debindesert
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Of Human Interest
It was June 1982. I was working on a great gringa tan when my slanted eyes opened long enough to the site of a girl straining with each step in the
San Felipe sand. A few minutes passed by and there she stood, shading my face. I said “No Gracias”.
Several years now, I have hardened myself not to even make eye contact. But, this woman said “Especial”. Bring forward her warn and tattered
bundle, it was the most beautifully woven fabric with a very unique pattern. Before me laid primitive clay masks hand painted in the most interesting
design. I know I had seen this style before. Just where, I couldn’t remember. So, I dismissed it.
I could only understand every other word and the woman’s pronunciation or dialect was really foreign to my ears. So, I called my disinterested and
annoyed Mother-in-Law over to translate the negotiations for one of the beautiful masks.
After the transaction, I offered her one of the popular Mexican soft drinks. She declined by vigorously waving her hand side-by-side. Having a
second thought, I offered her some water. She smiled and said “jes, peas”. I started by filling the cup up with ice from the cooler. Again, she
waving her hand side-by-side. So, I dumped the ice and filled it full of water from our large water jug. (For you younger readers, this was
back-in-the-day before mass marketing of individual bottles, now littering our beaches).
Receiving the cup, she said “dank ju”, and drank without pausing for a breath. Both standing together, I also asked if my Mother-in-Law wanted one.
Presenting her with a cup (with ice), they began a conversation.
I could only get a few words my Mother-in-Law was saying, “how long... when did you leave... that‘s too bad... and, good luck.” Then, she was on her
way.
That night at dinner, I brought up her visit to our little cabana and asked what was their conversation. I come to find out that this woman was from
Guatemala. She lived high in the mountains near a lake. Her family had lived there for hundreds of years. Her Father was a farmer and her Mother
and sisters weaved and made clothing. Once a week, her family would walk for hours to the next village where they would sell their goods.
She and her son had walked all the way, ferried across, then started walking north again. She was in search of her Mexican husband who left the
village two years prior.
When asked why didn’t she just write him off and stay put with her family? She explained that all her family was killed and there was no one left.
Bad men raided the village. Her and her son ran into the county side and when they returned, they found their village burned to the ground. That’s
when she decided she was no better off staying or looking for her husband in a foreign county. So, she started walking.
Just then my memory jolted. She was Mayan. That explained the familiar design on that mask. I had seen it in books studying Cultural Anthropology.
I had also read about their horrific demise. One could spend a lifetime in the United States and never meet a true American Indian. It can also be
said for Mexico and their indigenous people.
Several years thereafter, I would see her from a far. After that, she must have started walking north again.
Thank you for reading,
Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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Neal Johns
Super Nomad
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Thanks, Deb,
Interesting story. More?
My motto:
Never let a Dragon pass by without pulling its tail!
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Crusoe
Senior Nomad
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Registered: 10-14-2006
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Thank You Deb........Wonderful story. Its the majical people you can meet while traveling if you keep a positive attitude and an open heart that makes
for all the fond memories. Your Mayan friend is special. She has determination, and believes she will find her husband. Hope she did. She deserves a
good turn in life now. ++C++
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Natalie Ann
Ultra Nomad
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Registered: 8-22-2003
Location: Berkeley
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Thank you, Deb, for this interesting story and pictures. Baja is a magical place. I love that one never knows what surprises the day will hold.
Seems like this experience of yours was most special indeed.
Nena
Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.
.....Oscar Wilde
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salvavida
Junior Nomad
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Registered: 10-29-2007
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Also of note, declining a drink with ice in it. I learned that years ago offering Juices to kids in a fish camp in Baja. Could'nt understand why they
wanted room temp. on a hot day. Then an adult explained, the cold hurts their teeth. Made sense atfer the fact. No refigerators out there.Good story.
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debindesert
Nomad
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Location: California High Desert
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Yep! It does bother the teeth. In my pretentiousness, I thought she would want this luxury. I was arrogantly wrong. Poverty is not
synonymous with ignorance.
My penance today is water room temperature. (It’s also better for the digestion).
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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oladulce
Super Nomad
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Registered: 5-30-2005
Location: bcs
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In Nicaragua, extremes in temperature are thought to cause bodily harm and endanger your health. So they won't take a cold shower on a hot day, or
drink an icy beverage after exercise or hard work, or walk barefooted (warm feet) on a cold floor.
I wonder if this is why she declined the ice?
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debindesert
Nomad
Posts: 111
Registered: 4-12-2007
Location: California High Desert
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It’s hard figuring out subtle nuances of different cultures. A way one lives is influences by mores going back centuries. Some are so outrageous
they are easy to dismiss as simple superstions. Others can be contributed to down right common sense. When observed outside the box (or our own
culture), the “light bulb” goes on.
My curiosity here is this woman, who probably never ventured more than a 25-mile radius of her village, walks away. Although, no immediate family,
she is still culturally obligated to stay with her own. The consequence of her estrangement (with her people) would be disastrous for her as well as
her son.
--Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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Barry A.
Select Nomad
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Registered: 11-30-2003
Location: Redding, Northern CA
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Ice water
Neither my wife nor I ever use ice in our water, or with softdrinks. I prefer beer that is refridgerator cold, but not ice cold. We both think that
"ice" hides the true flavor of a liquid, and in addition is uncomfortable in the mouth. We are both of British heretage, and I think that also has
something to do with it, but I don't know why.
------and even tho I do make my evening drink with ice when home, I never use ice in any drink while camping------warm is just fine, for both drinks
and beer.
I admit this is strange, but none the less the truth.
So there is sometimes more than just "custom" involved, I am thinking-----some of us just prefer it that way.
barry
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