Kindergarten Day at the Pool

The day after the Oasis graduation, the school sponsored a day trip to a water park just outsideof Chihuahua. Only the kindergarten and 6th graders were invited to attend, along with their parents and sponsors; the rest of the classes had smaller parties at places like McDonald's and KFC. Esperanza invited me to attend the day at the water park, and of course I went. Not only was I excited to go on yet another trip with the rarámuri (they are always fantastic bonding experiences, and I learn so much), I was really looking forward to a day at the pool. The average temperature in Chihuahua in the summer, just like El Paso, is about 100 degrees F. So it was a nice break to conduct my "field work" for a day at a pool rather than in the dusty settlement!

There is a small water park just before the Chihuahua city limits, with two large slides and three large swimming pools, including one for children. It is located in the middle of the desert, just off the highway that takes you to Ciudad Juárez. There are a few ranch houses and fields that grow cotton and alfalfa, and chains of mountains line the highway just miles away. It really is a small oasis in the middle of the desert: the pools are large and clean, the water is cool, and the view of mountains and open deserts just beyond the park is spectacular.

Jiovana and I wading in the childrens' pool

We had the park to ourselves. Three rarámuri mothers accompanied the group, along with six teachers. In total, we were about 25 people with the entire park to ourselves. That morning, I wasn't sure if I was going to swim, since I doubted the mothers would get into the pool; and if I did, I knew it would not be in my swimsuit, but in shorts and a t-shirt. The ráramuri are very modest and I would have felt extremely awkward wearing my swimsuit in front of them, even if they are all women. When we got to the pool, the mothers said they were not going to get in, just as I suspected. They stayed by the edge of the pool and watched the children play. I sat with them for a while, but after 15 minutes I couldn't withstand the temptation and I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and got into the pool with all the children. One of the jokes among the women is that I am a "teweke," or little girl, despite my 24 years. I initially earned this teasing nickname because I am 24 years old and and still husband-less and child-less, but over the course of the year I solidified the nickname by my behavior with the children--we run, play with toys, and even play-fight all the time. That day was no exception--I jumped straight into the pool and spent the day playing with the kids and screaming on my way down the water slides. After a while, a few of the teachers joined me, so I wasn't the only adult acting like a kid!

Rosa Angela's little boy had too much sun and fell asleep on the cool deck right before lunch.

It was such a treat to watch the rarámuri kids enjoy the pools. It is very rare that these children get to visit a park like this--most days, the children play in the arroyo behind Oasis, or on the street amidst all kinds of dangers: broken glass, speeding cars, drunks, drug addicts, and once in a while even a woman who comes around offering to buy rarámuri kids.

I think the mothers got a little bored sitting on the edge of the pool for almost eight hours. At one point they wandered to the back of the park and started filling plastic bags with weeds and grass. I knew immediately what they had found: guasoli, the edible herb that I sometimes accompany the women to search for in arroyos throughout the city. Some of the teachers were asking each other what the women were doing, and I was able to explain to them. It was

hilarious--trust the ráramuri to spot edible herbs in the unkept edges of the water park.

We were there until 6 PM, and I returned to my apartment with a glorious sunburn and feeling like a kid. It was a nice break from daily life for everyone who went.

There were three large pools for adults, one childrens' pool with games, and these two fantastic water slides. I must have gone down each of them about 20 times that day!

Esperanza and some of the teachers eating "carne asada" and "discada" for lunch.

The women didn't swim. Instead, they watched the children swim and chatted in the shade.

Jiovana wading in the childrens' pool.

In the afternoon, we returned to Oasis and told Julissa about our day. Her class went to KFC for their party earlier that day. The Kinder and 6th grade were given a bigger party because their graduations were greater milestones.

Oasis Elementary School Graduation

When Oasis became a government-sponsored rarámuri settlement in 1974, one of the government's first projects was to build an elementary school exclusively for rarámuri children within the walls of the settlement. Prior to its inception, rarámuri children attempted to enter the neighborhood elementary school, but discrimination by mestizo teachers and children discouraged rarámuri children and their parents from attending. Building the exclusive school inside the settlement was the government's solution to providing the rarámuri children with education in a safe environment. Moreover, the school is supposed to reinforce rarámuri identity by providing half the education in their native language. Textbooks are in both rarámuri and Spanish, and most of the teachers have rarámuri roots. I have mixed feelings about this system. On the one hand, it's great that the rarámuri are encouraged to learn their language in a formal setting (although most of the schoolday tends to be in Spanish, since all of the teachers are actually only conversant in rarámuri, despite their roots). On the other hand, building separate schools does not solve the original problem of discrimination. So while the Oasis school may reinforce cultural identity, it does little to help rarámuri and mestizo children build relationships.

