Rosalind Aparicio Ramirez

LA VÍBORA DE SOLA

The snake who inhabited a body of water by Sola
moved from there in September of 1954. 

During the day, this snake would surface as a human woman. 
She would comb her long hair there under the waterfall,
sunbathing. 

The snake was like a neighbor to the people of Sola
and surrounding pueblos. 

This snake was a mother
and had just become a grandmother
to another generation of water snakes—
they all now shared this body of water. 

The mother recognized that her daughter 
and her daughter’s children needed more space,
and so she decided it was her time
to move on to the next place, 
a body of water by los cuadros,
on the way to Puerto. 

It’s likely 
she asked the local priest for permission
before embarking on this move, as was customary
for any snake to do before leaving their community.

It is because of
this custom that these sorts of snakes 
are often referred to as ‘chained’ to the water, because
their movement is not so easily done. 

This sort of
decision to leave requires resolve,
and is accompanied by grief. 

For this reason,
the snakes’ transits leave a path 
of destruction in their wake, and 
this was no different for the snake near Sola. 

To travel
she, like the rest, rose from the water into the sky, and
tunneled through the storm clouds to her destination.
She decimated crops and livestock; she leveled homes.
Her vehicles of heavy rain and waterspouts ripped through
the mountains and across the land. 

It is important to note that
these snakes are native to this area;
snakes of other origins may not
possess these same abilities, and,
ikewise, these weather patterns may not
be carrying snakes—this event should not
be confused or equated to foreign
weather patterns by those who are
unfamiliar with the local climate.

In late September 1954,
the snake took a bad step and fell
into the river that ran through Sola proper.
Her fall dammed the river,
causing it to rise at least three meters.
One mother recounts the water
breaking and bubbling,
and being unable to cross the river by mule
to baptize her newborn
on account of the rising water levels. 

After some time,
the snake was able to resume her travel
and arrived at her next destination.


According to accounts,
no other local snake migration has occurred
for at least twenty years, if not more. The daughter-snake
still resides at the original body of water with her children.

In January of 2024, 
signs of climate change progress. Dead algae reveals itself,
clings to a rock about half a foot above the water level.

With each passing year,
less and less algae survives,
leaving a receding growth chart
marked by its desiccated fibers.

Rosalind Aparicio Ramirez is an indigenous reconnecting (Mixteco/Zapoteco) writer and multimedia artist whose work focuses on belonging, indigeneity, non-linear time, and migration.