THIS IS THE MODERN WORLD...ISN'T IT?

A snapshot of a chaotic world and forgotten peoples.  The last few weeks have provided a huge contrast to any bits of news gleaned from an odd TV sitting in the corner of any given shop, headlines on discarded papers and flashing stories on the internet.  After all, this is the modern world…isn’t it?

This is the place where the very same Indian women who skin is covered in dirt and scales sit begging on the sidewalk and still find time to pull out a cell phone from underneath their clothing and check a text message or make a call on their cell phone.  An odd contrast.  Are you begging for money for more text time or to simply pay your monthly bill?  Is it mandatory that everyone have a cell phone, in the most poorest of areas?  The modern talon sticking deep into our daily lives for sure.

We have a new Pope!  I know this because I stood at the counter of a small paper shop while buying a roll of tape.  The customers using the computers came up to see who the new Pope was when the announcement came ‘Habemus Papam’.  Foreigner and native stand side by side as the announcement and unveiling of the new man happened.  The small TV behind the counter proved to be a historical moment.  The first Argentinean Pope.  My tape was 18 pesos.

Later, I ask a friend what the stage was being built for in the town square. There is a public protest, the town is enraged of the incident of a young girl. He tells me the story of a girl, 22 years old, who was absconded and held for ransom.    The amount was roughly $2,000.  The kidnappers were paid and the girl’s throat cut and dumped out in the countryside.  It made no sense.  She was deaf and dumb, an easy target.  Did the kidnappers know this?  Was this accidental, luck of the draw that they grabbed a victim who could never say anything or tell anyone anything?  According to the story, the bad guys told the parents not to seek help; they did, so they killed the daughter-after getting a paycheck.

North Korea are running television ads boasting burning down the Whitehouse and setting off a nuclear bomb in New York City.  One of the commercials shows a tired young Korean, laying his head down to sleep and having a wonderful dream of NYC skyscrapers on fire after the massive detonation.  I hear a ruckus in the street and go to see what all the fuss is about.  Mexican ingenuity.  A large ladder is full extended across the street, up to a rooftop.  A second, smaller ladder is on the opposite side of the street, propped up against the large ladder midway, to provide support.  A huge crate rests on the curb, ready to be hoisted up by a group of guys pulling the huge item up the over-extended ladder with long ropes.  I stand and watch the team try.  They huff and puff and barely raise the crate before it becomes painfully obvious it will all come crashing down unless there is proper support.  The foreman runs to the woman of the house and tells here, “I am going to have to find another ladder to put beneath it.  I will be back as soon as I can”.  She smiles, waves him on and steps inside.  Traffic, both of the automobile type and human type are left to pass underneath the looming bad luck monolith.

The President’s approval rating is in freefall and the catchphrase is a simple one, “drone”.  The newly elected Mayor has bought new patrol cars for the town.  They even hung a huge banner proclaiming the grand event near the shopping center.  Every cop in town is cruising extra slow these days, making sure all eyes are cast upon their hot new patrol cars.  The best part is that the Mayor has put his term in dates on every patrol car so the populace is well aware that this great new arm of the law will only be in effect for three years.  When he leaves, we will have to resort to lord knows what.

There is a crash of symbols, and the sound of brass instruments.  It is drawing closer and closer.  The sound ricochets down the corridor of the narrow street.  I open the door to see exactly what is up.  There is a donkey wearing a hat and a small girl leading him on.  There are two giant papier-mâché figures following the donkey, followed by a marching band, which in turn is followed by revelers celebrating their friends getting married.   Do drones even exist in this world?  At least for now they don’t, everything stops so the procession can wind their way through neighborhood streets.  This is about the joining of lives, not the intrusion and destruction of lives.  Hope and change are in full effect at this very moment, but not as we Americans know it.  They are making grand plans for this joining of hands and we are getting the brunt of a far reaching power grab.

