New Years Eve

Chapultepec Park

Chapultepec Park is one of the largest public green spaces in Latin America. The public park has tree lined paths filled with venders and houses a zoo, a lake for boating and a number of art and history museums. It’s a popular weekend spot, especially on Sunday when the museum entrances are free.

I decided, perhaps unwisely, the join the crowds on this beautiful sunny day. I climbed the hill to the Castillo of Chapultepec to be rewarded with an expansive view of the surrounding landscape. Once the residence of Mexican rules, the Castle now houses the National History Museum. The museum offers a concise history beginning with the conquest through the revolution. I especially enjoyed the murals of O’Gorman and Siqueiros.

The stroll down the highest hill of the park was a lot more leisurely despite the increasing crowds. Since I had visited the Museum of Modern Art on a previous trip, I walked to the Museum of Rufino Tamayo. The contemporary art is housed in a unique concrete and glass building that was awarded the national prize for architecture in 1981. The current exhibit featured several South Korean artists and the permanent exhibit included works by O’Keefe, Miró and Tamayo himself.

Frida and Diego

Frida was too good for him, but love, loyalty and probably locura (craziness) continued tie her to him. Frida mirrored her troubled life – marked by a childhood of polio, a traffic accident that that broke her back and caused severe pain throughout her life, and a tumultuous marriage (twice) to Mexico’s famous muralist – in her unique and unforgettable paintings. And Diego, well, he loved her – in his own way. She suffered through his notorious womanizing, though not without her own affairs, most notably with the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky.

The Casa Azul, in the Coyoacán neighborhood, where Frida was born, lived much of her life and eventually died, now is a wonderful museum to fill my fascination with the life and work of Frida Kahlo. During previous visits to Mexico City, I have satisfied this allure of all things Frida and Diego by visiting museums and murals of two of Mexico’s most distinguished artists.

By exploring San Ángel, the neighboring barrio of Coyoacán, I was able to visit a new area of the city and satiate my Frida obsession today. San Ángel is one of the wealthier areas of the city with colorful colonial architecture and stone streets lined with flowers. Plaza Jacinto, the center of San Ángel, hosts a large art market and many artisan vendors that attract many tourists, especially on Saturdays.

A short walk through the windy streets led me to Museo Estudio Diego Rivera that was built by Juan O’Gorman for Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in 1931-1932. The two houses, one blue and one red, are connected by a roof top bridge and surrounded by a cactus hedge. Diego’s house has a large living room / studio with a wall of windows that allows the sunlight to pour into the minimalist architecture. It is one of the few rooms in the entire museum that contains an assortment of his personal belongings like paintbrushes, papier-mâché skeletons and pre-Columbian pottery.

Diego´s house

Frida´s house

Frida´s house

Diego´s house

While the houses displays none of Frida’s work and only a few sketches and paintings of Diego, there are several rooms of photographs of the two that allow me to imagine what it must have been like for Frida to live in the artsy neighborhoods of Coyoacán and San Ángel during the 1930s and 1940s. And if you have seen the movie, Frida, you will recognize the museum since part of it was filmed there. With the 1.5 km walk to Coyoacán, I finished my day of Frida.

Christmas

Las Posadas

There was a knock on the door as we were baking cookies with Isabel. The neighbors invited us to a posada they were having for the apartment block – the cutout cookies could wait.

We joined the others in the entry way of the apartments, sipping Coke and munching on wafers and potato chips while listening to salsa music. When we had a crowd of 10-15 people, we began our posada. The Posadas typically begin on December 16 and continue for the nine days preceding Christmas.

In a single file line, we walked around the apartment block while carrying candles. The woman, who seemed to be the organizer, led the procession. Another woman carried large plastic replicas of Mary and Joseph, who would be asking for posada (shelter). Using a small booklet that had the words to the song as a guide, there was a call and response type of dirge that continued until we arrived at the designated apartment, which conveniently was the empty apartment in a central location.

After some discussion, several of the participants agreed to be inside the apartment so that the rest of us would have someone to whom we could ask for posada. Since there was only one booklet with the words, there were some comical pauses as they passed the booklet back and forth. I didn’t feel so bad not knowing what to do or sing as most of the others didn’t seem to know what do either.

With the ritual completed, it was time to party. And it would not be a party without piñatas. The first of the three large piñatas was ready. We sang the piñata song and after several turns, the piñata broke. I was surprised to see not candy, but jicama, oranges, apples and peanuts falling to the ground.

