Thursday, July 22, 2010
Mission Accomplished
This is my final week in Mexico and it´s kind of unbelievable that something that seemed so far in the future is coming to an end. There are still lots of sights and touristy things that I haven´t done and I had plans to cram it all in this month. Though I have seen a couple more museums and such, I realized that I would rather try to enjoy being with my friends and people here rather than rush through a checklist of stuff to do.
Last Thursday was Martha´s birthday and Miriam (a lifelong missionary who once lived in Mexico) came to visit a few days later. This meant parties at the parish. For her birthday toast, Martha said she remembered arriving to Santa Fe about three years ago and Padre saying that they would make a family there. (Martha is a few years younger than me but lives two hours away from her family in order to work in commercial Santa FE.) As I looked around the table that night, full of people who are a little disconnected from their own families, but welcomed by Padre to share parish life, I realized how fortunate I have been to be part of such a hospitable community. Padre accepts people as they are without much show about it, and that is something I can do as well.
Martha and I were the last two to stop celebrating and we made jokes about being comadres. (A term of endearment, but literally a promise to be the godmothers of each others´ children.) We started getting closer during walks home together from the Iberio as she started working at the university while I was taking Spanish classes there. It feels good to have a Mexican friend my age, but a little sad that just when this has happened it is time to leave.
I have also been tearing up at the Missionaries of Charity as I think the girls are those who will most miss my presence. Still, I have never been able to get over the sadness that follows spending time there and I realize that I would never want to work their full-time or be a nun. While I feel a little guilty for leaving, I also realize that this experience will give me more motivation to prevent abuse, drug addiction and lack of education so that there are fewer terminally sick or abandoned persons in the world.
I will also bring back a newer appreciation for my family. In Mexico, family life is so important, and people find it strange that the other missionaries and I have lived on are own and would leave them for several years. Thus I am looking forward to being home and being part of holiday celebrations and birthdays once again.
Right now, the most important thing that I think I have gotten out of this experience is too be more patient and and understanding of both my own faults and those of others. While everyone wants love in their loves, the only way to give and receive unconditional love may be through God and we have to understand that humans are limited.
I know that there is a lot I would have done differently in retrospect and a lot that I can be proud of. Instead of analyzing what kind of missionary I was, what I am focusing on is that spending a few years doing service in foreign country is something that I have had a hidden desire to do for about fifteen years. So, now I have accomplished a life goal and that´s a really good feeling.
It´s appropriate that I´ll be arriving in time for Autumn. The change of leaves is one thing that I have most missed but symbolically I am looking forward to seeing something different that is familiar and comforting.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Higher Learning
In our latest project together, Jess and I have been watching handicapped children from our neighborhood while their mothers attend a free sewing course at the Jesuit university in upper Santa Fe. For the most part, the kids have mild physical or learning disabilities. The exception is Marcos, a 23-year old man with schizophrenia. Though he is fairly calm, he is difficult to understand, he randomly shouts and curses at strangers, and he falls asleep at sporadic intervals.
Jess and I have the children outside one sunny afternoon (we care for them on campus grounds) and she decides to entertain them by singing and dancing. She demonstrates various dances by waving her arms, shaking her hips and pinching her nose (this at a university that has been called the Harvard of Mexico) and Marcos gets upset.
``Stop it, stop it,`` he yells, standing up and moving toward Jess while spinning around. ``I`ll go with my mama, I`ll go with my mama, I can`t take it!``
Jess stops dancing, apologizes and calms Marcos down. The rest of the day passes without incident.
We find the incident humorous and relate it as such to the program director. She is unsettled by our account.
``See how hard it is to care for someone like that? That`s why his mother can`t find work, because there`s no one to watch him. In the United States and other countries there is support, but here there is nothing.``
I do feel a lot for Marcos`s mother who has a lot of one-on-one time with him and seems dedicated to giving him the best life she can. Marcos actually has it a little easier. While he is incapable of leading a normal life, he seems unaware of this and thus spends his time coloring, shouting, and sleeping without knowing that things are off.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I occasionally take Spanish courses at this University. That same day I had class earlier in the morning.I I arrived to school in a bad mood due to having to return home after forgetting an essay and subsequently getting on a bus that didn`t go where I thought it would.
First thing, I went to the coffee machine, which was occupied by guy with yellow hair (parted and slicked to his head) who was wearing khaki pants pulled up high over a collared shirt.
