Thursday, March 15, 2018
Continued from Hopeful Mennonite
It seemed like we were driving to the end of the earth as I watched the main highway fading farther and farther into in the dust trail behind us. Finally, we reached a locked gate with two armed men guarding it. They looked at us for a moment, unlocked the gate and said, “Pasale.”
The butterflies in my stomach began dancing themselves back to life as I admired the incredible maintain view driving up to an hacienda style ranch house. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before. The view was breathtaking. It made me forget about all the worries I had before arriving. I thought, “Wow! I could see myself belonging here.”
We were the first guests to arrive. El Guero came and greeted us. He looked different than the first time I had met him. The first time I met him, I may have been too occupied staring at his odd-looking footwear. I had never met anyone like him before. He was a lot taller than I was. His professionally groomed black hair, mustache, and his unique style made him look Mexican, but his blue eyes and only slightly darker skin tone than mine made him almost look Dietsch. He carried himself tall and confident.
He greeted me by reaching out his hand. I placed my hand in his, and he cupped it with his other hand and held it until I made eye contact. When he pulled my hand up, and I felt his mustache tickle my skin as his warm, soft lips kissed the top of my hand, I thought, “Ha li kringle! What am I getting myself into?” followed closely by, “Oba wuarom lat den so damaschen schmock? (Oh man, why does he have to be so fricken attractive?)”
He shook my brother’s hand and invited us inside to the kitchen where we met Paula and the chef. Paula dropped the tea towel she had in her hands and greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. She turned to shake my brother John’s hand said, “I am so happy that you brought your sister.”
“Anna, come with me. Let me show you around,” said El Guero.
I couldn’t get over how many bathrooms the place had, especially when compared to the one outhouse per property in the colony. When we got to what seemed like the end of the tour, he said, “Come, follow me this way.” I followed him up four flights of stairs, careful on my way up not to brush against the cactus plants deployed on one side of the stairs.
He guided me to a huge bedroom. I hesitated to walk across the shiny terracotta tile floor to go further.
“Come on,” said, El Guero. I continued to follow him through the room past a wood burning fireplace, toward a set of patio doors. The evening sun shone through the sheer curtains. The mild breeze blew the drapes, causing them to wave at me. I parted the drapes and stepped out onto the patio. The incredible view overlooking the mountains took my breath away. I walked past the patio table and chairs to the edge of the black, curved metal railing. I leaned against the edge beside El Guero and looked down at the horses.
“Wow, this place is incredible,” I said as I looked up at El Guero.
He smiled and said, “Isn't it? This is my favorite place also.”
We both stood there admiring the clear evening sky.
El Guero walked over to the patio table, pulled out a chair for me and said in his heavy Spanish accent, “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back. ”
As I watched him walk away, I noticed a shiny silver and black handgun grip sticking out on the side of his belt.
I was mature enough to be able to connect the dots. I remembered that we often heard about lions living in those mountains. I thought, “He must have that gun in case a lion comes and tries to eat us,” and just like that I was reassured that El Guero would shoot any lion that would try to eat me. No lion would stand a chance against him and the two armed men at the entrance gate.
El Guero came back with a beautifully designed one-of-a-kind bottle and two shot glasses. He sat down, opened the bottle, filled the glasses and handed me one. He held up his glass and said, “Salud.” I just stared at him.
“Anna, pick up the drink,” he said as he held his cup up close to mine. I picked it up, he tapped my cup with his and said, “Salud,” again. I watched him take a sip.
“Go ahead, Anna, try it. It's tequila. If you don’t like it, it's alright, you don’t have to drink it.”
“Okay,” I said and took a tiny sip of the tequila. It stung my taste buds, but it instantly warmed up, and it felt like it liquefied my insides. By the time El Guero asked, “Well, what do you think?” I was feeling a bit braver and more curious about him.
“It's different. Gooood different. I like it.”
He smiled and said, “I’m glad you like it.”
I didn’t know what to say. The experience was foreign, exciting, scary, fun, mysterious and awkward all at the same time. I wasn’t sure which of those feelings I should trust. I just continued to look at the incredible view. I slowly turned my head to look at him again. He looked back at me and simply smiled, sat back, and enjoyed sipping away at his tequila. Unlike me, he was very comfortable in his skin.
My inner voice grew louder as the silence continued, “Anna, you are way out in the middle of nowhere in the mountains of Mexico right next to the bedroom of a complete stranger.” I peeked at him again, and my inner voice said, “Yeah, Anna, a very attractive man who has a gun on him, and you are drinking tequila with him!” I held my breath when that reality washed over me, and proceeded to talk myself out of being afraid, “My brother and Paula are downstairs, and more guests are coming--or are they? I’m sure they are. Breathe, Anna!” I inhaled a breath and peeked at him again.
