oh. umm. hello.

Although I generally try to avoid the "sorry I haven't posted" messages, I do apologize for my extremely extended absence. There's been a lot going on, not all of which I could post about yet, and it made me feel unable to post anything at all. Because, as I said, there's a lot of new stories and info, I'm going to break the news up over multiple posts this weekend. Stick with me and I think you'll see what I mean.

Firstly, back in December, I had the single best birthday I can remember. Sounds strange, right? Even weirder is how that came about. I really don't like my birthday. It's too close to Christmas, too much stuck in the middle of the time when everyone's too busy and feeling the pressure of too much obligation. Most of my life I have tried desperately--and failed horribly--to make it something people are excited about. In the last couple years, I've just wanted to spend a couple hours with close friends. This year, I wanted to ignore it. I thought it would make me too sad to try to celebrate with people who've known me for three months--at best.

It didn't help that a week before my birthday, Andrea and I told my supervisor in La Estación that I wouldn't be returning in the new year. The violence that I've been writing about hasn't essentially changed since arrival, but Andrea and I both felt that the tone had changed, and we decided that for the sake of the program it would be better to find a different arrangement. It wasn't an easy conversation. A lot of the people I was working closely with took the news very personally, and it was emotional for me as well; in such a short time, I already feel like I have walked through fire with these families. So, on December 17th, the last Friday of work before holidays, my birthday/going away party was scheduled. Total downer, right? I figured I would be there to eat some cake, answer the community's questions about exactly why I had to leave mid-year, and hope to get out without a major scene. I gave up all hope of having a high-energy, festive birthday. I could only imagine how much it was going to stink.

Some of my closest friends from the projecto, including Sylvia, Lulu, Maestra Fresvinda, and Guille.

On the morning of, more than 20 people showed up with various sorts of foods to share, a huge cake, and balloons. It was anything but a "going away party." It was a birthday party, full of hugs, friends, and laughter. My changing work situation was only addressed as people said their goodbyes: I hope you have a wonderful birthday, that you have a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, a good visit with your family, and that you love your new job. We'll miss you so much. It was everything I could've hoped for.

More tomorrow on my new work placement. 
Saturday I'll post more end-of-service reflections about La Estación.
Look for a post about Christmas and my parents' visit on Sunday.

Try to Remember Some Details

by Yehuda Amichai

try to remember some details. remember the clothing
of the one you love
so that on the day of loss you’ll be able to say: last seen
wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
try to remember some details. for they have no face
and their soul is hidden and their crying
is the same as their laughter,
and their silence and their shouting rise to one height
and their body temperature is between 98 and 104 degrees
and they have no life outside this narrow space
and they have no graven image, no likeness, no memory
and they have paper cups on the day of their rejoicing
and paper cups that are used once only.

try to remember some details. for the world
is filled with people who were torn from their sleep
with no one to mend the tear,
and unlike wild beasts they live
each in his lonely hiding place and they die
together on battlefields
and in hospitals.
and the earth will swallow all of them,
good and evil together, like the followers of korah,
all of them in their rebellion against death,
their mouths open till the last moment,
praising and cursing in a single
howl. try, try
to remember some details.

(poem discovered via invisible stories)

Wow

It never ceases to amaze me that my experiences here can be so different from my fellow YAGM--even from those also serving in Mexico. I wish I were doing a better job of following other people's blogs, but time is limited, and I frequently feel frustrated when I spend all afternoon on my computer instead of spending time enjoying Mexico.
I am also consistently impressed by Anneli's writing, the complete clarity of thought she shares on her blog. I especially want to direct your attention to this stunning post, in which she writes, "How grateful I am to have shoes that fit, shoes that don't cause me pain, shoes at all. The man at the busy intersection I pass every day has shoes too. I haven't asked him if they fit or not. Perhaps I should." [read more]

Advent

Last week at work, I learned to make buñuelos. Unfortunately, I can't prove it--it happened on the one day of the week I didn't carry my camera with me!

 

image via google image search

If you're not familiar with buñuelos, the best way I have of describing them is as Mexico's response to the elephant ear. They're much thinner, though, and crispy. They're topped exclusively with sugar and ground cinnamon. One of the women who was helping to teach me told me that she only makes them for the Christmas season.
I remember growing up my pastor parents tried to impress upon us the meaning of advent. I spent most of the season worrying about what gifts I was going to get. Perhaps it's the fact that gift-giving isn't so essential to the Christmas tradition in Mexico as it is in the states. Perhaps it's my personal commitment to live simply this year, and my attempt to resist the urge to get a bunch of new toys. Perhaps it's the fact that the weather in Cuernavaca still isn't cold enough for football season to be over, let alone nearing Christmas. But somehow, I find myself patiently waiting for Christmas to start. I enjoyed saying the rosary for the Virgin with my neighbors last week. I'm excited about the posadas that will start next week. I'm stuffing myself with buñuelos.

Newsletter

My November newsletter can now be downloaded here.

The Guest House

by Jelaluddin Rumi
translation by Coleman Barks

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

I want to say thanks to Gita for e-mailing me this poem! It's been one of the texts I go to lately when I feel stressed out or tired.

Thanksgiving

I love Thanksgiving. It's easily surpassed Halloween as my favorite holiday in recent years. My friend Anneli described the feeling of the holiday as being pure. Christmas gets all mixed up in worry about shopping and wrapping presents and making things equal, but Thanksgiving is only about food and family and being present at the table. So, last week was a little hard for me.
I knew we would have our dinner here in Cuernavaca on Saturday (which quickly became known, thanks to yours truly and my overabundance of enthusiasm, as THANKSFRIGGINGIVIN), but I still woke up sad on Thanksgiving Day. I couldn't help but think about who was up already, pre-heating the oven for the turkey. Who would be making the sweet potatoes? What would be forgotten until the last-minute scramble? The half hour I allotted to making a few phone calls home didn't help as much as I thought they would, since the holidays in both parts of my families were pretty drastically different from tradition this year. It was hard to think the holiday might go on without me. It was harder to realize that my family's holidays are changing, and that the Thanksgivings of my childhood might be gone for good.
All of us YAGM-Mexico volunteers are, I think, getting over our honeymoon with Mexico. I recently described the feeling to a friend as "Things are getting real." My enthusiastic "These fresh tortillas are delicious!" has changed to an aggravated "Why can't I just have some dense whole-wheat bread for once?!" We've had three months to get used to the major cultural differences, and now we're working on more nuanced expectations. It's a difficult time, even without the holidays. But I am trying to remember to be thankful for this experience, even through my sadness at being so far away from home. I am trying to remember that the most influential experiences I've had in my life were also difficult at times. But mostly, I am trying to remember the prayer we sing every day before eating dinner at Casa Tatic:
 Demos Gracias al Señor,                                   We give thanks to the Lord,
Demos Gracias.                                                   We give thanks.
Demos Gracias al Señor.                                   We give thanks to the Lord.
En la mañana, que se levanta                           In the morning, the rooster sings
El gallo canta,                                                      just because he's awake,
y yo canto al Señor.                                            and I also sing to the Lord.

Our THANKSFRIGGINGIVIN dinner, by the way, was amazing.