Cinco Dias

Muy rapido-


Ingreth and Conchita performing No Te Quedas Golpeada, a play about family violence

Friday: The morning sped by in storytelling with TEATRO (mine was the Ugly Duckling). In the afternoon, after a quick lunch at Luchi's, we planned a mini-surprise party for Ana Pena, who has been working at CASA for over 20 years. I carried the cake, on my head, up the hill. Thank God it did not fall. Shelley came by, and Sandra stayed, but as soon as the cake was cut, whoop, everyone disappeared! In the afternoon, the interns met with Mary Murrielle, former director of Feed the Hungry in San Miguel, who is on board as advisor for the nutrition project. And Friday night, pilates at Yolandas. We worked with medicine balls this time. Talk about a balanching challenge.

Saturday morning: Radio Reyna, see previous post.

Saturday night: hosted a get together at my house.. I cooked rice and beans, and Kelsey made guacamole and salsa. Tim bought chicken from a local polleria - to accomodate the non-vegetarians. We arranged everything in the garden. Woohoo - no rain! Our first guests were Cristina, my neighbor, and her sister, who shared much useful advice about DF, where we want to go. About 3 hours later, Miguel, Noe and Andres showed up, and their friend Toni came thru later. And Miguel brought a little surprise - I now have a Beta fish, a pes, courtesy of PESANE! The gang then went to see Miguels friend compete in La Reina Gay de San Miguel. As Nadine puts it, the gay movement is very sophisticated in San Miguel. Meanwhile, I washed dishes :)

Sunday: Kelsey and I braved the heat and brough all the left over food from my dinner to CASA, where the PESANE promotores were getting ready to jumpoff their summer program. The looks on the faces of Monica and Andres - you would think they hadnot eaten in days. We then hunted for fish food for the pes, and for actual fish to feed me, afterwards spending some time in the jardin. Que padre.

Monday: Paperworrkk... I helped Daniel, CASA's graphic designer, with InDesign.. en espanol... Nice to have some familiar ground, even in a different language. Later, I interviewed Roberto and Diego for the immigration thesis. I have a date with the summer program to interview all the youth participants. Must make copies of questionnaires! (Thats done in special papelarias here, no copy machine on site, thank you). I spent the evening spinning my butt off to to the sounds of Yolanda's master music mix. Hello, strong gluteals. Hello, shower. Hello, BED.

Tuesday: Salustia, Bibiana and I went to Ojo de Aguas to teach the women about the use of soya. They prepared it using tomatos, chile jabanero, and onion - all that was missing was pineapple, Salus advised. (Salus also advised using the banana peel we discarded for compost). The cooking occured at the house of one of the senoras, who happened to lack a bathroom, like most of the women in the community. What juxtaposition, to piss in fresh air with the cow grazing two feet away, but using brand name toilet paper, and industry-strength soap. My memory floated back to my childhood in Ukraine, at "Aunt" Lida's... same set up, plus raspberry bushes, minus TP. Sadly, the soya cooking lesson only lasted one hour, because Don Cruz had to drive back to pick up everyone else, and Ojo de Aguas is very far from CASA. Its very far from most places, I realize, and this greatly contributes to the poverty of the small community, up in the mountains, barely reachable. In fact, every time we are ready to drive away, at least one woman asks Don Cruz for a ride to the next town or to see their husbands, who are working in the fields. And I dare complain about the length of the drive once a week!

