Back in the US of A.

I sat in the back seat of the car on Saturday August 12th, the day before I left Mexico. The usual evening rains had come that day, which provided a somber tone to an already somber day for me. Gazing out the window, as if refocusing my camera lens, I noticed the raindrops on the glass. One would form until it swelled to a heavy weight, slowly begin to glide backwards with the wind, then exponentially gain speed and fly off the window leaving a trail of tiny droplets behind. I suddenly felt like one of these raindrops; I had arrived in Mexico raw with excitement, slowly gained speed, but before I knew it, my time in Celaya was over. While I was leaving, I knew I had left my own trail of droplets in Celaya.

Saying goodbye was incredibly difficult; I did not want to leave. I had become so enchanted by Guanajuato and so attached to my new friends, that I would have stayed, no questions asked, if school wasn't starting in 2 weeks. I am not a crier, but I cried. I read my card out loud to the Guerrero family, and about the time I read the line, "I hope to one day bring my children to meet your family..." I lost it. After a round of sobbing hugs and the exchange of heartfelt words, we discussed preliminary plans for a visit in December for the Christmas fiestas. I know that I have formed relationships in Celaya that will last throughout my lifetime.

It is so clear to me that my current understanding of migration is so much more profound than before I arrived in Mexico. I know that the knowledge I have gained from this experience will make me immensely more effective in my future work with immigrants, in whatever capacity that may be. While I have learned an innumerable amount of things in Mexico, here are some conclusions I have drawn:

To successfully fix the immigration "problem", we need to promote a binational solution. Work needs to be done from both sides in coordination to slow migration. This must involve improving the Mexican economy through higher wages, fairer trade laws, and investment in the countryside. We must treat Mexico as an equal trading partner, rather than a cheap exporter. If we want migration to slow we must strengthen, rather than weaken, environmental and labor laws. This can only be done through binational reforms.

In addition, education is largely intertwined with migration. Many migrants only complete up through elementary or middle school then stop studying to migrate. Education is also unaffordable for many families (books, uniforms, opportunity costs, let alone high school/college tuitions) and many ranches do not have adequate schools. The investment in education in Mexico is just not worth it. Immigration is the easier and more lucrative path. Therefore, in order to slow migration, I think there must be higher returns on education and a more advanced public education system in Mexico.



Now I'm back at UNC... my usual stomping grounds. But, this year I have a whole new agenda. I am in the process of procuring an internship with a Latino community organization, hopefully doing health outreach. I would like to spend about 12 hours per week working directly with local Latinos (otherwise, I think I'd go crazy with withdrawal!) I also have the huge task ahead of me of putting together my documentary, which hopefully will be completed in time for the December visit to Mexico! During the next coming weeks I will be making rounds, visiting relatives of the wonderful people I met in Mexico, delivering letters and showing copies of interviews. I would really love to create a student organization that aims to improve the skills sets of students working in the migrant communities. I have big ideas that I hope will materialize!!

So, Mexico turned out to be one of the most meaningful experiences I have ever had. I was able to pursue my passions with exciting intensity and direct my own research. I went through a rapid maturation process, gained a new degree of patience, and learned a new breed of hospitality. Above all, I have come out Mexico with a strong sense of possibility and an even more urgent motivation to promote change.

I would like to extend a HUGE thank you to Mr. Lucius Burch for his unending generosity and support. I would also like to thank the UNC Burch Program and Friederike Muehls for making all of this possible. Hannah Gill, my fabulous friend and invaluable mentor, has supported my dreams and cultivated my interests, and invested many hours helping out a humble undergrad. I'd also like to thank Ashley Byrd, Travis Overly, and Adam Gorey for being awesome travel buddies. And lastly, my family for all of their support and love throughout the summer.

GRACIAS A TODOS!

loving every minute

I can't believe a week has passed since I've had a chance to post. I have been so busy and loving every minute of it..."aprovechando" as you would say in Spanish. I'm just going to try to capture with words some of the amazing experiences I have had the past few days.