Despite my misgivings about this system, there is no doubt that the school inside Oasis has a very important impact on the social structure of the community. Several times this year I had the chance to observe the ways in which the Oasis community gathers together for events sponsored by the school. The biggest event, which most Oasis rarámuri regard as equally important to Christmas and Holy Week festivities, is the graduation ceremony which takes place at the end of June each year, when all Mexican elementary and middle schools let out for the summer. When I asked about important events to attend in Oasis back in October, when I was first starting my field work, all the rarámuri I spoke to mentioned the graduation along with all the other festivities.

I marked the graduation in my calendar months ahead and had plans to attend as a guest, but two weeks before the graduation Esperanza asked me to be Jiovana's "madrina," or godmother, for her kindergarten graduation. In Mexico, it is customary for students who are graduating from important grades--such as kindergarten, middle school, and high school--to have a sponsor, which they call a "madrina" or "padrino." The sponsor's responsibilities are to attend the graduation and walk their student up to the podium to receive the diploma. It is also customary to give the student a gift and perhaps some encouragement or advice for the next step in their education. When Esperanza asked me to be Jiovana's sponsor, I was sitting on her front step sewing a skirt that I planned to give Jiovana. She approached me and said, "do you want to be Jiovana's sponsor for her kindergarten graduation? I asked all my sisters, but none of them had enough money." I asked her what she meant about the money, and she explained that the school was asking each sponsor to contribute 100 pesos to help pay for the event. I was thrilled to be asked and immediately agreed to do it.

I arrived the day of the graduation with a gift and a pair of sandals in my bag, since Esperanza had told me she would lend me one of her dresses to wear for the ceremony. For the first time ever, she invited me into the back room of her house, the bedroom, to change (previously I had only been in the kitchen). She gave me three dresses to choose from: a black and white one, a brown one with small colored flowers, and an orange one, which is the one I ended up choosing. She also lent me a traditional belt, and I wore my own sandals. It was very fun wearing a traditional rarámuri dress and the women got a kick out of seeing me in it--they laughed at me, complimented me, and talked to me in rarámuri.

The ceremony itself was very nice, with each class performing a different dance for their parents and government officials that showed up to support the settlement. The kindergarten and 6th grade, being the ones who were ending an entire phase of schooling, danced waltzes. I walked Jiovana up to the podium to receive her kindergarten diploma, then handed her her gift: a Disney princess school kit, two yellow bows for her hair, a headband, and a box of crayons. It was a great moment, I felt like part of the community.

After the ceremony, which took place on the basketball court, the school sponsors a dance. For days, there was a rumor that the party would not take place because of the recent murder, but the teachers got a police officer to agree to be present throughout the entire event and they were able to hold the traditional party until 10 PM. The party is what really draws most people to the event, but unlike the Christmas and Holy Week parties, during which most mothers will put their children to bed, the children were allowed to stay up late to dance, play, and eat alongside the adults.

Participating in the graduation was a fantastic experience, and I hope to see Jiovana continue to graduate for many years to come. A few days later, her sister graduated from a mixed middle school, an impressive accomplishment. I definitely have plans to keep in touch with Esperanza and her family when I leave Chihuahua, which will happen very soon.

The 1st Grade class posing for a picture on the basketball court inside Oasis with their teacher.

Me and several rarámuri girls who were graduating that day. I was asked to be the "madrina," godmother, to Jiovana, the little girl in the red dress. Her mother said all participants would be wearing rarámuri dresses, so she lent me the beautiful orange dress I am wearing.

Posing with several girls graduating from 3rd grade. Julissa is the one in the orange dress with white headband.

Jiovana and I inside her house, and the first time I was invited into the back room. Previously I had only been invited into the first room, which is the kitchen, to eat. Esperanza photographed us.

The Kindergarten Class waiting to receive their diplomas.

Before the ceremony began, every class performed a dance. These are the 3rd grade girls, who performed traditional matachin dances (ritual dances performed during December) along with the boys in their class.

The 3rd grade male matachin dancers.

Rarámuri girls graduating from 6th grade, the final year of "primaria," or elementary school. Next they will be integrated with mestizo children in the neighborhood "secundaria," or middle school. These were my favorite dresses of the night; the design is very elaborate with the repeating triangle patterns. Every year, the girls in each class get to decide what their "uniform" will be for that year; that is, they decide what their class dress will look like, and then their mothers sew them each the same dress.