I've mentioned before the shelter where I volunteer on Saturday afternoons. It's a home for young kids whose mothers are prostitutes, hence the name of the place which means "Chidren of the Moon." (moms work at night...)
Unlike the children at Estancia Infantil where I work during the week on Tuesdays and Thursdays...these kids don't really have much of a home. Many live at the shelter, having been abandoned by their moms. That's not the case at Estancia Infantil (which is a state agency) and whose kids have homes. The kids at Niños de la Luna have had tough lives. Their stories make you cry. Here are two:
Eight-year-old Carlos was abandoned by his mom and now lives at the shelter. He calls the lady who runs the place, Coco, "Mom." I've heard that occasionally a relative comes and spends an hour or so with him. He is a smart little boy and learns quickly. A sweet personality, too. A couple of weeks ago we were working on a craft project. First we made valentine hearts out of red construction paper. Carlos said, "what do we do with THAT?" Placing it on his shirt, I said "It shows someone loves you." He said, "Really? Who? Do you think someone loves ME?" There's a question a child should NEVER have to ask. Later we were all making masks out of paper plates....always popular. Carlos carefully cut out the eyes, nose, and ears. I said "Let's make the mouth." So he cut out a U-shaped mouth and was ready to paste it on. I laid it on smile side up. He turned it upside down. I asked, "What's that, Carlos? A mustache?" He told me, "No, the mask is sad because he doesn't have a mother."
Today, we had a new kid at the shelter, Luis. Luis is about 5 and autistic. We suppose autistic, although none of us is a professional to diagnose it. He is very timid and doesn't speak. He has trouble interacting with the other kids and spending much time on any one activity. At the end of the afternoon, I could see he was warming to me just a bit. I want to work with him some more in the coming weeks and see if his condition is only situational and not permanent. I asked Janet, one of the ladies I work with, what Luis's story was. "When he came to the shelter, he had spent most of his life tied to a chair while his mother 'worked,'" she told me.
They make our own problems look pretty insignificant, don't they?
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Cranky Me
Tonight I'm cranky as hell.
First, let me explain where I live. It is a Mexican family compound with an entry off the street. In front, opening onto the sidewalk is the family "tienda de abarrotes" or corner store. Think 7-11 with a limited line of merchandise. In fact, we used to have these in most major U.S. cities up until the 1960s. I know Chicago did.
I digress. There is an extended family living here. A rock solid, hard-assed matriarchy. Grandma lives in the front apartment....just a room and bath, really. She has 6 daughters, known as the "tias" (aunties). The eldest lives in the nice apartment behind the store. The other aunties live in varying units scattered around the courtyard. There are no men. Let me repeat that....THERE ARE NO MEN. Clearly, there HAVE BEEN men given the presence of children (that's how it works as I recall). But they ain't none now. Drove 'em off, in my opinion. Each Sunday afternoon, they all get together for a big family supper.
My problem is with Paulina, the teenaged daughter of one of the aunties. I would guess she's around 14...a difficult age. She has 2 tones of voice: screeching and whining. I'm so sick of hearing, "Mommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy!!!!" Do you still call your mother "Mommy" at 14? When she says (whines) it, the word lasts about 3 minutes. When she has some of her little girlfriends over, it's as though you took a chicken house full of hens and SHOOK IT....hard. Screech. Giggle. Scream. Screech. And a couple of annoying long whines, for good measure.
Now I realize that I am a cranky old man (or at least well on my way to that esteemed categorization). Noise bothers me (the first sign of aging....badly). Key note to consider here: Mexico is a very noisy place. Unlike anything you might be accustomed to in the U.S. Kids, dogs, and fireworks almost every day (and an occasional brass band marching down your street). And I also appreciate the Mexican culture in which little girls are all PRINCESSES. They lavish money and material goods on the little darlings in a ceremony that all young ladies go through called "Quiceañera" or "Sweet 15." There are fancy gowns, even tiaras, etc. You get the idea. So our sweet little Paulina is fast approaching Quiceañera age. And she's spoiled. By everyone, mom and aunties alike.
