Imagine a scene both tender and unusual: Maria Luisa Euan watched her second husband lovingly clean the very bones that once belonged to her first spouse. With great care, Jorge Jurado meticulously wiped a femur, brushed dust from vertebrae, and individually polished each of the scattered teeth of his wife’s late husband. “This is an act of love and deep affection,” explained the 66-year-old Mr. Jurado, as he gently removed dirt from what appeared to be a finger bone. “When she finds peace in this, so do I.” Ms. Euan, 69, nodded in agreement, adding that just a few days prior, they had performed the same ritual for Mr. Jurado’s first wife. “At our age, jealousy simply doesn’t exist,” Ms. Euan remarked with a gentle smile. “Especially not for those who have passed on to their eternal rest.”
In Pomuch, a vibrant town of 10,000 nestled in Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, the practice of exhumation isn’t grim; it’s a profound expression of love.
A map highlights Pomuch, a unique town in the state of Campeche on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula.
However, this deeply personal ritual is drawing increasing attention from tourists and local authorities who see economic potential. This has sparked a growing tension in Pomuch, which remains one of the last bastions of this ancient Mexican bone-cleaning tradition.
Annually, in the weeks leading up to Mexico’s world-renowned Day of the Dead celebrations, Pomuch residents gather at the local cemetery. There, they carefully unpack boxes containing the disinterred bones of their loved ones, meticulously dusting them in a heartfelt ritual designed to honor and bring peace to ancestral spirits.
“We haven’t forgotten you, and we never will,” murmured Mauro Canul, a 41-year-old Navy officer, as he tenderly brushed his grandfather’s bones. Canul shared that his grandfather had appeared in his dreams, seeking more connection. Now, surrounded by the neatly arranged bones of both his grandfather and grandmother, each skull still adorned with remnants of hair, he reflected, “I may not be able to see them, but I can feel their presence through touch.”
A poignant video captures the delicate process of cleaning a loved one’s bones within the Pomuch cemetery.
Maria Luisa Euan and her husband, Jorge Jurado, are seen together after completing the bone-cleaning ritual at Pomuch cemetery.
This unique ritual has deep historical roots, tracing back to the ancient Maya civilization that flourished across the region before the arrival of Spanish colonizers in the 16th century. Historians suggest that Mayans occasionally exhumed and re-articulated bones to honor their departed, a practice stemming from a core belief that death is merely a transition to an afterlife where ancestors continue to watch over their living relatives. This profound spiritual connection is the foundation of Mexico’s widely celebrated Day of the Dead, typically marked by elaborate altars laden with offerings for ancestral souls.
Mexico’s rich cultural tapestry is woven from a blend of Indigenous and Hispanic traditions, a reality clearly reflected in Pomuch. The town, largely populated by people of Mayan descent, is also deeply Catholic, with many bone cleaners referencing biblical passages as a spiritual underpinning for their practice this week.
According to Lázaro Hilario Tuz Chi, a local historian and anthropologist, Pomuch boasts a long and rich relationship with its deceased. The town once served as a significant stop on a Mayan pilgrimage route to a sacred burial ground and was known for producing burial shrouds. This legacy fostered a strong cultural focus on the afterlife, a connection that has only deepened over the last two decades as Tuz Chi and other community members actively promote the bone-cleaning tradition.
Consequently, Pomuch has emerged as a new, albeit controversial, destination on the popular Day of the Dead tourist circuit.
Just last week, vans deposited throngs of French and Italian tourists outside the modest tortilla shops opposite Pomuch’s cemetery. Couples and families arrived in rental cars, with one Dutch couple even attributing their visit to a recommendation from ChatGPT. The scene was often punctuated by the whirring presence of overhead drones.
A tourist is captured posing for a photo within the Pomuch cemetery, highlighting the influx of visitors.
An image of Pomuch cemetery reveals its distinctive concrete ossuaries, each containing multiple boxes of bones.
The cemetery itself is a maze of narrow paths winding between colorful concrete ossuaries, many with skulls subtly visible within open boxes. These close quarters often led to tourists crowding around locals as they performed the solemn ritual. While some visitors politely requested permission to film, often through guides or with limited Spanish, others simply began recording with their phones upon arrival.
“I’m not sure I could do this with my own relatives,” mused Chiara Ciliberti, a 32-year-old Italian tourist visiting from a group trip to Cancún. This burgeoning interest prompted local officials to explore ways to capitalize on the phenomenon this year. On October 21st, Pomuch’s local government controversially announced on social media an opportunity for outsiders to observe and even “participate” in the bone-cleaning ritual for a fee of 30 pesos (approximately $1.60 USD).
