Chicken soup with Tio Agosto

Yesterday we celebrated the holiday listening to Vicente Fernandez and with a couple of beers. But, the beers ran out and we wanted more. We looked for an open liquor store but, of course, none were open on Christmas Day. So, Luis called Tio Agosto, who sells beer every day of the week. We got dressed and drove over there.

A party was in progress and the guy who answered the door didn't seem very welcoming. He'd been celebrating for a while and the sight of a Mexican man and a gringa at the door didn't strike him as quite right. He went to get Tio Agosto who asked us in.

A group of young men were sprawled on sofas and chairs watching TV and drinking beer. I recognized Apolonia and her son and said hi. Tio Agosto welcomed us and we said hello to his wife, Alejandra. It made Luis happy to see Tio Agosto, who isn't really his uncle. He just calls him that to be affectionate. They work together and share in Luis' passion for double entendres, funny stories and goofing around. Tio Agosto has a kind face and happily goes along with Luis' silliness. They offered Luis a beer. Luis passed it to me and they gave him another. I've noticed that I'm usually the only woman who drinks and I wonder if they think I have a bad moral character.

After about 1/2 hour of small talk, Tio Agosto cleared off the dining table. I told Luis that we shouldn't stay to eat because I had a leg of lamb at home waiting to be cooked for our dinner. Tio Agosto took Luis aside. When Luis came back he said they had cleared the table for us and he asked if I wanted to eat something. I said OK having learned that when food or drinks are offered one must not refuse or else your host will be offended and you will be seen as rude and disrespectful. I've probably offended quite a few people over the past few years by just being honest or not wanting to take food, drink or gifts thinking that they shouldn't spend their meager resources on me. This reminds me of when I lived in Spain and my then husband, Joaquin, and I went to visit a gypsy family he knew. They offered us some food but I told Joaquin that I had to get back as my mother was expecting me for dinner and there was no phone or way to let her know that I'd be late. He said we could not refuse so we stayed and ate fried eggs and potatoes.

Alejandra brought us bowls of chicken soup with rice and tortillas. Luis has taught me to make this staple of mexican comfort food but this was amazingly fragrant and flavorful. It turned out that the chicken was a free range hen from a local farm and Alejandra had bought it live and killed it at home. The leg in my bowl was almost 5 inches long. We complimented her on her delicious soup and I asked where she had bought the hen. She told me the general location and said she'd take me there sometime, if I liked. I gratefully accepted this offer.

The jokes and laughter continued as we ate with Apolonia, her husband and their son who refused to eat. Apolonia said he didn't like tortillas or chicken soup because his day care provider was Puerto Rican and he had gotten used to their food. As we were finishing, I noticed an extremely drunk man was watching us from the other room. He was trying to hide behind a wall but half of his face was visible. He stood there for a long time watching us. Luis noticed and was not pleased. The man noticed that Luis had seen him and approached and offered to buy him a beer. Luis said, thanks but no thanks, but the man insisted realizing even in his late stage of drunkeness that he'd seriously offended Luis. Finally, Luis agreed and we each accepted a beer from him. We finished our meal and got up from the table to make room for the next group to eat. I wondered if Alejandra was charging them for meals or if they were friends.

After about an hour and a half, we left with four beers in a black plastic bag. Luis told me later that when Tio Agosto had taken him aside it was to ask if I'd like some soup. Luis had said yes but Tio Agosto was worried about whether I would mind eating tortillas. Luis assured him that I didn't mind eating Mexican food and that they shouldn't worry about it.

I'm glad Luis got to see his Tio Agosto on Christmas day. I think it reminded him of home, something both sad and comforting during the holidays. Offers of good food one must not refuse, silly jokes amongst friends and the occasional drunk man acting inappropriately.

Marta

Marta called me and asked if I could come talk to her. She said that her father had been taking care of her son in Guatemala but he had died. She wants to return to get her son and bring him back here to live with her. She wondered if there were any options available which would help them re-enter with a visa. I went over there yesterday.