With the three piñatas broken and the music and drinking beginning again, we decided to return to baking. When we left to go home at 11:30pm, there were still a dedicated few enjoying the last of the food and drink from the posada.

The Nutcracker

The National Auditorium where we saw La Cascanueces (The Nutcracker).

Natalie and I in front of the Christmas tree and large nutcracker.

I love poinsettias!

We had great seats – first row, center, balcony – in the National Auditorium for a traditional performance of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker.

Winter Wonderland - Mexico City Style

I hear that there is a big snow storm that is about to blanket much of the Northeast. Well, who needs a snowstorm when Mexico City’s Zócalo is a short metro ride away from you? And you can forget the gloves and hats at home.

This evening I emerged from the crowded and hot metro to discover a winter wonderland of sorts that blanketed the Zócalo. The Zócalo was lit up with lights of poinsettias, stars and the nacimiento (nativity scene) on the surrounding buildings. The choices of winter activities were abundant.

I had my choice of ice skating surrounded with bleachers filled with spectators or riding snowmobiles in a small ring of fake snow. Beside the long line for snowmobiles was a line for sledding. And by sledding I mean dragging an inner tube up a short flight of stairs and sliding down a short incline – less than half a minute. For the less active, there was a tent lined with tables that would eventually hold tens of little snowmen made by molds. Groups of parents and their children huddled around the less than foot and half mold to stuff it with melting snow to make the small snowman before the next family reused the mold. So much for unique hand made snowman. And perhaps my favorite, there was a tent full of kids having a snowball fight.

What better way to make a pint size snowman then with a mold.

I decided to leave the winter activities to those for whom the snow was a novelty and walked down Calle Madero which had been converted into a pedestrian street. I was taken back to memories of Las Ramblas in Barcelona. Groups of holiday makers crowded around statues. Among others, there was the man completely painted in silver, the ancient Aztec and my favorite, a pretty well done Michael Jackson look alike.

With a week from Christmas, Mexico City is ready, with or without the snow and cold.

Christmas Party in Zacango

In the spirit of the holidays, we had a Christmas party in Zacango on the Sunday, December 13 at Bruce and Jaime’s house. The sign outside posted the events beginning at 6; however, since Bruce, Manuel and several others were still playing soccer, Jaime and I tried to entertain the throngs of children gathering outside of the house. The excitement was building.

Handful by handful, we filled the two piñatas that Bruce and Jaime bought from a woman in the community who makes extra money by making and selling piñatas during the holidays. I bought a third piñata from her for all of the extra candy that would be ant infested if it wasn’t put to good use.

Before the main event of piñatas, most of the children of the community burned off excess energy lucha libre style while parents and community members laughed and clapped, thoroughly entertained. The party moved outside when I gave the children chispas (sparklers), a standard at any party. In less than five minutes the air was filled with flying sparks in every direction giving the whole scene a slightly dangerous, though entirely Mexican party atmosphere. Some of the teenage boys managed to snag a handful of the chispas, which started a chispa battle as they hurled them at each other. It’s a good thing fire codes are non existent.

Thankfully, before the dried zacate caught on fire, the blue piñata was strung across the road ready to be broken. The smallest children lined up to get the first hits at the piñata. We all sang the piñata song to mark how much time each child was allowed.

Dale, dale, dale.

No pierdas el tino

Porque si lo pierdes,

Pierdes el camino.

Ya le diste uno,

Ya le diste dos,

Ya le diste tres y tu tiempo se acabó.

When the piñata finally burst, I was more than surprised when all of the youth and adults who were watching the festivities made a mad dash for the candy that was scattered underneath the piñata. The pushing and shoving from the children made complete sense given that there was unfair competition.

The second piñata broke with the help of a blind folded Bruce after several wild misses with the bat that dispersed the crowd of children. With shouts of Don Luis, the community mayor, the children convinced Luis to be turned around three times while blind folded and swing at our last piñata before he decided it was easier to throw off the blind fold and rip the remaining shreds of the piñata.

With our quota of sugar, laughs and entertainment, we said our goodbyes until the New Year.

La Virgen de Guadalupe

The alarm interrupted my sleep at 4:15am so that I could dress quickly and begin the walk under the stars at 4:30am. It was Tuesday, eight days into the daily masses at the Sanctuary to honor la Virgen Guadalupe. With a slight chill pulsing through me and the crowing chickens serenading me, I spiraled my way to the Sanctuary that was shining on top of the hill.