This proposal met with immediate criticism from Pomuch residents, who opposed the commodification of their sacred tradition. Many were also confused, wondering if they would now be charged to enter their own family cemetery. Carlos Ucán, a state lawmaker from Pomuch, publicly condemned the initiative in the legislature, stating, “The ritual is inherently private. It belongs exclusively to the family and their departed. While some may choose to open it up and invite others to witness, even that treads a delicate line between sharing and outright monetization.”
An image shows Maria Eredina Has Colli tenderly cleaning the bones of her late husband. This act is part of a broader tradition where residents tidy up tombs in the Pomuch cemetery to welcome ancestral spirits.
Following the backlash, the local government reversed its decision. Pomuch’s mayor, Cevas Yam, acknowledged in an interview that his team had communicated the plan poorly. Nevertheless, he expressed a continued desire to find a balanced solution that integrates economic opportunities with the essential preservation of their cultural heritage, calling it “a very, very sensitive issue.”
The community itself seems divided on the matter. “I truly want this tradition to be shared with the world,” declared Mr. Canul, moments before respectfully holding his grandfather’s skull aloft for a group of French tourists to photograph. “We are genuinely happy you are here.”
However, not everyone shares Mr. Canul’s enthusiasm. José Fernandez, a local handyman whose business of cleaning a box of bones for 40 pesos (around $2 USD) is flourishing, noted that he processes approximately 200 sets of remains annually. Many of his clients, he revealed, specifically hire him to perform the ritual away from the prying eyes of tourists.
An image depicts José Fernandez, the bone cleaner, navigating through the cemetery, carrying a box of bones on his shoulder.
Another photograph captures a man diligently cleaning bones laid out before him, while two other individuals respectfully place flowers nearby.
The tradition dictates that locals exhume their relatives’ remains three years after burial. Initially, gravediggers may clean away any remaining decomposing flesh. Subsequently, family members take over, rubbing the bones with rum or quicklime and allowing them to dry under the sun. In the years that follow, the ritual primarily involves a gentle brushing of the bones. Locals emphasize that this process is less about physical cleanliness and more about fostering a profound emotional and spiritual connection with the deceased. After this tender cleaning, the bones are carefully wrapped in fresh, white, embroidered cloth and reverently placed back into their box, awaiting the next annual ritual.
Many residents continue the tradition by cleaning the bones of their grandparents or parents, having learned the practice from them. Last week, it was observed that several older participants brought their children or grandchildren, hoping to pass on this sacred duty to the next generation. “They will carry out this duty when the time comes, and their children, too, must continue it,” affirmed 84-year-old Dulce Cohuo, as she watched her daughter lovingly polish her husband’s skull. “It is a chain of remembrance that must never be broken.”
Despite the controversy, many in Pomuch are actively embracing the town’s growing international reputation. The main road leading to the cemetery is adorned with vibrant murals of skulls, and the recent Day of the Dead festival on Friday drew thousands of attendees.
An image showcasing the central motif of Pomuch’s Day of the Dead celebrations: tables laden with skulls, bones, and rib cages.
A photograph captures a vibrant parade on a dark street in Pomuch, with people in colorful costumes and elaborate headdresses celebrating the Day of the Dead festival.
During the festival, a group of local schoolteachers meticulously prepared pibipollo, the Yucatán’s traditional Day of the Dead dish. This large, chicken-stuffed tamale, wrapped in banana leaves and baked underground, is a culinary tradition with Mayan origins. Its preparation is deeply symbolic, representing a body within a grave, and its connection to death is so potent that some locals opt to forgo the ritual if they have recently lost a loved one. The schoolteachers expressed a desire to educate visitors about Pomuch’s unique traditions. They voiced a hope that the community could extend this educational approach to the bone-cleaning ritual, striving to share its meaning while simultaneously safeguarding its integrity.
“The intimacy of the ritual has certainly been impacted,” acknowledged Eduardo Puc Medina, one of the teachers. “However, I believe many people here view this not as a negative intrusion, but as an opportunity to share the essence of Pomuch with the wider world.” So, what truly defines Pomuch? As his colleague, Marco Mut, eloquently put it: “We don’t merely honor our dead here; we live alongside them, every single day.”
The final image shows an open box of bones resting within an open tomb in Pomuch Cemetery, a powerful symbol of their enduring tradition.