Tellez proud great-grandson has active role in annual ritual

Herman Tellez, 80, is keeping a vow he made to his grandmother 70 years ago to help with Pascua Yaqui Easter services.
It began with a promise his grandmother made in honor of the Holy Week ceremonies of the Pascua Yaqui tribe.
Today – 70 years later – Herman Tellez is a fixture at the tribal celebrations in Tucson, one of only three places in the world where the centuries-old Yaqui Easter ritual takes place.
Dressed in cowboy boots and hat and bluejeans with a Virgen de Guadalupe belt buckle, Tellez, 80, leans his thin frame into a cottonwood branch he uses when onlookers get out of line. He is there to ensure ritual performers have plenty of space.
“But I don’t get too heavy with them,” he said with a wink. “I’m an old softie.”
Tellez grew up with his grandmother, Margarita Martinez, in Old Pascua Village, near Grant Road and Interstate 10. At the age of 11, he began carrying statues of saints in the Easter processions at his grandmother’s direction. Like many tribal elders, she had made a manda, or vow, for her grandchild to carry out.
As Tellez grew older and stronger, he took on the weight of carrying the 8-foot cross to re-enact the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. In 1972, he started lighting the ritual fire on Holy Saturday.
Except for a couple years during World War II when he served in the Navy and a decade when he couldn’t get time off from a job in Bloomington, Calif., he has faithfully fulfilled his beloved grandmother’s manda.
“There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me,” Tellez said, “and nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
Now, he is passing on his responsibilities to his 16-year-old great-grandson, Jesse Ehresmann. Dressed in baggy jeans, an oversized T-shirt, diamond earrings and Los Angeles Dodgers baseball cap, Jesse has been traveling with his “Tata” from California to the ceremony since he was 6 months old and has shadowed Tellez since he could walk.
“I idolized him because I always knew one day I would take over. It’s an overwhelming feeling of happiness to be here,” said Jesse, standing beside Tellez late Wednesday night in the village plaza of Old Pascua.
Here, for the next five days and nights, deer dancers, sacred clowns and masked soldiers brandishing swords and daggers will re-enact the Passion of Christ and play out a battle between good and evil, persecution and triumph.
The annual event draws Jesse here each year, far away from his typical teenage life of rap music and computer games.
“This is the most important thing to me,” he said. “I feel like I’m growing up and becoming an adult.”
This year he is helping with crowd control, which gives Tellez a great sense of pride.
“When he was younger, people wouldn’t pay attention to him, but at his age and size now,” he said with a grin, looking up at his great-grandson, who stands a couple inches taller than he. “I think they’ll listen.”
Last year, Jesse took over Tellez’s role of starting the fire on Holy Saturday, when the masks and swords of the Chapayekas, supernatural beings that try to disrupt the ceremony, are burned to symbolize the triumph over evil.
Above the plaza, a large sign admonishes visitors not to photograph or record the ceremony.
The events are open to the public, but are not theater, Tellez stressed. It is a sacred ritual and Yaquis believe participants can be harmed if photographed.
“We used to just take people’s film and burn it,” Tellez said. “But now, everyone has cell phones with cameras. It’s more complicated. We have to take their phones.”
Maribel Alvarez, an anthropology professor at the University of Arizona, said the burning of ritualistic objects and prohibition of photography illustrate deep-seated beliefs in Yaqui culture.
The events are to be experienced, not documented, she said.
“It’s almost a counterintuitive notion for our Western-trained mind,” said Alvarez. “We have a set of assumptions about the importance of things largely resting on the longevity and the material presence of things.
“We believe things are important because they are in front of us. Because they are big. Because they are shiny. Because they are material.”
In the Yaqui belief system, however, the object or image itself is not what matters, Alvarez said.
“Actually, it’s banal,” she said. “The important thing resides in the relationships we can establish around them.”
Holy Week is so sacred to Yaquis that their two casinos on West Valencia Road are closed from midnight Thursday to 8 a.m. Monday. The ceremony blends native rituals with the Catholic traditions Jesuit missionaries brought to Sonora in the 17th century. Yaquis came to Tucson as refugees in the late 19th century, fleeing persecution of the Mexican government, which had forced them from their lands.
Old Pascua, which is the oldest of four Yaqui communities in Arizona, including three in Tucson and one in Guadalupe, was founded in 1903.
At first, the Pascua Yaqui were reluctant to continue their cultural traditions for fear of further persecution, wrote Edward Spicer, a UA anthropologist who studied the tribe for decades.
Yaquis revived their ceremonies when they realized they were free to practice their religion, Spicer wrote.
Tellez plans to move back to Tucson this year after being away since 1954. He never thought he’d be gone so long and looks forward to coming home to the land of his grandmother.
He’s pleased that Jesse, who may join him in Tucson, is taking over his role at the ceremony, but he will carry out his manda as long as he can.
“It’s something inside of me,” he said. “Something in your heart.”

'I idolized him because I always knew one day I would take over. It's an overwhelming feeling of happiness to be here.'
JESSE EHRESMANN, 16, talking about his great-grandfather, Herman Tellez

Tellez makes crosses out of palm fronds for Holy Week ceremonies at Old Pascua Village, near Grant Road and Interstate 10.
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ON THE WEB
www.uapress.arizona.edu/onlinebks/ YaquiEaster/ceremony.htm
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