I hustled to be able to attend the first of the four masses of the day at 5am, since it was supposedly the most attended. Since I only met a handful of people on my pilgrimage, I thought for sure that I would be sitting at the church with at most ten other people crazy enough to wake up in the middle of the night to hear mass.

So you can image my surprise when I finally arrived at the Sanctuary only to discover that I would have to stand outside of the church with the 20 or 30 other people who did not fit into the church. I stood, kneeled and listened along with an abuela, a group of young people in their school uniforms and a father who was trying to keep his daughters from giggling. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I appreciated the Christmas colored decorations, which conveniently are the same colors as Mexico’s flag. Near the end of mass as we passed the peace, I snuck a look inside the brightly lit church that was filled with flowers of all colors and illuminated by hundreds of candles.

As the sun began to rise scattering the stars, I joined the crowd walking down the hill to town, greeting the believers who were walking the opposite direction to attend the 6am mass. I was amazed at the belief that would require this dedication.

The masses began on December 1, with four sometimes five daily masses, two in the morning at 5am and 6am and two in the evening at 5pm and 6pm. The masses continued until December 12, the day la Virgen de Guadalupe first appeared to Juan Diego in the mid 1500s. There is now a Basilica on the sight where she first appeared near Mexico City where thousands make annual pilgrimages to honor her.

As I was told the story of the Virgin’s appearance by my “host” family, I was awed by the conviction that they held, as I am far from venerating Saints and the Virgin. Pepe assured me that numerous studies and tests were done by scientists that verify the apparition. I couldn’t help being amused by the need to verify through science what is inherently intangible and elusive – faith.

About ten years ago, the Virgin reappeared in Guerrero and was seen in New York and throughout the world by believers. Pepe, who claims profound belief, was not fortunate enough to see her; however, Liz and Carmen both assured me that they saw her through the rainbow that arced over Olinalá. Carmen told of the raindrops that fell to the ground as pearls, pearls of the Virgin.

The days leading up to the 12^th were filled with processions culminating in a Friday evening of the typical fiesta activities – fireworks, food and music. I retraced my steps of Tuesday morning, except on Friday night I was joined by hundreds on the journey. The Sanctuary had become a fair-like spectacle. The mariachi music from the radio competed with the five man brass band that played out of tune. The people sat at the tables eating the pizza, tacos and numerous other less than healthy snack options. People filtered in and out of the church individually honoring la Virgen, but the main event was the castillo of fireworks.

As the first of the lower fireworks showered on the people directly below the large fireworks structure, I was reminded of my hometown Scottdale. I’m positive that the firefighters of the Scottdale Volunteer Fire Department would feel at home with the excitement of the sparks nearly setting the tarps of the food vendors on fire, climbing the metal structure to light the spiraling figures, and the last firework structure launching from the top of the structure with the hope that it burns out before it falls to the ground.

With the festivities of the evening behind them, Olinalá entered the 12^th, Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe, in a spirit of veneration. The hourly masses began at 5am, with the last mass at 1:00 that would honor the runners who had relayed from the Basilica in DF to Olinalá. At 3:30pm, the faithful carried the Santita from the Sanctuary to the church in the Zocalo to end the twelve day festivities.

Las Fiestas de Zacango

In the months proceeding December 7 and 8 there was intense planning and soliciting of funds for the annual fiestas in Zacango honoring la Virgen de Concepcion. When I arrived around 6:30pm, the men were setting up the lights around the bull riding ring that would shine on the ten bulls and amateur riders.

I walked to the basketball court in the middle of town that had been transformed into a restaurant; people crowded around plastic tables eating pozole (broth with large corn kernels, topped with pork and the choice of adding fresh lime, salt and chile) and drinking Coke and beer. One corner of the municipal building acted as the kitchen where the women of the community dished out bowl after bowl of pozole for the invited guests from surrounding communities who were scattered around the basketball court. The young women of the community, dressed in their finest, served the 50 or so people who ate in shifts.

Doña Antonio, with a huge smile on her face, deposited a heaping bowl of pozole in my hands before I could refuse, and I was soon installed in a chair with a good view of the action. At a near by table, the young boys, who had been part of the procession dressed as tigers or as outrageous, scantily clad women, took a break from dancing to the brass band and indulged in the festival pozole and spirits.

With my fill of food, I returned to the bull ring joining the crowd for the first bull rider. The music boomed and the announcer pumped up the crowd. The thrill of the potential danger pulled a group of boys to the waiting pen, where the bull was coerced into submission. For all of the anticipation and waiting, the first bull was disappointing as when they finally opened the gate, he was laying in a heap on the ground. Several men had to drag the bull out into the ring before it decided to be part of the spectacle.