The very last straw is that today she came home with a new toy....a musical recorder (like a plastic clarinet). And she has played it from 2 p.m. until 8:30 p.m. For those of you how don't know, that encompasses my NAP TIME. All of us in the courtyard have been entertained with the tune "New York, New York" over and over and over and over and over and over again. About 200 times by my reckoning. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Complete with lots of WRONG NOTES. I left for my drawing class (1.5 hours). Came home. Guess what? Darling Paulina is still playing the damned recorder in the courtyard.
I've become homicidal. I'm fantasizing about what a recorder would look like shoved down her throat and out the other end.... Hmmmm, that's an unusual mental picture, isn't it? But in self defense I think I'll go buy myself a cheap little recorder tomorrow and every time we are treated to a little concert by Paulina, I'll walk out onto my front step and BLOW my damned instrument for all its worth.....Every sour note I can muster.
Perhaps that will send a message? I doubt it. Mexican kids can do no wrong. Best I can do is talk with my landlady (another auntie). I'll politely put it like this: "your choice....daily concerts by Paulina or 5,000 pesos hard cash every month from me. You pick."
First, let me explain where I live. It is a Mexican family compound with an entry off the street. In front, opening onto the sidewalk is the family "tienda de abarrotes" or corner store. Think 7-11 with a limited line of merchandise. In fact, we used to have these in most major U.S. cities up until the 1960s. I know Chicago did.
I digress. There is an extended family living here. A rock solid, hard-assed matriarchy. Grandma lives in the front apartment....just a room and bath, really. She has 6 daughters, known as the "tias" (aunties). The eldest lives in the nice apartment behind the store. The other aunties live in varying units scattered around the courtyard. There are no men. Let me repeat that....THERE ARE NO MEN. Clearly, there HAVE BEEN men given the presence of children (that's how it works as I recall). But they ain't none now. Drove 'em off, in my opinion. Each Sunday afternoon, they all get together for a big family supper.
My problem is with Paulina, the teenaged daughter of one of the aunties. I would guess she's around 14...a difficult age. She has 2 tones of voice: screeching and whining. I'm so sick of hearing, "Mommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy!!!!" Do you still call your mother "Mommy" at 14? When she says (whines) it, the word lasts about 3 minutes. When she has some of her little girlfriends over, it's as though you took a chicken house full of hens and SHOOK IT....hard. Screech. Giggle. Scream. Screech. And a couple of annoying long whines, for good measure.
Now I realize that I am a cranky old man (or at least well on my way to that esteemed categorization). Noise bothers me (the first sign of aging....badly). Key note to consider here: Mexico is a very noisy place. Unlike anything you might be accustomed to in the U.S. Kids, dogs, and fireworks almost every day (and an occasional brass band marching down your street). And I also appreciate the Mexican culture in which little girls are all PRINCESSES. They lavish money and material goods on the little darlings in a ceremony that all young ladies go through called "Quiceañera" or "Sweet 15." There are fancy gowns, even tiaras, etc. You get the idea. So our sweet little Paulina is fast approaching Quiceañera age. And she's spoiled. By everyone, mom and aunties alike.
The very last straw is that today she came home with a new toy....a musical recorder (like a plastic clarinet). And she has played it from 2 p.m. until 8:30 p.m. For those of you how don't know, that encompasses my NAP TIME. All of us in the courtyard have been entertained with the tune "New York, New York" over and over and over and over and over and over again. About 200 times by my reckoning. Squeak, squeak, squeak. Complete with lots of WRONG NOTES. I left for my drawing class (1.5 hours). Came home. Guess what? Darling Paulina is still playing the damned recorder in the courtyard.
I've become homicidal. I'm fantasizing about what a recorder would look like shoved down her throat and out the other end.... Hmmmm, that's an unusual mental picture, isn't it? But in self defense I think I'll go buy myself a cheap little recorder tomorrow and every time we are treated to a little concert by Paulina, I'll walk out onto my front step and BLOW my damned instrument for all its worth.....Every sour note I can muster.
Perhaps that will send a message? I doubt it. Mexican kids can do no wrong. Best I can do is talk with my landlady (another auntie). I'll politely put it like this: "your choice....daily concerts by Paulina or 5,000 pesos hard cash every month from me. You pick."
