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!