Tarahumara Indians

Still a toddler, Marcelino Moreno already looks exhausted by life, his body hanging from his bones as if he were an old man. Marcelino will be 2 in March but, at 11 pounds, he weighs as little as a 3-month-old baby. He is lethargic, barely moving his willowy limbs while lying in a hospital bed. His skin is loose and wrinkled, his belly bloated.

It took false reports of mass suicide for Mexicans to rally in great number to the aid of the legendary Tarahumara Indians, who are facing a season of starvation. But publicity about their plight has exposed the chronic marginalization and growing perils, including drug violence, faced by many indigenous communities, activists say. Members of the Tarahumara community "die every year from hunger; it's just that this year, it's worse," said Liliana Flores, a founder of the El Barzon organization, which works with poor campesinos and indigenous peoples.

It took false reports of mass suicide for Mexicans to rally in great number to the aid of the legendary Tarahumara Indians, who are facing a season of starvation. But publicity about their plight has exposed the chronic marginalization and growing perils, including drug violence, faced by many indigenous communities, activists say. Members of the Tarahumara community "die every year from hunger; it's just that this year, it's worse," said Liliana Flores, a founder of the El Barzon organization, which works with poor campesinos and indigenous peoples.

THE SHRINE OF THE VIRGIN MARY IS THE TIP-OFF: IT'S ALL DIABOLICAL from here. My bike and I have been skidding and sliding for an hour on this one-lane, dirt-and-rocks, switchback-ridden road, an epic abyss yawning on my right flank, then my left, then my right again. The boulder-and-cactus panorama is unmarred by guard rails or anything that might interrupt a fatal fall. But the steepest stretch comes just after the roadside shrine.

How did Owen Hardy, who wrote "Tracking the World's 10 Best Train Experiences," overlook the Copper Canyon train ride in Mexico? I made this trip myself five years ago. The train, departing daily from Los Mochis on the western end, goes over 37 bridges and through 88 tunnels, rising from sea level to a height of 8,000 feet before it ends 400 miles later at Chihauhua. Copper Canyon is four times the size of Arizona's Grand Canyon and 280 feet deeper. The line took nearly 100 years to build across the Sierra Madre Mountains and through Copper Canyon.

Don Bartletti's photographs and Alan Weisman's story ("The Drug Lords Vs. the Tarahumara," Jan. 9) were compelling--and they also support rethinking the ravaging problem of drugs. Yes, let's legalize 'em, regulate 'em and tax the bejesus out of 'em. The Tarahumaras will get their land, and their peace back, and so too might America's cities. PATRESHIA TKACH Santa Monica What is happening to the Tarahumara Indians is the result of the U.S. drug policy. The drug war is no more successful than Prohibition was, and the anti-drug laws are as out-of-date as the anti-abortion laws in place in some states.

The modern history of Mexico's Indians is the history of the destruction of their culture. The Zapatista uprising has drawn attention to this fact not only in Chiapas but in all Mexico, a country torn between its attempts to integrate itself into the economic future of North Ameri ca and its indigenous past. Eleven million of Mexico's 90 million inhabitants are indigenous; 11% live in Mexico City, making it the city with the world's largest indigenous population.

In their native Mexico, Tarahumara Indians are treated as nothings--looked down on by many of their countrymen despite their fame as legendary long-distance runners--and are left in a struggle to endure. But in Orange County, four sisters raised in Mexico have turned the tables on the prejudices they grew up with, raising more than $10,000 since September to help the destitute Indians. Their compassion, they said, comes from moving to the United States and learning how discrimination feels.

THERE WASN'T MUCH MORE THE OLD Tarahumara Indian healer, Agustin Ramos, could do for the man taking refuge in Pino Gordo, high in Mexico's western Sierra Madre: All the medicine that grows in the Sierra couldn't reverse the damage that automatic weapons had wreaked upon 30-year-old Gumersindo Torres. Nevertheless, he entered his dream to ask his god, Onuruame, what might bring the broken young man some relief.

