A stolen baby, and intimidation on Calle Libertad

Carolina, the indigenous governor's sister and a good friend of mine, gave birth to a plump baby girl on Monday of Holy Week, which was one month ago. Carolina is 24 years old (her birthday is actually ten days after mine) and very active in everything that goes on in Oasis: she is an avid participant in the races (betting and sometimes running), an excellent seamstress, an important participant in many rituals, and a spokesperson for Oasis with the Coordinadora Estatal de la Tarahumara, the government agency that addresses all issues related to the rarámuri. When her brother the governor is absent for extended periods, as he was during the four months of winter when he was in the Sierra building a fence to enclose a prominent rancher's property, Carolina takes over many responsibilities. According to rarámuri law, there are many issues which only the governor can address, but during those four months that her brother was absent, Carolina took on the role of governor as fully as rarámuri law permitted her. She knows how to read, speaks better Spanish than most rarámuri, and has a pretty good handle on Mexican customs and law. She is the mother of three daughters, including the newborn, and was living with the father (the rarámuri do not typically get married by law or church; nevertheless, monogamy and having a life-partner are ideals in their culture), until he accused her of getting pregnant by another man and abandoned her. Their split was a hot topic in Oasis for many months. During Semana Santa, her ex was a fariseo that many young women swooned over. After getting to know Carolina, and after watching her ex carry on with many women during Holy Week, I am very sure that her ex is accusing Carolina of becoming pregnant by another man just to have an excuse to leave her. I feel indignant and outraged on Carolina's behalf, and now I only wish she was legally married to him so that she could at least get child support out of him. Without legal binding, Carolina cannot obligate him to take a paternity test and it is easy for her ex to walk out on her and their three daughters.

But after the baby was born, the community mostly forgot about Carolina's and Mauricio's dramatic split and the new baby became the next obsession. In rarámuri society, a baby is often passed around to every woman and child who desires to hold him, with the result that most rarámuri babies are non-fussy and completely accustomed to being cuddled in different arms. When I first started visiting Oasis, this custom astonished me and made me slightly uncomfortable--it was strange to see eight and nine year old girls carrying babies only months old around the settlement. But after a while, I came to understand that learning to care for a baby when a girl is herself a child is a cultural norm, and I think it's also a kind of "training" to prepare young girls to think of themselves as mothers--a very important part of rarámuri female identity. So passing around a newborn baby to be held and cuddled by many friends in the settlement is very common, and I have never seen a baby mishandled even when it is being carried by a child.

When I arrived to Oasis today, two young girls--Erika and Rosalia--were standing in front of Chita's store. I greeted them and asked them what they were doing. "We are waiting for the bus to go downtown," replied Erika, who is 7 years old. "Are you going by yourselves?" I asked. Erika nodded yes. "Your mom gave you permission?" Erika nodded yes again. "What are you going for?" "To buy sandals." Erika stuck a bare foot out from under her skirt. "You don't have any sandals to wear to go downtown, even torn ones?" I asked She nodded no. I shook my head, smiled, and told them to be very careful. Then I went into Chita's store, as I always do when I arrive.

Chita and I chatted for a couple minutes, then I mentioned the girls outside and their plan to go downtown by themselves. "By themselves!" Chita exclaimed. Then, "no, no, they can't go by themselves," as she opened her door and told them they were not to go alone. "I'll go with them," I said, feeling guilty for not having thought of this earlier. Sometimes I don't worry about rarámuri children as I would worry for any other child, because I see that they are so much more self-sufficient and generally given much more independence than other children. Still, they are children and vulnerable like any others, so I should remember to treat them as such and worry about them in the same way.