Ok lets see, on Thursday Salvador took me and about 8 of the grandkids to see some ranchos up in the hills beyond Tamayo where he grew up. We went to about 5 different tiny communities that were practically deserted because half the population is in the States. Almost all of the houses are constructed with American dollars; it's very common for a young husband to immigrate just long enough to build his own house, usually in the same compound or around the corner from his parents. Anyway, we spent the morning driving in the rain, peering into windows of empty school houses and abandoned homes, and picking flowers on the side of the road. It was really nice :)

On Friday I went on house calls with the social work department of the Foundation Nutricion y Vida. My friend Israel told me that we were going to work in the morning, but that the afternoon was going to be a surprise. Our work consisted of visiting houses to check on people who were going to receive donated wheel chairs from the fabulous Dr. Mariano. Some were very old and some were mentally handicapped or had suffered accidents. After our work was done, we drove out into the gorgeous countryside for my surprise. We stopped around a bend in the road and started to hike up a path...and before my very eyes was a beautiful 100 foot waterfall!! We spent some time just hanging out, talking about the Foundation, and discussing cultural differences between the U.S. and Mexico. (Don't worry folks, he's married with a child, and was definitely NOT hitting on me.)

Friday night I went over to the Guerrero's house for ANOTHER (the 3rd in one week) party for one of the grandchildren. It was really fun, outside at night with a piñata and kereoke.

Vale, here comes the good part. On Saturday, I went with my a bunch of the Rotarians to a Pelea de Gallos.....a cock fight!!! Riiiight, me, a vegetarian, going to a cock fight? Let me just defend myself for one minute. It's an interesting cultural experience and is very important to my first host family. They raise and sell roosters for cock fighting, and even export cages to Louisiana and New Mexico (the only states where it's legal in the U.S.). The cock fight consisted of 25 fights, and included 5 roosters raised by my family. It lasted for 10 hours (no joke), and was in a small smoky arena where bookies were waving their arms placing bets and scantily clad women were selling drinks....a real early 20th century boxing match feel to it. Each fight only lasts a maximum of 15 minutes, but usually is over in just a few. The roosters have knives attached to their feet and fight to the death....which actually is not as gory as it sounds. It was explained to me that it's in their nature to fight, that they must be separated at young ages or else they will kill each other anyway, and it's more humane than bullfighting because it's beast against beast, rather than man against beast. Word on the street is that there are some underground cock fights in Carolina...any takers?

On Sunday, I went to the park for ANOTHER birthday party for a Guerrero grandchild. On Monday I went to Irapuato to meet up with Adriana Cortes, the Director for the Fundacion Comunitario del Bahio- the contact I received from corresponding by email with the BBC photographer Jake Price. It turns out that Adriana is actively building relations with organizations in North Carolina to promote a binational program working with immigrants. She is going to visit UNC Greensboro this week and knows one of my professors, Regina Cortina, in the UNC Education department. We set out for a visit to El Gusano, a very remote rancho where the Jake Price had taken his pictures. He told me to print out his pictures and bring them with me to El Gusano to give to the people in the photographs.

El Gusano is 15 minutes down an unmarked dirt road. It is inhabited by almost exclusively women, children, and the elderly since practically ever young man is in Texas. We delivered the photographs to the people of El Gusano, an act that brought smiles to many faces. (I took pictures of the people receiving the pictures so Jake could see.) We spent the night at the house of Cipriano, the man in the photographs, in a room with his mother and sister. They live simply, raising animals and growing corn. His mother told me that of her 17 children only 9 are alive today, and that all but one of her sons is in the States. In the morning we woke up at 7 a.m. and went to the molina to process the dough for the day's corn tortillas.

On the way home Adriana and I discussed some very promising possibilities for future collaboration...I won't reveal my secret ideas yet, but lets just say I have big plans for the year to come.

I only have 5 days left and I am not ready to leave. I miss my family and friends dearly of course, but I am also having an absolutely amazing time here. I really feel at ease and at home, and have even thought to myself, "you know, I could really live here." I've had trouble sleeping the past few nights because my brain has been firing like crazy with ideas for my future and things I can do in North Carolina when I return.

