Chamula & Coca-Cola : When a Global Brand Becomes a Sacred Ritual.
In the highlands of Chamula, Chiapas, among the misty mountains and ancient traditions of the Tzotzil Maya, an unexpected symbol has taken center stage in daily life and spiritual ceremonies: Coca-Cola.
What began in the 1960s as a soft drink’s expansion campaign became something much deeper — a cultural shift.
In Chamula today, Coca-Cola isn’t just a drink — it’s a ritual, an offering, and a healer.
In local religious ceremonies, Coca-Cola has replaced traditional spirits like posh, due to its fizzy nature believed to “expel evil spirits” from the body.
Bottles are cracked open in sacred temples, burped out during prayers, and offered to the gods alongside candles and chants.
For many families, Coca-Cola is more accessible — and often cheaper than clean water.
But this devotion comes at a cost.
Chamula now holds the highest per capita Coca-Cola consumption rate in the world — with rising rates of diabetes, obesity, and health complications, especially among children and elders.
What was once seen as spiritual cleansing, now coexists with a health crisis rooted in inequality, marketing power, and lack of infrastructure.
This isn’t just a local story — it’s a global lesson.
It asks us: What happens when corporations replace tradition? When water is luxury, and soda becomes survival.?
Let’s not judge — but understand.
Let’s not mock — but reflect.
Because in Chamula, Coca-Cola isn’t just consumed —
It’s woven into the fabric of faith, poverty, and power.
Witches in European folklore fly through the air on broomsticks, but in Latin America they change shapes, turning into different animals. This belief in shape-changing sorcerers, which is present i…
In Latin America witches change shapes, turning into different animals. This belief in shape-changing sorcerers, which is present in many Indigenous communities across Mexico seems to be based on old Prehispanic concepts of the animal, the soul and the self.
The Aztecs spoke of a nahualli or nahual, an animal double that we all possess. Nahual is a sorcerer who can transform into an animal,
The nahual is always a creature of evil. It drinks the blood of people, often children, and spreads disease. Nahuales, when they transform into predators, such as coyotes, may also threaten a farmer’s livelihood. My great-grandmother told me you had to watch out and make sure the nahuales didn’t eat the chickens. Fighting off nahuales could be dangerous. Although they seemed to be more vulnerable in their animal form, they were not to be trifled with. The nahual derives from central-Mexican cultures, but the Mayan people of southern Mexico also have an equivalent sorcerer: the way chivo (sometimes spelled huay chivo). The way chivo is a sorcerer who can transform into a goat.
Sorcerers also transform into other animals, including birds and dogs. In fact, there seems to be no limit to the type of animal shape a person can acquire: there are stories of sorcerers becoming pigs. I haven’t come across stories of women as way chivos, so there might be some gendering of the role, although women do transform into other animals. These Mayan sorcerers, just like the central Mexican ones, perform their misdeeds during the cover of night. They turn into animals by spinning nine times in their place or by taking off their heads. Their predilections seem to vary quite a bit. Sorcerer-pigs like to scare people and kill animals. Sorcerer-cats lick the faces of young women making them ill so that they waste away. The sorcerer-goat seems rather versatile: I’ve heard he does everything from eating children to haunting cemeteries. The way to deal with these sorcerers varies. Some people say you must use salt, for example, rubbing bullets with a cross of salt. My great-grandmother’s remedy for dealing with nahuales was to put a pair of open scissors beneath the bed.
Just as the Aztec idea of animal doubles might have inspired the creation of these shape-shifting sorcerers, ancient Mayan beliefs about human souls might have inspired the modern way chivo. For example, the people of Chamula believe every person has an animal double and whatever happens to your animal double affects you. The Maya of Zinacatan believe humans have multiple souls, one of which is an animal.
Dogs are also associated with the Underworld, both in Mayan and Aztec mythology. They accompany the souls of the dead in their journey into the afterlife. Mayan and Aztec burials sometimes included dogs, so that they might assist the deceased in their voyage.
In communities folklore continue to be living, breathing things.
In Gods of Jade and Shadow, my novel set in 1920s Mexico, the protagonist Casiopea Tun meets several magical beings, including a way chivo. If you pay close attention, almost every character in the book is also associated with an animal. The way chivo is obvious (it’s a goat, of course), some of the other associations are more subtle. Although animal transformations ultimately play a small role in the overall arc of my novel, Gods of Jade and Shadow is utilizing old and complex ideas about animals and mirror images.
Silvia Moreno-Garcia is the New York Times bestselling author of the novels Mexican Gothic, Gods of Jade and Shadow, Untamed Shore, and many other books. She has also edited several anthologies, including the World Fantasy Award-winning She Walks in Shadows (a.k.a. Cthulhu’s Daughters).
