¡Viva la Revolución!

The Uprising - Diego Rivera

Today is Revolution Day in Mexico so I have the day off. It is also the week of Thanksgiving which, of course, they don't celebrate in Mexico. They have a name for it, though, which is Día de Acción de Gracias, which means, "day of the action of giving thanks." I love that. 

I will be doing a Thanksgiving presentation for the school on Tuesday, in which I will talk about the reality of the impact the colonizers had on the Native People as well as how we observe the day in my family. Then, on Sunday, Jon and I will host an open house for the friends we've made here, which feel very much like family, serving whatever versions of the traditional foods we can cobble together. There won't be turkey, though the bird comes from this area of the world originally, because we can't find one here. Instead, we'll serve spicy rotisserie chicken from a local joint with our Thanksgiving sides. 

So far in this blog, I've talked a lot about what Jon and I do and have done here, about the people, and the mishaps, and the adventures, but I haven't talked a lot about my purpose in being here, which, is, of course, my grant. One of the principal directives of the grant is to serve as assistant to the English teachers at the Universidad Politécnica Francisco I Madero (UPFIM) with the idea of making their classes more effective. I do this by bringing entertaining and useful activities to supplement their lessons, and to serve as the model of American speech and pronunciation. Besides the classes, I give a weekly English language workshop for the students in a fun and relaxed atmosphere, and I also provide a couple of hours a week of English conversation for the teachers and administrators. 

Workers are valued here

This all sounds very official, but here's the reality:

During the first quarter of this year, while I was kind of getting my footing at the university, the teachers I was working with would sometimes, essentially, ditch me, leaving me to conduct the class in their absence. There was no malice in it; they just seemed to have better things to do. However, conducting a class on my own, unless it's a workshop, is strictly against the terms of my contract. Not wanting to appear bitchy, I didn't say anything until it happened so many times that, without naming any names, I mentioned it to my coordinator. He assured me it would not happen again, and it has not. Other than that, the teachers are sweet as can be. They run the gamut from wanna-be rappers to former Fulbrighters. Most are very dedicated; others just phone it in. My job is to never phone it in. My role is to be enthusiastic and energetic, which the students really respond to. Old as I am, I've even detected some crushes among them. Occasionally someone will shout out from the back of the classroom "I love you!" There have also been treats left on my desk by anonymous admirers. In general, the students are fun and funny, while also quite respectful, and I love working with them. 

Teacher/rapper, "Moonly Rap."

The university itself is kind of a pretty campus surrounded by cornfields and sunflowers. Some buildings are very old, some brand new. When I first started there, teachers would give me their room number, and I'd find myself wandering endlessly trying to find it. One teacher was like: it's in building D. I could only find buildings L-Q. I sent her a text message: "I can't find it." She sent me a picture of the D on the building. I was like, oh, that's helpful, and not one person that I asked seemed to know where it was. I don't remember how, but I eventually found it, on the other side of an irrigation canal and through a small forest. 

The "Mexe" Building where they're
always protesting.
Mexe is the native word for Spider

There are also buildings mixed in with UPFIM that are actually totally different universities. One is in a constant state of protest - about what, I'm not sure. The other is a series of fenced-off buildings with communist murals on the walls - I'm talkin' Marx, Lenin, Stalin, and maybe Tolstoy? It's pretty intense, but they don't mix with UPFIM, which is highly patriotic practically to the point of nationalistic. 

One thing that is very baffling to me is the bathrooms. Only one bathroom is equipped with toilet seats, and that's the one in the area across the canal and through the forest. The rest have none. You gotta perch, baby, perch. Also, there is no toilet paper in the stalls. You have to grab it from the dispenser as you come in the door and it often runs out so you better come equipped with your own tissues. Some have mirrors, some don't. Only one has hooks for your purse on the stall doors. The one in the library is the nicest and most modern, but there are still no toilet seats. 

This mural is on one of the walls of UpFim.
The message is, essentially, "hands off our bodies." 

All in all, though I enjoy the teaching aspect of this experience, it's not really the thing that makes me most excited about being here, and I never thought it would be. Teaching English as a Foreign Language is something I did for many years and I don't want to continue to make it my career. Doing so here in Mexico, though, gives me the opportunity to fulfill the other aspects of my grant, those that are, honestly, more important to me. One of those is my literature project which I'll talk more about later. The other is simply interacting with this community: giving them all I can of myself through friendship and laughter, listening and learning. This is my own personal revolution - the thing that is transforming me. ¡Que Viva!