Wednesday: I stepped into the CASA clinic, to find out that two girls began life that morning! One, born to Canadian Maria Margarita at 4 am, weighed barely 6 pounds and had the longest eyelashes in the world. "She's my birthday present!" smiled the first-time mother, who will turn 40 in August. The birth was quick: the mother came in at 3:15 am! "I can't believe its all over," she gushed, signing the birth certificate, while I held the newborn.
The other girl was also born to a Maria Margarita, this one Mexican, and 23 years of age. The baby, who already had a 5 year old sister, was born at 9 am, and weighed in at almost 10 pounds. I watched the nurse bathe her (advising her to wash her hands first!) and fill out her file. The mother had much pain, so the nurse, Nieves, hooked her up to an IV, and advised her to eat almonds and alfalfa with orange juice. Luckily, I usually carry almonds for a snack, so I shared them with her. (Make sure you don't give them to the husband! Nieves instructed me, for the husband had complained of hunger).
Kelsey and I will pass Friday night at the hospital, so hopefully we'll witness the actual birth process!
In the evening, I had an appointment with Correo, the daily newspaper that's distributed all over the state of Guanajuato. After meeting with Mary Murrell last Friday, I decided that my nutrition article targetted Mexicansmore than Americans. I think I'll write another article for Atencion, the general gringo newspaper, since, as Mary advises, the gringos here have mucho dinero to donate.
Afterwards, Roberto drove Salus, Omar, Noe, and Jess to present a healthy dating workshop in a nearby community. Kelsey, Tim and I accompanied them. The workshop was held at a Catholic church - obviously, a pretty liberal minded one. I wanted to take pictures, but discovered that I did not have my camera :(.
We drove back to CASA, after dropping a few off at the Mega to go to the movies. I came in to drop off copies of the nutrition questionnaire, but everything was closed - except the house of the parteras, now housing the participants of the summer program. Miguel invited me in for watermelon, and then the girls tried to teach me how to dance the cumba! Muy padre. I had to leave, but promised to spend Saturday night with the kids at the lunada.

De Pies a Cabeza @ Radio Reyna

Argh! I am not too great at this personal record-keeping business. So much occurs daily!


Gustavo of Radio REDeSS

Last Saturday, Kelsey and I went with REDeSS to observe Diego and Roberto's radio program, De Pies a Cabeza (From Head to Toe). I believe this was the only observation lacking in our experience observing CASA programs. I felt especially excited because the topic of the day was supposed to be obesity, so I figured I'd get more info for my article.

We arrived at CASA at 8 am, and drove over to Radio Reyna in Dolores Hidalgo, about an hour away. The guys explained that their ultimate goal is to establish a radio station at CASA, but its very difficult, given the politics involved. Moreover, the radio station in San Miguel charges 2500 pesos per half hour - as opposed to Radio Reyna, 1500 per half hour. So, we drove over.

As it turned out, we spoke little of obesity. The PESANE summer course was starting on Sunday, so Roberto and Diego dedicated much time to promoting it. They received 7 new members. While Diego spoke, Roberto took calls, or vice versa, and the relaxed, conversation rhythm flowed exceptionally well. The program also included a pre-taped radio novella about abusive relationships, featuring the voices of promotores from TEATRO. And the callers who were able to correctly identify the 3 stages of the abuse cycle - tension building, outbreak, and honeymonn - got cake! Apparently, Diego persuaded a local bakery to sponsor the show, and they agreed to provide pasteles for 3 listeners per show.

After the program ended - they really deserve at least an hour - we drove over to Dona Muera's, a tortilla stand on the side of the road with the most amazing delicious blue-corn, nopales and frijoles filled tortillas. At 50 cents each. Needless to say, it was a bright, sun shining morning.

Wednesday at the Clinic

The birth control methods available at the CASA clinic

Wednesdays are for viewing wellness - and illness. I've arranged with Adriana and Lourdes to spend Wednesdays at the CASA clinic, about 10 minutes away from the youth center. The clinic looks like a regular building from out front, but is unlike any other hospital I have ever visited, at least architecturally. There are many arches, and large open garden spaces right outside of the waiting room and in the maternity ward, complete with flowing fountains. The walls are decorated with an eclectic mix of "patient" photographs, Kandinsky posters, original artist work and advocacy / human rights displays. Best of all, it doesn't smell like a hospital.