We have to drive to the mega-warehouse shop in the following town.  As we wind down the stretch of highway I see a rancher burning off part of his field.  Another rancher driving his livestock across a dusty field, with a single cow visible and all other lost in a cloud of dust as each one adds to the height and density of the rolling cloud.  There is a father riding a three wheeled bicycle in a ditch, with his young ones in the front cart, snuggled between two front wheels and free to breathe in the exhaust of the passing cars at eye level.  On the radio a local radio personality tells us about what is going on out in the countryside.  Two dentists are volunteering time to go out and teach children how to brush their teeth.  Yes, even in the age of sexting, Tweeting and torrents it is shocking to hear that people still do not own toothbrushes and toothpaste.  It is a real problem in the vicinity and almost too much for two concerned dentists.  The voice on the radio asks for others to donate and help with the cause.  She then goes on to ask for help in getting people clean drinking water.

I then find out that there actually is a correlation between kids and dental care and health and education.  Speaking to a nurse, I am told that yes, even in America it is a real concern that kids in the inner city learn to brush their teeth and take care of themselves.  Believe it or not, the line can be drawn between high school drop outs and kids not brushing their teeth.  All this and the headlines tell me that Madonna is protesting for gays to be allowed in to the Boy Scouts. Droning and moaning and meanwhile donkeys roam the streets, and kids can’t brush their teeth.

Will the world look any different through Google glasses?

Los Burros and the Bad Boy

It is a very well known fact that the Lord does work in mysterious ways, as was the case with this particular bad boy.  He had not been doing well in school and his grades were not where his parents thought they should be.  As with most parents who hope for their children to succeed, his parents thought it best that he be punished for his lackluster grades.  Of course this little boy was upset, he knew that something he really wanted would be denied him and sure enough it was the annual family vacation.

This young boy was the son of a prominent German businessman who had risen to the top of the pharmaceutical field.  The family was one of the biggest names, if not the top name, in the pharmaceutical field in Germany as well as starting to branch out world wide.  Being a boy having fun and doing the things that young boys do was much more important than studying and doing ones homework throughout the school year.  He was living day by day, not thinking about what may come when the grades were issued at the end of the year. 

When the father announced the punishment, it was a blow to the young boy.  This was a special trip, as the father had planned something truly wonderful. The family was going to go on their vacation back to Germany, but one member would have to stay at their new adopted home here in Mexico.  This particular vacation was a grand one.  They would have to travel up through Mexico, across the United States to New York and take a leisurely cruise across the Atlantic.  After spending some time back in Germany, the family would then take a special flight back home on a new flying machine.  Imagine the grief this young man felt, now hearing this fantastic news about this splendid adventure, and yet he would have to sit at home while his parents, brother and sister enjoyed the wonderful summer jaunt.  This was the vacation of a lifetime, but one would miss out.

The young boy stayed in Mexico as the family started their wonderful adventure.  He wondered what they would do, what they would see and especially about the fantastic new flying machine that the whole family would be flying on to return to America.  This was the thing which bothered him the most.  The thought of his brother and sister being able to forever taunt him of this fantastic flight would surely be a huge burden to carry, especially on such small shoulders…it was almost too much.

It was now early may and the family would soon be home.  The family had written and contacted the young boy, asking how he was and telling him of the sights and fun they had along the way.  He would think about school during these times, and if only he had done better and actually done his homework rather than playing and reading. The young man was sorely upset.  To him, this part of the journey was to be the best.  The family was in Frankfurt and was preparing to return home via one of Germany’s latest flying ships.  They would be suspended in mid air, and float softly through the sky for three days, looking down on Europe and the Atlantic, and eventually they would see America.  The thought of being in the sky for three days, eating, sleeping in the sky was beyond belief.  This is the part that hurt the young boy the most.  If only he could experience this…

His family were passengers on the luxury airship, the Hindenburg.  He never saw his parents again, and his brother would never be the same.  His parents and sister were burned to death and his brother survived, being unrecognizable due to the damage of the fire-but he survived.  The greatest vacation he would ever be presented with then denied would change his life forever.  He and his brother were now orphans.  It is impossible to imagine the amount of grief and anxiety over the whole incident.  He missed the vacation and lost most of his family.  What would he and his brother do now?  The Lord does work in mysterious ways, and for a fleeting moment the young boy thrilled to have his brother back, thought that his punishment for his grades may have been a good thing.

