At the airport in Mexico City - 2/28/09
Here I sit at the beginning of another adventure. Unsure of the golden opportunities that lye ahead. I'm perched at a center table of a dimly lit cafe - Alfa Bar. If the ceiling were closed and the glass panels that look out over the airport were walls, it would fit naturally into the downtown of any large metropolis. I sip on my whiskey ans sprite, litstening to the cool twang of the jazz guitar over the sound system.
Around me are other travelers, making detours to their destinations. My eyes catch a dark brunette, well dressed and alone. If this scene were actually as cinematic as it feels I would approach her with calm confidence and ask if I may accompany her.
Instead I gaze complacently at my surroundings. My thoughts move to the expectations or dreams of what is to come.
There is a calm sense in the air, but I am tense - - somewhat anxious. This trip is precisely what I need at the exact moment in time that I desire. My senses were filled with relief when I left all obligations behind. And, here I sit with no direct attachment to "life" in Chicago. No cell phone. No laptop. No preoccupations of placing orders or executing calls.
There is an unwritten chapter waiting for me. I thank God for the opportunity to escape and ask that he uses it to bring me closer to him. I pray that this week may bring me understanding of his glory and wonder of his creation.
The pen is in his hands.
Sojourn
It was September then, when you caused me all that heartache.
But, it's December now and it's just giving me a headache.
There's just something about you that I can't shake.
There's something about you that makes me lay awake at night and think I miss you.
Oh, god I miss you.
It was a November day the first time that I felt you.
I remember thinking then that I couldn't give a shit about you.
You were ice in my hand. I watched you melt away.
And, I drank you down.
And left that cup empty like I am empty now.
But you got inside my head.
And, there was room inside my heart.
Pressed my lips onto your neck and you felt my warm breath upon your shoulder.
Laid you on my pillow.
But, you knew then what I know now.
That everything about us was temporary.
We were on vacation.
A sojourn for the weekend in the summer.
And it hurts so fucking back to know you're gone.
But, it feels so fucking good letting you go.
I wouldn't take that package home.
I wouldn't dress it up in white.
Wouldn't give away my name.
I wouldn't let you bare my child.
Cause everything about us was temporary.
Everything we had was for just one moment - we were on vacation.
A sojourn for the weekend in the summer.
But, there's still something about you that I can't shake.
There's something about you that makes me lay awake at night and think I miss you.
I miss you.
Work in progress
Press my eye onto a telescope and see everything that seems so far away.
Golden light breaks the horizon and brings the world into another day.
But, here the moonlight casts a shadow and my heartbeat amplifys.
The view of the horizon lights a fire in my mind.
The clean taste of rain comes upon my tongue but I still salivate.
More fuel for the fire.
Action is the solution for desire.
Back in the daylight she is walking on the beach.
Focus my eyes to see her face, but her hand is out of reach.
Her dark, soft, blowing hair is like the feel of the night here.
I clearly recognize she has a fire in her eyes.
Night will fade away. Can't use a telescope during the day.
A sweet embrace.
More fuel for the fire.
Action is the solution for desire.
Soneto I
Es morena ella, amor mía perfecta.
Su existencia está en estrellas oscuras.
La noche ofrece la vista absoluta
de su elegancia dominante y pura.
¿De donde vienes mi rosa divina?
¿Por qué te escondes en la primavera?
Busqué en los reflejos de una piscina
la luna no mostraría si quisiera
Me buscas en las montes de Argentina
dentro una casita hecho de piedra
la flor que crece en la sombra de mina
Te encuentro divina amor verdadera
en cada línea de cada página
o en la luz que provea la sombra oscura..
La gente Chichimeca
This weekend we went on a trip to see some of the indigenous, rural parts of Mexico. The purpose of the trip was to see a different side of Mexico. One of the main parts was to a reservation where the people of the Chichimeca tribe live. We went with a company called "gran aventura", or great adventure. Our guide, Guillermo, was a very charismatic person with a passion for the indigenous cultures of Mexico. He knew a lot about the way they live and how they survive in the arid climates of the Mexican desert.
All 8 of us crammed in the company truck and we went on our way. The trip was very organized, but it was all a surprise to us. The guides had everything planned out, but they didn't really tell us where we were going or what we were doing. We first stopped in a small town called San Luis de la Paz. We went into an old cathedral and saw a Mexican wedding. It's interesting because, in Mexico, these types of events are open to the public. We didn't even know it was a wedding until we came in and saw a bride and groom kneeling at the foot of the altar.
To me, the town seemed to be strangely located. To there we had to drive through mountains and were surrounded by nothing but various types of cactus and desert. As we were leaving I asked Guillermo why they would put a town in the middle of nothing.
He responded, "You're thinking exactly like the white man. When the Spanish arrived here they saw nothing. So, they left the indigenous people and went to find fertile land that they could make use of. But, for an Indian this is everything. Here the people live off the land. The cactus and plants that you see here are all they need to survive."