As the night wore on, the bulls got bigger and more active, jumping and bucking. The riders, with spurs tied to their boots, held on valiantly to the rope tied around the waist of the bull before calling the rodeo clowns to lasso and distract the bull while they escaped to safety. About five or six bulls in, we saw the sparks fly signaling the beginning of the castillo (fireworks display) that was set up by the church. We took off running as if one of the bulls were chasing to be able to see the remaining fireworks.

We arrived in time to see the swirling sparks and lights explosions. The “women” and tigers danced under the falling sparks and the drum kept time for the brass band. As the last firework died out, the revelers filed into the church to venerate the reason for the fiestas.

Beside the church, the basketball court, once restaurant, had been converted into a dance hall. The tables had been cleared to make way for a dance floor, which was completely bereft of dancers. On one end, a stage had been set up with an elaborate sound system for the hired band that was beginning to play to an empty dance floor. This was partly due to the bull riding activity that captivated much of the attention and largely due to the ridiculous entry fee that was required.

As the bull riding ended and with the liquor and beer taking effect, people drifted over to the dance. Women and men, young and old surrounded the empty dance floor listening to the band convince them to pay and enter. However, with patience, they knew from experience that they eventually would be allowed into the dance free of charge. I decided to forgo the evening dance that would last until the wee hours of the morning.

The next day the fiestas continued with more drinking and bull riding, basketball tournaments and general merriment. The stamina and time that communities devote to fiestas is quite amazing. And all in the name of la Virgen.

Thanksgiving and Team Time

With the oldest two Freisen-Pankratz kids sleeping on an old mattress in the back of the grey Toyota, Bruce, Jaime and I passed the time talking and laughing on our way to Mexico City for a week of meetings with the rest of MCC Mexico. We left from Zacango early, so that we could spend the afternoon in Cuernavaca, about an hour and a half from Mexico City.

The road we traveled to arrive in Mexico City. We took a different route home.

Cuernavaca became Cortés’s home after he destroyed much of the Aztec structures in and around the area. The Palacio de Cortés which today houses the Museo de Cuauhnáhuac, is a huge stone fortress built on the base of a pyramid. The museum exhibits highlight Mexican history and culture. I especially enjoyed the Diego Rivera mural on the second floor balcony. The mural was commissioned in the 1920s as a gift to the people of Cuernavaca by US ambassador Dwight Marrow. It depicts scenes of the Spanish conquest through the 1910 revolution, which was just celebrated on November 20.

A small part of the mural by Diego Rivera.

I walked through the Plaza de Armas which has the distinction of being the only main plaza in Mexico without a church, chapel, convent or cathedral overlooking it. It did, however, have the usual activity of vendors and the young and old relaxing under shade trees. I made my way to the Jardín Borda which was constructed in 1783 for a Taxco silver magnate. The highlight was a chance for shade and relaxation among the terraces, paths and fountains of the vast gardens in the middle of the city.

My final stop on my quick tour of Cuernavaca was across the street to the Cathedral compound. If there is one thing that Cortés knew how to do, it was build a fortress. Large high walls fortify the four chapels and cathedrals. The main cathedral has high dome ceilings that would achieve Cortés’s goal to make the heathen cower to the All Mighty.

With a cursory view of Cuernavaca complete and shadows of evening approaching, we continued the journey to Mexico City. By the time we arrived to barrio San Ángel where we were staying at a Lutheran Center, we were exhausted after a long day navigating overland by car and underground by metro. I briefly met everyone as a few of us plotted our attack for our Thanksgiving meal.

MCC Mexico is a diverse group representing eight nationalities. The country representatives, Ricardo and Marion are from Colombia and South Africa. Bruce and Jaime, living in Zacango, are from Canada. Eleisio and Kirsten, living in Chiapas, are from Brazil and the US. Manuel, working in Guerrero, is from Morelos, Mexico. Natalie is living in Cuernavaca for the year with SALT and is from the US. Marcos, from Argentina, is living in DF through the YAMEN program. Finally, Ana Julia is returning to Nicaragua after finishing her year of YAMEN working with the churches in Mexico City.

Our team building exercises on Friday and Saturday focused on speaking our truth, trust and giving grace. These skills are vital when working in a team, but also in our personal relationships with family and friends. I appreciated the time to reflect how I can better apply these skills in team life, but also in my personal life. Somewhere in all this reflection by the team, it was deemed that I was someone who had the ability to hold the team together by listening and appreciating diversity. Anything I can do to help.

