Gallinas de rancho

Yesterday we picked up 60 live hens from Intervale Farm in Westhampton. We brought them down to Springfield and sold them to local immigrants for $4 each. Many immigrants buy live hens at a farm in Westfield for $16 each and make the most delicious chicken soup you have ever eaten. We paid $2 each for these hens and with the agreement of our group we will use the profit to buy more local products in bulk for our group. The beginning of our humble little co-op.

Viva la vida

Luz Pena, from Brightwood Health Center, called me yesterday saying that this man had just been discharged from the hospital and him and his wife had no food or work. Luis and I went to visit them this afternoon and brought them some masa harina, beans and rice. After bringing them this stuff, we went to Stop and Shop and bought them more food. Fruit, yogurt, a barbecued chicken, cheese, a bottle of water, some blueberry pie (because man, and women, do not live by bread alone) and a few more items. The man had just had surgery to repair a perforated kidney and his wife had just had surgery to remove part of her uterus. She was so worried and said, I don't know what we'll do. Neither of them can work and all they have is $200 from Angel's last paycheck and their rent of $300 was due yesterday on October 1st. They got here about 4 months ago after spending about a month in Virginia, which obviously hadn't gone well. They came here from Guatemala. Their house had no furniture except for a love seat that folds out to a single bed and one low table. Nothing else. Luis and I decided we need to help them raise a little money to carry them through this month, and perhaps beyond. $200 would be good and if we raise a little more we're going to save it for this type of emergency.

Every month when we give away food we ask immigrants to contribute a dollar or two, if they have it, so that we can put it back into the food fund. We've decided that when we start the food distribution in November we'll going to ask for this contribution again but we're going to save it so that we can help people when they are in a bad situation. We'll create a little revolving fund. We'll ask people to pay us back when they are back on their feet so that the fund will continue to help others. We just can't sit by while our neighbors starve and suffer this way. I don't even want to think how people are going to get through the winter.

Can you help with a small donation? If so, please email me at

maria.cuerda@gmail.com

I'll keep you posted on our efforts. Please feel free to distribute this to your friends and neighbors.

Thanks.

Dreams

Last night I dreamt that Luis's brother, Juan, was murdered. In the dream, I was in a house and Juan went outside after being lured there by two men. I saw them digging a grave and he never came back in. I somehow knew that these men had killed him and might kill us, too. I went upstairs to tell Luis. Then, I woke up. The next morning I wondered if I should tell Luis about this. Just in case, I did. He immediately checked his cell phone to be sure he hadn't received any calls the night before. I told Luis that I was sorry to be telling him this dream because I didn't want him to worry. He said that it was OK because his father had told him that a dream where someone is murdered actually means that the person in the dream will live a long, healthy life.

Luis believes that dreams tell the future. During his lifetime he has had a number of dreams which have later come true involving friends who were killed or were almost killed. His father passed along to him the tools to interpret the symbols from his dreams and Luis does not doubt the veracity of these interpretations for one second.

For example, if you are bitten by a dog, you'll be bitten by a snake. If you dream that you are fishing and you catch a lot of live fish, this means you'll have good luck with money. If you step on human feces, you'll have serious problems. Fire means illness, fever or that people are speaking ill of you. If you dream you are flying, it means long life. If you dream of a car or planes, you will witness death. If in your dream you are carrying weapons, the children you will have will be boys. Dreams where your father appears means you are safe. Dreams that you are poor or that you live in a very humble home means that, in reality, you will won't be poor. All sorts of things symbolize death. If a tooth falls out and it hurts, someone in your immediate family might die. If the tooth falls out but doesn't hurt, it means that someone that you know will die. If you are at a party with dancing and music, someone is going to die. If you are at a wedding and people are dressed in white, you will witness a death. The appearance of cliffs or a precipice symbolize a tomb. Dirty water means illness or problems. Clean water means good health. Black water is death.

I can't say that I've always bought these interpretations especially since so many of Luis' dreams seem to involve my betrayal of him. I'm skeptical, as always, and I have a hard time getting Luis to agree that his dreams might be the result of his anxieties rather than portents of what may come to pass. But, what is undeniable is that Luis' father passed down to him widely-held beliefs that traveled through the generations which are still used as tools to understand their world.

