The knitting begins

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The 22^nd of every month grandma is in charge of saying the rosary at church and staying through the day to take care of the church.  Over the past few years the church has been vandalized on a regular basis, saints and relics are stolen, people take bathroom breaks on the door and alter of the church and more than once the week’s collection is taken.  Church goers take turns throughout the day every day to pray and patrol the church for those wanting to bring harm to it.  Grandma must stay at church for 6 hours and rather than subject myself to a days worth of boredom I leave grandma at church while I head over to my aunts house to go bother her.  A few weeks ago I found out that one of my aunts in Ojo is pregnant and I wanted my aunt in Valpa who knits to make her a baby blanket.  I went over to see if she had any made already she could sell me or if I could pay her to knit me one in a neutral pearl color since she doesn’t know what she’s having yet (but it’s a baby for sure).  To my surprise my aunt tells me that she doesn’t have time to knit a baby blanket for me since she has to go take care of the cows in her ranch by morning and her grandkids in the afternoon but she will teach me how to make it so I can make it myself.  I am definitely not the woman who makes things, I am sure I made valentines day and mothers day cards in school but the only thing I know how to make for sure is money to buy what I need.  Aunt Luz assures me it’s an easy process and that she can walk me through the steps while she does her house chores.  I have nothing to do for the next 6 hours while grandma is at church and I guess making a baby blanket is better than sleeping on my aunt’s couch.  Sure enough the process is easy and fun and before I know it 6 hours passed and I am almost done with my first baby blanket.  She lets me take the tools and the baby blanket home to grandmas so I can keep working on it there and promises to come to grandmas one day and finish knitting the edges.  I can hardly sleep that night with the excitement that I knitted that blanket and that my new little cousin will have something made by me. 

Witness

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Grandma and I are back at Doña Chilas house but this time I brought and arsenal of weapons with me that will prevent today’s boredom.  I brought my dvd player and the fourth season of Dexter.  It took the strength of every bone in my body to prevent myself from watching the movies E sent me while I was in Ojo.  There I have my own room and a television where I can see what’s on any of the 5 channels available without cable.  I knew that when I got to grandmas in Valpa I would have not television and lots hours filled with nothing to do.  One after the other I watch episodes of Dexter and I can’t get enough, each episode is better and more intriguing than the previous one and I need to know what happens. I get through the first four episodes before it’s time to head back to the house.  We arrive to a call from my aunt who wants grandma to light her candle and say a prayer for her son and his wife whose house was not only robbed today again for the 5^th or 6^th time this year but because his wife witnessed a murder on her way home from the university.  A neighbor and shopkeeper to a little market in the neighborhood was robbed and when he didn’t give up the money fast enough he was shot in front of all the customers in the stores.  My cousin’s wife devastated by what she had witnessed ran home and hid until her husband arrived to find her home crying in a closet.  Chills fill my body as I listen to grandma repeat the story.  Grandma hangs up the phone and we kneel to say a prayer for my cousin and his wife.  I pray that things will get better for them and that the violence will stop but I don’t pray for myself because I am still not convinced it will make a difference.         

Doña Chila

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Doña Chila is an old friend of the family’s, her family was one of the first families in Valparaiso to have a telephone back in the 80’s.  Doña Chila would let people use her phone to send and receive calls from loved ones back in the U.S. (for a small fee of course).  When I was a child I remember heading over to here house on Sunday’s after church to wait in line and use the telephone to talk to my father who was in the U.S.  It always seemed like we waited forever and that the call would never arrive but when it did I sat on my mother’s lap and talked to my father about how much I missed him and how I was doing in school.  Doña Chila was also grandma’s first neighbor when she moved from the ranch she was born and lived in “Las Viudas/ The Widows” to Valparaiso. 

Now Doña Chila is 90+ years old and her health is less than optimal these days.  She lives with one of her daughter’s who is single and they both take care of each other.  Her daughter must go to work every day and as a consequence Doña Chila must stay home alone most of the day.  A few weeks ago her health got so bad the priest had to be called in to give her communion in bed and prep her for the afterlife.  She didn’t die but her daughter is so afraid to leave her alone now that she has asked grandma to check up on her and stay with Doña Chila during the day while she is at work.  Not having much to do during the day herself grandma takes her bible and whatever she’s knitting that week to her friends house and she sits, prays and knits while her old friend rests.  Today I had to accompany grandma to her new day job and I was less than pleased.  If I ever felt that my days were long and boring I was understating until now.  I sit on a couch and look at the people who walk by the window, I count them (32) and I look at what they are wearing.  I didn’t know that my days were going to be like this and I may soon run back to Ojocaliente.  In the afternoon a near by internet café opens and I leap the chance of getting out of the house to go read spam mail rather than have to endure this much boredom.    

