Letters from the field 4: Dangers and Kidnapping

Dear Future Self,

Mexico is all over the American news right now, with two high profile assassinations and a 21-dead drug gang shootout all taking place this week. More disturbing than these reports, which really only focus on a small group of people in a small area, are the comments posted below them by readers. If I can believe the posts under CNN articles, it would appear that many Americans are taking the current Mexican violence to indicate that all Mexicans are violent and barbaric and that the US is better off coming up with a way to cut off all ties with our southern neighbor (not to mention expel all legal and illegal immigrants). To this mindset (who aren't reading this anyway, but whatever), I offer the following experience from field work:

The team had been driving 4WD "roads" in the rural hills beyond Lake Catemaco. The area there is sparsely populated, and ours was probably the first car to drive down that particular track in years. Needless to say, there are no road maps and no road signs -- why bother with road names when there are so few to bother naming? At one point, we spotted a small hut set back from the path and decided it would be worth asking directions. After a short conversation in which our team leader introduced us as a team of geologists from the university, the lady of the place loaned us two children to guide us. The boys, Fernando and Diego, were 10 and 8 years old, respectively and were best friends. Their families effectively live together following the death of Fernando's father 2 years ago, leaving him to be the man of the house. Wedging all 7 of us into the Jeep Wrangler, we set off in search of the path we were looking for.

The boys led us up hills with the enthusiasm and energy of kids who have not yet learned to look at the topography to gauge the easiest slope to climb. They taught us about the edible berries growing on the slopes. The berries, apparently called tejote, are shiny and black-ish blue, and taste a bit like overripe blueberries. Even more entertaining, the berries have an incredibly strong pigment that quickly stains one's mouth anywhere from deep purple to black depending on the number of berries eaten. Fernando and Diego told us about life on the ranch and how they milked the cows and helped to make cheese. Neither attended school, since their ranch is so remote that it would require a 2-3 hour hike each way to get to the nearest school; also, their help was needed to keep the ranch running. They were excited to be trusted with the important job of carrying rock samples (and we were relieved!), and they were absolutely euphoric when handed the rock hammer and entrusted with breaking up big rocks.

Diego and Fernando, our trusty guides.

About 6 hours after we took them, we returned them to their homes and thanked their mothers. Both Fernando and Diego happily joined us the next day as well, cracking jokes about the cow chips dissolving in the persistent rain. To thank them and their families, our team gave each family a bag of nonperishable foodstuffs that would otherwise require a long journey to the nearest store, as well as bags of candies and t-shirts for the boys ('cause no 10 year old boy is going to be excited about receiving dried beans). The families invited us in and served us coffee while we watched the end of the Mexico-France World Cup game.

Can you imagine a similar situation playing out in the US? Less than a year ago, it made news when concerned adults called authorities when they saw an 8-10 (?) year old boy walking the few blocks to his sports practice alone. Can you imagine parents giving their child (not to mention the neighbor kid) to complete strangers and watching them drive away?

Another example, this one not from the field exactly: Due to the impossibility of actually finding our street, we must ask taxis to pick us up on a street corner a couple blocks from our house. Normally this is not a problem, however, it is fairly eerie when we have to stand out there at 4 am to get a ride to the airport. We had to do that again last week when the Awesome Assistant took off to return to the US. Both times that I have been out there waiting for a taxi at that hour, someone from the area points out that hanging out on dark street corners isn't the safest move in a city, asks to make sure that we are OK, and offers to stay near us until the taxi comes. The first time, we were watched over by a taxi driver who we had already assured that we had previously called someone from another cab company to meet us. More recently, it was a car full of young men (about 20 years old, perhaps?), one of whom had clearly been studying his English and saw this as an amazing opportunity to practice the language and do a good deed at the same time. Both times, our guardians waited until our taxi arrived and could convince both us and them that he was our prearranged driver (passwords and such). Both times, our guardians were pretty much the only people that we saw out there.

Mexico is very sensitive to the real and perceived violence within its borders. While there are truly bad places to be (anyone remember Cabrini Green in Chicago?), for the most part Mexico is a country full of some of the most generous and hard-working people you will meet.

Hell, I basically kidnapped a cabbie last night while picking up a friend from the airport. Four hours, a traffic jam, two terminals (nowhere near each other), a delayed plane, and getting lost down a restricted hallway of the airport later, he was finally able to drop us off at my corner in front of the ice cream shop. He was gracious and entertaining the entire time, and it was great practice for my Spanish to spend those hours discussing geology, geography (he is working on his MS), sports, travel, etc. Thank you, Miguel. I'm glad I had enough money still on me at that point to give you the generous tip you deserved.

In short, three cheers for Mexico!

