Ecology, Memory, and Community in Oaxaca

In the latest entries from her Steve Reifenberg Fellowship Journal, Dariana González Aguilar, Harvard College Class of 2025, reflects on how her time in Oaxaca continues to expand far beyond the boundaries of field research. As she traces amphibian populations through cloud forests and mountain rivers, she also encounters the histories, traditions, and social realities that shape life across southern Mexico. From Indigenous markets and Zapotec ruins to community conservation efforts, feminist marches, and environmental workshops with local students, Dariana’s experiences reveal how ecology, culture, and collective memory remain deeply intertwined. These journal entries capture both the beauty and complexity of the regions she has come to know through the fellowship.

February

Mitla Ruins

This month, I’ve continued my efforts to see as much of Oaxaca as possible before my inevitable departure. I visited the Zapotec ruins in Mitla, Oaxaca in early February. After the city of Monte Alban collapsed, Mitla became the religious and political capital of the Zapotec people (750 AD). I had the enormous privilege of seeing Mitla’s ceremonial centers and burial sites, and hearing stories from locals about the spirits that allegedly roam the ruins at night.

El Mercado de Tlacolula

Being so close to the Tlacolula Market, I could not miss the opportunity to visit one of Mexico’s oldest Indigenous markets. Located in Oaxaca’s Zapotec region, the Tlacolula market has operated since pre-Hispanic times and still preserves the traditional trueque system, where goods are exchanged directly rather than purchased with money. 

Mérida

I also received an unexpected visit from my sister, who invited me on an impromptu trip to Mérida, Yucatan. There, I encountered a very different side of my country’s history: the Maya side. I got to taste regional Maya dishes such as deer tacos, cochinita pibil, and pepita de calabaza. I learned slang phrases that have kept the Maya language alive in Yucatán. I also had the opportunity to visit Chichen Itzá, which had been a childhood dream of mine, making the trip particularly memorable. 

We later traveled to Sisal on the Yucatán coast, where I learned about the community’s ongoing struggle to protect its mangroves from real estate development. There flamingos, crocodiles, and several mangrove tree species remain under constant pressure from urban expansion. Conversations with locals highlighted how environmental protection is deeply intertwined with cultural knowledge and storytelling, as was the case in la Sierra Norte of Oaxaca. A local resident spoke about the spirits believed to guard the mangroves and water holes at night. These stories were nearly identical to those of Santa Cruz and La Esperanza in Oaxaca, and reinforced how local myths often function as forms of traditional ecological knowledge.

February 22nd

Being from Guanajuato (one of the country’s most violent states), I was not new to the type of social instability and fear that cartel violence brings. But February 22nd was a surprise to everyone. Mexico’s federal government successfully launched an operation to capture the country’s most powerful cartel leader, and the cartel retaliated with a chain of violent acts across the country. Roads were blocked by burning buses and cars, local businesses were burned down, and schools and offices ceased to operate. Though Oaxaca City remained relatively safe, this was a day of mourning for much of the country.

These events were a sobering reminder of how deeply cartel violence shapes everyday life in many parts of Mexico. During my time here, I’ve been fortunate to witness the extraordinary beauty of this country, but I’ve also been reminded that this beauty exists alongside profound insecurity and inequality. Both truths are part of the same reality.

March

8M

This month, I had the opportunity to participate in the 8M march in Oaxaca. Millions of women gather each March 8th to demand bodily autonomy, gender equality, and, in many cases, the right to live. This last demand is particularly relevant in Latin America, the region with the highest rates of feminicide worldwide. 

The Mexican government estimates that approximately 10 women are murdered in the country each day. This statistic is widely understood to be an underestimate, and the hundreds of missing women posters lining the streets of major cities make that clear. Patterns of underreporting, misclassification, and impunity obscure the full extent of the feminicide crisis in Mexico, leaving many families without justice or closure. 

I walked alongside young women, mothers carrying small children, and families carrying photographs of their missing or murdered sisters, daughters, and friends. There was a palpable sense of shared mourning in that crowd, and at several moments, the weight of it all felt overwhelming. At the same time, I was struck by the many gestures of solidarity and sorority I witnessed there. Women embraced one another, cried together, and took the time to listen to one another’s stories. Others, unable to march, showed their support by handing out beverages to protestors. 

Día de la Samaritana

To commemorate the generosity Jesus received from a Samaritan woman in Sychar, communities across Oaxaca City gather on the fourth Friday of lent to offer free flavored water to all who pass by. Businessowners and residents alike don their traditional clothes and prepare large pots of aguas frescas infused with bougainvillea, horchata, prickly pear, chilacayota, and countless other fruits. Per my friends’ recommendations, I arrived to the zocalo on an empty stomach, lathered in sunscreen, and mentally prepared for the hours I would spend waiting in line for water. It was totally worth it. 

Wildlife monitoring workshop

I came to Oaxaca with the goal of (among many other things) of learning how to communicate science meaningfully and accessibly. I had a chance to put that into practice after I was invited by a teacher at a local forestry high school to organize a wildlife monitoring workshop for his students. 

We delivered a short presentation about the diverse wildlife monitoring methods, followed by interactive stations where students could practice utilizing the same techniques we were implementing with frogs, salamanders, and tadpoles in the Sierra Norte. 

Keeping 51 teenagers engaged was no easy feat, but my lab-mates and I managed to pull it off. We concluded the workshop with a trivia competition and a short  (hopefully) motivational talk about the importance of valuing conservation in their future work as forestry technicians. 

Back in La Esperanza

I returned to La Esperanza to expand my search for toothless tadpoles. Our methodology remained the same: select random rivers in the community to survey, characterize the rivers and the individual pools where we found tadpoles, collect the tadpoles, study their mouthparts, and return them to their respective pools. This time, we also made sure to collect water samples that could provide insight into why our tadpoles were losing their teeth.

At night, I joined my friend Tereso López García on his salamander monitoring trips. We quite literally climbed mountains to find them. The nights were long, and the rain never seemed to let up, but the moment we found even a single salamander, the exhaustion faded almost instantly. 

We had to subject the salamanders to a few photoshoots, so that their human neighbors in La Esperanza can soon receive some informative posters about they species they share the forest with.

Feria del Tejate

At the very end of March, I traveled to San Andres Huayapam for the community’s famous Tejate Fair. Often referred to as the “drink of the gods,” tejate has its origins in Zapotec culture and is still widely consumed throughout the central valleys of Oaxaca. It is made from maize, cacao beans, mamey pits, and a distinctive foamy paste made from cacao flowers. 

Hundreds gather at the Tejate Fair to celebrate one of Oaxaca’s most emblematic beverages and to experience it in a variety of forms. I personally got to try tejate pie, cookies, ice cream, muffins, and nicuatole (a gelatinous maize-derived dessert). Of course, I drank more cups of traditional tejate than I can remember.