Tuesday, August 21, 2007

!Fiesta!


My friend Gail from Grace Church called yesterday. She said that she had been reading my sabbatical blog and had a better understanding of our Latino neighbors because of it. That really is wonderful to hear. The members of Grace Church understand that to live with each other in the community of the church we have to learn about each other and understand each other. It's important to "get" the other person. Thanks Gail for reading my blog. Thanks Dave, my friend at Grace for printing my blog for parishioners who can't access it on the computer. Thanks Maria, my neighbor for reading and posting responses. I did get to Mexico City and spent four hours at the Museo de Antropologia. Thanks for your encouragement.

There were many cultural things I had to adjust to in Mexico. Thankfully, I had read quite a bit about the culture and the people. But I wasn't used to the constant noise. When I lived with Evelia I heard loud music from cars, children shouting until late at night playing ball and throwing it against the metal garage door under my room, loud music at El Centro, fireworks until late on the weekends, the constant "riot" of dogs that lived in the street corner with the family that had come in from the poor area of town and "squatted" under a tarp they had put up.


I understood from the history of Mexico that there are fiestas for everything: birthdays, The Virgen de Guadalupe, the pagan indigenous rituals from hundreds of years ago, the neighborhood patron saint/s, the 15th birthday of the daughters, baptisms, first communions. Almost every day has some reason for a fiesta. Even the day of the dead, November 2 is a fiesta.

One of my teachers explained fiestas to me. She described their link to poverty. She said that there is a tradition of spending all you have on fiestas, especially the poor. There is not much of a tradition of saving. So, the day after the fiesta, people are poorer than before the fiesta. She worries that this is a problem for the future.

The Nobel Prize winning author Octovio Paz, a Mexican wrote the following in his book, "Labyrinth of Solitude", "It is impossible to calculate how many fiestas we have and how much time and money we spend on them. I remember asking the mayor of a village near Mitla, several years ago, 'What is the income of the village government?' 'About 3,000 pesos a year. We are very poor. But the Governor and the Federal Government always help us to meet our expenses.' 'And how are the 3,000 pesos spent?' 'Mostly on fiestas, senor. We are a small village, but we have two patron saints.'"

Paz goes on to write, "...how could a poor Mexican live without the two or three annual fiestas that make up for his poverty and misery? Fiestas are our only luxury. They replace, and are perhaps better than, the theater and vacations, Anglo-Saxon weekends and cocktail parties, the bourgeois reception, the Mediterranean cafe."
One thing I know from my time in Mexico: poverty, fiestas and the meaning of life in Mexico are very complicated themes.

My friend Gail now understands the loud music - why we frequently hear it playing in our neighborhoods, near our church, Grace, from an occasional car - it's fiesta!

Monday, August 13, 2007

It Was the "Nieve"

Carlos Brito drove John and me to the airport in Mexico City on a crystal clear morning. I had never seen Popocatepetl so clearly, but I couldn't get a good shot on my camera because we were driving. In some places on the road to Mexcio City we were above 8,000 feet "pie", and the fluffy clouds were clustered around peaks below us. I am aware of the beautiful exit through the mountains we made from Cuernavaca last week and I'm thankful.






Carlos is the assistant director of the first school I attended, IDEAL. He is a generous conversation partner in Spanish. He noticed that after three more weeks of Spanish school at the Diocese of Cuernavaca I was not only able to understand him better, but I was also able to carry on more of a conversation with him this time. He commented on my progress and I felt like bursting with pride like a "school girl." (I feel so silly bursting with pride like that at 52!)

Carlos asked me about some of the places I'd gone with the bishop and the work I had done. I told him about concelebrating at the cathedral. I told him about the dear people of San Marcos Alpulyeca. I told him that I had become ill the day after the "pot luck" there. Then Carlos asked me if I had eaten the "nieve" (the flavored ice). It's really popular in Alpulyeca. It was the best nieve I had in Mexico. So I said, "Of course". The bishop and I had limon and Luis had "kiss of an angel", cherry.

Carlos said that the roadside "nieve" stand in Alpulyeca has a reputation for delicious nieve, but it also has a reputation for using questionable water sources for their ice. He said he always recommends against his students eating the nieve. He said he was sure it was the nieve that made me so sick, not the delicious chicken at the pot luck.

So, I apologize to the good folks of San Marcos, Alpulyeca. I loved the chicken dish at the pot luck supper. I enjoyed the lemons that Luis shook down from their lemon tree in the front yard of the church.

I'm in Plainfield now and am trying out my Spanish. On Thursday I went to a Latino restaurant and had my usual 2:00 p.m. "comida sopa de pollo." The waitress asked if I wanted "arroz" (rice). Then she asked if I wanted tortillas. "Si" to both. I asked for a "serviet." I forgot the correct word for napkin. She corrected me, "servilleta." I called her "mi maestra."
I saw on the television in the restaurant that August 10 was Equador's Independence Day. So I came home and wrote Gorqui, my Spanish teacher here who is from Equador a note of "Felicidades" in Spanish. I wrote Bishop Delgado, Rodolfo and the family an email message in Spanish as well. I told them my goal was to practice Spanish in some way every day; email, letters, eating at Latino restaurants or talking with friends in Spanish. (I enjoyed saying some Spanish words to our church treasurer John on the phone last week. Thanks, John!)

