October Belongs to the Brujas

New Mexico has a fascinating history in general, but some of it just happens to fit particularly well with spooky season. With Halloween just around the corner, I thought it would be fun to dig into some of the otherworldly stories from our little corner of the world at The Grand Hacienda Inn on Abiquiu Lake.

As it turns out, Northern New Mexico has quite a history when it comes to witches, or brujas, as they were known. These aren't just ghost stories passed down through generations, either. There are actual historical records of women accused of witchcraft, casting love spells, poisoning, and all sorts of other questionable activities. Some of these stories date back more than 400 years, long before the famous Salem witch trials. And, as is so often the case throughout history, women seemed to find themselves at the center of it all.

Let's start with María de Zamora. In 1606, María was accused of witchcraft by her own daughter, Lucía, who claimed she had used powders and herbs to poison people in the Spanish settlement of San Gabriel, not far from present-day Española. Her son-in-law also accused her of giving her daughter mysterious powders and plants to poison him. María was also said to have the ability to cast spells that would cause men to fall in love with women. Whether there was any truth to these accusations is another matter entirely. Family disagreements and finger-pointing are nothing new, but apparently, in 1606, they could land you in front of religious authorities accused of sorcery. A few decades later, in Santa Fe, we have Beatriz de los Ángeles and her daughter, Juana de la Cruz. Both of these ladies seem to have developed quite the reputation. Beatriz was accused of using potions and enchanted food to influence her lovers, and even of causing the death of one of them. Her daughter Juana was said to possess the evil eye, bring misfortune to children, and, according to some rather imaginative accusations, fly through the night to keep an eye on unfaithful lovers. One has to wonder how much of this was witchcraft and how much was simply gossip, jealousy, and a few disgruntled men. Even the religious authorities who investigated the case apparently had their doubts, questioning much of the testimony as superstition.

And then we have Bárbara García, whose story might be my favorite. In 1751, Bárbara, a widow living in Sandía, was accused of using a love spell to keep the attention of a married man. Apparently, she had taken some of his hair, tied it into a sash, and worn it around her waist. According to her testimony, it worked! Unfortunately, the man's wife wasn't particularly pleased with the arrangement, and eventually Bárbara supposedly had a change of heart, burned the hair, and sent the man back to his wife. I suppose that's one way to end an affair. What's interesting about these stories is how much they tell us about everyday life in colonial New Mexico. There was jealousy, infidelity, family drama, and plenty of gossip, just as there is today. The difference was that an accusation of witchcraft could have very serious consequences, particularly for women who had little power to defend themselves.

But the stories get a little darker when we come a little closer to home, here to Abiquiú. In the 1760s, a Franciscan priest by the name of Fray Juan José Toledo became convinced that the Devil was at work in the village. At the time, Abiquiú was home to a large Genízaro population, Indigenous people from various tribes who had been displaced from their original communities and brought into Spanish colonial society. Many retained elements of their traditional spiritual practices, which didn't always sit well with the Catholic Church. Father Toledo began reporting cases of demonic possession, witchcraft, and all sorts of supernatural goings-on in Abiquiú. Toledo was convinced he had discovered a group of sorcerers led by a man called El Cojo, a nickname referring to the fact that he walked with a limp. Among those accused were people with some rather interesting nicknames, including a woman called Atole Caliente (which translates to hot atole, a traditional warm corn drink) and another named Petra la Come Gallinas (Petra Who Eats Chickens). I have to admit, I am super curious as to how she earned that nickname.

Toledo believed these supposed practitioners of witchcraft were responsible for causing people to fall ill with anxiety, stomach problems, fevers, and, in some cases, even death. There were also tales of shapeshifting, including one particularly strange account in which a man supposedly killed what he believed was a wolf, only for it to transform back into a human after death. Some of the women were believed to have the power to transform themselves into birds and fly to Pedernal, the iconic flat-topped mountain that dominates the landscape here in Abiquiú and was made even more famous through the paintings of Georgia O’Keeffe, another legendary Abiquiú lady. Women at the time were subjected to exorcisms, accusations spread through the community, and people were punished for supposedly practicing sorcery. Although the punishments were not quite as harsh as those endured by the accused witches of Salem, these folks lived with a different kind of ostracism, one that could follow them through their everyday lives in a small community.

Interestingly enough, Toledo himself reportedly sought help from a curandera, a traditional healer, despite his suspicions about practices outside the Church. There is a certain irony in a priest who was so concerned about witchcraft turning to a woman whose healing traditions might otherwise have been viewed with suspicion. The situation became so serious that colonial authorities in Santa Fe became involved. What's particularly interesting is that even the Spanish Inquisition, hardly an institution known for its tolerance, questioned some of Toledo's claims. You know things have gotten a little out of hand when even the Inquisition starts asking questions! Imagine living in a small, isolated village like Abiquiú in the 1700s. Everyone knew everyone, there was very little privacy, and one accusation could turn your entire life upside down. A woman who knew a little too much about herbs and healing might be considered a witch, someone who practiced an old family tradition might be accused of dealing with the Devil, and an unhappy love affair or a jealous neighbor could make things considerably worse. In a place where religion, superstition, and traditional beliefs were so closely intertwined, it probably didn't take much for an ordinary person to find themselves at the center of a rather extraordinary accusation.

What I find most interesting is how many of these stories revolve around women. Women who were healers, women who had affairs, women who were independent, or simply women who didn't quite fit into what society expected of them. Were any of them actually practicing witchcraft? Or was that simply a label attached to the use of traditional medicines and certain rituals that had long been part of life in Indigenous societies? Some may have genuinely believed in the powers they were accused of possessing, while others were probably victims of jealousy, religious fear, or plain old gossip. There is also the complicated history of Spanish colonization and the attempts to suppress Indigenous beliefs and traditions, which makes the Abiquiú story particularly troubling. What one culture considered a sacred practice, another might have interpreted as something sinister.

Living here in Abiquiú, surrounded by this incredible landscape, it's not difficult to understand how such stories took hold and why they are still very much a part of local folklore today. We have dark skies, howling coyotes, ancient ruins, and miles upon miles of wilderness. I have to admit, I rather like knowing that this place has such a strange and colorful past. So, as Halloween approaches, perhaps spare a thought for Beatriz, Juana, María, Bárbara, Petra the Chicken Eater, and the other women and men of Abiquiú who found themselves accused of things we can only imagine today. They may not have been witches at all, but simply people practicing their traditional beliefs and customs. Either way, they certainly left their mark on the history of this fascinating place.

Blog and photographs by Jessica Sid, Photographer and General Manager of The Grand Hacienda Inn.