We celebrated Thanksgiving with the appropriate food of turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes – or better described as runny potatoes. One of my only responsibilities was to make the mashed potatoes, which you would think would be difficult to mess up. But, funny things happen when you don’t drain all of the water from the potatoes. Despite the odd consistency, they still tasted good and the team was generous as they showed me grace.

Our meetings also included a time of strategic planning for the next five years, which included the participation of the Latin American Directors, Mark Epp, living in Costa Rica, and Eduard Klassen from the Chaco, Paraguay. It will be interesting to see how MCC Mexico works on the issue of internal migration and immigration as it was a new area of work that was highlighted as important.

While in Mexico City, Natalie and I went to the movie theater near the Lutheran Center and saw Ang Lee’s Welcome to Woodstock that was part of an International Film Festival. There was plenty of peace and love, but lacking on the sweet sounds of the music. Another afternoon I walked the markets of Coyoacán that were filled with Christmas decorations including gaudy colored tinsel, elaborate nativity scenes and colored, twinkling lights.

The Christmas season was in high gear in Mexico City, and upon return to Olinalá late Wednesday evening, it became apparent that the holidays had arrived in Guerrero as well. I was welcomed home by a huge colored star that twinkles and flashes on night long outside my bedroom window.

The return trip offered incredible views of the two volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl. The picture doesn't do it justice.

Picture circle star flashing and sparkling color - every night. Another highlight is that the house bears pride to the PUMA soccer team and the crucifix, one of which can be found in every room of my house.

Saturnino and his Stoves

I knew it’s going to be a good day when I washed down the armadillo meat covered in a red chile sauce with a 1 litro of Coke before 10am. I sat at the small square table in the windowless adobe room with Saturnino from Zacango and Martín from the community as the doña of the house regaled us with the information that we had just eaten armadillo. A smiling Saturnino was wiping the last of his sweet chile sauce from his plate with a fresh tortilla, while I thought, “So that’s what that is.” During most of the almuerzo (literally lunch, but typically refers to a meal eaten at 9-10am) I struggled to pick out the tough meat as it all seemed to be hard bone, so I probably ate little actual armadillo. The chile sauce tasted great though.

As Saturnino enjoyed an after meal smoke, we checked out the luckier armadillo that was tied to a tree behind the house. Buried in his shell and protected by the tree roots, Cristina had to give him a good yank before we were able to peer into the face of a future meal for the family. He wasn’t feeling very photogenic and soon withdrew to his hard shell.

I got a call from the satellite phone, the only phone in Zacango, from Saturnino last night requesting a ride to San José in the morning as MCC usually helps him with transportation. By 8:45am this morning with the adobe stove molds secured in the back of the truck, Cristina, Saturnino’s 20 something daughter, Saturnino and I were on the rode to San José to build two stoves and to train others on how to build the stoves.

Last Thursday, Martín from the community of San José and Aquilano, an engineer with CDI (Centro de Desarrollo Indigena Center for Indigenous Development) came by the MCC office to ask for support in the construction of stoves that save firewood. In the late 1990s and early 2000s, MCC promoted and actively supported the implementation of this appropriate technology in the communities. The stoves are designed to use less firewood and to decrease the amount of smoke in often windowless kitchens. The numerous benefits range from improved health at the family level to decreased deforestation at the regional level.

MCC still has one stove mold which includes a rectangular wood mold for the base, a circular mold for the firewood space on which the comal (metal cooking surface for tortillas) sits, a meter length tube which acts as a pipe to pull the smoke up the chimney, and two smaller connecting pieces. It sounds like a lot, but all of the pieces could easily fit in the trunk of a car. In 2002, MCC sold the other mold to Saturnino and his wife Bernadina of Zacango who have since then been responsible for the construction and capacity building involved with the stove technology. When MCC receives requests of this nature, we act as the conduit of communication with Saturnino and Bernadina.

Saturnino is short and spindly, though surprisingly strong. He was born in Zacango and has lived his 50 odd years in Zacango, minus the three years in the States. Most of his siblings live in Morelos as they never returned when they left to find work years before. His eight children, seven daughters and one son, still live in Zacango. The youngest is studying in high school in Olinalá. Building and providing training for the construction of the stoves has been good employment for Saturnino, a reason not to return to the States.