As we drove through the town the guides explained to us some of the history of the Chichimeca people. Although it was technically their land, when the Spanish began to settle in cities they pushed the Chichimeca out. They designated the people the most arid and least fertile part of the land. Since Catholicism was the ruling law of the Spanish government at the time, they prohibited the Chichimeca from practicing their religion, wearing their clothing, and speaking their language. They were condemned to a useless and small piece of land.
Entering la Misión (the Mexican equivalent of an Indian reservation) of the Chichimeca, the oppression was blatant. We saw a group of young women walking just inside the Misión. They were wearing headdresses, skirts and blue jeans underneath. Guillermo brought them over to talk with us.
Apparently they were returning from a 9 hour workday in the field that they all work (it was 4 pm on a Saturday). They work for a North American corporation that exports lettuce. They are paid 100 pesos a day (the equivalent of a little less than $10). They receive no benefits from the company, no social security, no working contracts, nothing. The interesting part is that even in the midst of this extreme poverty, they all wore proud smiles on their faces, worn and tethered from the hot Mexican sun. They all appeared to be around the same age, about 16-20. The oldest woman of the group, Esther, was 30. She did most of the talking. She said that most people en la Misión start working at the age of 10 to support their family. Out of the whole group, only she and one other girl spoke the native tongue of Chichimeca. The girls were all married and all had children. How could they be expected to learn their native language and preserve their ancient culture if their lives consisted of working in a field for 9 hours a day? Even further, who is raising their children?
We took some photos with the girls and they went on their way. Guillermo pointed out to us the reality of the situation. This is the true face of globalization. Here is a North American company that comes to an area of extreme poverty to exploit the people for their labor. They use the countries water and land to make their product, and then it is exported and sold around the world as a top quality product. The people who are doing the work receive no real compensation.
As we went further into la Misión the sense of hopelessness and poverty became even more evident. We passed a group of men that were standing around drinking. They all stumbled and mumbled harsh words as we walked by. One of them asked Guillermo, "Did you come to see how the Mexicans really live?"
We continued further, and came to the Cathedral. A picture of Jesus was painted on the outside and a service was going on. The older women were in the front of the small building, singing a constant and monotone hymn, while one man walked around with a ceramic model of the Christ child. He held the baby to the lips of all the people and they kissed its head. He came outside the doors of the church and brought the baby to our lips while we all kissed the ceramic figure.
It was a powerful yet ironic moment. The arrival of Christianity to Mexico is what destroyed their ancient culture and forced them to live like slaves in their own land. Yet, somehow they have adapted it into their lives and grasped it as a sense of hope. I left the Misión that day with a greater understanding of how much of the world lives; impoverished and exploited.
The sun fell and the night sky grew bright with the stars and the moon. Our next stop was to a religious site of the Chichimeca. We climbed up a hill to the side of a small mountain where hieroglyphic paintings were inscribed on the wall. The paintings have been studied by various archeological groups, most predominantly the First University of Paris. The paintings date back to several hundreds of years and archeologists believe it to be part of a calendar. The site is holy to the Chichimeca because the calendar was made naturally by the way a rock landed perfectly against the wall. It was a gift from nature.
We left and continued on in our trip. We arrived at the place where we were to camp that night. It was just outside the town of Posos. A family that is friends with Guillermo met us there and brought us dinner. We ate tamales and átole, which is a hot liquid that is made from corn and mixed with chocolate. As we ate, the Mother told us the story of the land.
They were in ruins of an old mine. The state of Guanajuato became wealthy because there is a natural deposit of rich minerals below the land. The mine was abandoned because it somehow flooded with water and the cost of excavation was greater than the estimated worth of its contents. So, they remain abandoned and are now owned by the descendents of the families of the miners.
We said thank you to the family and sat down to discuss further the history of the mine. During the Cold War, the United States "combated communism" by installing guerilla armies and militant dictatorships to overthrow democratically elected communist governments in South America. This occurred in a large number of Latin American countries including Bolivia, Chilé, Argentina, Ecuador, and others. The US never installed a regime in Mexico. However, they did create an institution in Panamá that's sole purpose was to educate military leaders on tactics of torture and manipulation to obtain information of communist movements and to put fear in the people.
This education was put to use where we heard the story. The room in the mine we sat in was used as a torture chamber by the Mexican government. There they brought students, intellectuals and anyone suspected of being part of the Communist Party. Up until the early 90's, researchers found the bones and remains of the victims. The site possessed an eerie and eye opening past.
The purpose of studying history is not to make us feel guilty about where we come from, but it is to make us educated and aware of the truth, so that these terrible things do not occur again.
This trip helped me see that there are at least two sides to every story. It made me realize that the cold war was not simply an arms race between two ideologically opposed nations, but that the actual battles were occurring in Latin America. It also helped me to understand that a $2.50 bag of lettuce at the local grocery store can come at the true expense of the exploitation and destruction of an ancient culture.
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