Adriana introduced me to a young woman studying to be midwife. There were few clients in the morning, so the partera-in-training and I passed the time chatting; the more we talked, the more I came to respects her. She is 18, with a 2 year old son whom she supports by working an additional job at an organic restaurant in the Centro (note: check it out) - all this in addition to her studies. I left my phone number with her, and she promised to call in case of a birth on Thursday night. Nadine later recommended that we actually pass at least one night a week at the clinic, since no one would be concerned with calling the interns if a woman's water suddenly broke.

The morning crawled on without any visits, so I checked with Adriana to see if it would be better to come in on Mondays, which tend to be busier. I should not have been so impatient. As soon as I left her office, the partera on duty invited me in to observe a prenatal exam. A very pregnant young woman of 23 had come in for a check up. Her 5-year-old was with her. I introduced myself and asked if my company was ok. The woman nodded. Another partera-in-training, this one in her late 40s, was also in the room. She took the young woman's blood pressure and body weight.

The partera was very friendly and professional. She recommended rest when the young woman complained of frequent headaches, and then asked her to lie down on the examination table. While her mommy was getting comforable, the adorable little girl gave the partera a lolipop. Then, she smiled at me.

The partera taught her student how to feel for the baby's head, and to listen to the heartbeat. I wanted to listen, also, but did not have enough nerve to ask. After the exam was over, the partera provided her patient with her cellphone number, in case of emergency, and was rewarded with trinkets from the baby shower - from which I got my own souvenier lolipop.

We were alerted of a second clinical exam, and this time I gathered my courage to ask if I really could listen to the fetus' heart. Of course, smiled the partera. But the confident young woman who entered had other plans. The patient explained that she had a 9-month-old baby at home, and had consistently been using birth control after the birth. However, apparently she had been switching between the pill and other methods - and wound up pregnant again. She feared that the baby would be born with birth defects. Moreover, she and her husband could not support another addition to the family - they already had two first-graders at home, in addition to the baby girl. And she really was so afraid of the birth defects. But an abortion in this 90% Catholic country... and it being illegal and all... She finished her story wiping away tears.

The partera listened patiently, then filled out a form. She asked the young woman to remove her bulky coat (it was a freezing day) to take her blood pressure, and I was surprised at how small the woman was without it. I wish I knew what happened next. but the partera needed to have a confidential conversation with her patient, so I exited the room.

My heart heavy with what I had heard, I entered the waiting room - for more difficult news. A group of three women gathered in the waiting room, streams of tears running down their faces. Two of them looked to be my age. Then, I realized that the third - the matriarch - was holding another young woman close to her bosom, her face hidden, her shoulders shaking. I shot a quizzical look at my friend, the partera-in-training. The girl lost her baby, she explained. Then, Dr. Ismael entered. "You speak Spanish?" he inquired. I replied in the affirmative, and he explained that after 19 weeks of pregnancy, the baby was no longer moving or breathing. "Will you induce artifical labor?" I asked. Yes, they were going to start contractions. Then, he flew down the hall, giving hasty instructions to the assistant. I left soon afterwards, telling Adriana of an upcoming meeting with Nadine. I was actually glad to go - I felt I would join the ranks of the water-shedding women at any moment.

Rain, Rain, Go Away

They weren't kidding when they called it "Rainy Season." It has been raining everyday this week, with no signs of stopping before my departure date. Everything from drizzle to downpour has fallen on my head.

On Saturday, the rain greeted me as I stepped out the door to meet Kelsey for a night of comidas. I hailed a cab to her house, but managed to get soaked as a I was jumping out of the taxi and onto her doorstep. We waited a while, but the rain showed no signs of stopping, so we made our way to Mallary's for a promised cook-out. The steep streets turned into waterfalls. My shoes in one hand, an umbrella in another, I splish-splashed over to Calle Pila Seca for... a surprise. Mallary picked us up outside, and we climbed up a wide, white staircase into a modern fourth-floor apartment, where a gringo crowd had gathered. We walked in on a lively game of charades, a game so American, that a large blonde man named Fox was offended at the suggestion of playing it in Spanish. A Santa-Claus-like man brought me a towel to dry off my feer and offered us beer. I felt bad for refusing hospitality, but I don't like beer. We left as soon as Noe arrived, with stomachs in want of food, and ears in want of music.

