Awkward interview

I got to Oasis around 1 PM today, which is late for me, but it didn't matter because most of the rarámuri had headed downtown that morning anyway. Apart from attending races in other parts of the city, another important weekend activity is going shopping downtown or heading to different parts of the city to either seek alms or sell crafts. When I walked into the settlement, a woman named Cuka and her nine-year-old daughter Julissa, who I am very close to, were on their way out to sell crafts. Cuka showed me her plastic bagful of little dolls she had made, brown heads sticking out of flower-print dresses just like the ones the real rarámuri women wear. I kind of wanted to go with her to watch her sell, but I thought that if people saw me with her they would be less likely to buy, so I left it alone. I was sorry to see Julissa go, though; she is my favorite companion at Oasis.

Immediately after I entered, I noticed a well-dressed mestizo ("chabochi" is the rarámuri word for mestizo) family enter the settlement. It was a father in khakis, a mother with perfect makeup, and two middle-school age girls carrying notebooks and recorders. It was clear they were newcomers--they were staring at everything, like tourists. I don't remember exactly what I was doing when they walked in--I think I was just standing somewhere, not doing anything--but I got to watch as the father approached a rarámuri woman on her way to do her washing and say "Excuse me, my daughters are doing a project for school about the tarahumaras. Can they interview you?" I didn't catch what the woman said, but she went on her way, so she clearly didn't comply.

They started asking around for Carolina, the governor's sister. Lorena, a rarámuri woman, pointed towards Carolina's house, which is at the back of the settlement. The tourists stared where she pointed, but didn't move. They were clearly uncomfortable with the idea of poking around the settlement without having specific directions. They turned to me next.

"Do you know where Carolina lives?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure if she's here today, she may have gone out." I gave them her house number, and looking more confident, they went to look for Carolina. I went about my business, and eventually came across Sara, who was sitting on the stairs enjoying the sun, so I joined her.

After a few minutes, Paula, an excellent runner and middle-aged mother of 5 (I think), walked by with a bundle of dresses in her arms. She had just walked past us when the visiting family assaulted her.

"Excuse me, we are doing a project for school, can my daughters interview you?"

"Por que?" (Why?) Paula asked. I looked at Sara; she grinned at me.

Paula relented, and Sara and I continued chatting. Suddenly, one of the teenage girls: "Do you believe in God?" I started giggling, and Sara had to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. I don't even know what Paula answered, I was too focused on hiding my amusement. Sara and I tried to carry on a chat, but we kept hearing snippets of the interview that made us laugh. Some of them were the following: "We are trying to understand the religion of the Tarahumaras, can you tell us what you believe in?" "Can I take a picture of you next to the clothesline?" "How old were you when you had your first baby?" "So what do the Tarahumaras do for work?"

They finally released Paula after ten excruciating minutes of interrogation. The girls wandered around, snapped a few more pictures, then left. After I got to thinking about it, I felt very unsettled by what I had witnessed. I asked Sara what she thought of people coming in and doing interviews like this one, and she said "I don't like them." I asked her if I was like them, and she said no. I asked why, and she said because I spend a lot of time there and I don't annoy them with too many questions (I have to disagree with her there; I think I did annoy a couple people with too many questions, early on).

I gained some interesting insights from observing that interaction. First, I realzed how far I have come in integrating myself into the Oasis community and gaining the rarámuri trust since September. By now, I still have my awkward moments, but there are definite signs that the women like me and trust me: they ask me to place bets on races, mothers give their young children permission to go with me to the park and the grocery store up the street, and just today, a new mother asked me to hold her one-week-old daughter, the first time someone has asked me to hold a baby for her. Gaining their trust has taken many hours, cost me great effort and patience. Reporters and students who come to Oasis and expect the rarámuri to open up about their lives are sadly misguided, and it's a shame, because most end up walking out with the impression that the rarámuri are a very closed society. That is exactly what the mother of the students said to me, in a whisper: "they are a very closed people."

A second insight, which is still developing in my mind, is about how little the rarámuri and the mestizo population know of each other. They live in the same city, they see each other every day, but interaction rarely goes beyond mestizos buying a rarámuri craft or giving a rarámuri a gift. It reminds me of why I was inspired to do this project in the first place. I grew up seeing the rarámuri on my weekend visits to Juarez, but I knew virtually nothing about them until I started developing this project. As a child, when I questioned the adults around me for more information about the rarámuri I saw in Juarez, I was always disappointed by how little they knew. The interaction I saw today is another affirmation that rarámuri-mestizo interactions are very strained, which is oversimplistic but concise.

More interesting events, but I will stop here. As I was going up the street to catch my bus, I walked by the KFC. I saw Julissa standing in the drive-thru holding a bundle of dolls up to a car window, in the middle of working a sale. I waved at her and she waved back at me, shyly. I wondered if she was embarrassed. Then, she called to me, "Are you coming tomorrow?" "Yes!" I responded. She grinned, and I waved to her and her mom, who was sitting nearby, before I walked away.