03/06/2026
Charlotte Paetzold
Five minute story: The Tío’s Story of the Abiquiu Brujas
“Ey, guys! Look here, you gotta see this image.” The Tío gestures to the phone screen, his eyes bright with that look that means you’re about to get la verdad.
(Storytelling note: No actual images exist of these events from 1763. This image is for storytelling purposes only to help us visualize this history.)
Part One: The Outbreak and the Priest’s Fear
“This right here? This image, this is Santo Tomas de Abiquiu, back in the day. Look at those hills. La Tierra Colorada. Looks real peaceful, ¿qué no? But let me tell you hijos, that plaza was a heavy place in 1763. We talk about the brujas, but the real history is otra cosa.”
“First, you gotta remember who these people were. Abiquiu was a Genizaro grant. They weren't just 'Mexicans' or 'Indians'—they were the hijos de la guerra. Captured Navajo, Apache, Hopi, maybe some others. They had been ransomed, baptised with Spanish names, and planted on that frontier by the Governor in Santa Fe to be a buffer against the Comanches. They were soldados del rey, protecting the other colonies, but the Spanish didn't really trust them. They were forzados to live a life that wasn’t theirs.”
“Well, this priest, Fray Toledo—an experienced missionary from Mexico City—he sees everything in the plaza as the maligno. When a woman named Maria Trujillo starts having fits, fainting in church, right after having a baby... Toledo doesn't see postpartum trauma. He sees the devil. He tries exorcismo, but then more women—Francisca Barela, Maria Rosalia, Maria Agueda, Maria de Chavez, and Santiago Martin—start shrieking like animals and throwing shoes.”
“Toledo goes crazy. He uses his manuals from the Santo Oficio, convinced there’s a junta de hechizeros (a witch coven) operating in Abiquiu. He says there are masters of brujeria, like El Cojo, the cripple. He sees resistance to the mission as demonic possession.”
Part Two: The Trial and the Hidden Truth
“But look, primos, here's the real history, the real drama. The Governor, Tomas Velez Cachupin, gets alarmed. He doesn’t execute them. He has the so-called 'witches' arrested and ships the entire file—all the testimonies—down to Mexico City, for the Inquisition.”
“And you know what the high lawyers of the Santo Oficio said? The Inquisition? They said Fray Toledo was the problem.”
“They said, ‘Listen, Toledo. This isn't witchcraft. This is supersticion caused by inadequate teaching. You're too focused on the devil, and you need to learn their languages before you can Christianize them!’”
“The people were seen as neophytes, not heretics. Their 'witchcraft' was just them holding onto bits of their indigenous culture, blending it with Catholic words because it was the only power they had left in a world that tried to erase them. The 'possession' might have been shared cultural trauma, or just a performance of grief and resistance.”
Part Three: The Men We Must Remember
“¡Ándale! It is important we remember their names, because for a long time, the books only talked about the priest and his fears. When they rounded up the ‘witches,’ they went after the men they thought were the maestros of the old ways.”
“Besides Miguel Ontiveros (El Cojo), who they said was the leader of the whole thing because of his ‘diabolical arts,’ there was Agustin Tagle. The priest was sure Agustin was using secret powders to make people waste away. Then you had Juan de Dios, Pascual, Juan Antonio, and a young informant named Joaquinillo, who played a complicated role in the trials.”
“These weren't just names; they were fathers and neighbors. They were sentenced to the obrajes—those hard-labor textile workshops—far to the south in Encinillas. One day you are living in the shadow of the Pedernal, and the next, you are being marched hundreds of miles away because a priest didn't understand your culture. Most of these men, including El Cojo and Agustin, actually died while serving their sentences. They never saw the red hills of Abiquiu again.”
“So when you look at that pueblo in the picture, remember: that plaza saw a battle not between God and the Devil, but between power, memory, and survival on the frontera. The real story of the Abiquiu brujas isn't magic; it’s the resilient fuerza of the Genizaro people.”
“¡Ándale, pos! Now go eat something.”
Credit: La hija descalza 👣