Before I knock on someone's door I call first to tell them I'm there. I've found that often people won't open the door unless they know who is knocking. There are a lot of reasons for this fear. After parking at the curb, I called Marta's number. A man answered the phone. I asked for Marta but he said she didn't live there anymore. I told him who I was, that I was outside and that she was expecting me. He put her on the phone.

She let me in and we climbed the two flights to her third floor apartment. On the staircase a window was broken and the cold air was coming in. Her apartment was cold, too, and I kept my coat on. Like almost all the homes I visit, this one was immaculately clean and sparcely furnished except for various religious iconography. A Christmas tree was lit with colored lights.

Marta thanked me many times before beginning her story. She told me that she wanted to bring her teenage son here to live with her but with things being so difficult at the border, so expensive and so dangerous to cross, she wondered if there was any way to come back legally. I explained the various options that are available people related to a US citizen or permanent resident, to victims of crime, domestic violence survivors and asylees.

She told me that she had been assaulted on the street a few months ago but had been afraid to cooperate with the police for fear that the woman who attacked her would be provoked to retaliate. And, she told me that about three years ago she was involved in something that I might have heard about. Luis had already told me this story. A Puerto Rican man had spent years victimizing immigrants by breaking into their apartments and robbing them at gunpoint. Because the police either weren't able to catch him or didn't care or because immigrants are afraid to report crimes because they fear that the perpetrator will not be caught and come back to hurt them, this man continued to steal the hard-earned cash immigrants kept at home because they don't have bank accounts. People had begun to arm themselves to protect themselves from this man and from others who were feeding themselves on their vulnerability. One night he broke into Marta's apartment. Someone there had a gun and shot and killed him. Marta said she'd spoken to the police about what happened but the case had never gone to court.

I told her that these two events might qualify her for a U visa, as a victim of crime. Then, she told me the story of why she left Guatemala. Her son was the result of a rape at age 16 but she had never told anyone what had happened to her because of her fear and shame. Part of the reason she left Guatemala was because living there with her rapist nearby was too traumatic for her and she was unable to put it behind her. She cried when telling me this and I was sure it was not easy for her to do so. I told her that this might qualify her for an asylum claim but I also said that it didn't sound like she would be prevented from living elsewhere in Guatemala, only in the place where this man still lived.

One thing I've learned is that this culture doesn't find it easy to open up and share painful experiences or personal feelings. Even within families I've seen cases where a woman hasn't told her family that she's pregnant until it becomes absolutely necessary. Is it shame? Denial? Or, fear of being judged for past mistakes? Or, do people assume that it's no ones else's business?
Coming from a culture that encourages the sharing and processing of one's life experiences (to move on or to engage in a process based on the assumption that we can overcome the obstacles in our path) the level of secrecy I've seen amazes me. Obviously, I wouldn't expect Marta or others who barely know me to open up and start telling me their life stories. All I'm saying is that the level of formality and lack of intimacy in personal relationships which I've observed is perplexing to me.

In any case, I understood that what Marta was telling me was not easy for her and had likely not been shared with even her closest friends. Who knows what else she had been through? That level of isolation and loneliness was almost too hard to contemplate. I can't imagine having been raped and not being able to talk about it.

I hope there is something that can be done to help Marta be reunited with her son. It's not likely and I told her that. But, there's nothing to be lost by trying. I kissed her goodby and wished her a Merry Christmas and a happy new year. As I left her apartment I once again cursed the stupid laws that separate families, enable criminals to hurt and rob people, and contribute to the keeping of secrets because of fear and shame.

The snow is falling today

Today we are getting our first big storm of the season. The office was closed so I'm at home enjoying a day when not much needs to get done. Listening to opera and watching the snow fall from the warmth of my living room. It's coming down sideways outside.

Snow falling makes me both happy and sad. And, I suspect there are many others feeling the same way today.