I found myself sitting with the son of the boy who was told he could not go on that amazing vacation.  He lost his grandparents in one of the most famous disasters in history, and now he is sitting here joking about the roses he grows in his garden and how they were grown especially for his best buddy whose birthday we are all celebrating.  The flowers are beautiful and he has a great smile.  The zest for life and adventure obviously runs in his family.  I notice his wife looks nothing like a Mexican.  As the group of revelers sings Happy Birthday to the birthday boy, she asks if he would also like to hear it sung in her native tongue.  Everyone said yes, so she sings it in Norwegian, and does a silly dance to go along with it as well.  I thought she looked different.  Later, after eating apple strudel, I would hear the tale of how as a young man himself, he made an epic journey across the Atlantic to fetch his future wife.  He had no money, so he found away to sail across the Atlantic on a small boat as a hired hand with an American couple who were “purists”.  They did not believe in electricity, compasses and other assorted things that can make travelling a bit easier and safer.  That is a whole other tale…and a big one at that.

His sister sat to his right.  I thought they were getting along rather fabulously, but had no idea they were related.  She has made her living as a set designer in Hollywood and wherever duty calls.  She is not one short for gossip on your favorite Hollywood actor and all that goes on behind the scenes in the world of celebrities.  Who cares about that gossip though, celebrities are a bore.  I enjoyed her tale of the donkeys better.

Michelob were shooting a commercial for their Michelob Dry beer in Espiritu Santo, Mexico.  Teresa took the job and ventured ahead to go and find some donkeys for use in the commercial.  Espiritu Santo is an island off Baja.  It is an environmentally protected sanctuary and in truth, there is not too much there…that includes donkeys.  Teresa had to go to mainland Mexico to villages on the coast to source donkeys.  According to her it was not that easy to find donkeys that suited the requirements.  She went form village to village until she found a farmer who swore that his donkeys were the ones she wanted; his were destined to be stars.  She needed donkeys that could swim.  “Do these donkeys swim?” she asked the old farmer.  He nodded vigorously and almost scoffed at Teresa for asking such a silly question. “Pues si!” he said immediately.  Shouldn’t any donkey that lives on the coast be able to swim?  She asked him again if he was sure his donkeys could swim and he adamantly stood his ground.  She was convinced.  She now had los burros!

She told the director she had los burros and they were ready to go.  The director asks the important question, ‘Can they swim?” and she reassured him they could.  She looks at us as if to make a point clear, “Have you ever tried to get a donkey on a boat?”  It is not as easy as one would think.  Donkeys are stubborn, and when they see that they are going to have to go sea bound, they are ardent in keeping their land legs.  They had to put the donkeys on a boat and sail to the island where they were filming.  “Have you ever seen a donkey on a boat…especially as it is being tossed on the waves?”  Not many of us have.  She sways back and forth and rolls her eyes.  The director obviously knew that this was going to not be easy.  He was planning ahead.

As they neared the island, Teresa was told that they could not get the boat all the way to shore, so they would have to jump out and swim in.  ‘You told me the donkeys could swim, right?” the director asked for reassurance.  Teresa furrows her brow, nods her head and raises her hand acting as if the director was being a nuisance.  She admits that she was nervous, but the old man told her the donkeys would be fine.  She knew it would not be so easy.  She said she was glad to get off the boat though, because the poor donkeys looked miserable and terrified from being out on the water.  The producer sent the camera crew ahead and had someone filming as the started to leave the boat.  He was floating in the water with his underwater camera, ready to film the donkeys exit.  Teresa got the donkeys to the end of the boat and managed to finally get one to jump.

There was a huge splash as the donkey went overboard.  The director was standing by to witness the event.  They were horrified.  The donkey didn’t even try to swim.  He just sank.  Teresa panicked.  “There is a cameraman underwater, he can help” the director said.  Teresa jumped in to assist with the donkey.  She laughs as she tells of the sinking donkey.  “He was like a stone.  He just sank.  He went straight to the bottom.  I was horrified.  I was going to drown this farmer’s donkeys.  He told me they could swim!”

