harsh and inharmonious voice: this in turn alternates with the fastidious and prolonged cry of the sebera or woman who buys tallow from the kitchens, who placing a hand over her left cheek, shrieks into each doorway : Hay sebooooooo: (Is there tall-o-o-o-w?) Hardly has she disappeared, when the cambista enters, an Indian woman who exchanges one effect for another, and cries in a lower key and without prolongation of syllables: Tejocotes por venas de chile! . . . tequesquite por pan duro (Tejocotes for veins of chili . . . washing soda for hard bread). Tejocotes are small yellow fruits: veins of chili are the insides of red peppers. With this a buhonero, or perambulating dealer in notions, arrives, who having entered the patio cries out his long list of wares, in a penetrating voice, while he seeks the ladies with his eyes: Agujas, alfilereres, dedales, tejeras, botones de camisa, bolitas de kilo? But he is rivalled almost before his echoes have died away by the frutero (fruit-dealer), who in thunder tones names over his wares. Meantime at the corner a woman sings this little lay: Gorditas de horno calientes, mi alma! . . . Gorditas de homo! (Corncakes hot from the oven, my love! . . . Corncakes from the oven!). The makers of mats or petates of Puebla appear to have no other market than Mexico to dispose of them: thus they all scatter themselves through the streets and cry out in a uniform manner: Petates de la Pueeeebla! . . . jabon de la Pueeeebla: (Mats of Puebla . . . soap of Puebla). In competition with these, those who sell the rush goods made at Hochimilco cry out in turn in rasping voices: Petates de cinco vaaaras! Petates de á media y tlaco (Mats of five yards length! mats at eight pence). Nor is midday free from these troublesome cries: a beggar mumbles blasphemies for a bit of bread; a blind man recites a miraculous romance for the same object; at the same time the penetrating cry of an Indian woman is heard, which lacerates the ears, announcing: Melcuiiiiii (melcocha) (honey-cake); that of the quesero (cheesemonger) who with all the force of his windpipe gives forth: Requeson y melado bueno! . . . Reqeson y queso fresco (curds and good honey . . . curds and fresh cheese); and the gentle clamor of the dulcero (vendor of sweets) who after his special nomenclature offers á dos palanquetas . . . á dos condumios . . . caramelos de espelma . . . bocadilla de coco (two for a cent seed candy cakes . . . two for a cent pea-nut bars . . . fine sugar caramels . . . slices of cocoanut), narrative often interrupted by drunken tremulousness in his voice, or by the shrill cry (according to the age of the individual) of the numerous sellers of lottery tickets who offer for a half real el ultimo billetito que me ha quedado para esta tarde (the last little ticket I have left this afternoon) . . . and this 'last’ never is finished. The same cries are common in the afternoon: but that of tortillas de cuajada (curd-tortillas) and the funereal lament of the nevero (ice man) who announces with sepulchral voice, A los canutos nevadas! (ices in little cylinders) belong especially to this part of the day. In the rainy season, Indians run through the streets at their peculiar dog-trot, crying: No mercan nilatzilio, with which cry they announce their sale of jilotes (hot boiled com) and the nueceras (nutsellers) theirs with the simple: Toman nues? (will you have nuts? ). At night they cease, but others follow; the chestnut-sellers in winter cry through the streets in a strong well-controlled voice: Castaña asada y cosida: castaña asada (chestnuts roasted and boiled! roasted chestnuts). The pateras (duck-selling women) with the pretty song, which they repeat every moment, some remaining at the corners; the juileras (crawfish-sellers) and those who sell tamalitos sernidos (fine flour tamales), and tamalitos queretanos (sweet coffee tamales), mingle their cries with innumerable others of still other sellers; an infernal hubbub which gradually diminishes as night advances. But the king of street-cries, the most powerful because it dominates all, is at noonday: A las bueeenas cabeezas calieeeeentes de horno! (Good sheep-heads hot from the oven!)”

Reference: Frederick Starr, Catalogue of a collection of objects illustrating the folklore of Mexico (Publications of the Folklore Society, 1899), pp. 15-17.