Ven Con Nosotros!

The title of this posting refers to the lyrics of one of the only religious songs (in Spanish) that I have memorized, due to the fact that I hear it so often . It goes Ven con nosotros a caminar, Santa Maria Ven and roughly translates to 'Come with us and walk, Saint Mary, come!'

Lately, Santa Maria has been doing a lot of walking with the people of Santa Fe. As I've mentioned before, the Virgin Maria is revered by most everyone here and the Feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe (commemorating the day in the 1500s when she appeared as indigenous women outside of Mexico City) is amongst biggest holidays of the year. I recently learned that locally the Feast of the Assumption of Mary is almost equally as significant due to the fact that our parish is named in honor of her.

This means that since the beginning of August there have been processions, fireworks and fiestas in her honor which are leading up to the August 15th feast day. Certain groups have their own special celebrations. The other day, a statue of the Virgin was displayed in the marketplace along with welcoming signs and flowers. As I was walking home from work that day (irritated by the noisy, daytime fireworks being set off), a woman whom I had never met before grabbed me asked me why I wasn`t taking part in the parade that was going to be had with the statue. She begrudgingly accepted that I couldn't go because I had a class to teach.

No matter. Santa Maria came to me, as a group of paraders dressed in white carried her statue past my home. They returned a half hour later, stopped in front of our chapel, and a woman more or less demanded that I open up its` doors. Trumpets and hornets were blasting, participants sang, and friends of ours went up on the roof to ring the church bells. Little children trooped in and out of our house to use the bathroom. It seems my frequent singing the song worked and Santa Maria (and her followers) walked to me.

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How does it affect girls growing up in a country where there is such devotion to a figure whose three most well-known qualities are that she is a virgin, she is a mother and she is without sin? I began thinking about this a few months ago when I brought two sisters from our parish youth group to a procession that the Missionaries of Charity (the nuns who live with disabled, abandoned women in the convent where I work) held in honor of the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Mary. Despite it being a cold, dreary rainy day, we marched alongside the nuns and other devoted persons while carrying a statue of the Virgin Maria.

The nuns ordered us to form lines and sing and encouraged passersby to join in the march. At random spots, Sister Maria stopped us so that we could pray and Rosary and convinced taco-stand diners and tired shopkeepers to join in. At one point, we were praying near the highway and I looked up past the Virgin and saw a huge billboard featuring Hugh Hefner surrounded by three young beautiful blond women--an advertisement for a television show called `The Girls Next Store`. (Although in Mexico the program is called `The Girls of the Playboy Mansion because the irony of the true title would be lost here.)

The moment was a literal synopsis of Gender Studies 101 class that I took ten years ago at a small women's college. Society and the media largely promote the idea that for a women to be looked up to, she must either be a blond, white sex object or as pristine as the Virgin Maria. In the United States, there is much more promotion of beautiful, white women, while in Mexico (at least in the part where I live) images of the Virgin predominate. Mexican women can relate to the morena Virgin of Guadalupe but it would be impossible and superfluous to try and be like skinny, white playboy bunnies.

In general, I think this makes women more nurturing because while they can`t completely be like the Virgin (she was born without original sin), they can emulate her motherly qualities. Thus, senoritas often stop me on the street and ask where I am going, why I don’t have a sweater on, and if I need anything eat. When I visit the house of a woman, she generally lists off or pulls out the contents of her refrigerator and cupboards until she comes upon something to feed me.

The tendency towards caring starts at a young age. The other day, I woke up an older man who was passed out drunk on a sidewalk and I sat chatting with him in order to assess his condition. He was bleeding and I thought he should go to a hospital. A thirteen-year old girl and her seven-year-old sister approached me and asked if I needed any help. While they went to look around for taxis, a police officer walked right past by the man and ignored me when I tried to get his attention. (He was escorting someone delivering a large order of beer to a shop.) Eventually I realized the drunk man could talk cohesively and a local tortilla shop-owner who knew him said he would watch out for him. Coincidentally, I ran into the girls later on that afternoon at the convent, as they were volunteering there as well.

Personally, while I reap the benefits of girls and women who are motherly, it can also be difficult. As a young women associated with the church I feel like I`m expected to be offer unconditional affection as well. At work, I am surrounded by orphans and handicapped people who are constantly in need and I accept this. Even outside of that, life can be heavy as I often find myself trying to be patient while listening to the problems of strangers on the street or trapped in one-sided conversations with parishioners at church. Some burdens are ones that I have placed on myself, because as I missionary I feel more of a duty to help the neglected that I come upon in the street than I would have in the United States. (More and more it seems, Jessica and I find ourselves stumbling over people passed out in the street and we recently went to our first AA meeting in order to figure out how we can help the situation.)
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While walking on the day of the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Mary , the two sisters who I had brought along held hands and huddled together to shelter each other from the rain. In general, the bonds among females are stronger here, perhaps to protect each other against a culture of machismo, perhaps because they identify with each other caretakers, or perhaps because they cling to each other as they would Maria. It`s rare to see a girl or young woman alone, they are almost always with a friend, mother or sister. When Jessica and I are not together, we are constantly asked about where the other one is. It's partly out of interest but the implication is: what are you doing by yourself and why are you leaving your friend alone?

I spend my days with nuns who have formed an insular but powerful community. At parties, I see females family members who function smoothly together in cooking and serving meals. In Santa Fe, it`s the norm for sisters or single mothers and daughters to share not just bedrooms but beds. Jessica and I have formed a tight-knit household as we not only live together but spend most of our social time with one another, we work on projects together and for a long time, I relied on her heavily in order to communicate with others. Women gain strength from each other here.

In a few weeks, two new missionaries will joining us in Santa Fe, doubling the size of our household. (Jackie left way back in October due to the health problems of a family member. I was too sad to write about it, but we miss her everyday.) Though I am little leery of sharing a room for the first time since college, I am excited not just for more company but because new-comers mean that the missionary presence continues even after Jessica and I end our time here. Thus being part of this program makes me feel like I am something bigger than just the work I am doing over the course of two years.

Jessica and I talk about the new girls (Melissa and Lisa, both fresh out of college) like parents expecting newborns--we wonder what they will look like, how they will react to their surroundings, and what they will think of us. We even speculate about their names as Mexicans tend to make adjustments to English names. I am excited for the experiences they will have, nervous for them because I know the hardships they will face, and eager to help them through the tough times and share what I have have learned from my year here. August, it seems, is a month of walking together.