By Eugenio Amézquita Velasco
Translation: Metro News Mx
Translation: Metro News Mx
-Chayito Landín Moya shares that in Orduña de Abajo, an indigenous community in Comonfort, Christmas is celebrated with buñuelos and atole.
-The tradition has no clear start date in history; it is lost in time and in the memory of the ancestors.
-Don Antonio Moya, Chayito’s father, will turn 90 this December 21st, standing as a pillar of wisdom and culture in the village.
-Preparation begins with reed basketry to create the "colote," a basket that can reach up to two meters in height.
-The community’s families—about 40 today—organize to process at least one sack of flour per household.
-To flip the buñuelos, special reed sticks are used, precisely cut from node to node by artisan hands.
-Doña Flor, one of the community’s grandmothers, teaches that even a piece of pipe or wood can serve as a rolling pin to avoid fatigue.
-The process includes gathering firewood for the flame and washing tables a day in advance to place the buñuelos on clean cloths.
-The secret of the dough lies in the tomato leaf water, mixed with white or whole wheat flour before vigorously kneading the paste.
-Chayito emphasizes that the work is a festival of unity where neighbors and family join to help elders like Doña Severa.
-The people of Orduña do not give away what is left over; they gladly share the best they have, putting their soul into every piece of flour.
-Families from distant communities like El Durazno historically came down on donkeys to collect buñuelos and distribute them in the hills.
-On December 24th at six in the evening, the distribution begins after the "cradle-song" of the Baby Jesus, in a ceremony full of mysticism.
-The atole is prepared with native black or purple corn and "tequesquite" stone, which provides a salty and medicinal flavor.
-The invitation remains open for visitors to bring their pots and bags to receive dry buñuelos, honeyed ones, and "puscua" atole.
Chronicle of an ancestral gift: The heart of Orduña in a buñuelo
In the depths of Comonfort, where the Laja River whispers stories of days gone by, lies a corner called Orduña de Abajo. It is one of the fourteen indigenous communities keeping the flame of identity alive. It is here that María del Rosario "Chayito" Landín Moya, a woman of deep roots and artisan hands, opens the door to a tradition that knows no calendars, only affections.
Christmas in Orduña does not arrive with neon lights, but with the rustle of reeds. It all begins with the creation of the colote, a monumental basket that can measure over two meters, waiting to be filled with the fruit of collective effort. Chayito, a tireless promoter of her culture, reminds us that this is a heritage of 40 families who become one when the scent of firewood and flour begins to flood the courtyards.
The ritual is meticulous. Reed sticks are prepared, cut with the wisdom of grandmothers like Doña Flor, who teaches that even a simple pipe or a wooden stick can be the perfect tool if used with ingenuity. There is a mysticism in the tomato leaf water that blesses the flour and in the strong arms—like those of Marisol, Chayito’s sister—that beat the dough until reaching the exact point of perfection.
But the most valuable thing is not the recipe, but the spirit of good neighborliness. Chayito nostalgically evokes Doña Severa Moya and Don Antonio Moya, living treasures of the community. She tells us how people join in, how hands multiply so that no one is left without their offering. It is a scene that seems taken from an old Mexico, where selfishness has no place.
The story of the men who came down from the El Durazno hill with their donkeys and sacks to take atole and buñuelos to the most remote corners is the purest testimony of what it means to share. One does not judge the one who asks for much; the sack is filled because it is known that this food will reach other needy mouths. This is the diplomacy of the heart—the one that builds peace.
This December 24th, after the rocking of the Baby Jesus and under the blessing of Father Arturo, Orduña will once again become an altar of generosity. There will be purple atole made from native corn, with that salty touch of medicinal tequesquite, and buñuelos dusted with sugar or bathed in piloncillo. Chayito’s invitation is clear: bring your pot, your bag, and leave your shyness behind, because in Orduña, what is given is the very soul of a people who refuse to forget who they are.