I went outside and stood with the girls to wait for the bus. Several rarámuri women waved at me from across the street; one of them was Carolina. "Where are you going?" she shouted over to me. "Downtown!" "Didn't you say you were going to invite me when you went?" "Let's go, then! I barely decided to go." "Okay, will you wait for me while I get the baby ready?" "Yes, but hurry!" I yelled in rarámuri and she laughed

This was the first time I ever went on an excursion with Carolina, and I was very happy to have this opportunity. She is friendly and talkative and it is always nice to spend time with her. I always learn about happenings in Oasis when I talk to her, and she is very open about her own life as well. During the bus ride, she started telling me about a rarámuri baby that was kidnapped two days ago from a woman who lives in Oasis. Somehow I had missed this story until today. The woman was outside a Wal-Mart selling candy, her weeks-old baby in her arms, when a mestizo woman approached her and asked to hold the baby. The rarámuri woman allowed it, but became uncomfortable when the woman kept the baby for more than a minute and would say "let me hold her just a little longer" when the mother would ask for her baby to be returned. Then, the mestizo woman said to the mother, "come to my house, I have a lot of baby clothes that I want to give to you." The rarámuri woman felt like she had no choice but to go, since the mestizo woman would not give up the baby. So they got on the bus and went the mestizo woman's house. Once they arrived, the mestizo woman, still holding the baby, opened her front door, stepped inside, and slammed it in the rarámuri woman's face. After knocking on the windows and door for almost an hour, the rarámuri mother was beside herself. She finally walked one block to find a police officer, but when she and the officer returned to the house and he forced the door open, the woman had made off with the baby. Lucky for the rarámuri woman, the police officer took her case seriously and alerted his chief and other officers. The mother had the presence of mind to return to Oasis and tell Chita, who immediately got on the phone and contacted the Coordinadora and every NGO that works with the rarámuri. If there is one great thing to be said about Chita, it is that she knows how to work her contacts and gain support for a cause. Soon, with the effort of so many people and the rarámuri woman's detailed description of the woman, the kidnapper was caught within a day, the baby with her. It turned out she was a prostitute who had plans to sell the baby.

As Carolina was telling me this story, I understood why Chita had warned her so sternly not to let any stranger touch her baby. As we were waiting for the bus, Chita had poked her head out the door specifically to issue this warning. I had thought the warning random and rather strange, but after learning this story, I understood where it came from. Still, I didn't truly grasp the importance of this advice until later that day.

When we got downtown, Carolina opted to carry the baby in her arms rather than in the rebozo on her back. The baby is still so small that her neck needs to be supported when she is held, so Carolina prefers to carry her in her arms to make sure the baby's neck is properly supported. Our first stop was a store to buy the cheap plastic sandals for Erika that most city-dwelling rarámuri women wear. Once we accomplished that errand, we headed for the main cathedral and Calle Libertad, where all the fabric stores are located. We stopped at many stores along the way, and everywhere we stopped, saleswomen of all ages admired Carolina's baby. Most of them were the usual "oohs" and "ahhs" that any newborn gets, but some of the women made strange comments. At one point, Erika was holding the baby while Carolina looked at some baby shoes, and an old lady came up to her and said, "What a beautiful baby! Will you give her to me?" Erika ignored her, but the old lady persisted, and even started stroking the baby's feet. She seemed harmless to me, but I could tell Erika was getting stressed out. And when Carolina noticed what was happening, she raced over and took her baby into her arms. The old lady went away, and Carolina proceeded to scold Erika for allowing the old lady to get so close.

This happened all afternoon. At times, women would stop Carolina in the middle of the street just to coo at the baby. Most did not ask to hold her, but a few did. When this happened, the talkative, outspoken Carolina I know melted away and she became nervous and shy. She never gave any woman permission to hold her baby, and in my opinion, any idiot could have seen in her face and her non-responses that she did not want any stranger holding her baby; but if these women noticed, they ignored Carolina's feelings and took the baby into their arms to cuddle it and coo into her face for a minute or two. After one of these incidents, Carolina said to me, "I'm so worried one of them will take off running with her." "If that happens, I'll chase her down myself," I told her.

