At the end of May, our YAGM group met for our second-to-last retreat. While we were there, our country coordinator, Andrea asked us to reflect on this year in Mexico, what we've discovered about ourselves, and our fears and excitement about returning home. Given that we have less than a month and a half left here there's a lot to think about. This letter, then, is for the both of us.  Dear family and friends: Ten months ago I packed my bags and my courage, and arrived in Mexico full of nerves and excitement - with hardly a clue about how the direction of this year would unfold. Waking up to the sounds of rutas, roosters and ranchera music seemed so strange at first to my suburban Chicago ears. And I wasn’t sure what to think of eating slimy nopales (cactus paddles), chayote (prickly pear), or the flor de calabaza (squash blossom) tucked inside my quesadillas. Meal after meal, I wondered about the variety of chile as I sniffled my way through colorful plates covered in spicy salsas. Navigating the city center seemed like a maze - as if back in the 1500s, Cuernavaca’s original city planners sat down, played a game of pick-up sticks, and decided that's how the city would be laid out. Still, it wasn’t until I arrived in the mountainside village (2 hours outside of Cuernavaca) that I realized I was really in for something different -- quickly setting aside my fondness for four-legged creatures while learning to anticipate aggressive dogs during home visits, often carrying an umbrella (my weapon of choice) or a small rock with me, just in case. Oh, yes. There have been times when Mexico felt like a world away from home.
I was there. I was there for the ordinary and milestone moments. To clip toe-nails, hold someone's hand, to help prepare meals, give someone a bath; to play, to color and read storybooks and letters. I was there when a young man recovered his eyesight after cataract surgery. I was there when a mother said her final goodbyes to her dying daughter. I was there early one morning after a family lost a loved one to cancer. I was there when one became two. May it be one-on-one, or in a small circle, I’m ready to share these stories with you when I return. Remember that as my voice begins to tell you, that same breath asks to hear your stories, too. It amazes me that even from afar you have held a special place in my heart. I’ve felt your prayers, your well-wishes, your love and concern; and I am deeply, deeply grateful for your presence. So it is that I return to you filled with a rumbling, aching hunger in my heart that only your stories will satisfy. I don’t know yet how to make real the things that I’ve experienced except to live moment to moment, situation to situation, with new stories, my story, and under my feet are the common stories we share. These are the things of the Spirit and the heart. These are the things that cannot exist or grow outside of community. It’s what I had to go to Mexico to recognize and what returning home calls on me to believe and feel. Thank you. Thank you for who you are. Thank you for being such an integral part of the gifts and abilities I brought with me here. Thank you for being the community that sent me on this journey. And until I can be home with you in person, I continue to feel your closeness in such a visceral way.
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Back in May I found myself in and out of work due to a bunch of holidays. We had: · Dia de la Santa Cruz (Holy Cross Day) · Cinco de Mayo (honoring the victory over the French army in at the Battle of Puebla in 1862) · Dia de Madre (Mother’s Day) While I really missed working in the bakery, learning new dance moves, and practicing English with my enthusiastic chamaquitos at GADI, I had an incredible adventure with friends Katherine, Peter, and Sara in the city of Puebla for Cinco de Mayo celebrations.  Katherine, me and Sara in front of the main cathedral.  The food certainly lived up to its reputation. Mmm, mole poblano, a thick sauce made of different kinds of spices, chiles and chocolate.  It just happened that we were in town for the last few days of a major music and cultural festival called Barroquisimo, which meant we got to see a number of free concerts all around the city.  AND, to my surprise, the festival ended with a concert by Baaba Maal - a Senegalese pop/world music artist who I’ve listened to since growing up in West Africa! After the concert: Katherine, me and Baaba. Then on Cinco de Mayo, May 5th, we made our way through swarms of people with giant umbrellas in order to watch the parade. We had a hard time finding a good spot to see all the action and eventually climbed partway up a giant statue to get a better view.  The parade itself was kind of underwhelming since it was basically hours of soldiers and military tanks rolling down the street and only a few floats and high school marching bands to speak of.
Besides the parade being a bust, the trip was fantastic. Probably the most memorable was our visit to the Pyramid of Cholula - famous for its system of underground tunnels and also considered the world’s widest pyramid. Only what made our trip out there so interesting wasn’t necessarily for the pyramid itself. We started out with a pretty laidback morning walking around the ruins and looking inside the church built on the top of the hill; then as we started walking down the stairs from the church I noticed a familiar face sitting alongside the path. Next to spread of candies, bracelets and other crafts was Celia, a young woman from the village where I previously worked. I don’t think either of us knew what to do at first but all in an instant Celia and I were hugging and catching up on what’s happened since we last saw each other. It turns out that she’s been away from home for a while in order to help her brother sell baskets, bracelets, and whatever else they can at tourist and pilgrim sites like Cholula. It caught me completely by surprise to connect with Celia here, especially since we never had the chance to say goodbyes before leaving the community. It’s still hard to put words to this experience except to say that this was such a meaningful encounter. I didn’t even know how to express that to Celia except to tell her that I hope this hug hope wouldn’t be our last. It’s definitely that memory that will stick with me from our mini-vacation to Puebla. I shared a lot about this with my host mom and coworkers but after a few weeks now that I’m back into my normal routine at work and home, I can’t shake the feeling that more goodbyes are about to happen in this next month and a half. It’s sooner than I would have hoped but I guess now I’m on the homestretch. Already, some of the teachers at my work have already asked about when I leave Mexico, what I’ll be doing when I get home and if I’ll ever come back and visit. It's hard to think about leaving. These are uncomfortable conversations but it's understandable that they need to happen. We all need to start somehow and in some way thinking about leaving well. The major churches, pyramids, cities and quaint small towns may eventually fade into the back of my mind – but again, the ones who have made Mexico so fully part of who I am – people like Celia - simply won’t. Maybe I’ll save some of those thoughts for a future post but in the meantime I’m reminded that it’s really those who have grown so close to me this year that make life in Mexico feel like “home”. From my slice of Mexican “home” to yours, Katie Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh Maybe it’s the oppressive heatwave lately but this quote by Thich Nhat Hanh was just what I needed to come across last week. Figuratively speaking, I guess you could say that it hit me like a refreshingly cold shower! Ahhh… In any case, these timely words of wisdom and the memories they draw near allowed me to sit back and soak in the thoughts and feelings that have brought me so much joy working with students at GADI, most of whom have Down's syndrome. It’s a brief post but here are a couple joy-filled moments to share with you: “Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile…” Joy was the word that popped into my head as I was swamped with hugs last week after returning to work from some time off. Between tight squeezes and kisses on the cheek, a few of the older students couldn’t wait to say: Which actually sounded more like: Owwwa you? I fiiiiy. I realize that we won’t have perfectly fluent English students by the end of the year and that’s okay. Besides getting our facial muscles to work in a new way, the point in teaching English at GADI is to help students enjoy the satisfaction in learning something new. That sense of confidence and enthusiasm that my students exuded that morning was the source of the cheek-aching smile on my face. Now I won't be able to forget how contagious joy really is every time I cup my hands around my mouth to emphasize how to use our lips when pronouncing: “Howww arrrrrre youuu? III’mm fiiiinnne."  Here are a few more pictures from the center where I work:  Lupita, Elsa (one of the teachers) and Carolina outside in the garden for English class.  Hanging out: Elsa, Carolina and Alex  Clapping to the beat...  | AuthorI'm a 2009-2010 ELCA YAGM in Mexico, spending time in mission, service, and living in community. ArchivesJuly 2010 Categories |
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