The donkey overboard sank like a stone.  She could see the fear in the donkey’s eyes as it went further under the waves.  In the fleeting seconds that passed, she had no idea how she would get him back to the surface.  As she neared the donkey she could not believe what was happening.  The panicked donkey had eyes the size of platters, and his ears were pointed straight back behind his head.  As he felt his hoofs touch the bottom of the sea, he started walking.  She wanted to laugh, but that is not a smart thing to do when you are underwater trying to rescue a drowning donkey.  The cameraman got the whole thing on film.  A few others had dove in and helped get the stubborn donkey to the surface, as he would surely drown if he were to walk himself to shore.  Once the soaked donkey was safely to shore, they immediately decided that it was better to send a small dingy over to get the rest of the donkeys.  It gets worse trying to convince an already panicked donkey who just watched his friend nearly drown to leave the boat and get into a smaller, more wobbly one.  True to her creed, Teresa made it happen.  She promised the director he would have the donkeys he needed to make the commercial a success.

With all the burros safe on land, Teresa acted as mother, and kept a watchful eye on los burros as she went about helping with make up, lighting and whatever else needed a hand.  One of the jobs was to go around and pick up all the donkey poop.  As an eco-sanctuary, trash and donkey poop are not allowed.  In fact, there can be no signs of human presence or strange animals that are not indigenous to the island left behind.  She said the filming went well and they got it all in the can.  The director was happy.  He got the shots he wanted and felt he would be able to convey old Mexico to the folks back at home so much so that they would reach for a cold Michelob Dry to help quench their imagined Mexican adventures.

“How did you get the donkeys back after the shoot?” someone asks amid the laughter.  Teresa raises her hand, then her forefinger, “Cranes!”  Everyone laughs even harder as the trick is exposed.  She looks wide –eyed at everyone at the table and asks, “Have you ever tried to get a donkey that almost drowned back on to the boat from where it fell off of?”  Cue the even louder laughter.  She laughs too as she says that now that the filming was done and it was time to go home, she had to miraculously manage to hire some cranes to come and lift the donkeys back onto their boat.

We were expecting birthday fun but had no idea we would get these treats.

Watch the finished Michelob commercial here (drowning scenes not included).

Lessons learned in the parking lot.

We met in the parking lot.  Tonya was inside getting some groceries and he walked up to the car.  Lucca is in the front.  He approaches the passenger side carefully, points to Lucca and says, “Is he…” and then moves his hands to imitate a dog running, “…is he a greyhound?” 

‘No, he’s a whippet. Those are the greyhounds” I say pointing into the back seat.

He has two silver teeth.  He smiles a lot and keeps wiping the car with his rag.  He has a nametag hanging form his neck, in a clear plastic cover.  He’s making small talk, passing time and hoping to make some money.  “I have a pit bull.  He had six puppies” I smile and tell him that is a lot.  “Yes, I have the man, and my wife has the lady.  They make the six puppies.”  He tells me about his dogs while petting Lucca.

“I lived in Houston for 14 years” he tells me in his heavy accent.  “Really?” I smile, “That is my home”.  For whatever reason, this is what breaks the ice.  This is our bonding moment.  He smiles and shows his silver capped teeth, reaches in the window and we shake hands.  “I was there for fourteen years.  I work construction, I do plumbing.  I got busted by immigration that is why I am back here now”  he keeps telling me how he is looking for work and that he is a good plumber, “I can do anything.  I will do it good.  If you need to change your toilet, I can do it.  I will fix your sink, whatever you need.  I am a good plumber”.  To appease him I tell him I will call him if I need him or know of anything.  I grab a piece of paper and a pen, “Here, put your number here so I can call you”.  He grabs the paper and pen and stalls for a moment.  He scribbles his number down and hands me back the paper.  I look it over, but there is no name. “Hey-what is your name?”  “Rodrigo” he says, and he flashes his name badge to prove it, ‘Rodrigo Hernandez”

He leans against the car and we start talking about Houston.  He lived way out at Gessner and 290.  I told him where I lived and he shook his head, “Yes, by Bellaire?”  Not quite, “Oh, by Chinatown?”  I laugh and tell him he’s getting closer, “In between Bellaire and Chinatown” I say.  He smiles back and nods and continues on.  He says he’s been around and knows a lot of people in the States.  He’s been in Houston, Orlando, Chicago…I ask if he stayed in Pilsen (a heavily populated Hispanic neighborhood in Chicago).  He shakes his head and says, “No-it’s in Illinois…you know, and Michigan” Ok, I get it and I won’t correct him.