He earns 500 pesos for the construction of one stove with the requirement of help from three or four people of the community. This payment includes capacity building as his philosophy is learning by doing. He offers a reduced rate the more stoves are built in a community; however, increases the price if nobody from the community helps. I learned many of these details on the road trip through the mountains, where it feels like Saturnino is almost shouting his answers, though it’s just his manner of speech.

After five minutes on the road, I thought it worth asking if Saturnino knew where the community was located, as I simply had no idea. He didn’t either other than it was in the direction of Temalatlcingo. We would ask at the crossroads. The crossroads never appeared, but San José was surprisingly easy to find and only 35 minutes from Zacango.

Fortified by the armadillo, which Cristina slyly escaped claiming to have already eaten, and energized by the liter each of Coca Cola, we gathered at the first house for the demonstration stove. Saturnino encouraged as many as wanted to come for the training, and especially the women, since the stove would directly impact their daily life. In the end it was a small group that included two brothers, whose houses would each have one stove by the end of the day, five or six women from the community and one or two children who found the lounging dogs more interesting than the training. Throughout the day people drifted in and out of the activities.

Saturnino began his presentation with the benefits of the stove. He looked to the hills talking about years past and the lost lush green of the trees, emphasizing the environmental impacts of the stoves. He moved on to the respiratory illnesses that befall many women because they inhale so much smoke while cooking. The stoves we were about the build pushed the smoke through the chimney to the outside.

His next gambit, which was repeated often throughout the day, was about his ten years of experience building the stoves. It takes less than an hour to build a stove once everyone is trained. And the training is important. If everyone helps out and learns the process, they wouldn’t need him, only the mold. He would just as easily train one person as a thousand. His résumé continued with his experience in Morelos where he and his wife were hired to build 400+ stoves. They built six to eight per day including the pretile (the 1 meter x 1.2 meters adobe base on which the stove sits).

He insisted on mentioning that MCC owned the mold, and it was MCC who brought this technology from the States and taught him how to do this. Each time this was mentioned, I quickly downplayed this aspect as it was apparent to everyone that I was even more clueless than they were as to the basics of this construction.

While Saturnino continued the preamble with a mix of rehearsed jokes and stories, Cristina, his only daughter that knows the process, built the wooden frame. This involved a wrench, some wire and the numbered, wooden boards. We moved inside the sunless room where Saturnino gave an explanation of the placement of the mold so that the air from the outside would push the smoke through the stove.

Next, he arranged the four necessary pieces inside the wooden frame, careful to explain the function and placement of each piece. The piece that created the opening for the wood had to be flush with the frame and flush with the circular mold that would eventually house the fire. A short connector created the space for the movement of heat and smoke from the fire pit to the tube that led to the chimney that would send the smoke out of the room. Eventually, two ollas would serve as molds on top of the tube so that there would be three cooking surfaces for the stove, unlike the usual one cooking area stove.

As the various women looked on and whispered to each other in Nahuatl, the indigenous language spoken by the community, Saturnino disassembled the mold and invited the women to try. The women were shy and hesitant to try. I took one of the pieces and said to the most bold of the bunch, “Where should I put this piece?” Through shaking of heads and giggles, we assembled it again under the expert eye of Saturnino. The process was repeated several times so that several women were able to practice.

While we were learning to assemble the mold, one of the men piled the adobe contents on the floor in front of the stove. One of the benefits of the stoves is the low materials cost. In San José CDI provided the financial support for the community to build two stoves, much of which would go toward the expertise of Saturnino for the construction and training. MCC charges a mere 25 pesos to rent the mold, and the actual cost of the building materials is less than 100 pesos and includes:

7 buckets of sifted dirt

2 buckets of sand

1 package of lye

1 bucket of mule poop

Saturnino emphasized that there was no cement in the stove, unlike others, because the adobe keeps the heat longer and would ultimately use less wood.

I soon was on my knees, hands caked in dirt and cracking from the lye as I mixed the ingredients. Under the tutelage of Saturnino I learned the importance of the adobe mix – to dry and it cracks, too wet like mud and the stove collapses when you take the mold off.

As a few of us mixed the dirt, the others poured it into the frame and pounded it with wood blocks to make it firm. At the threat of charging more for lack of participation, the women gathered around to hit the dirt into the frame, giggling at Saturnino’s jokes and stories.

As the frame filled up, three spaces along the back tube were created with ollas, two for cooking surfaces and one for the chimney hole. A few pieces of rebar were added to fortify the mold and the process of mixing the dirt and pounding it into the frame continued.

Pay special attention to Saturnino's hat.