The full interview with Chayito Landín, by journalist Eugenio Amézquita Velasco
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Well, I am talking here over the phone with María del Rosario Landín Moya, a surname from Orduña de Abajo, in the municipality of Comonfort, right there by the Laja River—a beautiful place that is also an officially recognized indigenous community, one of the 14 I believe Comonfort has. It possesses great beauty, and Chayito is from there; the Landín Moya family is from that place. A very respectful greeting to Professor Toño and your sister, the Engineer, who are also people who stay active and do things for the community.
And Chayito, you were telling me off-camera that Christmas is coming, and there is a tradition in Orduña involving buñuelos, very similar to something they also do during Holy Week because they share food, but now Christmas is approaching, we are in the vespers, the posadas, and you were telling me about the buñuelos. Thank you for taking the call, Chayito, and tell me: since when, why, how, and all these steps and the care even regarding where to place the buñuelos.
Thank you, Chayito.
Chayito Landín Moya:
Thank you very much, hello, good morning. I could try to give you a date, but I think we don't have a specific date in history; the dates get lost, right? For example, I am 60 years old, about to turn 60.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
You're still a young girl, then! Still a girl.
Chayito Landín Moya:
Yes, I’m a girl, but my father is turning 90 tomorrow.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Greetings to him! We’ll dig up a report we have on him. Go on, continue.
Chayito Landín Moya:
And so, we look at the dates, right? It is indeed a tradition. Christmas is coming, and here in the community of Orduña we offer a rich tradition—and I say "rich" because it’s the buñuelos. We give away buñuelos and atole, but it’s not just any tradition. This tradition begins at least eight or ten days before, or even from the start of December. I’ll tell you why: because we begin—Orduña de Abajo is an indigenous community, as my colleague says—and this community is also known for its reed basketry. We start with the basket. As an artisan—I recognize myself as an artisan...
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
One of the best in Orduña, I can attest to that! One of the best, and a promoter of culture as well.
Chayito Landín Moya:
The traditional culture from here. So, it starts with a basket; we call it the "colote". This colote measures from 80 centimeters, and some even reach two meters, because they are filled with buñuelos. At least every family—currently there are 40 families—takes their turn. For instance, it starts with the basket; you order it if you don't know how to make it. Personally, for me, it's a very large basket; I haven't manufactured those, to be honest. So, you order the basket with a neighbor, a friend, or the artisans. Then you have to start preparing everything needed, buying the flour. At minimum, each family makes one sack of flour.
Then the baskets are prepared, and the sticks are prepared—we call them "varitas"—which are also made of reed, to flip the buñuelos. Even this year I learned something new; I know how to make the sticks and how to flip them, but today with Doña Flor—one of the grandmothers of the community—she said to me: "No, Chayito." Because I told her, "Here are the sticks, Doña Rosita," and Doña Flor said, "No, Chayito, I brought my own sticks. I made some yesterday." She said the stick has to be of a specific measure. And I thought, we always just made them "any old way," right?
However, she told me: "No, you look for a large reed." For people who don't know the reed ("carrizo"), it’s like a cane, similar to bamboo or sugarcane. It’s a tube. And if you notice, it has spaces from node to node. So the lady tells me: you have to look for a large reed, at least 10 centimeters from node to node. There are four nodes, or three—small and large—and the tip has to be from the third or fourth so that the point remains. I'll send you photos and everything, with pleasure; I'll bring them to you.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Thank you, Chayito. Of course, because we are going to publish this interview exactly as the audience is hearing it. Go ahead.
Chayito Landín Moya:
So, as I was saying, that’s the stick to flip the buñuelos. The sticks are prepared, the rolling pins are washed... but guess what? Doña Flor also told me, "No, Chayito, it can be a broomstick, it can be a piece of wood." Before, we didn't have rolling pins. I arrived with my basket and she told me, "Not anymore, I also brought this; it can even be a piece of pipe." Because sometimes rolling pins hurt our hands or tire them out with the handles. She said, "I am comfortable even with a piece of reed." And you see, you learn every day. Even at the age we’ve been making buñuelos, we learn day by day. That’s why the community living is so important.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
One question, Chayito, before you continue. There is an audience—and I tell you this because I see it on our page—that is abroad, in Central and South America, and some of the terms you’re using are new to them. The first is "colote"—I imagine that’s the basket.