“Are you enjoying your vacation?” he asked.
I cleared my throat and said, “I haven't thought of my trip as a vacation. I have read about vacations, and my trip has been nothing like it.”
“I imagine, this must be strange for you.”
“Well, it’s different. It’s so strange I feel like I am in a country that I didn’t know existed.”
“Have you ever been anywhere in Mexico besides Patos?”
“Yes, I have been to Durango city before, and on my way here I landed in Guadalajara to catch a connecting flight.”
“Do you have any friends here?”
“A few, but I am mostly spending time with my family in the colony. Hamburgo--do you know where that is?”
“Yes, I often drive through there when I go to Esfuerzos Unidos.”
“Okay,” I said and began telling him about the great day I had when I drove to Patos by myself.
After I heard myself say, “I drove to Patos all by myself,” my inner voice said, “He's going to think you are an idiot if that was the best thing about your trip, Anna!” So I quickly added, “And met up with my friend and spent the afternoon with her.”
I paused long enough for him to say, “Okay,” then quickly asked him a question before he could ask me another one.
“How about you? Are you enjoying your vacation?”
“Well, yes, especially after meeting you,” he answered as he made eye contact. And there was that warm liquid feeling in my stomach again. This time I wasn’t sure if it was the tequila. He seemed to get more attractive every time I looked at him.
“Are you Mexican?” I asked.
“Why do you ask?” he asked with his head tilted.
“Ahhh,” I mumbled and scolded myself for asking him that.
“Just kidding, Anna. I get that a lot. Yes, I am one hundred percent Mexican. I just happen to have blue eyes and lighter skin than most around here. Believe it or not, there are many of us out there.”
He sat up straight, looked right into my eyes and said, “Ask me any questions you like, but then I am allowed to ask you any questions I like as well, right?”
“Okay, it’s a deal,” I said, and went for it. “What is your real name?” I asked as I turned red from head to toe.
“I have never met a person with that name before.”
“Okay, wow, that surprises me.”
“Are you Mexican?” he asked out of the blue.
“Wow, you sound sure about that. I am curious to know the reason.”
I thought, “Oh shit! I should have said I don’t know, or yes, but I'm not, so now what do I say?”
He got tired of watching my brain produce smoke trying to figure out how to explain it to him.
“You and I have similar skin tone and eye color, and we were both born in Mexico. I am a Mexican, and you are not?”
“Or wait, let me see your eyes. Can you just look at me for a second?” he asked.
It felt like the bravest thing I had ever done when I just looked into his eyes and let him look into mine until he decided it was long enough.
“Your eyes aren't blue. You have the most beautiful green eyes I have ever seen.”
At that point, my toes were starting to melt, and my inner voice said, “Anna, turn it back to him! Don’t let him ask all the questions!”
I was too late. “I’m waiting,” he said.
“Well, I grew up being told I wasn’t Mexican. It was very clear that we were Dietsch and not Mexican. It was a permanent part of our vocabulary.”
“But your birth certificate says you are Mexican, right?”
“That means you are as Mexican as I am, don’t you think?”
“Ahhh…” I said, and thought long and hard about it before I answered. I remembered the trouble I had gotten into when I told the security guard at the airport that my nationality was German. I had no idea how to defend my answer, or how to explain it. I took a sip of my tequila to buy some more time to think up an answer.
He poured himself another tequila as he waited, and finally he said, “Let me make it easier for you, Anna. Today I declare you a Mexican!”
We both laughed for a while.
“Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself,” he explained.
“It’s okay, I have often wished that I was Mexican. Well, you know, one with different parents, a different name and all. I mean a Mexican that is free from the colony life. You know what I mean?”
“Yes I do, but I think Anna is a beautiful name. What do you wish your name was instead?”
“Isabel Lopez, or something like that. It has a much better ring to it than Anna Wall, don’t you think?”
“Why Isabel Lopez?”
“It’s a long story. It's quite stupid, you don’t want to know. Paula will probably need you downstairs before I am done explaining.”
“Let me tell you something, Anna. I am the boss, and Paula knows better than to interrupt me when I am up here. Especially when I am up here with a guest. We have as much time as you need. I want to know, so go ahead and tell me.”
“Okay, well, it started when things got really hard for me in Canada, and I thought that I was going to die. I began doubting my decision to leave my colony life behind and wished that I could come back to Mexico. I knew that I couldn't simply come back and live in the colony as I had before I left. During that time I watched a lot of Telenovelas, and one of them inspired my idea of coming back to Mexico and living with the Lopez family as Isabel Lopez. You know, the ones that own the groceries store in Nuevo Ideal? Because Mrs. Lopez looks Dietsch, I thought I could easily blend in with that family. I imagined I would have the best of both worlds. I could live in Mexico where things were familiar to me--close, but not in the colony. I would learn to speak Spanish with no accent. I would wear long skirts, big dangly earrings and my hair open while working in their store. The Dietsch people shopping there would have no idea that Isabel Lopez was once Anna Wall. Then maybe I would feel like I belonged.”
