El agua es la vida - "water is life."
For the community of San Antonio, N.M., there isn't a more apt saying.
In the 1800s, the village served as a small farming and ranching community. People kept goats - one of the only animals suited to graze the area's rocky climate - and grew small fields of squash, corn and chile.
San Antonio is known for its acequia, a community waterway that provided irrigation. Although earlier settlers of the community would not have had access to engineering equipment, the community rallied together to build the water system that diverted water from an underground spring.
Today, nestled in the heart of Tijeras Canyon, between the majestic Sandia and Manzano Mountains, the village of San Antonio is still tiny.
So tiny, in fact, that it's difficult not to miss the turnoff and continue north along N.M. 14 to Cedar Crest.
Get content from The Daily Lobo delivered to your inbox
Along the dirt road leading up to a church on the hill, the entrance and surrounding greenery was draped in colorful streamers blowing in the wind.
I was in luck. By chance, it was the feast day of San Antonio de Padua, the patron saint of the community.
About 50 people gathered for the celebration, which included mass, procession, lunch and matachines.
Matachines, as I learned, is a tradition dating back to Mexico during the 1400s. The tradition was brought to New Mexico by Hernando Cortez and passed down from generation to generation.
Dressed in costume, the chief characters are El Monarca, the monarch or king who serves as master of cermonies; La Malinche, a young girl dressed in all white who represents goodness; and El Toro, the bull, the antagonist of the play dressed in buffalo skin with animal horns on his head. With the help of a chorus of musicians and dancers, they portray the triumph over evil with the killing of El Toro.
This community had celebrated its feast day since 1819, or sometime around then, according to a flyer.
The procession began with the blessing of the town's spring, which was located a short walk from the church further up the hill. The townspeople carried a handcrafted saint to the spring where the priest blessed the water.
One woman told me the water was "the cleanest in all of New Mexico." So clean, she said, that people drink straight from the spring.
As I inspected the spring closer, I saw stones that had been built up to protect the water from dirt. The spring looked pretty pure, although I did not take a drink.
Later, as I sat and ate homemade posole, tamales and calabacitas and watched the townspeople act out the final dance of the matachines, I marveled at the strong sense of community. Everyone seemed to know each other.
While I was an outsider, I was invited to participate by the man sitting next to me. He, a former matachines dancer himself, started to teach me some of the steps and bragged that his nephew played the part of Perijundia, a man who was dressed as a woman that provided comic relief in the celebration.
My mouth was on fire from the incredible red chile, and my face was no doubt changing to a bright shade of scarlet - one woman even offered me some water.
I thought to myself, "Water really is the lifeblood of community."
If you go
Take I-40 east to Exit 175.
Twoˇmiles north on N.M. 14
