Post by bluemingidiot on Jul 29, 2016 23:04:41 GMT
When I was growing up, my maternal grandparents never used the word 'Mexico' by itself, it was always "old Mexico." I recently went to Zacatecas, Mexico, with a mission support group from my church. Zacatecas is "old."
Zacatecas was named for a native tribe that lived nearby. It is mountainous land. No mountain sheep or goats were known to live in the in the area, allegedly because they found the place too steep and rugged.
Around 1546 major silver deposits were found. Present day streets are the paved travel routes in the original mining camp. They are narrow and exempt from any order. The present day cathedral, church of San Augustine and Temple of Santo Domingo were built in the 1700s. As were some of the present day homes and buildings.
Zacatecas is located in north central Mexico. It is 2,730' higher than Denver. Even in July it is a city of jackets and sweaters. The average morning low was 53° and the average afternoon high was 75°.
The trip was my first flight in over 20 years. I wasn't surprised to find that I am still afraid of flying. Planes haven't changed all that much. Guess the thing that has changed the most are airports. They remind me of "6th Street' in Austin. The people are the entertainment. Arriving three hours early in San Antonio and having a three hour lay over in Mexico City I must have seen thousands of people--and not one was dressed alike. How do they do that? I mean when they got up that morning how did they know what to put on so they wouldn't look like anyone else?
People in waiting areas sit across from each other, smartphones help them to avoid looking at each other. A young man with Down's Syndrome walked by alone with a brisk, confident pace. Oh, if I were only so self-assured. Bet he doesn't have a flip phone like me, but a smart phone, and is quite competent with it. He may even understand how a bumblebee flies.
Flying is beautiful, but not logical. Gravity teaches us that things were meant to fall from the sky. Take offs and landings were awkward, like Mother Nature was giving us a warning.
In Zacatecas almost no one has a yard with a real tree and flowers. It is more like an old European city. If someone has a dog in Zacatecas it must be kept on a roof. Dogs on roofs, like people in the sky just goes against natural order.
Pigeons were the only birds. Human carelessness and the five second rule have prospered pigeons and to a lesser extent bees. But there is no way to make survival possible for butterflies and hummingbirds.
Tell you something else Zacatenos don't have and that is bicyclists. So they must be doing something right. And whatever it is, they have done it without full-size pickups. Four-wheelers are considered to be mid-size vehicles.
The church we work with is on the second floor of a side street but is easily found because it is across the street from the well-known Corseteria Remodeladora (there comes a time when everyone needs a little corset remodeling). They also don't have near as much road rage. At this particular intersection there are no lights, stop or yield signs, and yet people do, with a minimum amount of honking, move forward or change direction. If a person in front decides to double park, gets out of their car and goes inside a shop or office, the people behind seldom honk, they just patiently wait for a chance to go around. In Texas a similar action would result in a quick determination of justifiable homicide.
There are approximately 200,000 people in the Zacatecas metropolitan area and maybe 5,000 people in northern Blanco county. It is such a rare day when people working or living within a mile of Highways 281 or 290 do not hear sirens, but it was my third night in Zacatecas when I first heard a siren. Some people enjoy the trains horns and some don't. I did, it was comforting to know others weren't sleeping as well.
One night we were eating at the 'Happy Indian' when a person walked off the street and started to loudly and belligerently recite poetry. One person in our group became a little belligerent himself. Fortunately for one of them the poet moved on. He was soon replaced by an enjoyable guitar playing singer. (I think the two were operating in tandem). Performing for tips is common.
At the intersection where the church is, I saw a saxophone playing Huichol indian grandfather accompanied by his young teenage grandson on a large tom-tom playing tribal music. The grandmother was across the street holding her indian hat out to passerbys. The family changed position about 50' to 100' at a time. (I wonder if the sax was chosen based on its sound being closest to the flute pipes the tribe had originally played?)
About every other night there would be a musical performance at the marketplace next to the Cathedral. It reminded me of a college band playing fight songs. Drums and trumpets were primary. Saxophones and trombones made significant contributions.
The mission puts a lot of emphasis on food, clothing and other needs of children. Preaching, not so much. Like the Franciscans say, "Preach the Gospel continuously, and when absolutely necessary, use words." The mission also has a free internet coffee bar for local college students where they can get assistance, counseling and encouragement.
Another thing not seen in Zacatecas are overweight issues. (I was a grown man before I first saw a Mexican-American with serious overweight issues). Steps and stairs in Zacatecas are as common as trees in a forest. Poor people have the longest climbs to return home. Guess by the time they get home they are too tired to eat, much less cook something.
Something else not seen is men wearing baseball caps and cowboy hats in restaurants.
I don't know, but I don't think tattoo addictions are prevalent among Zacatenos. Most people who have tattoos seem to want others to see them. In Zacatecas you don't see cleavage or calves, much less midriffs or thighs. I imagine a Zacatena would have to see some commitment before you ever even saw her bicep. Evidently Zacatena women find some way to be sexually attractive in spite of the lack of public nudity because there sure are a lot of pregnant women, babies and small children.
A couple of times cleaning ladies came by wanting to know when they could clean our room. My roommate and I tried to convey that they could go ahead and clean while we were there. They left and sometimes did not return. I was told that this would besmirch a lady's reputation. Even with the door open and the hotel desk just 30' away. I was somewhat embarrassed that I had tried so hard to get them to clean the room.