Día de los Muertos, Tepa Style

Catrina on Horseback

I feel like Day of the Dead is becoming more widely celebrated throughout the world, especially in the U.S., but if you want to know more about its origins and meaning, here is an excellent website. In different parts of Mexico it's celebrated more elaborately than in others. Over this past week, people kept saying to us that we should go elsewhere to observe the special celebrations: a parade of Catrinas y Catrines in Mexico City, an entire city corridor of altars in Puebla, and a huge community party in La Huasteca. They didn't understand that we didn't necessarily want the grand experience - especially not the tourist experience. We wanted to celebrate with and in this community, wildly spectacular or not. To me, it was pretty spectacular.

The Nobles

1600s Feminist Nun Sor Juana

Body Painted Torsos

It helps that at the university where I teach they do celebrations in style, and this was the case on Monday, October 31st. Jon and I got there at 10:00 that morning to see the Catrinas y Catrines contest as well as the altar (also called ofrendas) competition. Soon after we arrived, I was accosted by the tiny lady in charge who informed me I was to be one of the judges. This was news to me. I was glad I had dressed up a bit because I was plopped into a chair at the viewing table where everyone could see me. It was comfortable there in the shade, though I had brought my trusty green umbrella just in case. The festivities were about an hour late to start, but when they did, we were treated to a dance of men and women in drag, accompanied by the specter of death. My friend Arlo, one of the dancers, told me the meaning of this is that people dress in masks and opposite-gender clothing so that if death comes, he doesn't recognize them, and they dance so that they're not standing still long enough for death to catch them. After that, a choir performed, and then a troupe of modern dancers performed to the song "Recuerdame" from the movie Coco. From nowhere, the dancers suddenly revealed pictures of loved ones that had passed. That did it for me. I was a mess of tears. Next came the Catrinas y Catrines competition in which the participants dressed as skeleton figures in elaborate dress meant to satirize the upper classes. I felt bad having to judge them because each one was unique and all were stunning. These students had put such work and creativity into their costumes it became clear there are some real artists at this polytechnic school. Vote for your favorite in the comments! 

Hipster Catrines

Aztecas 

Raining cempasuchiles

The altars had been erected earlier as the students had started at dawn putting them together. Each one represented a different department such as Engineering, Finance, Animal Sciences, etc., and each honored a different historical figure. These were carefully planned, and incredibly ornate - each using thousands of flowers and petals. Jon, sitting nearby, was as much in awe of the magic and beauty as I was. 

Not sure who this altar honored

For Frida

The only problem was that all this time, the sun was rising higher and higher in the sky and the shade was receding. By the time we moved from the judges' table to the altars, about which the students read long explanations as we stood in the heat, I was wilting. I had been about two hours in the sun, shaded only by my umbrella which wasn't sufficient, and we all know how I do in the sun. Also, it had been about five hours since I had eaten, which is also a big no-no for me. I was getting dizzy. I tried to tell the tiny lady that I needed a break but such was not to be. Finally, the judging done, the awards handed out, I high-tailed it out of there, desperately searching for something, anything, I could eat. Damn, I should have packed that peanut-butter sandwich. I managed to find a lackluster snack and nosh a few bites before wedging myself on the packed Combi back to town. I won't go into the details of my meltdown once I got home, but more food and a nap pretty much restored me. 

Flower Market

Death and the dancers in drag

Altar for Francisco I Madero, who the university is named for, in the town center

The next day was Jon's birthday, and festivities in Tepa were in full swing. The big marketplace, which is normally only there on Sunday, had been going on for three days. There were flowers and sweets and food of every description. Honestly, we couldn't get enough of it. That night we went to dinner at our favorite restaurant, the only fancy one in Tepa, and had our own celebration. Afterward, we wandered back into the town center to find it swarming with children in costumes, trick or treating at all the different shops - yes, on November 1st! As we were headed back to the house, Jon was suddenly attacked by small children hugging him and wishing him a happy birthday. As I tried to make sense of it all, I realized they were our landlord Marco's kids accompanied by their dad. It was the perfect end to Jon's enchanted birthday.

Honoring Loved Ones

Wednesday the 2nd brought more marketplace craziness, and then, late in the afternoon, a trip by car to the graveyard with Arlo. We arrived to find a kind of impromptu city set up around the cemetery with all kinds of food and beverage stalls. This party was in full swing. We tromped around the graveyard, respectfully of course, and paid homage to Arlo's grandparents whose tombs were piled high with cempasuchil, the huge, orange marigolds that are the centerpiece of this holiday. As we made our way out of the cemetery, we ran into friends of Arlo's. They were drinking beer in huge cups and seemed pleasantly tipsy. We chatted up a storm, vibing on their vibe. My Spanish had never felt so fluid and free. It took us a while to get back to the car because people who knew Arlo (everyone knows Arlo) kept stopping him and, of course, we had to chat with them all. We finished the night off with taquitos in the town center, and went home full of joy and wonder. These three days of celebration in Tepa were not what tourists coming to Mexico flock to see, but they were beautiful and personal - the kind of experience we will treasure forever. 

Our own little decoration

Jon with local dog