“I am back here because of immigration, they catch me”, he smiles, ‘Three times they catch me” and he shakes his head.  I raise my eyebrows.  ‘One more time and they tell me I am going to federal prison”. 

“No, you don’t want to go to federal prison” I reply.  He agrees, shaking his head and repeating, ‘No.  I do not want to go to federal prison”

I am curious, so I ask him about his travails back and forth over the border and around the States.  He is obviously happy to fill me in.  Like most Mexicans and those form Central and South America, he is trying to care for his family.  He does what he can to make money, even if he is away form his family.  “My wife, she has twins” he says looking at me.  He repeats himself, and he motions with his hands like there are two compartments, “Twins.  She has one boy, and she has one girl. Two babies”   I congratulate him on the news and he smiles, agreeing that it is a good thing.  ‘How old are your babies?”  I ask.  “Seven months, premature.  My wife had the babies in Leon, and now they are at home.  We have to watch over them, that is why I am trying to get more work”.  He tells me he has been here for a handful of months.  I tell him I have been in Mexico for three years.  He tells me that is good.   I tell him I had been in Mexico City for over two years, and only here a short while. He smiles and nods, “Yes, it is beautiful country here” as he points to the parking lot.  He motions all around and says, ‘Here is much peaceful and nice, easy going.  Mexico City is too many people, too many things.  Here is good for you”.  I appreciate his reassurance…and hope he is correct in his prophesy.  He walks around the car and wipes the window, and the mirrors.  He comes to my side and leans against the car next to me.  He tells me how he likes Houston.  “There is lots of people in Houston.  They have lots of food.  There is lots of clothes.  They have everything.  I like it! I like Houston, whatever you need you can have”.  I smile, and I understand what he is saying, especially coming from.  Mind you, in the super mega grocery store parking lot we are in, it is vast in size but slim in choices.  You get two brands of beans, and only styles.  Whole or refried…and that takes up half an aisle!

“You know Galveston?”   He asks as he leans toward me.  I tell him I do.  “I was there when the hurricane came.  I was in jail there…”  I notice what appears to be a snag in his story, so I ask, ‘If you lived in Houston, why were you in jail in Galveston?  What did you do?”  He stops and looks at me for a moment.  “It was county jail” he says.  OK, but I tell him Galveston is a different county. “Oh, yes. The county Harris.  That is Houston”, he smiles and continues, “The jails were all full, so they send me to Galveston.  I was there during the hurricane.  It was bad.  The lights went out, there was no electricity. There was water everywhere, no food, it was bad” he asks if I was there for the last hurricane; yes, I was.

He walks away to try and hustle a quick peso, helping guide someone with a load of groceries to back out.  As soon as he finishes he is back talking to me.  Each time he wanders off and returns he switches sides of the car…to keep things lively I suppose. Now he is back to the passenger side.  As he talks, he reaches in and pets Lucca, and wipes and re-wipes the top of the door and all he can within reach.

“So what happens when you get busted by immigration?” I ask bluntly.  It seems straight forward.  Firstly, they hold you and question you. “They asked me where I was from, I said ‘here’” he smiles.  It is obvious with his dark skin, silver teeth and heavy accent, he is not from Texas.  “I told them I was born here, in Texas” and he says they pry him to be specific.  He told them McAllen.  He says that they took his papers, ran him through the system and came back and said, ‘No. You are not from McAllen, you are from Mexico.  You are going back”.  He shook his head.  He laughs and admits that he was caught out.  I tell him it was smart to say you were born in McAllen, but they still busted him.  They take all the illegal’s and bus them to Laredo.  “They pull up and make us get off the bus.  OK, go, get off” he says.  He tells of how they have to get processed out and then make the walk across the bridge to Mexico.  “There, there is someone waiting.  They ask where you are from and try to rearrange a way back home.  Maybe they give you a little money, something to eat and a ride back to your town”

“Is this your town?” I ask. “No, I am from Comonfort”.  Rodrigo came here for work.  He says the town close to him, Celaya, is too hard.  Not enough work, low wages and too much theft. “You go to the store and come out and your car and dogs will be gone” he reassures me.  He makes a grand swipe with his hand to drive home the point.  “I hear it is rough there too.  A few weeks ago they shot a man on the sidewalk, the cartels” I say.  He shakes his head, “Yes, it is very dangerous.  They are everywhere…but here is good.  I like it here.  There are many nice people and I have spoken with many Americans about different things, I like it” he reminds me again that he can do almost any thing concerning plumbing, and asks to keep him in mind. 