Looking back on the day, I should have supported Carolina more and told the women myself that no, they could not hold the baby. After the first time it happened, I could tell Carolina was uncomfortable with so many strange women fussing over her baby, but because none of them struck me as very threatening, I didn't feel alarmed and stayed silent. Still, now that I try to imagine what it would be like to have a baby, I feel certain that I would hate strange people touching and wanting to hold my baby. I don't know why Carolina is afraid to say no to these women--my best guess is that she feels intimidated by the mestizo women. As I mentioned, she turns shy and hardly utters a word when they approach her.

Other than these incidents, we spent a fantastic afternoon downtown. We went to all the fabric stores and discussed patterns, fabrics, and colors. Carolina bought some brown fabric to make little dolls that she sells, and some fabric with dolphins and starfish to make a skirt for herself
(just like any woman I know. She swore she was only going to buy the brown fabric, but she ended up spending more money that she meant to and bought herself something pretty). When we passed by the Cathedral, she told me about the time Pope John Paul II visited Chihuahua and gave Mass at this same Cathedral. Carolina showed me exactly where she stood to see him, right at the entrance of the Cathedral. She took me to a store and showed me music CDs recorded by rarámuri musicians, and told me the name and biography of a rarámuri musician who recorded in New York City (it is always interesting to me when a rarámuri is aware of any place outside Chihuahua and Sonora). She showed me a nice restaurant that a priest had taken her and a group of other children to eat at when she was in grade school.

Another curious incident that occurred while Rosalia was holding the baby and Carolina was inside a fabric store was when a drunk rarámuri man walked right up to Rosalia and repeated something in rarámuri over and over. Rosalia and I were sitting on the steps outside the store, but the man ignored my presence and addressed Rosalia. She huddled over the baby a little and looked away, until I said "come, let's go." Rosalia got up and followed me, and the rarámuri man laughed and sauntered away. I asked Rosalia what he had said and she said, "he wanted to know if I would sell him the baby." When Carolina came out of the store, I thought she would be very upset by this story, but she only laughed and rolled her eyes. My best guess is that she did not feel threatened by this man because he is rarámuri.

We returned to Oasis at 5 PM, and I told Chita the events of the day while Carolina went home to put away her purchases. I told Chita how odd I thought it was that so many people (at least 15) stopped Carolina to admire her baby, and even more strange that so many strangers asked to hold her. Chita's opinino is that most mestizos see an "Indian baby" as a quaint thing, and that they feel confident enough to treat the "Indian mother" with a familiarity that they would never show to a mestizo stranger. She says a big problem among Chihuahuan mestizos is that they patronize and dehumanize the rarámuri --they ask to hold a rarámuri mother's baby just as they would ask to hold a puppy was how she put it. I asked her if it was normal in Chihuahuan culture to approach strangers and ask to hold their babies, and she said that it was absolutely not normal. This is not the first time I have heard Chita talk about this topic--once she told me about a woman who came to Oasis offering to buy children, until a rarámuri told Chita about it and Chita ran the woman out of the settlement. When I asked her why people wanted to buy babies, she listed the reasons I had suspected: illegal adoption rings, child prostitution rings, organ trafficking, and slave labor. Today I got a good feeling for how vulnerable rarámuri children are in this city, to what extent insensitive mestizos can belittle and intimidate a rarámuri mother, and how truly terrifying and dangerous it can feel to be a second class citizen. I asked Chita to encourage Carolina not be scared of saying no to mestizos who want to hold her baby, and when I feel the moment is right, I will also encourage her. And I will never ask to hold a baby ever again, unless I feel certain that the mother trusts me.

