Part 8: The Spirits

Who knows why these things happen, they just do-that is the beauty of it. After dinner, while sitting at the table, we entered into another long discussion with Maria Antonia. We ended up getting a history lesson, coupled with a cultural lesson. How exactly this topic became the focus, I have no idea.

There are things in this house. Tonya has always insisted that there were ‘ghosts’ or some sort of spirits here. Then again, she gets all wrapped up in those cheezed out paranormal shows on sub-par cable networks. I think she just wants her own ghost adventure. However, when Marie Antonia brought up the subject of odd things happening, Tonya’s eyes lit up and the conversation kept unraveling and unraveling.

“See! I told you!” was the obvious boast to burst out of Tonya’s mouth.

“Better not be.” Was my simple retort.

We had nearly finished a bottle of wine when all this started. Mexican wine, believe it or not. It was supposed to be a Zinfandel, but was too light for that. It did; however, seem to be a decent enough accompaniment for ghost talk. I know it kept me calm enough to deal with spooky talk; normally I do not suffer that stuff too easily.

Maria Antonia looked at me as Tonya was fluttering with anxiety over the latest news of these ‘hauntings’. She raised her eyebrows, shook her head up and down and said, “Verdad (It’s true!)”.

“What?” I bounced back in a dead thud monotone drone.

“Spirits”, Maria says. “I know they do things, but I do not let it bother me”. Tonya cannot wait to tell her spook-tales, and spins her ghost story of how she has seen a ‘shadow person’ in the yard. As they exchange exclamations and reassure one another of creepy stuff, I sip my wine and wait for some translating.

“It knocks”, Maria says looking at me. Good. At least there is a polite spirit somewhere around here, it knocks. As the story grows, Tonya’s plume of smoke grows thicker and thicker, obviously fueled by excitement. “Better get the crucifixes out…” I say looking at Tonya.

“Took.Took.Took”, Maria says as she moved her hand as if knocking on a door, then she points at the back glass door. Tonya is mesmerized, “There? It knocked there?” she asks in half breaths.

“Yes. On the glass.” Maria said calmly. She showed her nails to clarify that it is more of a tapping on the glass. She said that it has happened several times. The skeptic in me bellows out, “When? When was the last time?” She stares up at the ceiling and counts the months backwards. When she gets the timing right, she looks back at us and says “April. Yes, in April”. There is a bit of conversation between Tonya and Maria, where she describes the tapping, even when Tonya’s mother had been present. They exchange their theories and intermittently turn to me and expand to the gringo.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“Nothing” and she shrugs her shoulders. “If you react, they react. I lay in bed and think of something else”. In the course of telling the story, Tonya informs me that this is not necessarily always the case. She has slept in the same room with her brother, when the spooking was a bit heavy. Tonya explains too, that sometimes doors just slam shut. Of course, the more Maria says, the more excited Tonya gets. In the thrill of the moment, both of them let off a small nervous laugh and Tonya looks at me and says, “we really should not keep talking about this…you know, why stir them all up?”

She stubs out a smoke and continues, “I am getting some Holy water.” I laugh. “Oh yeah, from where?” “From the church…” she looks at me deadpan, as if I wouldn’t know where to get Holy Water.

Then Maria points upstairs. “It’s in the studio” she says. This is the worst possible thing she could have done. Tonya puffs long and hard and just looks at me. My Spanish is awful, but I know what she is saying when she starts in with Maria Antonia. I’m right, she then looks at me and says, “See. I told you something is wrong in there. I don’t like it. I don’t want to sleep in that room”. They go on and on, I swear I hear something about ‘vibration’ and Maria puts her hand on her heart. I ask what is up. I get a stare from both, and Tonya says I do not want to hear this bit.

“Well, what happened? Why are you so spooked?” I am disappointed. I look at Maria and try to express extreme disappointment for her dispensing that bit of info.