Is it possible that these beliefs and symbols exist between cultures? I don't necessarily agree that all people and cultures are similar and that their symbolism is somehow linked, like Jung thought, with a universal unconscious. Still, I wondered whether there might be some common ground regarding the symbols of different cultures and traditions.

In Elizabeth Gilbert's book "Eat Pray Love" she wrote that in Eastern religions dreams of snakes are spiritually auspicious and Saint Ignatius had serpent visions. The Australian aborigines describe their mystical experiences as a serpent in the sky who embodies a medicine man and gives him an intense, other-worldly power. Christians might call this the "holy spirit." Kalahari holy men describe this energy force as a snakelike power that ascends the spine and blows a hole in the head through which the the gods then can enter. And, Hinduism teaches that enlightenment consists of the release of energy in the form of a snake coiled at the base of the spine whose power is released then travels through seven chakras and finally to the head where it explodes where it literally blows your mind.

So, I asked Luis what his father had told him about dreams involving snakes. He said that dreams of snakes are auspicious and mean good luck in the form of material wealth.

Hmmm...

Old Night

Old night is what spanish speaking peoples call New Year's Eve. Maybe that's because it's often the longest night of the year as people tend to stay up until the next day. Or, maybe it's because by the end of the night one feels pretty damn old. I would guess that in most cultures New Year's Eve is a night when one contemplates the passing of time and the possibilities, both good and bad, ahead of us.

Either way, I was feeling old even before the night began and I wondered how on earth I'd make it to midnight. I was sure Luis would share my doubts since he'd worked that day from 3 am to 6 pm clearing snow. But, the thought of not partying the night away didn't even seem to enter his mind. I began to suspect that even contemplating not staying up to celebrate was akin to insulting one's own mother, the biggest no-no that seems to exist in Mexican culture. (It's perhaps not odd that the adoration of one's sainted mother shares such a huge cultural space with a range of insults based on the word "madre." But, I'll save that subject for another day.)

Alejandra had prepared a huge quantity of food for her guests along with about a 5 gallon pot of caliente, a hot drink made of fruit cooked with spices to be drunk with rum or without (for the abstaining women). Every 20 minutes or so Juan would circulate asking each person individually if they needed another drink and the beer flowed and flowed without the slightest thought of how people would drive home later that night. We danced to blaring cumbias, tried to avoid trampling the 5 children playing amongst us, wiped the sweat from our brows, and for the first time in weeks turned the heat down.

After Juan made his fourth or fifth round I told him that he was a very gracious host and thanked him for taking such good care of us. He said that when people come to his home he takes pride in being sure that his guests feel welcomed and happy to be there. He also told me that I should consider this my home, too, and if I was ever alone or lonely I should feel free to to come over. This gesture of hospitality and of welcoming me into their family touched me and I thanked him. But, as usual, I wondered if I was reciprocating in an appropriate way and not missing some cue unseen to me.

Later, I wondered whether Juan's welcome and offer of refuge to me was a recognition of a painful reality most couples and all families here face, the dual specters of separation and return. Juan's acknowledgement of a possible time when I might be alone articulated what him and I had never spoken of, the possibility that Luis would have to go home and leave me behind. The same way people had left behind their spouses, parents, children and their dear friends in Mexico.

Drink summons the barely-hidden sentimentality behind even the most macho of these Mexican men. The thought of one's elderly parents or a beloved compadre living a universe away, separated by a border that takes many thousands of dollars to even hope to cross, will cause the tears to flow after downing a few beers. But, there were no tears tonight.

Although clearly exhausted Luis danced for hours reminding me a little of my grandmother who used to embarrass my brother and I at parties by dancing flamenco, chin held high with a proud, defiant smile daring anyone to make her day. But, I also thought about the way my mother often said that American parties were so boring because nobody danced and had a good time the way they did in the culture of her youth. Luis held his chin high, too, and danced with the bravado and grace of one who'd clearly done his share of partying throughout the years. When two-year old Edwin joined us to dance woodenly, with an endurance that astonished me, Luis cheered him on until two in the morning, surely pleased to be baptising him into the ritual playing itself out.