Ah, there's so much to be done. Ok, enough for now. I'm off for a cafecito.

Sarah, 4, Tuesday, 0

Wow! I just had an awesome day.

It all started when Friederike Muehls (Director of Burch Programs) tipped me off to a BBC In Pictures photojournalism piece on, you'll never guess....migration from the state of Guanajuato! It seems that I'm not the only one doing this kind of work. Here is a link to his website:

www.pricephotos.net

Next, I had 3 interviews today (total interview count: 16). The first was with a young man whose Aunt just moved to NC from California. This is common; many Latinos already living in the US resettle to North Carolina because the cost of living is less and because the reception from the Latino community to new migrants is more positive in NC. He didn't know too much about their situation, but he is going to try to get me an interview with his mom so I can dig a bit deeper.

My next interview was with a mother whose son has been living in NC for 5 years. Her son has a daughter born in NC, now almost 3 years old, whom she has never met. After our interview, she and her husband took me out for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Her husband Enrique is a man who reads voraciously, is a self-professed philosopher, who wanted to know all about my backpacking adventures, and who even knew the name of Mt. Masada when I was describing to him "the mountain next to the Dead Sea". I interviewed him next, and I got tons of great quotes for the documentary. He referred to immigration as a "war" where migrants fight against many obstacles, both physical and psychological, to improve their dire economic situations.

They didn't know in what part of NC their son lived and worked, so I decided to do some detective work. First, I narrowed it down to the Triangle area by looking closely at a picture of him on their wall...I realized the picture was taken in front of a fountain at South Point Mall. Encouraged, I asked for more pictures. The mother, Maria Louisa, handed me an album full of pictures of her son in New York and Washington. I flipped through, finding no clues, until I came to the last picture. It was of her son sitting at a table in a restaurant...and as I looked closer I saw "Go Heels" cups on the table. Success! It was confirmed, he lives in Chapel Hill and works in a restaurant on Franklin.

It's so hard to convey sometimes how fortunate I feel to be here. I am in the center of, and in fact part of, a truly transnational community. I have always thought that a study of immigration cannot be completed on only one side of the border, that the cyclical nature of migration demands an understanding of sending and receiving communities. In Chapel Hill I am able to witness the new lives of migrants, their modes of adaptation, and North Carolina's response to its changing demographics. In Celaya, I see the impact of their absence, the environments that formed their migrant mentality, and the economic need that led them to leave home for the North. I hope that with this documentary I will be able to share what I have learned with a much wider audience than this blog allows.

Ay yay YAAAAY!!!

Today I went to a Charreada, or a Mexican rodeo!! It was a great time. I went with Salvador, the patriarch of the Guerrero family, who worked in Indiana steel mills for over 20 years. The stands were full of cowboy hats, ranchero music was playing in the background, and ever so often an excited fan would let out a rousing "Ayyy yay YAAAAY!!!" The Charros compete by lasoing speeding horses, catching bulls by the legs, or even jumping from horse to horse in the "ride of death"! Salvador and I sat back and ate peanuts as he filled me in on the riders' rankings, who was related to who, and what constitutes a point-worthy ride. At the end of the event I got to try out my own cowgirl skills and trot around the ring :)

Afterwards we went to join the rest of the family at Salvador's grandson Angel's 3rd birthday party. (The third birthday is very significant since it's when a child is presented to the church.) Before the charreada we went to their church and had a special service for Angel which culminated in him letting a dove loose from his hands as an gift or offering to God. Anyway, the party had about 100 people and was outside, complete with a blow-up slide, spiderman piñata, and green AND red mole. I had a really interesting conversation with Salvador Jr, Sal's oldest son and a naturalized U.S. Citizen. We talked about crossing the border, his efforts to naturalize his daughters, and the US-Mexican drug trafficing problems.