Erika and Carolina's baby

Lunch at my house with the rarámuri

The morning that the rarámuri women were supposed to come over for lunch, I debated calling my landlady to let her know that I would be bringing them over. My apartment is a small bungalow in back of a large house. When I first arrived to Chihuahua, I worried that my landlady would put restrictions (such as a curfew, or prohibit me from inviting guests), but after she reassured me that I was welcome to invite any guests I liked over, I opted for this apartment because it feels safe to be behind a large house. I have a private entrance on the side of the house, a large metal gate that leads into a narrow passageway and goes directly to my apartment. The family's private yard is walled in, so I literally do not share space with the family even though I am on their property. Still, the entrance to my apartment is visible from the second story of the large house, and for this reason I wondered if I should just notify my landlady that rarámuri friends were coming over. However, I told myself that I was being paranoid and overly cautious. While the rarámuri and non-rarámuri rarely mix to socialize, I decided not to give too much importance to the social stigma and treated the invitation like it was any other person coming over; I did not mention it to my landlady.

When I arrived at Oasis, I asked Esperanza what time she wanted to come over, and she said at 2 PM, so she could have time to shower and dress her five-year-old daughter, Jiovanna. Julissa and her mother Cuka were also coming, and at the last minute Esperanza's sister Teresa and her two boys also decided to join us. I decided to treat them as fully as I could and pay for their transportation to my apartment, so we went in a taxi. Naturally, the taxi driver was curious to know where I was going with the rarámuri, and I replied that they were coming to my house for lunch. "Oh," he said, and didn't ask more questions.

That morning I had gone to the grocery store to buy bags of frozen corn, ready-made beans since it would take forever to make so many for a large group of people, a packet of hot dogs, a large bottle of coke, and corn tortillas. I decided it was safest to prepare something that they are used to eating, especially since kids can be picky eaters. I planned to slice the hot dogs and fry them in a pan with the corn (a favorite dish with my brother and I, and one which I thought would be palatable to the rarámuri), and serve it with beans and and tortillas. I normally make my own salsa, and it isn't half bad, so I thought I could offer that too. For dessert there was ice cream.

We pulled up in front of the big house, but I had already told the women that my apartment was behind it and that we would enter through the side gate. Still, Julissa and Jiovanna commented on the size of the house. Teresa mentioned that she had been here before to seek alms, called kórima.

We went through the gate and down the narrow passageway and up the stairs to my apartment. The first thing Julissa said when she saw it was "Qué bonito vives, Victoria!" How nice you live, Victoria. It is a comfortable apartment, although it is hardly nice to look at: there are scratches on the peach walls, cracked tiles in the bathroom, water stains on the ceiling. When I was first moving in, my mom found two roaches which she swears are the largest she has ever seen. She was against me moving into this apartment because of its rundown condition, but I decided the safe location was worth putting up with other inconveniences.

The rarámuri filed in and I invited them to sit on the tattered couch. The children wanted to see my bedroom, which I didn't mind in the least, so I invited them in. Julissa noticed my electric blanket and asked what it is; I told her to get into my bed and gave her a demonstration. I invited the women in too, but they were too polite to come into my bedroom. Once I started cooking, the women wanted to help, but I told them to sit down and relax. I was a little nervous cooking in front of them, since they tend to make fun of me for not being as domestic as they are, but I didn't make any mistakes and they complimented the cooking.

Julissa and Jiovanna were overjoyed to see where I live. Julissa openly admired my style of living. She peeked in the refrigerator when I opened it and said "you have so much food!" She saw my high heels in my closet and told me I should wear them when I visit Oasis so that I will look even prettier. She, Jiovanna, and the boys sat down properly at my kitchen table and ate everything they were served. I served the women their plates as well, and we sat on the couch to eat. When we were finished, Cuka tried to wash the dishes but I wouldn't let her. Teresa grabbed the broom and swept up my kitchen despite my protests. Esperanza wiped down the kitchen table. I thanked them for their help, and they thanked me for inviting them.