Tacos are small, more like hors d'oeuvres. Reminded me of the paper doilies women put in saucers for fancy occasions. Admittedly, bigger is not always better--the 12" bun and the 12" tortilla have led to the 42" waist.
Church services are at 6 pm, Saturday and sometime between 11 am and Monday on Sunday. Joni shared a good message and beautiful songs at those services. Must be nice to be able to show up for life's events with both talent and energy.
Most of the people at church services are women and children. Interesting that in many cultures when males get so old, regular church attendance is no longer required. Zacatenos have a wonderful custom of methodically going around the room and greeting everyone. They smile, shake your hand and wish you a "good day" (instead of asking how you are but not at all interested in hearing). If they know you, they give you a kiss on the side of the cheek. The same activity takes place at the end of the service. They are truly one body. They are happy and hopeful that God is going to change lives and people.
Except for a couple of lapses, I've been going to church for a pretty long time. Wherever I've been I've pretty much seen the same people greeting and chatting with the same people. The longer we chat with a few people enables us to avoid greeting and smiling at every one. I wonder if this is because too many of us drag the past in with us when we come to church?
This of course is the benefit of going on a mission trip, going to some less advanced or modern part of the world where younger people with less benefits and education can minister the Word of God to you.
Sunday night we went to a small, but beautiful park for our devotional service. Ernest had been moved back to Sunday due to being unprepared on the original day he was scheduled. I don't know if it was the devotional or Ernest himself but lightning was striking all around us. I kept trying to get others from standing too close to trees or Ernest. Soon after that it began hailing. Just as he finished the skies were pouring. We scattered like a bunch of chickens. Those who didn't know where we were supposed to go afterwards ran back to the van. Others ran to a nice, clean restaurant. Ernest was with my group, which made several of us uneasy. Cold, shivering and unkempt we eventually got to the restaurant. Fortunately, Ernest had little to say for the rest of the evening.
The church also has a ministry to trash collectors and the people who daily scavenge the landfill picking up recyclable items for a living. Right after breakfast an assembly line is set up to make hundreds of tortas (sandwiches). Bollos, a football shaped roll must be cut precisely. (Zacatenos have evidently rejected sliced bread). Mayonnaise must be applied with a spoon to one side of the roll with a special stroke. Lettuce is thrown down on a table so that it breaks apart in a special way. A thick slice of baloney stuffed inside the bollo. Lettuce stuffed inside the slice of baloney. The bollos are inserted in cellophane just so. The processes, apart from the baloney, seems Old Testament inspired. Some people have trouble coping with the micromanagement. I did not. I have worked for the government.
Then some headed for Sam's where nine items were bought in multiple units of 10 to 24. Everything is put in nine baskets. Workers fill plastic bags with a quart of cooking oil, a package of pinto beans, a package of rice, a package of sugar, a can of tuna, a box of vermicelli, a box of tomato paste, a bar of Zest soap and a tube of Colgate toothpaste.
We loaded up two vehicles and drove about 12 miles out to the landfill. You know how old people have a year in the past when weather was worse? Well some old people likewise assert that the landfill smelled worse in a previous year. The way some carried on it was apparent they had never been on site at a feed lot. Which can be better than a few hours around a woman with an anti-social perfume. Whatever, it did help to keep reminding myself that the place was preferable to a few feed lots I've known.
Every person out there got two tortas, a cold tea or water bottle, a plastic cup with chiles, and a care bag. Not any kind of long term solution in their lives but hopefully they became a little more aware of God's presence and they and we became a little more aware that all God's children are one in His love.
Five things really caught my attention out there, First, how hard the trash pickers work. They got their goodies and headed back to work, not even stopping to eat. They have to dig through the trash to recover items of value before the bulldozer arrives. Trucks are constantly arriving. The sooner they get through one load, they can move to the next. The goal seems to be that the person who goes through the most garbage wins. Second, they laugh and smile a lot. Happiness seems to be more about what you perceive than where you are. Being happy is choosing to be happy. Third, no one could blame these people if they snuck around to try to get an extra portion, but few ever do. There seems to be no correlation between a persons possessions or his status and his dignity. Four, these people must be the most cold natured in the world because while they are working hard in the hot sun, they are wearing at least two items, usually either sweatshirt, sweater or jacket. Some say it is to keep from getting sunburned. If that were the case, a single long sleeve shirt would do. Five, the number of women working among the garbage. And even there you could see that they had pride in their appearance.
I wondered if God wasn't sort of a trash collector. He sees usefulness and value in what society discards.
If any US employer needs hard workers to succeed in harsh conditions, able to work long periods of time, who are honest, I doubt he could do any better than those found among the landfills of Mexico.
From the landfill we went to a couple of colonias with what we had left. Colonias are cardboard, concrete blocks, crates, plywood, tarp side-by-side subdivision homes, four walls not necessary. The have no indoor and usually no outdoor sanitation. They are the truest homesteaders. They have limited water resources which make any gardening difficult, yet some grow flowers, some grow pinto beans or chiles, or tomatoes. One person even had a small patch of corn.
They too are a happy people. Most people in Colonias are as clean as people who live across the road in gated communities. I watched a couple of young girls with attractive, well-combed hair, with exquisite paper flowers pinned in their hair. If there is any difference between them and rich peoples kids I can't tell it, and I don't think God can either.
"He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Some portions of the above report are not completely accurate.
I didn't want to go, I was uncomfortable being there and I will be forever grateful for this experience.
The above statement is completely true.