In a voice that was both nervous and full of dread he said to me in English ``Ohh, I don`t think it`s going to work. Yeahhh, it`s not coming.``
Since he wasn`t moving to let me assess the situation, I continued standing and staring. I got the impression that he wass someone who is uncomfortable when it comes to new encounters with young women. Uncaffeinated as I was, I couldn`t muster up the cordiality to make him feel more at ease.
``Oh there it goes,`` he said with relief when the coffee came spitting out.
``Si, se serve!....Que bueno.`` Then he shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his coffee and hurried away, leaving his change behind.
My U.S.A. friend was all too self-conscious, while Marcos, who is judged and laughed at, doesn`t realize the sort of reaction his behavior gets.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the perks of taking a university class it that I can use its gym for free. The guy who manages it during the day has a shaved head, sports tight work-out clothing and has the stocky build of a bodybuilder who uses steroids. When I first started using the gym he made chit-chat with me (as he does with most of the young women who go there) but things cooled when I wasn`t too responsive to his inquiries as to if I have a boyfriend or could date.
The manager zealously enforces gym rules and is particularly insistent that hand towels be carried. Several times he has scolded me for forgetting to bring one. One day he approached me while I was on the elliptical machine and told me that as he has reminded me to bring I towel and I didn`t have one at the moment, I couldn`t enter the gym. (As I had clearly already entered the gym, it was his way of saying get out.)
I am not one to argue (particularly in Spanish) so I left but I thinking the situation was ridicuolous. The people carrying towels do little more with them than dust over machines, and if it so important that people carry towels, the gym should provide them.
Still, he has every right to enforce the rules. (In fact, it`s his job.) To me it`s petty, but lifting weights is his religion, the gym is his church and the rules on the walls are commandments to go by.
However, throughout his life, he must have been so mistreated and rejected by people that now he needs to unnaturally change his body in order to gain power and respect and he feels good by being bossy at the gym.
Annoying as I found the gym manager, he projects a confidence that he belongs in his setting that my coffee buddy could use.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
My Spanish class it taught by a short, round woman named Irma who wears loose clothes and big jewelry. She is in her late 50`s and she likes to come up with reasons for parties so that she can bring in pastries. During our first class, she told us that the great tragedy of her life is that her son died of heart failure a few years ago, and for that reason she doesn`t like to see young people stressed and she wouldn`t put much pressure on us. (Most of the students in these classes are foreign exchange students in their early 20`s.)
She peppers her classes with tidbits about Mexican politics, culture and history. I liked her well enough until the World Cup started and I was the only student who wanted to attend class in lieu of her offer to bring us to a teacher`s lounge in order to watch Mexico play. She arranged for me to go to another teacher`s class, but that teacher ended up watching the game as well. Irma seemed annoyed at having to make up the class just for me (and teach another class just for me when Mexico again played.) Since then, every time soccer or the World Cuphas been mentioned, she`ll apologize to me in a way that doesn`t at all seem sincere.
As I am paying for these classes from my limited budget with the notion that someday it will be meaningful to speak more Spanish, I am pretty insistent on getting my money`s worth.
But to her, I am taking a few skipped classes far too seriously and missing out on an important culture event. Perhaps she thinks ``my son is dead, nothing else is very important, we should enjoy life where we can, why is this girl such a killjoy?``
Still, I feel justified in wanting to attend. While I find the gym manager far too vigilant in enforcing rules, I wish that Irma would just stick to the most basic task of being a teacher (show up for class.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
What I have been taught by university life in Mexico is basically what I have seen in my neighborhood. It can be so heartbreaking to be human. We try to battle loneliness and find acceptance while struggling to deal with each others`s quirks. We stutter at the coffee machine and smirk by the weight machines while wishing we could be closer to others. The love we feel for our children is too heavy if they are ill or if they have passed away. We want to help and know others but that often conflicts with other desires.
If we can keep finding time to learn and play in the sun, we are blessed.
Jess and I have the children outside one sunny afternoon (we care for them on campus grounds) and she decides to entertain them by singing and dancing. She demonstrates various dances by waving her arms, shaking her hips and pinching her nose (this at a university that has been called the Harvard of Mexico) and Marcos gets upset.
``Stop it, stop it,`` he yells, standing up and moving toward Jess while spinning around. ``I`ll go with my mama, I`ll go with my mama, I can`t take it!``
Jess stops dancing, apologizes and calms Marcos down. The rest of the day passes without incident.
We find the incident humorous and relate it as such to the program director. She is unsettled by our account.
