Broken

Monday, August 8, 2011

Aunt Sol and her family were kind enough to invite aunt Mar, grandma and I on their trip into the state of Aguascalientes.  There is a Sam’s Club there where they do some of their grocery shopping and occasionally visit other friends.  Part of me was happy to have a little piece of home, a slice of pizza maybe a hot dog and some soda but I wasn’t.  Having fresh food every day has been hard on my stomach and has taken some time to get used to, now the processed food is not being kind to my stomach.  I feel sluggish and tiered.  I think it’s interesting how as human we adapt to various environments.  In the U.S. everyone except the Native Americans were foreigners to the land and they had to adapt to the foods of the new lands.  Now I must adapt to food if I want to survive. 

After the shopping trip we were off to our next adventure.  Aunt Sol and her family were taking us to visit “El Cristo Roto” or the Broken Christ, a truly magnificent site to see.  Nestled in this tiny town in the state of Aguascalientes is a lake and in the middle of the lake is a small island where an enormous broken Christ is.  People use boats to get to the island to see the broken Christ up close, but the thing is so massive you can see it from miles away.  I am not sure how tall this figure of Christ is but I can tell you its a couple hundred feet tall.  An impressive site, the Christ is missing an arm and a leg and is the reason he is called the broken Christ.  Legend tells that a few hundred years ago a priest came across a man selling crucifixes with Christ on them.  He noticed a Christ with a missing leg, arm and face.  Feeling sorry for the broken Christ he bargained with the store clerk until he gave him a good price for the crucifix that was so obviously in need of repair.  With every intention of taking it home and fixing it he heard gods voice tell him “leave me broken, so that when you look at me you are reminded of your brothers who are like me, crushed, indigent, oppressed and mutilated; without arms because they have no possibilities or means of work; without feet because they have blocked their way; without a cross because they have taken away their honor and dignity.  Everyone forgets about them and turns their back although they are like me, a broken Christ.

The story is beautiful and I find solace in hearing it even it I often don’t believe.  I stand underneath the broken Christ and wonder if he really exists does he remember I am here?  Does he remember that I am far away from my family and missing them terribly?  Around the base of the broken Christ are 12 boxes with various crucifixes on them with different representations of Christ throughout history.  I look at each one of them and wonder how things have changed through out time.  Unlike the broken Christ in the story this broken Christ has a face mainly the tour guides explain because people are too shocked to see a Christ with no faced.  I am surprised to hear that there are still things that shock people because lately it seems like we are willing to accept anything no matter how horrible.  I feel broken too only I have a broken heart.  All of me never looses hope of returning home but the small fear inside wonders if I ever will.  My heart is broken at being separated from my family and god isn’t speaking to me telling me what to do.