Part 4: The Fear

I am a firm believer in not living one’s life in fear. It is the great inhibitor. However, I find it hard to not have fear after hearing countless horror stories of Mexico and all it holds. I find it hard to not have fear when everyday one can read about drug lords gone wild. I also find it hard to not have the fear of a place that blatantly puts pictures like this on their maps and tourists guides…

look closely at the arrows...

...a close up of the image

another example of the tourist friendly literature.

You tell me, the fear of kidnapping, is it truly unfounded or are they just having a laugh?

This afternoon I was painting in the house and I hear a guy outside screaming. I hear a small crowd cheering him on. When I heard “Viva Mexico!” and the crowd echo it back, quickly followed by a boisterous string of bellows, I started to wonder if at any moment I would hear the door come crashing in and the angry mob come and grab this hard working gringo never to be seen again. Ashamedly, I do admit fears of being the foreigner here. Anytime at night I hear people yelling, I know it is about me. Every night could be my last.

Thankfully though, I have awakened every morning, safe and sound and ready to begin a new round of fear for each new day.

My biggest recurring fear is water. I am in constant fear of the water here. I cannot fathom that if the Aztecs, Olmecs & Mayans were such great civilizations, why can’t this country have sorted out its water issues after all this time? I really cannot understand how you can build pyramids and have your calendars conveniently end at the day the world ceases to exist…why can’t that knowledge have been passed down to be able to have clean, running, drinkable water?! It astounds me to no end.

Bacdyn. No home should be without this. Sterilizes water, fruits and veg and loads more.

The other morning I get up and we do our regular morning routine. While sipping a pre-dog walk cup of coffee, we are having typical morning small talk and I notice that Tonya is looking at me funny. She just stares for a while with wide eyes, not saying a word. Me? I just think it is morning bleariness and nothing else.

“Wait” she says sternly.

I sit and blink, waiting for the rest of the line of commands to come forth. I take another sip and stare over the rim of my cup.

“Stop. Put it down.” Tonya said. “I think I filled the coffee pot with tap water…”

OHMYHEAVENS! In one of the fastest moves of my life, the cup was on the table and my hands in my lap. I sat and stared at the cup, then her.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Pretty sure” Tonya replied. She reached for my cup, “I’ll dump these out and make a new pot with the bottled water. I just sat, stupefied. This was the moment I had been dreading. I could just feel all those tiny bacteria laughing as they were multiplying like rabbits in my guts. I knew there were a few amoebas thrown in for good measure too. This was what all Mexican microbes wait a lifetime for-to mess up a gringo. Truth be told, I was afraid to attempt to walk the dogs, because I knew I would be hit with a sudden attack of Montezuma’s revenge.

Tonya was milling around the kitchen like this was no big deal. I started to wonder if the Mexican in her had overcome all sensibilities, and she was out for revenge. LA RAZA!

I had enough anxiety to last for years. It was all for nothing. I made it through the day ok. In hindsight I kinda thought this was a little bit alright. I mean, if some junk had infiltrated my system, then it would mean that I would be becoming more immune and perhaps overcome the dreaded ‘fear of the dark’ (know what I mean?).

Look closely...toilet paper on the bus driver's gear shift. He knows where I am coming from.

I thought I was a tough guy now. So much so, that a few nights later I decided rather than use bottled water while brushing my teeth, I would just go for it. I said my prayers before brushing my teeth, and went for it.

Like some sort of sissy, I spat and spat and spat when rinsing my mouth out. I washed my brush out thoroughly and shook it dry. I walked to the towel and wiped my mouth off. I felt brave.

“Did you just brush using regular water?” asked Tonya. I just nodded like I was Steven Segal or something, and that I did this kind of stuff everyday. “I’m proud of you”, she added.

Good thing the lights were off and she was asleep in no time. Where was Segal when I needed him? I lay there wondering if I dried my mouth good enough. ‘Did I spit enough? Did I get it all out?’ I asked my self. I was about to drown in my own saliva. My mind was making my saliva glands work overtime. I was swallowing and swallowing, each time thinking that just maybe, some of that filthy water was still in my mouth. I was going crazy. It was monotonous; swallow - fill ‘er up, swallow – fill ‘er up, it just went on and on. I was beginning to worry that Tonya would wake up because of my constant gulping. I supposed I swallowed myself to sleep, because all I can remember is swallowing every few seconds.

When daylight broke I could hear the sound of birds…I knew that once more, I had made it.

I am learning to live with this fear now. I read an article the other day in some book about living in Mexico, and it kindly reminded me with the utmost assurance, that no matter what you do, you will succumb to the dark menace. I am still going to fight though; I want to stave it off as long as I can. Maybe I can be the guy who breaks the record books.
(I will save you the detailed drama of sticking my head under the faucet to rinse my hair, having water go in my nose and mouth…a two pronged assault.)

One day at a time. I have heard that saying so many times that now I know what they mean. I will take it as it comes; face my fears as best as possible knowing that somewhere out there, there is a gang of bacteria holding a photo of me, just waiting for their chance to strike.

Why worry about bacteria and water, when driving to the grocery store you see truckloads of cops with machine guns and shotguns…like this!

Just another day in the D.F.