At some point in this process, I ducked out to enjoy the fresh air. I soon found myself trying to answer who the Mennonites were and what we were doing in Olinalá. These questions were from the same man who at the end of the stove construction wanted to know how to say, “It’s finished,” in English. I was impressed with the knowledgeable curious questions that both he and his wife asked throughout the day about different cultures.

And now for the impressive finish. Saturnino and Cristina sprinkled water on top of the finished stove to smooth the edges and in preparation to take off the molds. Like a paper mache mold, the stove became a reality as each layer pealed away; the wooden frame, the circular center and so on. Piece by piece the mold parts were taken away, and with some water and wet adobe for touch ups the stove emerged and all were impressed.

Just need to take off the mold.

Before we could drink more Coke to celebrate, Saturnino asked several of the women to show him how they built their fire. Several of the women stepped forward and offered their demonstration. Since Saturnino guarantees his stoves, he didn’t want the community to say that the stoves didn’t work because he didn’t show them how to build the correct type of fire that would pull the smoke through the stove. The correct structure requires that the small sticks that burn quickly form the foundation with the longer thinner logs on top. In this way, the bottom quickly lights and leaves the ashes on the bottom so as not to trap the smoke.

Saturnino’s final training related to the stove maintenance and involved comparing the stove to a woman. When the wife is young, she always has the time to do her hair and look nice for the new husband. This makes the husband excited about coming home. When she doesn’t take the time to look good, the man starts to stray. And so like the stove, the woman needs to continually polish the stove with water so that the man will always want to come home to eat from the food prepared on the well maintained stove. It’s a favorite story of his because it was one that he repeated as he finished the second stove too.

While Saturnino put the finishing touches on the first stove, he sent a group to begin the process of mixing the adobe at the next house. For the second stove he boasted that the stove would be finished in less than one hour since the training was complete. And, indeed the process was efficient despite the repeated jokes.

Payment in hand and papers signed assuring the construction, business was finished. All that was left was a meal since if was 3pm. As we sipped another liter of Coke each and ate fresh tortillas, which in eight days could be made on the new stoves, I encouraged Saturnino to think of what his business might look like if he were independent of MCC, and it was just Saturnino and his stoves.

Harvest

Elvira is one of the women who attends the Adult Literacy Class that Jaime and I teach every Wednesday evening in Zacango. She has seven or eight children; the oldest is in his teens and the youngest just turned two. Her husband is in the States with a panadería (bakery) business who sends remittances and returns two of three times a year. He plans to return for Christmas.

The family has a plot of land of about 1 hectare planted with corn near the community primary school. In Zacango, harvest began in late October, and Elvira is one of the last to finish. There seems to be a general understanding in the community that all the corn will be harvested by November 30, as on that day the animals are released of their pens and allowed to roam free, eating all the bare corn stocks.

Jaime and I agreed to help Elvira and her sons on Thursday morning with her harvest that began two days previously. Everyone was hard at work by 7am, though I arrived by 8:30, since my morning ritual of coffee and reading was too difficult for me to break. As I called out to Elvira and Jaime that I had finally arrived, Elvira laughed and said they were almost ready for a break. I traipsed across the field unsure of the rows declaring that I should at least learn the task at hand before break.

There is nothing mechanized about harvest. Earlier in the month, they had gone through the fields and harvested the zacate (silage), so that all the remained in the fields were the stocks with ears of corn on top that had been drying in the sun for the past few weeks. The silage would be used as animal feed in the coming months, and the corn would be used for making tortillas and any other number of corn based dishes. I quickly learned to husk the ear of corn and leave the dry husk and silk on the ground. Jaime and Elvira had a short metal stick that helped to open the husk, but I preferred to use by nails and fingers. I stood with Jaime and Elvira throwing the husked ears into sacks that would later be dragged to Elvira’s house for drying.

With five ears of corn harvested to my name, we were done with that section and walking the 5 minutes to her house for almuerzo (lunch, but refers to 10-11am meal). Her house is full of plants with a relaxing open air space behind the house with a dinning table and wood fired stove for cooking. The uncovered entryway was piled with harvested corn that was drying. With a welcome gentle breeze blowing through metal covered porch, we drank atole de piña and ate fresh tortillas, hard boiled eggs and salsa of pure red chiles.

Before returning to work, Elvira showed us around her place. She still had some cilantro and tomato plants from the family garden project the MCC supported in the summer. Since Jaime was interested in her pigs, we appreciated the four dirty pigs, including two piglets, which would soon be released to eat in the harvested fields.