“I have a few weeks that I need to go back to America” he says as he looks across the parking lot.  I remind him that there is a lot on the line.  He replies back, “I know.  If I get caught this time, I go to the federal prison. I have to go though, I will try”.

“Isn’t it dangerous?  How will you do it?”  He steps back a bit and straightens up, “Of course it is dangerous.  The frontier (border) is very hard and dangerous. Many bad things happen there.  I will take the free train; do you know the free train?”  I am amused at the thought of this ‘free’ train.  I have a vague idea of what he is talking about, and ask if I am correct in my guess. He says yes, “that is the one”.  This is the train that is notorious that people from all over South America and Mexico hop off of here to get some food or try and find work on their way to the States and sometimes as they are fleeing the states.  The area where the train passes through town is notorious for crime and dodgy characters. “Are you ever afraid of hopping on the train, not knowing who is already on there or what they may do?” “Yes” he shoots straight back, “It is scary.  I hop onto the big empty cars and hope there are others like me.  Sometimes there are bad people there who rob you and try to hurt you.”  He straightens his arm out, towards the sky, “This train, it goes straight to Monterrey, Laredo, into Houston and keeps going.  It is easy to get to the States.”  He pauses for a minute, and then continues with fears of the dreaded Cartel. “I hope I do not meet the Zetas.  They make you pay them before you can get to the coyotes, then you have to pay the coyotes.  It is very expensive.  They are very bad people, The Zetas.” He shakes his head, as if he is remembering certain instances.  He looks up suddenly and says, ‘You know, they are even worse on the people from South America.  They make them pay even more, twice as much to The Zetas, then the coyotes charge even more. I think it is $7,000 to get in to the states” he pauses to do the math, as quoting the ratio of pesos to dollars gets confusing.  Sometimes, he says, even after they do get into the States then they have to pay again to be let free or to get the information of where to go or who to meet to find a home and work.

“I worry this time.  I do not want the Zetas to get me.  They take you and call your family and ask for maybe…$500.  That is a lot of money to many people.  They don’t care.  They don’t get the money; they never let you go home.  They kill you even if they do get the money.  I don’t know” he thinks for a brief moment, ‘I don’t want that.  I don’t want to get took by the Zetas and for them to call my family.  I end up in a ditch or a river.  It’s very bad…they are dangerous people”  

He asks if I am waiting for someone, and then ask if it is possible that I can spare him some change, he would appreciate it.  I tell him when the money and groceries come out, I will give him something.  “You are from Houston.  Did you know black people there?” he asks.  Yes, I did.  He shakes his head, “I lived in apartments and they were full of the black people.  They robbed me many times and put a gun on me.   I don’t like them.  I went to Stop and Go on my bicycle…” he makes a moving motion with his hands, like he is sweeping, “I go in for one minute, and they take my bike.  It is gone.  Some of them try to fight me when I ask for my bike. I can’t believe it, one minute and my bike is gone…at the Stop and Go!”

Tonya comes out as he is telling me about his bike.  She gets in and is complaining of being stuck in a long line.  It has taken quite a lengthy bit of time for simply tomatoes, an onion and some peppers.  “Hey, can you give me some change?” I ask her.  She turns to me and says she has none, no extra money.  As she is saying this she proves her point by opening her wallet and turning it upside down.  Rodrigo sees her do so, and steps slightly back from the car.  I look to him; he smiles and puts his rag on his shoulder.  He raises his hand and quietly says, ‘That’s OK…maybe next time”.  I look at him and nod my head; I tell him I will get him next time.  We smile at one another and he waves as I pull away.