Chayito Landín Moya:
Exactly, it’s a huge basket.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Okay, that’s one. And the other: the "buñuelo" is made of flour, right? It’s a dough that is stretched out and then cooked in oil or lard—I’m asking.
Chayito Landín Moya:
I was getting to that! I’ll explain. Right now we are on the sticks, alright? So people can imagine the whole process. You buy the flour, prepare the sticks... and yes, the "colote" is a basket. Imagine it: it can measure up to two meters or even 2.20 meters, I’ve been told. And it’s about a meter or 1.20 meters wide. That’s where the buñuelos are arranged.
After this, on the day they are made, firewood is also collected. You can’t lack firewood because you need a certain fire to golden the buñuelos. After gathering the wood, tables must be washed a day before—thoroughly washed. And guess what? Previously, I remember with my grandparents, they would put up rope lines—for those who don't know "mecate," it’s string for tying—and they would hang them there. They hung the buñuelos. Now we use tables. They are washed a day before, covered with a small cloth, and everything is prepared. Well, on the day we begin—like today—some people start on the 17th or 18th to prepare their buñuelos, depending on how many they’re making and the family attending.
Personally, we always start on the 20th or 19th to finish them in time. Well, then we continue and—guess what?—we boil tomato leaves to add that water to knead the flour. White flour, or now whole wheat flour. That is the secret for kneading the flour. You have to prepare the tubs for kneading. One tub per sack. Nowadays the sacks aren't 50 kilos like before; now they are 25. So, it's one tub per sack. We empty the sack of flour, add the tomato leaf water, and start kneading. That’s where you have to "beat" the flour—kneading it, kneading it, kneading it. That’s the hard part. I’m not that strong myself.
But I have my sister Marisol, who is very good at it. And it becomes a party, believe me. I’m telling you, Amézquita, it’s a celebration and a union, and that’s the beautiful part. Sometimes neighbors come—for example, my mother, who is an elderly person—and a friend arrives and says, "Let us help you, Doña Seve." She always has someone to help, you know?
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
What is your mother's name, Chayito?
Chayito Landín:
Severa Moya Aguilar.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
She is the wife of Don Antonio Moya, right? He is a treasure; I had the pleasure of interviewing him regarding grafting. But let’s continue with the craftsmanship, Chayito—this attitude of the people to cooperate, to collaborate, to join in. I think that is the jewel Orduña has: the act of sharing.
Chayito Landín Moya:
I believe so. It’s what distinguishes us in Orduña. I’ll tell you: we don't give away what we have left over; we gladly give what we have. It’s about sharing something grand, something beautiful, the best. For example, now with the buñuelo tradition, we strive—at least in my family and I think most families—that’s the beauty of it: it has heart. When you eat a buñuelo from here in Orduña, you are receiving laughter, you are receiving love, you are receiving that fellowship of friends and family. Even, as you say, people are listening abroad—relatives who come from abroad and are also preparing their buñuelos in their homes.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Chayito, one question—forgive the interruption. I have always thought, and I have tasted it and can testify to it: when food is made with affection and love, it has a completely different flavor than when it’s made "the bad way" or just to get it over with. I believe these gifts—the buñuelos, the atole (I imagine it’s white atole, puscua as we know it here)—carry a different flavor. Would you agree?
Chayito Landín Moya:
Exactly. That’s why I say it: because we are putting our hearts into it, our desire, our love to share. And we know we aren't just sharing with the neighbors; we share with everyone who comes. People from outside have asked me, "How can I ask? I’m shy." That’s precisely the point: leave your shyness behind! If I have time, I can tell you an anecdote.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Go ahead, please.
The Anecdote of El Durazno
Chayito Landín Moya:
There is a family here that lives far away in the communities, in a place called El Durazno. El Durazno is a community facing Orduña, toward the hill. If you know the highway, it’s San Jerónimo and then up. In those hills is El Durazno—a small community, though it's larger now. Anyway, two people used to come on their donkeys every year, mainly for this December 24th. They would bring one or two donkeys, and sometimes people criticized them because they said, "They bring sacks and they ask for two full sacks." Yes, that’s how it was. And they would take a milk jug or two full of atole.