Grandma’s sitting duties are over by 3 pm and I couldn’t be hungrier.  She surprises me by telling me that she has been asking around and that she knows of a hamburger place in town that sell burgers like back home.  I am less than pleased at the thought, in Ojo one of my aunts took me to a burger joint there and let’s just say it left me not wanting a burger for a while.  But grandma seemed so happy to be taking me I agreed to go.  The place is called “Los Simpsons” and I have to say it is by far one of the best burgers and fries I have ever eaten.  With the exception of Mexican ketchup which is very sweet, the entire meal was delicious.  Grandma had the chicken burger while I had the beef burger both were amazing and we both agreed to come here again while I am visiting her.  I haven’t finished digesting the first burger and I am already thinking about when I am going to have the second one.  I know I am fat, sue me!

La Emme

Monday, September 19, 2011

I am not sure why but the trips to and from seeing my grandmothers are emotionally and physically tiring.  It’s a four hour bus ride with a few transfers but when I arrive at my destination I am hungry and ready for a nap.  Grandma in Valparaiso (La Emme) is always so happy to see me and has dinner waiting for me and more food than both of us could possibly eat together.  We sit, eat, laugh and I tell her about all the latest with my family back home and in Ojocaliente.  I tell her about the series of events that brought the federal police to Ojo and she is not shocked to hear what took place.  She tells me that violence is an everyday occurrence there and that soldiers were keeping things peaceful there in Valpa for a while but since they left a few days ago the bad guys have come back into town to take their place at the head of the violence.  I ask myself how things could get this out of had?  How could a government allow their people to live in such fear?  How could people allow themselves to see violence as a normal everyday occurrence?  I know back in the U.S. I don’t live in the best of neighborhoods and that we have our own share of violence but we don’t have to worry the way people do here, or am I just naïve?

Blah

Sunday, September 18, 2011

There are days here that go by that aren’t worth mentioning not because they don’t mater but because nothing interesting enough to write about happens.  However, I write about every day even if its just a little because I heard a priest say once that every day matters and that we should be thankful everyday we get to get up and live another day.  I lack a religious bone in my body but I agree that I need to be more cognizant of the fact that every day I get to get up and breathe, walk, talk, speak, type is another day to be grateful for, and so I write about a most mundane Sunday that is no different than any other Sunday in Ojocaliente.  As usual the family gathers to have lunch.  Aunts, uncles, cousins all gather from various towns and cities at the grandparents’ house to enjoy a meal together and share in the weeks events.   Cousin who announced he is getting married next month comes over to invite us to his future wife’s bridal shower and all the ladies agree to do their best to attend.  I turn on the television and I am elated to see that there is a channel here that is showing American Football and I partake in a little of my Sunday ritual back home.  Like a dutiful granddaughter I once again prepare to accompany grandma to church and end my day packing and get ready to start my journey back to Valparaiso and to my other grandmother in the morning.

24 years

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Everyday I wake up in Mexico is a reminder that I am not home but it is those phone calls home on people’s birthdays I am missing that make me even more nostalgic for my family.  Today is my sister’s birthday and a reminder that we all haven’t been together for her birthday as a family in a long time.  Two years ago, sister spent her birthday in Mexico and last year mom spent her birthday in Mexico, both going through the same process.  Mom calls me crying because she is afraid sister won’t be home to celebrate her own birthday.  She explains that just yesterday they had a huge fight over my parents taking my nice to see my brother who is in jail (without my sister or her husband permission of course). I am not sure if there is a study out there somewhere about what happens to children who have to visit a parent in jail but everyone in the house is worried about the implications that taking my nieces to see their father in jail might have.  Needless to say in an effort to avoid turning my three year old niece in to a criminal herself my sister would rather her daughter not visit her uncle in jail.  Sister is still to hurt, too mad, to selfish, to young to forgive her brother for his mistakes and I certainly can’t blame her.  She feels how she feels and I am not the one who can or will change her mind.  Mother is crying and it makes me sad and mad to hear her so devastated over the phone, I wish I was there to help, but I am not.  I am not a mother yet and I can not imagine what being one is like but I have had to watch my mother suffer for her children all her life.  Now she has a daughter stuck in Mexico, her only son in jail and her baby girl is too pissed to come home for her birthday dinner.  I am not sure I ever want to be a mother at this point.  No matter what she does it’s not good enough and no matter how big her sacrifices are she will never please us all.  Sister eventually agrees to come home and the celebration goes on.  My husband calls and as he puts the phone up for me to hear I listen to everyone sing happy birthday and I wish I was there in the middle of all the chaos.  Happy birthday sister, I hope 24 makes you a little wiser and more compassionate.        

