Grace, power and beauty: a profile of Lila Downs.

   Moon, which the clay swings in the foam
   Of all the nights of my solitude
   I follow the steps you lead me to
   The place you came from
   And to the place where I will end
   I see my reflection in puddles of blood
   I feel a perpetual tranquility
   Of past times, of ancient men
   Oh voices, oh lights
   Leaving their sign
   And I believe in the mouth of my earth
   That from the root feeds my belly button
   The mouth of the dead that is found in my center
   My center, my temple of life
   My center, my temple of life.

   --from "Luna, del ombligo enterrado/Moon, from
   the buried umbilical cord," sung by Lila Downs

Oaxaca: dry, indigenous, vibrant, bright, earthy, and incomparable. This southern state is one of Mexico's many wonders, many encantos, many magical terrains. Here Monte Alban, arguably the continent's most amazing pre-Columbian site, and modern reality live, compromise, clash, and thrive.

Here Mixteco and Zapoteco native people--among other tribes--maintain their languages, their customs, their dream-life, which, if you stay here long enough, is almost indistinguishable from the waking world.

I was not yet thirty when I first set foot here in 1983. I went on my own, as a freelance writer, to report on an uprising of the Zapoteco people in the city of Juchitan, with a population of around 120,000. A local coalition of natives, farmers, students, activists, and workers, known as the COCEI (Coalicion Obrera, Campesina y Estudiantil Del Istmo) bad led political battles and takeovers of government buildings and lands just prior to my visit.

The first day there I wandered the dusty streets to the middle of town, to the zocalo, where rows of stalls with steer heads for tacos and other delicacies greet you, and people stand or sit below a canopy of tree branches with thousands of zanate birds chattering in a way similar to the sing-song tongues of the people.

Iguanas, fruits, corn, handmade blouses, baskets, and their famous pottery were sold among countless other items in the marketplace next to the palacio municipal, or city hall. I saw one dark-skinned girl removing cornhusks in a T-shirt that read: "Juchitan--Capital of the World."

The city hall, an old crumbling colonial structure, had already been taken over by natives and peasants when I showed up.

I spent a few days among the defenders--many barefoot, armed only with sticks and stones even as the Mexican army, cradling automatic weapons, surrounded the building for the ruling Priista government.

It was election time. The PRI (Partido Revolucionario Institucional) versus the COCEI (under the banner of a rival leftist party). There were threats. People were beaten. Ballot boxes were stolen and stuffed. Cries of voter fraud filled the streets. Yet, I saw hundreds of people, some dressed in native costume, line up for hours to vote.

I took photos, managed many interviews, fell in love (with a woman as well as the people and the land), almost got beaten up, until, finally, I had to leave. A month or so later, the Mexican army invaded the city hall, killed a few of the occupants, and restored the edifice to the PRI. Over the years, other takeovers and political upheavals marked the struggle of these people to be sovereign, free, and native.

Now from similar terrain comes the amazing voice and consciousness of Lila Downs--singer, poet, and spirit of the land supreme. Downs, thirty-seven, is a world-class singer offering a unique collaboration between cultures, genres, voices, languages, and politics. Her music has gathered these otherwise disparate elements into a cohesive whole through four critically acclaimed albums: La Sandunga (recently re-released), Tree of Life (based on Mixteco and Zapoteco codices), Border/La Linea, and her most recent, One Blood, all from Narada World Records.

Born in Oaxaca of a Mixteco Indian mother and a Scottish American father, Downs has a transcendent quality that crosses all borders and yet captures the desperate and often harrowing "bordered life."

I interviewed Downs last year over the phone while staying in a hotel in a midwestern city. Downs was in another city, promoting the CD release of One Blood.

"[In one of my albums] I brought in the Mixteco codices, the ceremonies, and songs that I thought would be beautiful to play," Downs said. "These were native songs of Kate my Dueblo so they could be proud of their ancestral roots. For example, I bring in Nine Wind, who was one of the heroes who challenged life. The songs had much to do with the day-to-day life in Oaxaca."

Downs was raised in the Oaxacan section of the Sierra Madre Mountains known as La Mixteca. She also spent part of her youth in St. Paul/Minneapolis. Her studies included music and anthropology at the University of Minnesota and at the Bellas Artes University in Oaxaca.

"I learned classical music," Downs related. "But I felt so distant from this because the training pushed me away from the direction I felt I had to go--I wasn't being true to what I was. The reason I dropped out of school was the rigid nature of the classical tradition, not being able to express myself with freedom. Slowly I realized the music from Oaxaca was what I wanted to do."

Ten years ago, this is precisely what she did, singing in restaurants and bars in the colonias, pueblos, and barrios throughout Oaxaca. Her repertoire included Mexican traditional rancheras, blues, and Mixteco indigenous songs. In time, she learned to communicate in many languages--English, Spanish, and Mixteco, with some Nahuatl and Zapoteco thrown in from time to time.

"Singing in the restaurants and bars was an experience for me," Downs said. "My mother didn't want me to sing in those places because she used to sing on tables and drink a lot. She knew what this kind of life did to women. It took me a long time before I understood it was OK for me to hang out in bars and sing."

With her American husband, Paul Cohen, Lila Downs traveled to Mexico City and then Philadelphia to continue this vital blend of indigenous, Mexican, and world sounds. Paul plays saxophone, piano, and clarinet, and they now divide their time between Oaxaca City (where her mother lives) and New York City. Along the way, she also acted and sang in Salma Hayek's biopic, Frida.

"One of my preoccupations technically in the music is the purity of tone," Downs explained. "I look to people like John Coltrane, who's a strong influence on me. Paul and I share so much love for jazz, the roots of it, because of the power of spiritual healing it has."

She has also addressed some big subjects in her music, such as the plight of Mexican migrants in the United States, while also allowing the music to speak for itself.

"I think it's beautiful that there's so much freedom to choose. But there are many who don't have any choices. The world is divided," Downs emphasized. "For me, that's where I'm coming from, because my mother always taught me to respect the roots. At the same time, we have so much wealth in this world, but we need more consciousness. I think art is one of those amazing things that can bring people together."

Downs has done this with grace, power, beauty, and deep caring. And I now have a piece of Oaxaca wherever I go.

Luis J. Rodriguez is the acclaimed writer of poetry, children's literature, fiction, nonfiction, and memoir, including his bestseller "Always Running. "He is a co-founder of Tia Chucha's Care & Centro Cultural--a bookstore, cafe, art gallery, performance space, and workshop center in the San Fernando Valley--and editor of Xispas Magazine. His first novel, "Music of the Mill," is forthcoming in spring 2005. For more information on Lila Downs and her music, go to www.liladowns.com.