And people would say, "But these people, they take so much." Many people criticized them. But I didn't stay quiet; I asked them. I said, "Do you really eat all those buñuelos?" because people said they were going to waste. And they told me, "Yes." Later, when I visited their community—which is another story—when we went for the "cucharilla" (a plant) to make the "súchil" (https://www.guanajuatodesconocido.com/2025/03/la-cucharilla-elemento-indispensable.html ) (traditional garland), we sat with them and bought cheese. They were waiting for us because it was a good income for them. So they took the buñuelos, and when I realized, they told me: "You’ll see when buñuelo time comes, we’ll see you there." It turned out these men were the ones who came down to distribute them to the rest of the families in their community. How beautiful! Believe me, I cried when they told me the story. And it wasn't them who told me, but the young people and children of that community. So, sometimes we judge without knowing; we criticize without knowing. Once I found out, I said: "Take them, go ahead, as many as you like."
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Because that was the whole point. This speaks of the heart of the people of Comonfort, of the rural communities, and specifically of Orduña de Abajo giving to other communities. I think you are setting an example of how to achieve good neighborliness and, above all, peace. Chayito, let me ask: when are these buñuelos delivered? Here in Mexico, the posadas start on December 16th. When are they prepared and delivered?
Chayito Landín Moya:
Right now we already have one "colote" full of buñuelos. That first basket is distributed, for example, to people who might have brought some to me or my mother when it was their turn. So the first basket is for family or friends here in the community. We take them two or three buñuelos: "Oh, so-and-so brought me the first offering, so I return the offering this year." That’s what the first one is for.
And the other two or three are for the 24th. We wait for you here in Orduña on the 24th because at 6:00 PM we start distributing the buñuelos. Usually, the "rocking" of the Baby Jesus comes first, but this time it will be the other way around: first the buñuelos, then the Mass. You probably know Father Arturo, who is from this community; we are very blessed by him. He comes and officiates the Mass every year on the 24th, and that’s when the distribution begins. I invite you to taste them.
You mentioned the white puscua atole. Guess what? We also make purple or black atole, because in Orduña we still preserve native corn—original seeds of those colors.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
You’re talking about "criollo" corn—natural, native corn.
Chayito Landín Moya:
Native corn. And this black, purple, or red corn—believe me—it’s a different flavor. And this atole is prepared with "tequesquite" stone. It’s a gray stone that is also medicinal. Everything put into the food here in the community or in our beautiful Mexico isn't just there for no reason; it’s food, but it’s also medicine. Tequesquite is medicine, and that atole takes a pinch of it, giving it a delicious salty flavor. Imagine the combination: slightly salty atole with a buñuelo dusted in sugar or honeyed with piloncillo.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Oh, I’m getting hungry now! I want to thank you, Chayito. Chayito sends me images and video clips, but this time I wanted to do the interview to transcribe it word for word so people can read everything she said, share it, and leave a testimony on the web so people are encouraged to go to Orduña this Christmas Eve and participate in this gift. All one can say is: thank you, Orduña; thank you, Chayito.
Chayito Landín Moya:
I thank you too. We wait for you with great pleasure. And come, don't be shy! I tell you: bring a bag, because sometimes people are looking for one; bring a pot for your atole and one for your dry buñuelos. And guess what, Amézquita? We also give out soaked buñuelos or "buñuelos en dulce" made with piloncillo. So you can bring another pot for the honeyed ones. And you have your Christmas dinner, just like that! Orduña waits for you with open arms. And believe me, the heart of all those hands that intervened goes with it—the love from our mothers, our grandmothers—and mainly the beautiful people of Orduña de Abajo, Comonfort, Guanajuato.
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
Thank you very much, Chayito. And congratulations to Don Toño for his 90th birthday tomorrow.
Chayito Landín Moya:
Thank you, I will tell him. A hug!
Eugenio Amézquita Velasco:
I am Eugenio Amézquita, with Chayito Landín, from Orduña de Abajo, through Guanajuato Desconocido and Metro News.
#MetroNewsMx