Friday, September 18, 2009
Craft Project for the Kids
This is the craft project I did with the kids this last week to celebrate Mexican Independence Day. It's paper weaving, which I discovered on the Internet. First, I cut down placemat sized pieces of white construction paper. Then, I sliced horizontal strips, leaving them attached on each side. Then, we cut out the vertical strips of red and green construction paper. The kids "wove" the red and green strips through the white base. Then they colored the circular "escudo" (national shield from the Mexican flag), cut it out and pasted it on top of the weaving. To finish, we enclosed the project in clear contact paper. Voila! Instant patriotic placemat. The kids were thrilled. We did it for 3 volunteer sites, the street kids program at DIF, at the American Library for their Saturday morning kids program, and at the shelter, Niños de la Luna. In total, some 60 units. That's a lot of slicing. I'm grateful for the help of my compañeras, Eva, and Holly.
Sartorial Cool
The second is my new Panama hat. It's not from Panama, but actually was made in Ecuador of very fine palm fibers. They make them here in Mexico, in the Yucatan....inside caves where it's cool and they can bend the fibers more easily. But mine is imported, completely first class. And...if I do say so myself...very cool.
The first is my Guadalajara Chivas soccer jersey. I bought it a couple of years ago when I was in Guad. I like it because of the name of the team sponsor emblazoned across the chest: BIMBO. I've always wanted to be a Bimbo, and now I am one. To the Mexicans, the shirt is perfectly common. To Americans, it causes double-takes. My Bimbo shirt is, sadly, NOT COOL.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Happy 199th
Today is Mexican Independence Day. Last night the governor gave the "grito" (Viva Mexico!) from the government palace in the zocalo. Huge crowds of revelers (think New Year's Eve) plus hundreds of federal, state, and municipal police along with military. I stayed home. I don't do crowds and all that law enforcement makes me nervous. But at our place 6 blocks away, we could here the amplified sound. Music loud enough to make you deaf.
It's now just one year until the Mexican Bicentennial. Electronic clock displays in every state capital show the time counting down to the big event. Folks around here are a bit nervous, though. They say every 100 years is a revolution here: 1810, Independence from Spain; 1910, Revolution (Poncho Villa, Zapata, et al). And in 2010? Let's hope history doesn't repeat itself.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
History Lesson: The Significance of Sept. 13
I literally stumbled onto this bit of Mexican history. Of course, I knew about Mexican Independence Day, Sept. 16. It's when the president of Mexico and all the state governors walk out onto the balconies of their government palaces and give the iconic "Grito" which is "Viva Mexico!" That commemorates Father Hidalgo's call for independence from Spain in 1810.
Here in Oaxaca, we have street vendors selling flags, banners, shields, drums, anything you can think of in the national colors of red, white, and green. Today, I noticed the huge Mexican flag in the zocalo flying at half staff. "Wonder why?" I thought. At the noon Oaxaca State Band concert, the announcer spoke of the honoring the Boy Heroes and of the North American invaders. Hmmm.
This evening, at another patriotic ceremony in the zocalo, a drum & bugle corps performed and there were a series of speeches by local dignitaries (in Mexico, there are ALWAYS speeches, and speeches, and speeches....) Listening carefully, I learned that Sept. 13 is the day commemorating the fall of Mexico City at the battle of Chapultapec Castle during the Mexican-American War (Mexicans call it the North American Intervention). That was the battle in which the
boy cadets of the national military academy were martyred. All over Mexico streets, plazas and public spaces are named "Ninos Heroes" (Boy Heroes) or "Martyrs of Chapultapec." It's very much part of the Mexican national identity.
Here's an explanation from
Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Chapultepec
During the battle, six Mexican military cadets refused to fall back when General Bravo finally ordered retreat and fought to the death against superior U.S. forces. Their names were: teniente (lieutenant) Juan de la Barrera, and cadets Agustin Melgar, Juan Escutia, Vicente Suarez, Francisco Marquez and Fernando Montes de Oca. One by one they fell; when one was left (Juan Escutia), and the U.S. forces were about to kill him, he grabbed the Mexican flag, wrapped it around himself and jumped off the castle point. It is said that the American commander saluted the body of Escutia wrapped in the Mexican flag.
