Janal Pixán and the Day of the Dead: Yucatán’s Tradition of Remembrance
- Nikolas Gutierrez
- 2 days ago
- 2 min read
Editor's Note:
Writer Nikolas Gutiérrez explores Janal Pixán (“Food for the Souls”), a tradition rooted in Maya heritage and observed in Mexico’s Yucatán region during the Día de los Muertos season. Through local voices and moments from his visit, he documents how families prepare offerings of food and light to welcome loved ones home—an enduring reflection of remembrance and cultural continuity.
The Day of the Dead is not a day of mourning—it’s a day of reunion. Across Mexico, families welcome the return of those who came before them, building ofrendas filled with marigolds, candles, and photographs that glow softly in the night. The air carries the scent of copal incense and pan de muerto, as if memory itself were made tangible. Food and drink are shared not only among the living but offered to the spirits who return for one more meal, one more moment beside their families.
Erica R., a local attending the celebration, smiled as she arranged candles beside a framed photo.
“This is a time for us to be with them again,” she said. “To say I love you once more.”
In Yucatán, the celebration takes on another name—Janal Pixán, “Food for the Souls.” Rooted in ancient Maya tradition, it unfolds from October 31 to November 2, honoring the belief that life and death exist in a continuous circle. Families prepare the favorite dishes of their departed loved ones—from mucbipollo wrapped in banana leaves to steaming cups of atole. The first night belongs to the children’s souls; the next to the adults. Candles flicker through the night, each flame marking the path between this world and the next.
Local vendor Augustin, who brings mucbipollo and atole to the Grand Cemetery each year, explained,
“It’s not just about traditional food—it’s their favorites. On this night, they can enjoy them again.”
In Mérida, the tradition moves from the cemeteries to the streets during the Paseo de las Ánimas—the Walk of Souls. As dusk falls, the gates of the Grand Cemetery open and a river of candlelight flows toward San Juan Park. Faces painted white, elegant Catrinas, and families carrying offerings move as one. The air fills with the scent of churros, marigolds, and candle wax. Laughter blends with silence.
For one night, the boundary between the living and the dead fades—and in that glow, love lives on.