We took a cab to our next destination: Conchita's house. Her daughter had just graduated junior high, so the family was celebrating- and we were too. The taxi dropped us off outside of the Mega, on the outskirts of SMA, in front of a darkred, barn-like structure. "Estas seguro que esta aqui?" I asked Noe, who led the expedition. "Are you sure we're at the right place?" Noe led us around the building, through the mud, in the rain. I raised my feet up... and slid back down. Thankfully, Conchita emerged, happily waving us over from atop the mini-hill. A few girls passed us on the way up, so I became determined, climbing up and praying that I would not bust my butt. Soon, a wooden table with a huge two-level tres leches cake came into view. Conchita explained that they did not have keys to the red house, so the dinner was outside - rain and all. If we needed to, we could use the outhouse.

She fed us salad, rice, and tortillas (had to refuse the chicken), as well as a chicken corn soup with oregano. Neighbors and friends stopped in and out, and Conchita kept bringing out limitless styrofoam trays with the afore-described meal. Ana Maria, who also works for CASA, also came. She spoke with sadness about having worked for CASA for 20 years (anniversary: April 26), in nearly every program, and the lack of recognition she received for her work. So, I decided we will buy her a cake in behalf of the CASA interns, and throw a mini-surprise party on Friday. (Kelsey and I went to three pastelerias today, and we chose the one that let us sample the cake :) ).

Then, Ana's husband, Jose, came, and the tequila bottles opened up. You would think this means people got crazy, but not at all - I guess tequila to Mexicans is what wine is to Italians. People have a bit with dinner, and life goes on as usual. (The teenagers are a different story, but isn't that always the case?)

Jose, a taxi driver, was glad for the opportunity to practice English, as he had with some of his clients. Not that we let him - Kelsey and I were set on mejorar-ing our Spanish skills. He was very gentle with Ana, and also very funny. He shared his favorite music artists - Guns and Roses, Poison and Nirvana, and we all agreed that the Beatles rock.

Jose and Ana spoke about the two years they spent apart while he was in America. She was at home with a sick baby, and he said his heart got crushed anytime he passed a park or a playground. True, he had cousins and uncles in the US, but they had their own families there - the American dream was not worth the reality he was missing out on at home. He then agreed to let me interview him for my immigration thesis. I currently have a rough questionnaire with which I have been bothering the promotores (many of whom have also been to the US and all of whom have family there), but I think this will be much more indepth. I am very excited.

We left around 11, just as the rain started - and continued through the night.

I woke up to find that I no longer had electricity. Nor did I have my phone. Apparently, I had left it the night before with Kelsey and Noe. In need of Dona Lourdes, I took a walk over to Kelsey's, where she treated me to breakfast. On my way back, the sun finally came out, and I decided that this was a sign - I was to be outside. I got home and spoke with Dona Lourdes, who first suggested that we shouldnt worry, someone was sure to call the electricity office. But you misunderstand, I explained, that someone was me. Dona Lou knew better - emergency calls are ignored on Sundays in a Catholic country. No one picked up the phone. She then attempted to bring over an extension cord, but nothing worked. Apparently, the rain knocked out the street post. We had nothing to do but wait.

So, I decided to make the best of it. I shaved, put on a bathing suit and a sundress, grabbed a towel and a notebook, and climbed to the roof... to meet the clouds. Almost as soon as I settled down, the rain began again. No! I retreated to my dark appartment, lightless and SKYPE-less. And I had planned to have Shelley, the intern coordinator, over for dinner!

Thankfully, Shelley did not mind having dinner elsewhere. She picked me up with Grace, her daughter, and another friend, with whom she had gone hiking. We drove by Kelsey's to get her, and then headed over to Tacos Felix, a few blocks from my house. Only open on the weekends, the place was amazing. The best wait staff, the garden-like atmosphere, the taco appetizers and shrimp salad and two teas, all for $7... Mexico, I tell you, Meh, hee, co.

