By Jeff Stanley, MA Student in Anthropology
Few people in the United States have heard of Teotihuacan, but across the border it’s a household name. The lofty Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, only 45 minutes from Mexico City by bus, are sources of wonder and pride for modern Mexicans, as they were for the Aztecs in the 1400’s who called the city -- long in ruins by that time -- a “city of gods”. In Spanish the accent falls on the last syllable; in Nahuatl, the dominant indigenous language of the area, on the second to last. Today, Teotihuacan enjoys a steady soundtrack of eagle squeals and jaguar growls, emanating from curious whistles that vendors sell to the tourists.
We know that Teotihuacan was hugely influential at its peak (~ 200-550 CE). With around 100,000-150,000 inhabitants it was the largest city in the western hemisphere. From distribution of arts and crafts, we can tell that people from all over Mesoamerica visited and lived there. Maya written records suggest that rulers invoked the city (far outside the Maya region) to validate their authority, even after its decline.
Despite such renown, there are still plenty of gaps in our understanding. In the absence of an identifiable writing system, scholars are left to debate Teotihuacan’s religion, art, and international presence. Perhaps most fundamentally, we don’t know who governed Teotihuacan; no royal tombs or clear depictions of rulership have been found. (The pyramids apparently are not royal tombs.)
This year I am participating in the excavation of the “Plaza de las Columnas” (Plaza of the Columns) across the main causeway from the Sun Pyramid, which based on prior analysis could be a palace complex. The project, co-directed by Dr. Nawa Sugiyama, aims to discover more clues to the organization of rulership in Teotihuacan, as well as to add to the general body of archaeological data on the city. The team here is made up of investigators from Mexico, the United States, and elsewhere, digging in multiple fronts that span over 75,000 square meters. I personally am helping excavate what is believed to be the western limit of the complex, looking for entrances to determine whether access to the area was restricted. We thought that following the western wall would be a simple matter. We opened almost thirty small pits moving northward. The last fifteen didn’t match our expectations. The wall disappeared, reappeared, and changed form. In many cases we expanded beyond where we had planned. Now we are exploring a possible turn in the wall to account for these inconsistencies.
Away from the tourist area, Teotihuacan is full of brilliant birds, flowers, and butterflies. Ceramic and obsidian litter the ground, hinting at its past. Every day it seems one or more fronts are uncovering sculptures or murals. On the western limit we’ve found numerous shells, figurines, mural pieces, and a jade bead. We spend our often frenzied day examining and drawing the pits, documenting all these materials, and mapping topography, which contributes to an impressive database that can be used for spatial analysis. To the east, tourists climb the pyramid like ants. To the west on the other side of a fence cars roll by, some pumping music, and occasionally a military vehicle covered by soldiers rumbles to or from the nearby outpost. Beyond the road, visitors to the natural baths perform dances of purification, sometimes all day, their chants mingling with the eagle and jaguar calls.
It’s an honor to be here in a place where history is so close. It’s also fascinating to see how historical places are reinvented. Like the Aztecs, the modern tourist industry and Mexican national pride bring their own layers of meaning to this once vibrant city. I also bring my own personal layer of meaning, when I relax under the shade of a tree during my lunch hour and watch the beautiful butterflies -- according to some scholars mighty symbols of war in Teotihuacan art -- lazily pass.
August 06, 2016