My neighbor Paco was at a gathering on Sunday. He is from Barcelona and has lived in Plainfield for 16 years. He is a social worker and explained to me how much more difficult it is now for immigrants in this country - legal and illegal. Now I feel called to learn more about immigration. My mother tells me that my great grandmother hid her children in her skirts on the ship that brought her here from Germany in the late 1800's. I found her name on the ship's manifest in the New York Public Library. I think they entered this country through Baltimore.

I think immigration involves children and they are the real victims.
Well, off to the bookstore. I want to read "Enrique's Journey." This might be a good study book for our Adult Forum at Grace.




Wednesday, August 8, 2007

A Dios; Hasta Leugo Mexico


I was so taken by the beauty of the hand painted cross and bird on wood that the bishop gave me, that John and I asked the bishop if we could go to the place and buy some more. John and I want to share the beauty of the glorious popular art with people in our part of the country.

The artist's name is Romero. He has a little shop on a side street across from the workshop that teaches single mothers hand crafts to sell. There is so much beautiful popular art that in these two months I bought enough to fill the extra carry-on that John brought me! And I don't even like to shop!

I'm having mixed emotions this morning as I prepare to leave. This is my last day in Cuernavaca. Yesterday, I took John to meet some of my teachers at my first school, IDEAL. Evelia, my friend from my first family greeted him warmly. Somehow, Evelia can communicate totally in Spanish and get the message across to those who can't speak it. John is an avid gardener and has become enamored by all the healthy, exotic vegetation in Mexico. Evelia showed him around her garden. She offered us a sweet limon from her tree. I felt myself begin to cry as I said good-bye. I hope to see her next year. Indeed, as we walked down the street from her house she called to us to come back to see her, pronto.


Luis, Miriam, Luisito and Natalia, the bishop's family have accepted us cordially. We took a trip to "magical" Tepotzlan on Monday. We saw the ancient, famous former convent, now a church. I took pictures of the pyramid way up high on the mountain above Tepotzlan. Last month I climbed that mountain. It was so perilous and difficult I thought I'd either have a heart attack or my knees would blow out. But I reached the top and vowed never to climb it again!


I have loved the people of Mexico most of all. My teachers have been superb and have become my friends. I hope they visit us in Plainfield. Yesterday afternoon two women from rural Mexico were selling peanuts and flowers on the front steps of the Anglican Cathedral in Cuernavaca. With deep and generous humor Bishop Delgado laughed and said, "Yes, I have to ask the permission of these women to enter the cathedral!"


The culture of Mexico is markedly different than that of the United States. One of my teachers observed when he lived in Chicago that the United States has laws for everything and that his niece learned what was legal before she learned what is family or real or moral. I think he has a point.

I'm ready to come home and begin the next phase of my ministry in the wonderful parish of Grace Church, Plainfield. I've missed my friends and parishioners. But right now I'm weeping because I'll miss the people I've met. I'll miss my volcano which on clear mornings is a magnificent view from my window at the diocese. Even the volcano, Popocatepetl has become my friend.


Perhaps "good-byes" are not permanent. (Even our faith tells us they are not even permanent in death.) So I say, hasta luego, Cuernavaca. Until later, mi amigo.

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

Mi Cumpleanos, My Birthday

Let me apologize for not including some Spanish words in quotations and for not using the proper notations for the letter "n" and proper accents. The keyboards are often different and I don't know where the proper key is for the Spanish letters. Plus, I'm still a novice at "blogging" and at Spanish!

Rodolfo tells me that the proper Spanish word for him as a healer is "curandero." I did not use the proper word in my last blog. I looked up "curandero" in my Spanish/English dictionary and the English word next to it is "quack." Really?? I looked up "quack" in the English side of the dictionary and did not find "curandero." Why is this? I think to myself, "No wonder so much of our converstaions are 'lost in translation!'" Not even the dictionary agrees with itself!

My husband John arrived Saturday for four days. He is here to help me celebrate my birthday. We travel home to Plainfield tomorrow. At dinner last Friday Bishop Delgado asked me to concelebrate the Eucharist with him at the Anglican Cathedral in Cuernavaca on Sunday. He makes his own vestments and they are very elegant and handsome. That means he makes his albs as well. He invited me to try one on because I have no vestments with me. I found one that fit.

John and I met the bishop at the cathedral on Sunday before the service. I went to the sacristy and vested with the bishop and the acolyte. It was my birthday Sunday and before we processed in, the bishop prayed. I heard him say a prayer for me blessing my ministry in Plainfield and praying that my vocation bears fruit. He asked me to serve the chalice so I memorized the words, "La sangre de Cristo, caliz de salvacion."

I've never served my husband the chalice using the Spanish words. I always have the sense that when I'm serving God's people there is a profound unity between us because Christ's gift is at the center. It fees no different in Spanish - that unity. It feels no different between strangers. It feels no different with John.