Other highlights of the week include: interviewing a local politician about economic strategies to slow migration, taking the Guerrero kids to see "Piratas del Caribe", and interviewing the mom of two more Chapel Hill restaurant workers.

up and down, up and down

I don't want to sound overly dramatic, because I am aware of my circumstances and how incredibly fortunate I am...but this week has been pretty tough. But, just when I think I'm about to get upset, something small happens that makes me feel better and I rebound. I'm warning you this might be long and boring for those of you uninterested in my personal life. Anyway, here's the scoop...

Sunday night I come home to an empty house, with the door wide open...it's raining and dark, and I got a bit scared, but searched the house and it was clear. I called my host dad though and I think I freaked him out a bit, but it seems the wind blew open the door. So, I wake up Monday morning feeling really sick, and I come downstairs and the first thing that my host parents tell me is that I'm going to live with a different family on Friday. So, I think, "What did I do?? Did I upset them last night by making them think their house was robbed? Did I overstay my welcome, offend them in some way??" So I spend the day sick, doing nothing and feeling upset, like I did something wrong. Then later in the day, my host mom reveals that her sister and nephew are coming in town and they need to stay in the room I've been occupying. Phew, I think, it didn't have anything to do with me.

The next morning I wake up feeling better, but my host mom knocks on my door and tells me that her dad is dying and they all have to go to Mexico City immediately, and I will be moving tonight instead of Friday. I'm shocked and upset, feel horrible for the family, and realize I only have like 15 minutes to pack up all my stuff and make my 11:00 interview. I pack up frantically, then when I go downstairs, it turns out that the doctor who has been helping me with my volunteer work has come to check on me!! It makes me feel a lot better. He's really sweet, he told me that he's my grandpa when I'm here :) So, Doctor Mariano takes me into town to get some medicine, then drops me off at my interview.

The interview is with a young guy who spent a year in Greensboro, especially interesting becuase he speaks English very well, and has the education of a technical engineer. Because of this he was able to break into a more skilled job market than most Mexican immigrants.

Off I go to meet a woman who is a dentist and volunteers her time at a moblie clinic administered by the Rotary Club, doing extractions, cleanings, and occasionally more advanced procedures at very reduced costs. In my Burch budget, I asked for $300 to donate to the health clinics I'm working with, so the dentist and I went to a dental supply store and bought $150 worth of dental equiment, about 25 pieces in all. I'm donating the other half to the Centro de Nutricion (run by the wonderful Doctor Mariano), which is a home which nurses malnourished children back to a healthy status. They normally have about 30 children living and eating there.

(Liliana working in the mobile clinic)

So, Liliana, the dentist, and I go to Crespo, a poor ranch where the mobile clinic is currently located. I have an interview scheduled during the time she will be seeing patients. So, I set off walking to find the house, and it starts to rain, realllllyyy rain, and the dirt road turns to mud, and I have no idea where I am, making circles and asking different people where in the world Calle Felipe Angeles is. At one point I just stopped and took in my surroundings: yards full of cows mooing loudly, mud puddles blocking any naviagble path, and numbers randomly painted on walls of properties, indicating no logical order to follow!! And its still raining. At this point I'm actually having fun, since I personally am a big fan of rainy days. Finally, after making a huge loop, I come across the house, which is probably the most meager one I've been in so far. Plastic roof, cement floors, sheets for doors, very little furniture. Oddly though, there is a TV and a stereo system...

Estela and her sister insist on walking me in the rain to her sister-in-law's house (standard Mexican hospitality, which I have come to really appreciate). Since this whole ordeal took so long, I only have about 30 minutes to do the interview- but it turned out to be a really intense and interesting 30 minutes. The woman is younger than me (she'll turn 21 in February), married 2 years, with a 1-year-old son and a husband in NC. She's exactly who I am interested in talking with, since I am particularly concerned with the situation of young wives and mothers involved in migration. She tells me how she didn't want her husband to leave, and started to cry telling me how he's missed their sons first words and first steps. Wow, I think, that was a great interview....and am quickly on my way to catch a ride home from Liliana.