Next, I brought out my laptop and played a slideshow of the hundreds of pictures I took during Holy Week. I printed many of them and delivered them to the rarámuri, but it's impossible to print all of them, so I took this opportunity to show my guests other photos and videos. We stayed for another hour looking at the pictures, until it was 5 PM and they needed to get going before the sun set. I walked them up the street to the bus stop, then came back home.

The next day I saw my landlady because I had to pay the rent. After I paid her, she said "I noticed some Tarahumara friends came to visit you yesterday." She was obviously curious. "Yes," I said, "I invited them over for lunch. It was a lot of fun." "Yes, some of them are nice people," she replied.

The next day at Oasis, word had spread about my cooking and some other women teased me for not inviting them too. I said the invitation to visit me was open and they could come over to eat anytime they wanted, they just needed to set the date.

Birthday party in Oasis

I have so many stories to catch up on for my blog! Soon I will blog about Semana Santa (Holy Week) and the sewing lessons the rarámuri women are giving me. But in this entry I want to describe a birthday party and an afternoon by a river.

Last week, I mentioned off-hand to Julissa that I would like to have her and her mother over to my house to eat one of these days. Being Julissa, she wanted me to set a date immediately, so after talking to her mother (Cuka) we decided that tomorrow would be the day. I also invited Esperanza and her daughter Giovana, who is one of the little girls that constantly follows me around. The little girls have been excited about this event for days, and I get the feeling the mothers are very curious not only to see where I live, but to see how I cook (ever since I mentioned I didn't know how to make tortillas by hand, the women think I can't cook anything!)

Another important event that the little girls have been looking forward to is Giovana's 6th birthday, which was today. Initially the families were supposed to come to my house to eat today, but Esperanza changed the date because of Giovana's birthday. This surprised me a little, since celebrating birthdays is a Western custom. I had even heard Esperanza mention she wanted to buy a cake for Giovana, and I said that I would bring a little one too.

So I showed up at Oasis this afternoon with a chocolate cake that I picked up at Soriana. I said "Happy Birthday" to Giovana and taught her and Julissa the song. The women were sewing outside their houses, as usual, so I sat down with them to work. Giovana mentioned that her mom had also bought a cake, as planned, and I figured cake would be passed around to friends at some point that afternoon. I didn't know whether to expect candles and singing; I didn't know to what extent Esperanza and the rest of the community had adopted this Western tradition.

I was sitting chatting with Carolina, who just had a baby two weeks ago, when Giovana suddenly comes out of her house and says "Victoria, my mom says to come inside if you want to." I stood up and obeyed as quickly as I have ever obeyed anyone. I know I am in good standing in Oasis, but nevertheless, I have only been invited to enter a home once before. The homes in Oasis are small (two rooms) and usually overcrowded (8 to 10 people living in each home), and I think for this reason the rarámuri rarely invite people inside. I hear this is not the case in the Sierra; there, the rarámuri invite any passer-by to come inside.

I noticed long ago that Esperanza is a woman who likes to run her life and her home in a very particular way. Giovana is trained to ask permission before she goes anywhere, unlike any other child I know in Oasis. Esperanza never participates in drinking parties, she knows how to read and write, and is a very diligent seamstress, which brings her a steady income. Her husband has a steady job in construction, does not have serious alcohol problems, and they only have two children. All of these factors contribute in a positive way to their economic standing, which is evident in the new material Esperanza is able to afford, the fact that they own a truck, and the 5 peso allowance Giovana receives every day. Upon entering their home, I gained more insights into their economic standing and Esperanza's personality. First of all, they own a small refrigerator, which I know from asking around most families do not own. They have a gas stove and a microwave, a kitchen table with four matching chairs, and pink walls. Since most of the other homes are so overcrowded, families tend to use both of their house's rooms to sleep in, which means that most families do not have space to have an actual kitchen set-up. People have to cook by their beds and either eat standing up, sitting on the floor, or sitting in bed. I get the feeling Esperanza is a very careful planner (a "control freak," my mom would say). She definitely lives differently than 98% of rarámuri families in Oasis, and none of her commodities could have been gained without careful planning.