After the post communion prayer the bishop called me to the center of the sanctuary in front of the altar (it is a free standing altar). He prayed for me and my birthday from the prayer book. He laid his hands on me and blessed me. Then he handed me a gift and a note for my birthday. He had bought a beautiful hand painted cross and bird from an artist in Guerrera. (John wants to bring some home because he thinks the people at home will think they are beautiful as well.)

I was glad I didn't break down in tears at the service on Sunday. But as I prepare to leave tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I'm going to weep when I say good-bye to my dear and lovely Mexican friends at the Diocese of Cuernavaca.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Healing: Natural Mexcian Cures For a Fever

Last weekend I asked Bishop Delgado where he was going to work on Sunday hoping he'd take the hint and invite me along. Sure enough, he asked me to go with him to San Pablo in Colonia Satelito and San Marco in Alpulyeca. I still don't have the words to converse effectively with the parishioners. At San Pablo I asked the matriarch what I thought was "How many years old is the church?" She looked puzzled and the Bishop pointed me to the "bano," restroom. "Tiene anos" sounds like "Tiene bano." I should have said, "Cuantos anos." Man, am I doing a lot of practicing!

I had been to San Marcos in Alpulyeca before and loved the people there. This week they were having their monthly "pot luck" supper after their service in the evening. Victoria, a member of the parish ladeled out a lovely sauce on a piece of beautiful chicken white meat. Then she presented it to me in the manner she had presented it to each member, with dignity and respect. As we ate, we shared first names. I took a group photo of us on the patio next to the wall.

Alpulyeca is somewhat rural. I had suspected that the food sat out during the hour-long mass. The thought crossed my mind before eating the chicken that my "gringo" stomach might not take kindly to the delicious food. Sure enough, less than 24 hours later I had a sudden onset of chills and diarrhea. That afternoon I spiked a fever.

I take fevers seriously. Years ago I majored in microbiolgoy and studied human pathogens. They are serious and cause fevers. I suspected that on Sunday I had not only met a marvelous group of new friends, but I had also met a new pathogen to my system.

So Monday afternoon I wrapped in warm blankets. (Although it was a warm day, I was freezing.) I took a cool shower, put cool, wet cloths on my body and took my first dose of ciprofloxacin that my infectious diseases doctor had prescribed for me "just in case."


By that evening I was beginning to make plans to go to the local infirmary because the fever had not decreased. Thankfully, my friend Rodolfo at the Diocese of Cuernavaca came over with a remedy he learned from his grandmother. He had made a pot of camomille tea with fresh leaves of the guava plant mixed with a little leaf of mint. I drank the medicinal tea most of the night and the fever left me by morning.


In the morning Rodolfo prepared a special cereal of corn flower, water and sugar called atole. He served it with three toasted tortillas - more food for healing from his grandmother, he said. The day before, Rodolfo offered me ciprofloxacin like my doctor did. I'm pretty sure Rodolfo has had medical training and I know that he has a gift for healing.

By noon I felt like dressing for the day and eating lunch. I was healed and I'm so grateful it was only a 24 hour illness. I could have caught that kind of pathogen anywhere.

I was telling my Spanish teacher, Yuri about the dangers of fevers yesterday in class. I told her about my former life working in a university hospital testing for leukemia. She told me of her 23-year-old cousin from Taxco who was sick and had a fever for 4 or 5 days before he went to the doctor. He was diagnosed with leukemia, went into a coma and soon died. In a young or old person a fever is screaming to the body for immediate help.

I've decided to call Rodolfo "El Doctor". Or is it, "curadoro?"

Healing - Natural Mexican Remedies and Antibiotics

Last week I asked Bishop Delgado where he was going to be on Sunday, hoping that he would take the hint and invite me along. He knew what I was up to and graciously invited me to go to San Pablo in Colonia Satelito and San Marco in Alpulyeca. I still don't have the words to converse properly with the parishioners. At San Pablo I asked the matriarch of the church what I thought was "How many years old is this church?" She looked puzzled and the bishop pointed me to the restroom. "Tiene anos" sounds like "Tiene bano." I should have said, "Cuantos anos."

I had been to San Marcos in Alpulyeca before and loved the people there. This week they were having their monthly "pot luck" supper after church." Victoria, a member of the church ladeled out a lovely sauce on a piece of beautiful chicken white meat. Then she presented it to me with great dignity and respect as she had done to the other members. The parishioners and I shared first names as we ate the food. When we finished I took a group photo of us on the patio in front of the wall.

Alpulyeca is somewaht rural and I suspect that the food sat out during the hour long mass. The thought crossed my mind before eating the chicken that my "gringo" stomach might not take kindly to the delicious food. Sure enough, less than 24 hours later I had a sudden onset of chills and diarrhea. That afternoon I spiked a fever.

I take fevers seriously. Years ago I majored in microbiology and I learned about pathogens that cause fevers. I suspected that I had not only met a marvelous group of new friends that Sunday, I had also met a new pathogen to my system.

So Monday afternoon I wrapped in warm blankets. (Although it was a warm day, I was freezing.) I took a cool shower, put cool, wet cloths on my body and took my first dose of ciprofloxacin that my infectious diseases doctor had prescribed for me "just in case."