So, I move into my new home by 10 PM, totally exhausted. My new host parents are a really really wonderful old couple who I've been spending time with doing mobile clinic publicity and going out to eat. They are very active healthy people so are really sympathetic to my vegetarianism. I have my own room for the time being, until their exchange student from Brazil arrives in 10 days.

Enough rambling for today.

I’ve spent all day in the house, sick from eating who knows what. I’m holding my Cipro in reserve for something really bad though…lets just hope it never comes. I should be on my feet again tomorrow, and if not, I’ll make good use of that traveler’s health insurance.

Well, as with most things on this trip, camping didn’t go exactly as planned. It rained, so we only spent one night, and it wasn’t too rustic- no woods in sight! Basically, it was this water park filled with water from the hot springs, with pools of variable temperatures, water slides, and a little grassy area for camping. But who’s going to let a little rain spoil a good camping trip?? To my amazement, we set up eight, yes, eight, tents in the rain, including one that we named “the White House” since it was rigged up with two poles and a huge white tarp (the family thought that one was hilarious). Everyone kept their cool (an impressive feat!) despite having over 15 kids running around in the mud. After dark the kids and I scrambled into bathing suits and jumped into the steaming pools to warm up. Good times .

The next morning, the adults made a group decision to pack up and head home instead of spending a second night in the rain. We spent the day at the water park, running from the scalding pool, to the cool pool, to the waterslide, etc…. and stuffing ourselves full of fresh corn tortillas accompanied by a variety of fillings. Oh, and the s’mores were a big success! Various people asked me how I learned to make them, to which I could only reply “umm…I just know? Everyone in the US knows how to make them.” Such a simple question about s’mores demonstrates the value of possessing the social capital of mainstream America. Learning a whole new set of collective knowledge is a daunting task, especially when all of our institutions are designed around the American funds of knowledge. The impact of this is most visible in public schools, where many times first- and second-generation immigrant youth are denied biculturalism and bilingualism (assets!) through English-only teaching. Ok, enough ranting for today…although that “Growing Up Mexican in American Schools” class always seems to creep up in my thoughts….

Are we there yet?

After a long day of interviewing yesterday I went to the Gigante store and bought the ingredients for s’mores…a necessity for any camping trip, even a Mexican camping trip. I had to buy quadruple the number of everything since there will be about 30 of us going—three generations of the Guerrero family, plus me. I have been spending a lot of time with this family since one of the daughters’ husbands is working in Carrboro. I went with the grandfather once to a celebration for the PAN political party, went with them to a carnival the other night, and now, we’re off camping. We’re going for two nights to the hot springs in Michoacan, a beautiful highland state with high concentration of indigenous Purepecha people. It should be a great time…the next post will surely include details of our shenanigans.

The interviews that actually happened this week were really exciting. I met with a priest, Padre Rogelio II, whose ministry focuses on migrants, AND….it turns out that he has been to Chapel Hill to visit the St. Thomas Moore church! If you haven’t heard of St. Thomas Moore, it is a catholic church is Chapel Hill which has been very receptive to the Latino community; it actively works to welcome Latinos and incorporate their diverse traditions and celebrations into the mission of the church. The padre told me about his parish’s projects to help lessen the negative effects of immigration, and also provided a really insightful perspective on the issue. He gave me a copy of a devotional he published, titled “The immigrant’s Devotional”, which contains prayers for difficult times in a migrant’s experience- crossing the border, losing a job, being in the US when a family member dies. Here’s an excerpt from the “Crossing without Papers” prayer:

…in this moment I am at the border, deciding to cross even though I know that it is against the law. You know well that I am not doing this to break the laws of a nation. The economic reality of my situation and the desperate search for a better future for my family has made me cross without the necessary documents. I feel like a citizen of a world and of a church that has no borders…

My next interview was with a man who worked at Elmo’s Diner for four years and at Time Out for a bit. We joked about the drunkards at Time Out at 3 a.m. and shared our favorite items from the Elmo’s menu (mine is their fabulous veggie burger, of course).

Those are the highlights for now... oh, I almost forgot, I spent the other morning bare-footed in the yard, picking granada fruits off the trees :)