``See how hard it is to care for someone like that? That`s why his mother can`t find work, because there`s no one to watch him. In the United States and other countries there is support, but here there is nothing.``
I do feel a lot for Marcos`s mother who has a lot of one-on-one time with him and seems dedicated to giving him the best life she can. Marcos actually has it a little easier. While he is incapable of leading a normal life, he seems unaware of this and thus spends his time coloring, shouting, and sleeping without knowing that things are off.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I occasionally take Spanish courses at this University. That same day I had class earlier in the morning.I I arrived to school in a bad mood due to having to return home after forgetting an essay and subsequently getting on a bus that didn`t go where I thought it would.
First thing, I went to the coffee machine, which was occupied by guy with yellow hair (parted and slicked to his head) who was wearing khaki pants pulled up high over a collared shirt.
In a voice that was both nervous and full of dread he said to me in English ``Ohh, I don`t think it`s going to work. Yeahhh, it`s not coming.``
Since he wasn`t moving to let me assess the situation, I continued standing and staring. I got the impression that he wass someone who is uncomfortable when it comes to new encounters with young women. Uncaffeinated as I was, I couldn`t muster up the cordiality to make him feel more at ease.
``Oh there it goes,`` he said with relief when the coffee came spitting out.
``Si, se serve!....Que bueno.`` Then he shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his coffee and hurried away, leaving his change behind.
My U.S.A. friend was all too self-conscious, while Marcos, who is judged and laughed at, doesn`t realize the sort of reaction his behavior gets.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
One of the perks of taking a university class it that I can use its gym for free. The guy who manages it during the day has a shaved head, sports tight work-out clothing and has the stocky build of a bodybuilder who uses steroids. When I first started using the gym he made chit-chat with me (as he does with most of the young women who go there) but things cooled when I wasn`t too responsive to his inquiries as to if I have a boyfriend or could date.
The manager zealously enforces gym rules and is particularly insistent that hand towels be carried. Several times he has scolded me for forgetting to bring one. One day he approached me while I was on the elliptical machine and told me that as he has reminded me to bring I towel and I didn`t have one at the moment, I couldn`t enter the gym. (As I had clearly already entered the gym, it was his way of saying get out.)
I am not one to argue (particularly in Spanish) so I left but I thinking the situation was ridicuolous. The people carrying towels do little more with them than dust over machines, and if it so important that people carry towels, the gym should provide them.
Still, he has every right to enforce the rules. (In fact, it`s his job.) To me it`s petty, but lifting weights is his religion, the gym is his church and the rules on the walls are commandments to go by.
However, throughout his life, he must have been so mistreated and rejected by people that now he needs to unnaturally change his body in order to gain power and respect and he feels good by being bossy at the gym.
Annoying as I found the gym manager, he projects a confidence that he belongs in his setting that my coffee buddy could use.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
My Spanish class it taught by a short, round woman named Irma who wears loose clothes and big jewelry. She is in her late 50`s and she likes to come up with reasons for parties so that she can bring in pastries. During our first class, she told us that the great tragedy of her life is that her son died of heart failure a few years ago, and for that reason she doesn`t like to see young people stressed and she wouldn`t put much pressure on us. (Most of the students in these classes are foreign exchange students in their early 20`s.)
She peppers her classes with tidbits about Mexican politics, culture and history. I liked her well enough until the World Cup started and I was the only student who wanted to attend class in lieu of her offer to bring us to a teacher`s lounge in order to watch Mexico play. She arranged for me to go to another teacher`s class, but that teacher ended up watching the game as well. Irma seemed annoyed at having to make up the class just for me (and teach another class just for me when Mexico again played.) Since then, every time soccer or the World Cuphas been mentioned, she`ll apologize to me in a way that doesn`t at all seem sincere.
As I am paying for these classes from my limited budget with the notion that someday it will be meaningful to speak more Spanish, I am pretty insistent on getting my money`s worth.
But to her, I am taking a few skipped classes far too seriously and missing out on an important culture event. Perhaps she thinks ``my son is dead, nothing else is very important, we should enjoy life where we can, why is this girl such a killjoy?``
Still, I feel justified in wanting to attend. While I find the gym manager far too vigilant in enforcing rules, I wish that Irma would just stick to the most basic task of being a teacher (show up for class.)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
What I have been taught by university life in Mexico is basically what I have seen in my neighborhood. It can be so heartbreaking to be human. We try to battle loneliness and find acceptance while struggling to deal with each others`s quirks. We stutter at the coffee machine and smirk by the weight machines while wishing we could be closer to others. The love we feel for our children is too heavy if they are ill or if they have passed away. We want to help and know others but that often conflicts with other desires.
If we can keep finding time to learn and play in the sun, we are blessed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