After dinner, we went to Kelsey's, where we destroyed the flan that Jose Luis and Salustia helped prepare on Friday. We had tea back on my roof - the lights were back on, bless Dona Lou! - watching the amazing skyline. The rain started again, so we headed to the kitchen, where we talked about God and religion and what it really means to be Christian, to love your God and your brother. "I feel closest to God when I am not wasteful, when I use just what I need," Kelsey said, and I shared that I had been reading the lifestyles of Jesus' disciples in the book of Acts, who shared everything among each other, and are even described as having one soul. Not very capitalistic of us, eh?

Kelsey said good-night, and I spent the rest of the evening talking to Jamal, thirsty to hear his voice. God bless SKYPE. And electricity. But most of all, God bless plumbing. I have never felt so spoiled and privileged in my life.

TEATRO

I have been spending two days a week with TEATRO. These pictures are from the play about family violence and from an improv Romeo / Juliet workshop.

Nadine Arrives

"You can be useful by being sincere and polite and leraning about each other's cultures. How many opportunites will you have to do something like this? And, at the end of the day, who gives a shit if you took 10 blood pressures?"

All week, we had been hearing rumors of Nadine's imminent arrival, and after many delays, we finally met with her on Thursday. The Asesora General de CASA founded the center in 1981, and her husband designed the building. Now, she spends a large chunk of time obtaining funds for CASA. "Ella es muy buena honda, sino grita mucho," I was warned. She is an excellent lady - but she screams alot. She must have a heart of gold, though, to head social service work.

"Don't worry, she is relaxed", Lourdes informed Kelsey, me, Tim and Maribelle, right before our 2:00 appointment. Still a bit nervous, we climbed the stairs to her office, which is located in the cupola of CASA. Nadine was on the phone, but she waved us in. We spent the time getting to know Maribelle, who will start in a few weeks.

Then, Nadine got down to business, even passing around a sign in sheet. She quizzed us on our orientation, our impressions of San Miguel, our mastery of Spanish. When my turn came, I began, "Well, I have two projects in mind, nutrition and migration." I passed over my outline, thesis, and draft nutrition questionnaire, aimed at the mothers of the communities around San Miguel. "The nutrition project has 3 parts..." She laughed, "You're just like Pat (my mentor)". I was elated.

The objective of the questionnaire is to gather data about the behaviors, attitudes and knowledge revolving around nutrition, as well as to attain funding for the blossoming program. We agreed that it should be limited to 20 residents per 10 communities (instead of 20, as I originally planned). "Who is going to enter all that data?" she asked.

The second part, the interview for Atención, the bilingual paper of San Miguel, was underway. I scheduled interviews with Lourdes, who has a degree in Sports Administration and with Yolanda, my pilates / spinning / aerobics instructor. (Spinning is the shyzznyt, btw). I also plan to get quotations from various young people.

The play would be harder, she observed, since the script must be well-planned out in order to actually make an impact. She provided me with the contact information of a certain Mary Murielle, a public relations specialist and an NGO volunteer. She then instructed me to book appointments with Conchita and Violeta, the coordinators of TEATRO and ECOSS. We all also set up weekly meetings on Fridays at 5. Nadine did not play.

The meeting with Nadine, however, provided more than focus. Nadine, who has handled hundreds of volunteers, put us on to the big picture. "Tiene que quitar el idea que va a ayudar," she said. "You have to get rid of the idea that you're going to help." Truth: The programs function brilliantly without us. This is largely because all the promotores' training is strictly structured, there is a large emphasis on letting people find their own way. "We all want to feel confident and competent, to feel the adrenaline rush / orgasm of wow, look what I did." So, there is much learning by doing, which provides a sense of ownership. "Yeah, we can buy fancy laminated posters of the reproductive system, which will last longer - but if I create the poster, then its mine, its my work."