“It moves things”, she said while looking at Tonya and back at me. “He moves furniture. He pushes things around, like moving all the frames and artwork”, she says and re-affirms this statement with a ‘yes’ head shake. This is a real drag for me, because this is the first room we have begun to remodel. I am determined to see it through, but wonder how Tonya is going to accept it with these old wives tales getting dished out. Maria tries to smooth things over by simply saying, “It’s ok. Don’t pay attention. Ignore them and they will go away.”

Great. I have a buzz off thin, watery Mexican wine, and now I am faced with a very real possibility that there is some kooky stuff going on here. Being the macho guy, I disperse all the talk with the simple fact of that this is an old house. They don’t buy it. This could very well wreck my buzz.

The abrupt but parallel topic was interesting as well. It is insightful to see how foreigners are relating to current events and headlines they see and hear about. From the spirits that spook to the ‘spirits’ of our countries and their people was very interesting.

Maybe it has a slight bit to do with the upcoming World Cup, but there seems to be no shortage of national pride here. Maria Antonia is no exception. She is proud to be Mexican and feels no shame at all of her people and heritage. She does notice though, that there is ‘something’ missing in America. What happened to the American spirit?

“Why aren’t Americans proud to be Americans?” she asked. She obvious cannot understand why those north of the border cannot display and maintain the type of pride that the natives do here (and as I did inform, try to continue north of the border!). I could not agree more.

We spoke of the museum. Every weekend different schools and children’s groups are brought in. They have some guys doing some acting, to portray a story and some history. At the end of every session, you hear the actors yelling out “Viva Mexico!”, “Viva la Revolution” etc., etc. Each outcry is echoed instantly by the group of kids in the museum. Strange that even Maria Antonia thinks nothing of this-but she cannot understand why the Americans do not openly do this too. It is odd, very odd. Every weekend kids get indoctrinated and get their nationalism fueled by a simple museum trip. We talk in disbelief how if even the slightest nuances were done back in the USA, all sorts of organizations, parents and activists would be having convulsions over the fact that their kids were actually being taught to be proud of their heritage, their language and their country. Sure, it is all part of the program, but even on simple field trips the Mexicans are steadfastly re-enforced with pride of who they are and where they are.

Hmmm. Why can’t even these slight injections be openly displayed in the United States? This simple discussion really had the limelight for a while. We were all asking questions that many would assume could be done in America, really can’t…and if it does, it is frowned upon and law suits thrown around like rocks at Israeli soldiers.

The spirit here is alive and well…and obviously even in certain parts of America. Mexicans are Mexicans, first and foremost, and that is all that matters. This is evident in LA, Chicago, Houston and even Arizona. They have no problems taking their pride elsewhere and expecting others to be subjugated to their whims, even if it is on foreign soil. Sadly though, for many people back home, they cannot even speak up to enforce their own language, their own laws and standards. The pride has been diminished and the spirit exorcised. It is ok to accept all other cultures but your own. Bend to speak other languages at the expense of losing your own. Celebrate other holidays and forget your own past. Funny, all this is done readily at home, but here in Mexico, there is no doubt where the loyalty is and Mexico is nothing to be ashamed of.

Maria Antonia asked if I had problems with Mexicans. The answer was simple. If so, why was I here? Do I seem like I do? “No. I don’t. I just want my people at home to do what yours do everyday here. We should speak our own language and be proud of who we are. Just as you are at home, that is how I want my people to be. However, when we are not at home, we should respect the ways of the place where we are at…just like your people should do too” Maria understood, and even shook her head in agreement. She shrugged her shoulders then flashed a huge smile, raised both her fists up , then started the chant “Si se puede. Si se puede…” We had a laugh, made sure our glasses were dry and started off to bed. Marie made a frightened face and warned us of the spooks in the house.

….

After a very rough and warm night, Tonya confided in the safety of daylight that she did not open the windows to let the cool night breeze in for fear of the ‘ghost’ who knocks on the back door, and she also did not dare get up to get the fan, for fear of the ghost that may be lurking in the studio.

Holy Mole!