I'm thinking of Luis who is out there shoveling snow today. He went to work at 8:30 a.m. and probably won't be back until the snow stops at around 11 tonight. That's one hell of a long day. And even longer when you're feeling the snow hit your face, the cold penetrate your clothing and your feet are cold and wet. The winter for immigrants here is bittersweet. Or, sweetly bitter. They long for the snow to fall because this brings the possibility of work. The phone rings with people calling Luis to see if he knows anyone who needs workers to shovel or plow. There's hope in the air of some income for the family. It might be the first time someone's worked since September or November when those working at local tobacco farms get laid off. When the weather report announces snow people start hoping and feeling relief that maybe they'll be able to pay their bills. But, imagine spending ten hours outside in the snow when you are used to living in a tropical climate where the temperatures stay so high that you don't really need warm water to shower in.

So, today is both a happy day and a sad day. Stay warm, my friends, and hopefully you'll get some sleep tomorrow.

Juan and Alejandra

Alejandra and Juan remind me of Jane Bennett and Mr. Bingley from Pride and Prejudice. Jane Austen wrote of them:

I have not a doubt of your doing very well together. Your tempers are by no means unlike. You are each of you so complying, that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant will cheat you; and so generous, that you will always exceed your income."

Well, except the part about having servants.

Juan often smiles and is jovial in nature but tends towards nervousnous. His brother says that he's blessed by good luck and has escaped from many a scrape miraculously. He drives around town at high speeds, worries a lot about money, and is forgetful. He's good-natured and in conversation his favorite expression is "andale pues," which roughly translates into "yeah, man." His brother complains that he's slow and never gets anything done. Their phone service is periodically cut off because Juan forgets to pay the bill. Juan had bad luck with women and thought he'd never be able to settle down and have kids. He was almost 30 when he met Alejandra and from where he comes from this is quite an old age to start having kids. He thought it was too late for him to find someone to settle down with. So, when Edwin was born in 2007, it was much to Juan's joy and relief to finally become a father.

Alejandra is all kindness with me. If I'm in her kitchen she always asks me to sit down and offers me something to drink. She calls me Dona Mari. In meetings she's agreeable and easy-going and usually goes with the flow. It was only after knowing her for almost two years that she told me with tears in her eyes that she had an 8 year old son back home in Chiapas and that she hadn't seen him for over 6 years. She longs to go home and misses her family but also says that it is hard to think of leaving her life here because she's gotten used to it. I don't know much more about her except that she's all sweetness and like a mother to me.

What does it mean to help someone?

This is the story of Arturo, a man from Guatemala. Yesteday, Luis and I picked up a bunch of stuff he wanted to donate to needy immigrant families. He gave us an air conditioner, two tires, a portable and regular crib, a car seat, some kids' toys and some baby clothes. Arturo, his wife and young child are on their way out of state because he was arrested by ICE last month. Arturo thought that he'd be OK because he was a member of a local organization that says it helps immigrants get legal representation. He had told me that he was all set when I asked if he needed help getting a lawyer. It turns out, of course, that he wasn't all set because he has no defense as he is undocumented and "entered without inspection." So, now they are on they're way to another state in hopes of eluding a free trip back over the border. It was sweet of them to donate stuff to us so that we can pass it around to others who need things for their kids. After Luis and I dropped off their stuff at the church we brought them some food we had left over to help them when they arrive at their new home. Maseca, rice, beans and a big jar of peanut butter. We wished them well and a safe trip.

The thing that annoys me is the way certain organizations prey upon these people to further their own goals. Arturo had been told he'd get a lawyer because he paid his yearly dues. And he had believed that he'd be OK and not get deported because he belonged to an organization that promised to defend his rights. (What they probably didn't tell him is that he doesn't really have many rights, when it comes to the Department of Homeland Security.) Then, Arturo told us that he was going to have a hearing with the police, the mayor's office and someone from immigration to discuss his case. He came back from that meeting very deflated and said it had nothing to do with fixing his own case but was about the situation of immigrants in general. He said he felt tricked to come and tell his story. It's OK to lobby and meet with officials to ask them to change their practices. What's not OK is to ask people to come to testify or tell their stories without it being absolutely clear that this won't help them with their particular case. They gave Arturo hope. And, that hope was false. That's what I mean by preying on others, giving them false hope and using their stories to tell the community about all the great work you're doing with immigrants.