"You can be useful by being sincere and polite and leraning about each other's cultures. How many opportunites will you have to do something like this? And, at the end of the day, who gives a shit if you took 10 blood pressures?" At the same time, she instructed us to put in our opinion, with tact and class (i.e., my horror at the midwife not washing her hands before administering a GYN exam.)

She concluded, "The more we mix the races, the better off we'll be." I wanted to hug her.

Weekend 2 B: You Are Ready to Get Married

We headed home after a day of climbing and nature-loving, ready for a nice, long shower and an even nicer, longer nap. Instead, we received another surprise: Conchita's sister was getting married in the evening, explained Noe. Would we like to see a Mexican wedding?

"¡Sí, claro que sí!" Mexican or otherwise, the closest I have ever been to a wedding was flipping through Modern Bride. Scenes from Wedding Crashers, Runaway Bride and My Big Fat Greek Wedding flashed through my mind. What would the dress be like? The music? The CAKE? How many times have I passed by store windows, gazing at the elaborate wedding cakes, with all their layers, and roses, and braids of cream. My favorite part of Rich Bride, Poor Bride is the cake selection. And I would get to try it that night!

We agreed to meet up at Kelsey's house at 7:30 (translation from Mexican: 9:00), and then hailed a cab to the wedding hall, an imposing structure titled The ALAMO. Little girls in elaborate white dresses, women in tight blue jeans and men suited all out in ranchero gear (cowboy hats and boots) mingled outside. We entered. And my jaw almost dropped.

We walked into the biggest room I have ever been in. The ceilings alone seemed at least 3 stories high. What seemed like a 1000 people sat in metal chairs, at metal tables with white table cloths, drinking soda and eating arroz con pollo. A bride and a groom danced in the center. The DJ - also in complete cowboy gear - stood on stage and read out a long list of names. Every time he read a new pair of names, another couple would dance with the newlyweds. This went on for many many minutes. Just when I thought it was over, another bride and groom took their place. It turned out that we were guests not at one, but at two simultaneous wedding receptions.

Just as I got comfortable with my plate of arroz con pollo (no other selections), Conchita waved Kelsey and me over, and we were informed that the wedding games were starting. This game, we were told, was for the women. Both brides were hoisted up on chairs, while the grooms held their trains. Ah! I thought. They are going to throw the bouquet! I've seen this in movies. Confident, I took my place next to the other girls.

The next thing I knew, the 10-year-old in front of me grabbed my hand, and pulled me forward. We were not catching anything but our breath! We ran under the trains, across the hall, around the guests, and back in. I am pretty sure we were supposed to be following the rhythm of the song playing, but all I could concentrate on was my balance. I hope I did not hurt the wrists of my fellow runees.

The tradition, called the Vibora de La Mar, was then repeated with the men. This time, a participant did fall - but, as I found out later, this was expected. The goal of the male game is to knock the groom off the chair.

Afterwards, the brides did throw bouquets, and then the dancing started. I watched as couples stepped to the rhythms of salsa, bachata, and musica durangesa. Meanwhile, little boys ran around the grandiose space, playing soccer with empty Coke bottles. The brides walked around back and forth, their skirts in their hands, checking on this and that. Apparently, Mexican weddings are for the guests' enjoyment.

After I don't know how many dances, I noticed a crowd of children forming behind the table with the cakes. I had been sneeking surreptitious glances at the cake all night, pleased to see that unlike everything else, the cake was exactly how I imagined it. Well, the cakes. There were at least four. Delight filled me as we took our place on line, and then sank our teeth into the spongy sweet goodness. I could go home happy now.

I spent Sunday cleaning the apartment and cooking. Kelsey and Noe came over for dinner. I prepared salad as an appetizer, and we had tortillas, frijoles and guacamole for the main course, finishing off the meal with a fruit and nut platter. (Why is it that I can't stop talking about food?)"Estas lista para casarte," Noe informed me, an expression to complement one's cooking which directly translates into, You're ready to get married. Kelsey and I looked at each other. Probably, but probably not in Mexico.