I try hard not to impose my values on the raramuri. I have learned that if I really want to understand "raramuri reality," as one anthropologist puts it, I have to set aside my perceptions of right and wrong and immerse myself as fully as possible in the lives of the raramuri. Setting aside my perceptions of right and wrong is controversial, since obviously some things that occur in life are definitely wrong; how contradictory. But the goal is to allow the raramuris' experiences to become my own, as impossible as that is. It is the hardest I have ever tried to obtain an open mind. I need a lot of guidance. For example, after my first tesguinada (beer-drinking party; very common in raramuri culture), I walked away pretty disgusted and confused. I felt that what I had witnessed confirmed every stereotype about the raramuri. Many of the raramuri were so drunk they were passed out on the ground; some of them were fighting; there were children unattended to and crying. I told an anthropologist that I felt the situation was completely out of control. I received an enlightening lecture about control as a relative concept, a social construction. Then I was guided to consider that complete inebriation is a way for the normally serious and disciplined raramuri to lose their inhibitions in a socially accepted forum. What's more, this loss of inhibition often inspires new couples to get together, and thus the party often sees the beginning of a new family.

At the beginning, it was not hard to be an impartial observer in Oasis, but as I have developed relationships with the raramuri, I find it increasingly difficult not to want to be an actor in the community, especially when it comes to resolving problems. On a daily basis, it's difficult to judge when my interference is imposing my personal values on the raramuri, and when it is actually helpful. Perhaps the two are not necessarily so distinct.I have to be careful--my perception of a problem is not necessarily theirs, as I learned at my first drinking party. Another example: I often see children playing around Oasis and the surrounding neighborhood without shoes or sandals. Most of them have shoes; for some reason, their mothers don't always make their children wear them. I see this as dangerous, since there are rocks and sometimes broken glass on the street. I often have the urge to tell children to put their shoes on, but I don't, since I suspect the raramuri mothers don't view their children running barefoot as a danger the way I do. I know that in both the Sierra and the city, raramuri runners often race through mountains and roads without shoes. Barefootedness is a preferred state--it is not my preferred state, but I try to remind myself to respect them, even while I cringe as I watch children walking on rough terrain.

Today I caved and interfered. I was walking through Soriana with Julissa and we were discussing hygiene. I was curious to know what Julissa knows about hygiene, and how she practices it. I learned she doesn't use shampoo on her hair and doesn't shower every single day. I suspected that long ago, but I refused to let it keep me from hugging her or braiding her hair when she asked me to. I know she's been going to the dentist frequently (I'm not sure why, she can't tell me), so I asked when she brushes her teeth. She told me she doesn't have a toothbrush. I hesitated a lot, but I finally decided to buy her one. I'm careful about giving gifts because I don't want the raramuri to feel that I am patronizing them; and on the other hand, I don't want anyone to view me merely as a gift-giver. I'm particularly conscious about not giving gifts that relate to hygiene, because a common insult around here is "indio sucio," or "dirty Indian." Julissa was delighted with the gift, but I was worried her mom would take it badly. Still, I decided the risk was worth it because I couldn't stand the thought of Julissa not brushing her teeth when she apparently already has so many problems with them.

In the end, Julissa's mom seemed pleased. I took a risk giving such an intimate gift, I think, but I think the time I have spent in Oasis by now has broken down a lot of barriers between me and them. A raramuri told me the other day that I have seen a lot in Oasis, some things that I should never have seen it all--but he said it with a smile.