It soon became evident that Elvira is both hard working and very entrepreneurial. She pointed out a cotton like tree in here backyard. The seeds from this tree are brown and bead like which she uses to make bracelets. Jaime and I now have one to remember our harvest day. She picked up a dried, round flower that she was going to paint and sell as a decoration. Last week as I was driving home from Zacango, I saw Elvira and her mother picking clahuancas (small sour fruit) a half mile from town. On the weekends, she sells the fruit in Olinalá. While she is in town, she also sells baby hats that she crochets during her nonexistent free time. She is full of ideas and always working.

With more admiration for her work ethic, we returned to another part of the field, the sun high in the sky. The two young kids built a small fort for shade out of the corn sacks and corn stocks. We picked the corn, working our way down the rows. I was hot enough with my tank top and could not imagine what Elvira felt with her black sweater on, but she seems unfazed. At the end of our rows, Elvira thanked us and said that we would leave the rest for her sons to finish. While I would have continued, I was glad to escape the midday heat.

Feliz Cumpleanos

Valentina, a faithful student of the literacy classes, missed class last Wednesday. It soon became apparent why. She had spent most of the day preparing for the 6^th birthday party of her oldest son, Iteal. Valentina and Hernan, one of the two primary school teachers in the community, are neighbors of Jaime and Bruce in Zacango. Hernan, Valentina and their two children Iteal and Betuel are active participants in the MCC supported classes in the community.

By the time we arrived to the party, the excited neighborhood children were sitting in anticipation and the adults were filling in the circle of plastic chairs in the main room of the house. The large sheet cake bought in Olinalá was proudly displayed on only table in the room. The pleased parents served Coke to the 20-30 parents and children.

When all the children were settled, they sang Happy Birthday and Las Mañanitas to Iteal who was proudly standing behind his cake. At the end of the song, which included several verses and lyrics that I’m not familiar with, the chanting began. “¡Que le muerde!” (Bite it!) Part of the birthday tradition in Mexico is that the birthday celebrant bites into the cake. Once Iteal took a small bite of the frosting, Valentina served cake and more Coke. With a sufficient sugar high, I left the children still in full celebration.

Valentina, Iteal, Hernan, and Beteul

Iteal

Iteal and Beteul

English Classes in Zacango

I want to thank the Men’s Sunday School Class of Berlin Mennonite Church in Berlin, Ohio for their generous donation of a copy of Rosetta Stone, English levels 1-2. The donation has improved the learning environment and resources of at least 35 students who are learning English in Zacango, a community of 200 people where MCC workers Bruce and Jaime Friesen-Pankratz live.

Jaime teaches English classes every Tuesday and Thursday from 3-6pm to three different groups of students. The classes meet in an unused classroom of the elementary school in the community. After much work, Jaime and Bruce have created a welcoming space for their students to study English and to learn how to use the computer. They found unused desks and chairs for the students and have created many posters and visuals to decorate the walls.

The first hour, 18 students from the primary school sing songs and play games to learn colors, numbers and greetings in English. The second hour is for students of middle school age, and the last hour is for students in their teens and early 20s, many of whom are young women. For the older students, groups of 3-4 students rotate between three learning centers. Jaime works with one group on listening and speaking skills. The other two learning centers involve the use of the Rosetta Stone, which integrates listening, reading and speaking skills. The young women really love using the Rosetta Stone as it integrates learning English with their recent computer skills.

Education in Zacango is a scarce resource. There is a primary school that has two teachers. One teacher is responsible for the students in grades 1-3, and the director of the school teaches grades 4-6. The classes should meet in the morning from 8:30am until 2pm, though usually the students leave at noon. Unfortunately, classes are sporadic, with weeks of only two or three days of class. For students who want to continue their education in la secondaria (grades 6-9) and la prepa (grades 10-12), they would need to go to Olinalá, a 15-20 minute drive. Few have the resources to pay for the transportation or the necessary school supplies and uniforms.

Jaime and Bruce have made their classes a priority. The classes are consistently held every week and begin on time. The students and the community have seen the value that they have placed on education. There are changes in behaviors that reflect this value. Many of the young women work really hard in the mornings to finish their chores and tasks so that they are able to be at the classes in the afternoon. Hernan and Valentina, Jaime and Bruce’s neighbors, posted a calendar of their weekly events. All of the events posted are the classes that Bruce and Jaime teach.

Jaime, Maricruz and Rosio

Lala and Yulisa

Enrique and Carmen

Lala and Jaime

Rosa and Dori

Gabriela and Marisol