She cooked enough food for at least ten guests. This is amazing, because even though this family is better off than most, they are still classified as "poor" and certainly have to limit their spending carefully. Lunch was traditional Mexican rice, delicious beans with hot dog, corn tortillas, and coke. Esperanza even went out of her way to buy paper plates, cups, and utensils, when she could have just as easily told each guest to bring their own plate from home, which is what is always done for the communal parties. I definitely received some special treatment--I was invited to sit at the table, while most of the other guests sat on the floor. Esperanza was busy serving the children, so she said to me "serve yourself, have as much as you want." I was so honored to have been invited to enter the house, I almost forgot that I got to eat too!

After lunch, Esperanza took out the two cakes and a candle in the shape of 6 out. Her husband came home from work then. He took out his guitar, started strumming it, and asked the children "who knows how to sing Las Mañanitas," the traditional Mexican "happy birthday" song. Giovana was sitting at the table, her birthday cake with a lit candle, just like most other children in the world--and nobody knew how to sing Las Mañanitas. I know it, but I didn't want to sing by myself, and it would not have been easy for the children to learn quickly, so I suggested we sing "Happy Birthday" in English, since it is easy to learn and Julissa already knew it. We did that, Giovana blew out her candle, and Esperanza passed out slices of cake. I had a fabulous time, and it was also fascinating to observe an indigenous family carefully following this Western ritual, and then not knowing the words to the traditional Mexican birthday song. It is the song that any Mexican child learns very early on, just like American children learn to sing "Happy Birthday." But even as these rarámuri children grow up in the city, and are much more Westernized than their relatives who still live in the Sierra, they are still not fully assimilated--far from it. It is always interesting to note what aspects of Western culture the city-dwelling rarámuri accept and what they reject, and what they simply don't know because they don't have access to it.

The party didn't end there. Esperanza surprised and thrilled me further when she invited me to go with her family and some friends to a private nature reserve just outside the city. I of course accepted the invitation immediately. I ran to the store to buy some snacks to share, then piled into the back of the family's pick-up along with the children and other women. One of the women was Esperanza's mother, who is elderly but agile (I had more trouble getting into the back of the pick-up than she did!), speaks no Spanish, and always wears green Mardi-gras beads along with her traditional rarámuri dress. I made her laugh trying to speak rarámuri with her, and made everyone laugh when I accidentally confused the words for potato and man ("reloy" and "rejoy").

The park was small but fantastic. We were the only ones there that afternoon. There is a natural stream that runs through it, and some small swimming pools for children. Esperanza and her husband had bought meat and set about making a "discada," a combination of meat, potatoes and vegetables cooked on an iron disk set over an open fire. I waded in the river, then watched the kids swim while Esperanza cooked, and when the food was ready, they treated me to dinner. Nothing especially interesting happened--just the very fact that I was enjoying a cookout in a park with a rarámuri family was very special. I often wonder what they think of me, and if they understand what I am doing in Oasis every day. They are used to "antropólogos" now, but even so, I often wonder what they make of this kind of "work," if they even consider it legitimate work.

Tomorrow I am having them over for lunch. While we were eating in Esperanza's house today, I said "your cooking is so delicious, I wonder what you will think of mine." She said "we'll see," and laughed. Now I am nervous!! I feel that my reputation as a woman in the eyes of the rarámuri women lies in this meal tomorrow. I want to cook something that requires actual skill, but I also don't want to make something that is too foreign and they might not enjoy. For example, I like to eat grilled chicken and vegetables, and rarely tortillas, but I know better than to not have tortillas present on a Mexican table. I think the menu will be the following: beans (which I have to set early tomorrow), corn with slices of hot dog and a little onion, Mexican rice, and tortillas. This seems like it would be an acceptable menu in their eyes. I hope I can pull it off to their liking!