Cheers,

Shazta-of-the-present

The problem with Saturdays

Yesterday was Saturday. Weekends and normally wonderful things, but Keating and I have noticed a serious trend here on Saturdays: the alley on the other side of our wall turns into the site of a wild street party. This wouldn't be that big of a problem, except that last night's gala went until 5 am and was louder than the front row at a metal concert, with the music and yelling. As a result, Keating and I got approximately 2 whole hours of peace last night. Why only 2? Well, that's because someone in the neighborhood invariably starts shooting off fireworks at 7 am on Sundays. The consistency is such that I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't part of the local priest's plan to get more people to early mass. Or maybe he's just that excited about Sunday mornings.

On the plus side, it is still far quieter here than it was at our last place. That, and we have yet to have been afraid that the fireworks would set fire to this apartment, something I can't say about our last place. Here, we only have to worry about our own problems with fire.

Being Mexican

This morning, I became (at least temporarily) Mexican. While I was waiting for my pesero to work, a man actually stopped his car and asked me for directions to the Copilco metro station!!!!! (When I told them this, my work colleagues nearly spit their lunches out with laughter. I had to reassure them that I was the only one around for the man to have asked.) Joyfully and accurately, I gave the man directions to his intended destination. I was seriously proud of myself for now only knowing where it was that he wanted to go, but also for being able to concisely answer his question. Then, about 3 minutes after I boarded my bus, I realized that I had actually sent him to the M.A. Quevedo station -- same line, next stop. Without intending it, I had done something so quintessentially Mexican as to justify me declaring myself Mexicana for the day: I had helpfully given detailed, but woefully wrong, directions to someone who was lost. Fortunately, he was a Mexican himself and was likely using my boss' approach to asking directions in this country: ask 3 people, then average their response. For my part, I'm not sure when I've been prouder of such an idiot moment.

Losing weight

In honor of leaving on vacation tomorrow, I decided it was time to lose some weight. After getting home from work and kissing dear Keating, I marched myself down to the salon on the corner and got my first haircut in over 7 months. The end result: the best $2.80 haircut EVER! (And no, there was no sale. That was regular price.)

The Dance Recital

I have been remiss. In fact, I have been a Very Bad Wife. I forgot to bring my camera along for Keating's dance recital on Wednesday. I've been trying to stall about writing about it (I'm , like, really busy...yeah) until Keating can get a copy of the video from one of his classmates, but you'll just have to settle for a written description for now instead.

The dance recital included performances of traditional Mexican dances, the Cumbia (Colombian), some strange Brazilian dance, hip-hop, and a farcical skit that roughly 10% of the audience understood sufficiently to really enjoy (the rest of us were relieved that there was plenty of physical comedy that helped us to know when to laugh). I am suspicious that the choreographer for the traditional Mexican dances was a former member of Stomp -- the dancers, armed with heeled shoes that had had small nails pounded into the soles, managed to shake the small auditorium. In Keating's group, the girls took very seriously their direction to come dressed as sexy nurses, and wore the most amazing collection of white ultra-mini dresses that I think I have ever seen, paired with dizzyingly high, stripper-style stilettos. The men were in black button downs and jeans, with the last minute addition of red-markered gauze taped on their faces so that there might be some relation to the girls in the white minis and nurses caps. At the end of the song, the men formed a circle, picked the ladies up on their linked arms, and rotated in a circle. During the final rehearsal (roughly 30 second before the show and on the stage where we could watch), this last move was a real struggle. Half the nurses couldn't seem to settle themselves on the men's arms; one gave up entirely, and another was nearly launched off the stage, screaming all the way. Frankly, I'm a bit amazed that she didn't break an ankle when she landed in those shoes! For the actual performance, however, all went well and not one dancer was thrown into the audience. Keating was saved from his arm-twisting partner, who pulled out of the performance at the last minute and got to dance with one of the Russians instead. He did a wonderful job up there. His dance teacher has invited him to continue attending the salsa classes in the next 6 week term even though he won't be enrolled in the Spanish program at that time, and he has been pushing for us to go dancing this weekend.

Wednesday was also Keating's first day of teaching English. The program he teaches for is based around guided group conversations, and the first lesson was about appearances. In a crazy twist, the women in his class used the conversation to discuss their utter abhorrence of makeup. This is Mexico! The very same day, I actually watched a woman apply mascara for 8 stops on the metro (more than 20 minutes!), and she already had several layers of the stuff on before I boarded the train. (I must admit, after about 3 minutes I started watching in rapt fascination and timing her. Seriously -- how much could she put on??? Then again, her foundation was so heavy that it completely obscured her natural skin tone and made her look kind of creepy, like something out of a horror movie with flesh-eating diseases and stuff. I'm hoping that she was applying stage makeup for some other dance recital or something. She wasn't wearing stripper shoes, though.) Keating now teaches aver Wednesday and Friday morning and is looking to add more hours soon. So far, he really likes it. Then again, he doesn't wear any makeup.

In completely unrelated news, I finally have the dates for my first field work! *raucous cheering* I will be hiking (and possibly horseback riding to the less accessible parts) around the Tuxtla Volcanic Field in Veracruz March 2-7. Be jealous! Hopefully, the weather will be warm again by then -- it's been chilly enough this week that Keating decided to wear a suit today for the extra layers.