Lucky girl

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Not much excitement in Valpa but I was supposed to be here as a reminder of how lucky I am even in my situation.  I once heard Oprah say that to be born a girl in the United States made you the luckiest girl in the world.  I think of that quote quite often and know personally how true it is and today I was reminded of that by a 97 year old woman getting her Identification for the first time and by a 27 year old “wixarika or huichol” woman who wished she could read.

Today’s highlight involved waking up early to accompany grandmother to pick up her ‘voters’ card which is the country’s version of a National, State and local identification card all rolled into one.  The card is designed to give its card holder the ability to vote in all elections.  Its accidental use is as a valid form of identification for its citizens.  Each State has mobile unites which set up shop in various towns and people travel for hours to reach one of the mobile units.  The requirements are a birth certificate, a phone or electricity bill and another form of identification.  When people don’t have one or more of those requirements then they must bring in two witnesses to testify that the person is who they say they are and the witnesses must already have a voter’s card.  The intent of the government is that every citizen will have the ability to vote for its government representatives but I find it odd since while I am in line over half of the people there can’t red or write.  Most sign their names with X’s and have to be given instructions at every step of the way because they can’t read the signs.  The person shows up, submits their paperwork, takes a picture, leaves their finger prints and comes back in 1 or 2 months to pick up their new voter’s card the next time the mobile unit is back in town. 

Grandmother came two months ago to renew her card and she is only picking up her new card.  This process takes us over 5 hours and one employee processes a little over 75 people who are there to pick up and submit documents for new cards.  I witness a 97 year old woman being taken by her family to obtain her first form of identification and sign her X on the back of her new card.  I am not sure if she’s even aware of what is going on but her family explains that they need her to have identification for her to travel to the U.S. for the first time.  I feel joy at being able to witness this historic event for a woman who has seen so much and could wow us with stories of times long ago.  I am lucky and I need to remember that I have had privalidges unheard of by many and the fact that I can type these words and share them with others makes me even more fortunate.

Afterwards we travel to the bus station where a young “wixarika or huichol” woman sells the jewelry she makes to support her family.  My mother made friends with her after her many trips to the bust station and when I came my mother sent her some gifts.  She was genuinely happy to receive them and I got the sense no one had ever given her anything.  When my mother returned home to us she brought me a beautiful hand crafted bracelet made by this woman.  I wanted to buy some of her jewelry for my friends back home.  Grandma and I arrived to see her reading the paper.  Grandma asked her what was new in the world and embarrassed she said “I don’t know, I don’t know how to read but I like to think that I do”.  An immediate wave of sadness swept through me.  At my worst day as an illegal woman in the U.S. I at least new how to read and write and I have taken that privilege for granted.   I know I get down about my situation but she reminds me again of just how blessed I am to be who I am.