Brotherhood binds the Tarahumara Indians. They live by the tenet, "Today for you, tomorrow for me." Relations with the chabochi , as they call whites, are more difficult. Tarahumaras can run deer and horses to exhaustion. But in the life-and-death race with disease, hunger and exploitation, they are losing. Efforts to help the Tarahumaras have attracted attention to the gentle tribe, whose bad luck with civilization mirrors that of other Indians.

With an eagle feather in hand, Olivia Chumacero fans her homemade incense of dried cedar leaves, bark and resin, sending the spiraling smoke above a circle of close friends. She inhales deeply, ready to perform a much-revered ritual of her Mexican Tarahumara Indian heritage called a limpia, or a spiritual cleansing.

Still a toddler, Marcelino Moreno already looks exhausted by life, his body hanging from his bones as if he were an old man. Marcelino will be 2 in March but, at 11 pounds, he weighs as little as a 3-month-old baby. He is lethargic, barely moving his willowy limbs while lying in a hospital bed. His skin is loose and wrinkled, his belly bloated.

This decade, the Tarahumara Indians of northern Mexico have faced hardships on a scale that's almost biblical. First, a protracted drought brought denuded forests and malnutrition, decimating the mountain tribe renowned for its long-distance runners. Now, rains have ruined crops and washed away the hopes of ending hunger among these subsistence farmers, many of whom have fled to the cities to beg on the streets. But the scourges of nature haven't wiped out their capacity for empathy.

Members of the Tarahumara tribe in Northern Mexico are malnourished, so much so that children are dying and the population is dwindling. "They have no electricity, no phones, no clothes to keep them warm in the cold winters, no government assistance, very little food and water, and they live in caves," said Manuel Borja, who is preparing to take food, clothes and blankets to the tribe in the high mountains of Chihuahua.

In their native Mexico, Tarahumara Indians are treated as nothings--looked down on by many of their countrymen despite their fame as legendary long-distance runners--and are left in a struggle to endure. But in Orange County, four sisters raised in Mexico have turned the tables on the prejudices they grew up with, raising more than $10,000 since September to help the destitute Indians. Their compassion, they said, comes from moving to the United States and learning how discrimination feels.

For six Tarahumara Indians, members of a tribe of legendary long-distance runners from northern Mexico, Saturday's 100-mile endurance race in the Angeles National Forest isn't just another race. It's a run to survive. "There's very little food, there's very little water," Tarahumara runner Madero Herrera says of his tribe's predicament back home. "There's no electricity in our community. People are hungry. People are dying."

Answers in Mexico In the Jan. 6 Letters Ralph Lazo wrote regarding a Dec. 9 article on the Barranca del Cobre in Mexico and stated that he will be leading a group through the area this spring. My daughter, son-in-law and I were in a group led by Lazo last spring. It was interesting and fun: the train trip, the city of Chihuahua, the lumber town of Creel, the picturesque lodge we stayed in at Cusarrare, the overnight stop at Divisadero, all the sightseeing, shopping for baskets and other items made by the Tarahumara Indians.

This decade, the Tarahumara Indians of northern Mexico have faced hardships on a scale that's almost biblical. First, a protracted drought brought denuded forests and malnutrition, decimating the mountain tribe renowned for its long-distance runners. Now, rains have ruined crops and washed away the hopes of ending hunger among these subsistence farmers, many of whom have fled to the cities to beg on the streets. But the scourges of nature haven't wiped out their capacity for empathy.

A month before Guillermina Lirio died, her parents knocked on the door of the Indian boarding school, the only place they knew to seek help in this village high in the mountains of northern Mexico. The 1-year-old was losing weight rapidly. With two older children to feed and almost no corn from this autumn's harvest, the Tarahumara Indian family had little to eat. The hungry baby cried constantly.

The modern history of Mexico's Indians is the history of the destruction of their culture. The Zapatista uprising has drawn attention to this fact not only in Chiapas but in all Mexico, a country torn between its attempts to integrate itself into the economic future of North Ameri ca and its indigenous past. Eleven million of Mexico's 90 million inhabitants are indigenous; 11% live in Mexico City, making it the city with the world's largest indigenous population.