Pride

Friday, September 16, 2011

Early in the morning I am awaken by the sounds of trumpets and drums.  I didn’t get to bed until 2 am this morning because I wanted to watch the celebration on TV in Mexico City and as a result the loud music is a surprise so early in the morning.  I rush to the window in my pajamas to watch the local school children all lined up and marching to various Mexican patriotic songs in honor of Mexico’s 201 years of independence.  Young and old people march down the streets in their school uniforms and various costumes. People cheer and clap as the parade passed by them.  I can’t help but wonder how many of those parades I would have participated in if I has stayed here as a child.  When I was in the second grade I was in charge of carrying the flag every morning at school for our daily pledge of allegiance.  I used to love how the drummer next to me carried the tune we all marched to.  Being back here in my grandmothers home makes me remember what my childhood was like because I remember having one up until I was seven and everything changed.  I snap myself out of those painful memories and hurry back to my room and get dressed in a white tank top and a festive Mexican flower necklace adorned with the colors of the flag, green, white and red.  I go about my day through out the town and watch as everyone going by me is wearing the colors in some way or another I am glad I didn’t overdress and fit right in.  The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself.  I sit in a park bench and watch the people go about their lives and I can’t help but wonder when will mine start?

201 Years of Independence

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Tonight is the celebration of the 201 years of Mexico’s Independence the town had a huge celebration planned, although I got to watch it over the television.  All my aunts are in Zacatecas and I have no one to accompany me to the town’s events.  Grandma is still afraid of letting me out at night alone and frankly I am not in the mood to worry my family here or back home.  I watch the fireworks and the festivities all around the country and remember watching the fireworks with my husband over the harbor in Long Beach on 4h of July.  I wonder when I will get to see fire works with him again.  It is however beautiful to watch how people all over the world celebrate Mexico’s independence.  There are Mexicans in places I never imagined and they are all celebrating somewhere out there.  In the U.S. there is always such a contradiction with people when it comes to the use of the Mexican flag and celebrating Mexican holidays.  I can’t speak for all Mexicans living in the U.S. but I can say that we all know we are living in the U.S. and we should honor that, but we also know how proud we are to come from such a long history of being survivors that we can’t help but also honor the place we come from and that gave birth to us even if we are no longer there.  For me flying the Mexican flag and honoring Mexican holidays is not at all about being disrespectful but rather being respectful and mindful of the blood and history that run through my veins.  I honor Mexico by remembering it and flying its flag but I honor the U.S. by giving it my work, time, my effort, my family, me.

Not my realty

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Almost a week after the tragedy here in Ojo the helicopter is back and keeping an eye on things here.  The news has given conflicting information but they have finally settled on a version they and the government are comfortable with.  Two bodies were found earlier in the week and a government official was interviewed on TV and said they were not two of the federal police officers they were looking for; they were “two other random bodies”.  I couldn’t help but chuckle at the callousness with which he announced that they were two other random bodies.  Dead bodies popping up here have become as common as traffic accidents.  The news can’t even keep track with all the ones that are found, let alone with all the people who go missing.  However, today it was announced that the two bodies found near here were in fact two of the seven federal police officers that went missing; no mention was given of the remaining five.  So all we can do is assume and speculate that the helicopter remains here in hopes that maybe the other five are still alive.  Although in a place like this, under war and under siege it is difficult to keep hope of finding them alive.  People here go about their days and accept that this is just the way life is now but I refuse to accept that this is my reality.

I wish people voted more.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I spent enough time last night crying to my husband.  I hate to show weakness but when I am with him I am a ball of emotions.  I feel bad for making him feel worst than he already does but he is the one person I can count on to never forget me.  The day here is blah, the heat is starting to die down and the coolness of the morning and afternoons is much needed.  I dint go out yesterday and I didn’t much feel like going out today either but I gather enough strength to run errand for grandma and go right back to bed.  I don’t want her to worry so I pretend to be busy ready or writing something but the truth is that I am emotionally drained.  I always knew this would be a long process and I keep telling myself this is nothing compared to the 23 years I have had to live as an undocumented person in the U.S. but I can’t help but feel that every day I remain in Mexico is one day more that I am not home.  People on both ends ask what’s taking so long and most people don’t understand how this process works they are shocked to hear all the E and I are going through and most don’t believe it.  Some even think we are lying or exaggerating because what they hear on the news and from political pundits is not inline with the reality that is happening.  I wish people read more; I wish people would do more research and find things out for themselves instead of people who only have a concern for their pocket book and will say anything they can to sell books and advertising for their radio and TV shows.  I wish people weren’t so easily manipulated and conned into believing the hatred and lies of bigots and racists.  I wish people voted more and I wish they would make those votes informed votes, but most of all I wish I could go home.