Valparaiso

Monday, July 18, 2011
Took the bus to Valparaiso to visit my mom’s mom and my other grandma but first made a stop in Fresnillo at a little town called Plateros to visit “El Santo Niño de Atocha”. Being on a bus is a way of living around here; no one goes anywhere unless it’s on a bus. Making the trip to Plateros is a little nostalgic because as a kid I remember how long the walk was to the church from the bus station. My mom would ask this baby Jesus to help her with my dad, with us, to get us out of poverty and in return we would all arrive at church walking from the bus station. I remember seeing people with their bloody knees on the street kneeling all the way to the church. People arrive any which way they can to ask this porcelain statue for miracles.

I often wonder how faith works. As a child I remember attending mass on a regular basis, every Sunday with out fault and for me sometimes it was daily when I attended catholic school. I am not sure I ever really believed but I did it because that’s what I was supposed to do, that’s what everyone did. Now that’s not the case, as I have grown, I feel myself growing more and more pessimistic about this god thing. I know people ask themselves the same questions I have every day but for me they have yet to be answered. How could a love and merciful god allow war? How can he allow families to be torn apart? How can he allow little kids to suffer? You know the questions. Maybe it’s my life experiences maybe like my mother says, the more education I get the less faith I have. Whatever it is, I am on this broken down bus looking out the window at the poverty around me and I cant help but wonder that if this miraculous figure is so giving why not give to these people who are obviously in need. Why do people need to come from all over the world to this one spot to ask him for miracles when the people right outside the church walls are suffering?

Arriving is as interesting as it gets, people pulling you every which way to buy their food, their candy, and their goods. We don’t know which way to look because a casual glance at an item can be mistaken as a sale. The smell of “carnitas” is intoxicating and our bellies force us to sit and partake in the local foods. Fresh tortillas, salsa and it’ officially the best food we’ve had on this trip so far. Enjoying the meal is an understatement; we eat until there’s not more room in our bellies for anything else. We make our way to the church and sit through mass, something I haven’t done in over a decade but it seems like the appropriate thing to do. E bought his mom a rosary and I suggest he have it blessed by the priest at the end of the mass. Today for some reason I listen to the priest and his words stay with me. “You can’t ask god to do something for you and if he doesn’t then you don’t believe in him, either you believe or don’t. There will never be enough miracles performed for those who choose to question the lord.” I understand what he says and I am surprised. For so long I have prayed and asked for my family’s situation to change. I never asked to win the lottery just for us to be able to live in the U.S. in peace and without fear, to be able to get a good job and pursue an education. I know we’re not in the same situation we were in before but it’s been 23 years and here I am asking for the same thing. As I walk through the outside of the church I read some of the piles of letters, pictures and thanks from people all over the world that were grateful for the miracles performed. Words from people who were glad to have a child after many years of trying, cancer that disappeared, and diseases that were cured and I can’t help but wonder if I asked for too much. I guess so, because my miracle would require that political systems be changes and laws be enacted. I guess next time I’ll just ask for a pony.

Valparaiso is different than Ojocaliente, it is a smaller town and immediately you can sense the poverty. We walk through what used to be a beautiful river. I remember as a kid the women in town washing their clothes in the river water while the kids played with out worries. I remember the river coming up to my grandmothers’ house and fearing a flood. Today, 23 years later there is no water in the river and only the stench of sewage and garbage remains. Chickens walk past us and E pulls out his camera. I laugh at the thought of going through the family album someday and E explaining to his grandchildren that the picture is of some chicken he saw when he was younger. “That’s where chicken nuggets come from kids.” My mom’s mom lives in a much smaller house than my other grandmother and her little house is tiny and quaint. I can hold up the ceiling in most of the rooms in the house and you better duck your head if you want to ender a door way. There is not much to do or see in Valpa so we stay and chat with grandma all night long. Anything left to do in town has been taken over by the gangs and the violence. Small towns, medium towns or large cities have all been infiltrated by the violence only here there is no 911 or helicopters that will come out to look for criminals. If there are local police left in towns they usually end up falling prey to the local cartel, otherwise the military steps in. There is no “protecting civilians” here if the local gang and the military get into a shoot out anything and anyone goes. It is common for there to be roadblocks on the main roads leading into town diverting drivers to pull over for a local cartel inspection, they like it, they take it, be it items, cars or people. Don’t want to comply? Then you are received with a complimentary shot to the head, body left on the side of the road for no one to claim.

It’s time to sleep but we won’t be getting much of that tonight. Grandma has a set of neighbors only Satan can envy. They have decided that tonight they want to play music at the highest level possible. It is a mini oven in grandmas’ room, we have to keep the window open, its 3 am and Vicente Fernandez won’t stop singing old songs. There is a pause in the music and I think they are finally done, I sigh with relief and when the music starts up again I yell for them to shut up. My mistake, they thought I said turn it up!