This was the same war in which the U.S. took from Mexico the present states of California, Arizona, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, and part of Colorado...about half of their pre-war territory. Remember that Mexico had only been independent from Spain for about 25 years at that point and was a politically weak and financially struggling young nation.
So, today, listening to speeches about "the American invaders" and "those at whose hands the boys cadets were martyred" and about the U.S. taking so much Mexican territory, I wanted to be somewhere...anywhere...else. It was uncomfortable. But I'm glad I was there. It helped me understand why there is still a lingering ambivalence about the U.S. Yes,their economy is highly linked to our own. Most Mexican exports go to the States. And, of course, remittances from Mexican workers in the U.S. form the #4 or #5 greatest source of revenue in Mexico. But, at times, we've been less than a genial neighbor.
So, if Mexicans are still pissed off...I can understand why.
Here in Oaxaca, we have street vendors selling flags, banners, shields, drums, anything you can think of in the national colors of red, white, and green. Today, I noticed the huge Mexican flag in the zocalo flying at half staff. "Wonder why?" I thought. At the noon Oaxaca State Band concert, the announcer spoke of the honoring the Boy Heroes and of the North American invaders. Hmmm.
This evening, at another patriotic ceremony in the zocalo, a drum & bugle corps performed and there were a series of speeches by local dignitaries (in Mexico, there are ALWAYS speeches, and speeches, and speeches....) Listening carefully, I learned that Sept. 13 is the day commemorating the fall of Mexico City at the battle of Chapultapec Castle during the Mexican-American War (Mexicans call it the North American Intervention). That was the battle in which the
boy cadets of the national military academy were martyred. All over Mexico streets, plazas and public spaces are named "Ninos Heroes" (Boy Heroes) or "Martyrs of Chapultapec." It's very much part of the Mexican national identity.
Here's an explanation from
Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Chapultepec
During the battle, six Mexican military cadets refused to fall back when General Bravo finally ordered retreat and fought to the death against superior U.S. forces. Their names were: teniente (lieutenant) Juan de la Barrera, and cadets Agustin Melgar, Juan Escutia, Vicente Suarez, Francisco Marquez and Fernando Montes de Oca. One by one they fell; when one was left (Juan Escutia), and the U.S. forces were about to kill him, he grabbed the Mexican flag, wrapped it around himself and jumped off the castle point. It is said that the American commander saluted the body of Escutia wrapped in the Mexican flag.
This was the same war in which the U.S. took from Mexico the present states of California, Arizona, Utah, Nevada, New Mexico, Texas, and part of Colorado...about half of their pre-war territory. Remember that Mexico had only been independent from Spain for about 25 years at that point and was a politically weak and financially struggling young nation.
So, today, listening to speeches about "the American invaders" and "those at whose hands the boys cadets were martyred" and about the U.S. taking so much Mexican territory, I wanted to be somewhere...anywhere...else. It was uncomfortable. But I'm glad I was there. It helped me understand why there is still a lingering ambivalence about the U.S. Yes,their economy is highly linked to our own. Most Mexican exports go to the States. And, of course, remittances from Mexican workers in the U.S. form the #4 or #5 greatest source of revenue in Mexico. But, at times, we've been less than a genial neighbor.
So, if Mexicans are still pissed off...I can understand why.
Male Dominated Mexico
"Machismo" is alive and well in Mexico. You can see one example of that in the language: the very trendy, very popular use to express when something is "cool" or "awesome" is "Que padre!," which translates exactly as "how FATHER."
So in other words, when something has positive attributes, it's FATHER. I, for one, try to avoid using the expression. Instead I used "Que genial!" which has the same idea of "how cool!"
To my American ears, saying that something is "very FATHER" sounds absurd. But, of course our saying that "it's raining cats & dogs" sounds ridiculous to just about everyone else in the world. The use of language is weird, isn't it?
So in other words, when something has positive attributes, it's FATHER. I, for one, try to avoid using the expression. Instead I used "Que genial!" which has the same idea of "how cool!"
To my American ears, saying that something is "very FATHER" sounds absurd. But, of course our saying that "it's raining cats & dogs" sounds ridiculous to just about everyone else in the world. The use of language is weird, isn't it?
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