I held my breath and waited for him to start laughing at me. When I looked up at him, he was as comfortable as ever, leaning back in his chair, sipping tequila. His calm, relaxed demeanor gave me permission to take a deep breath and enjoy the smoky smell that lingered in the breeze while I took a sip of my tequila.
“Now that’s a Telenovela I might even watch,” he said.
I thought, “Okay, he's just being nice. He would never watch Telenovelas.”
“Did your Telenovela have an ending?”
“Oh, it sure did.”
“Don’t leave me hanging like this. How did it end?”
“Eventually, the Dietsch people learned that Isabel Lopez really was Anna Wall. When the gossip spread like wildfire, they stopped shopping at the Lopez store, and it went bankrupt. The Lopez family blamed Anna Wall for ruining their family business and disowned her. Anna Wall ended up homeless on the streets of Mexico and in the end, got eaten by the Mexican Lobos.”
Thursday, March 1, 2018
Continued from Vamonos Mennonite
Arms linked, Irma walked me to the nearest Farmacia. It was foreign and awkward to be so close to a friend that I felt the warmth of her body on mine. Hunched over and holding my breath, I thought, “Oh this is so weird, what are people going to think? Oh no, everybody is staring at us.”
During the entire walk, I had to force all my energy into allowing myself to enjoy the experience as much as I actually was. Knowing that I wasn’t strong enough push my awkward thoughts out of my head before the experience was over, I dug into my memory of George and the many times told me, “Anna, just give yourself some slack. Relax and enjoy this. And Anna, breathe already—you are turning blue.”
When we got to the Farmacia, I was exhausted. I just focused on breathing and trying to relax my tense body. Irma hugged the pharmacist and explained what medication I wanted to buy. The pharmacist wasn’t interested in Irma’s instructions; he just wanted to know about me and how Irma knew me. I stood there and smiled as Irma explained that we had been neighbors growing up, and how long I had been away.
“Es un placer conocerte, Anna. Qué bueno que pasen tiempo juntos otra vez. (It's so nice to meet you, Anna. How nice that you get to spend time together again),” said the pharmacist as he handed me the medication.
I smiled nodded my head and said, “Gracias.”
Irma hooked her arm through mine again and off we went to the Paleteria La Michoacana. I thought, “Ekj se blos met. I guess I'm just going with.”
We walked across the street to the park, sat down in the sunshine and enjoyed our paletas before they melted.
We reminisced in an interesting mix of sign language and words about the good old days of our childhood as neighbors.
After I got back to the colony, I made my delivery to Uncle Jake, who was thrilled that I had brought him everything on his list.
I felt much better about being in Mexico. I had reconnected with a dear friend, pleased a family member and proved that I could drive to Nuevo Ideal and back all by myself.
It turned out to be a great day, and it was only getting better when my little sister Maria came running toward me shouting, “Anna! Anna! Justina and Helena Bueckert are here to see you!”
I had decided that the Bueckert girls would never speak to me again after hearing all those rumors that were going around the colony about me.
I had missed those two girls so much. I spent many sleepless nights regretting not having listened to them when they tried to convince me that I was making a big mistake leaving the colony. At that moment I was doubting my decision again, as I did every time I felt like I didn’t belong in the new places I went to. It seemed like my life had been nothing but awkward and uncomfortable since leaving; even coming back was awkward and uncomfortable. I certainly didn’t feel like I belonged in the colony anymore.
I was thrilled that they had come to visit me, but at the same time nervous about facing them. At that moment I was glad that Mom had made me put on a dress. It would have been even more awkward having to face them wearing jeans.
“Are you coming? They are waiting for you,” said Maria.
“Okay, okay yes, I'm coming.”
My heart was pounding as I walked over to receive them. I fought back my tears as I saw them standing there so close to me. I had an incredible urge to hug them, but I controlled myself and reached out to shake their hands instead.
Maria guided us into her room and told us to sit down. We sat down and just stared awkwardly at each other for a while.
Maria came back with a bowl of oranges, peanuts, and chocolates.
“It's so good to see you, Anna. I'm so glad that you came home,” said Justina.
“It’s good to see you too. How are you, girls?” I asked, and it was like no time had passed as we conversed about all of the Sunday afternoons we had spent together.
“We are still doing the same thing,” said Helena with a sad look on her face.
“We are still waiting for men from other darpa (villages) to come and visit us, but hardly any come to Hamburg, even though they drive cars now. We’re never going to be able to get married,” said Justina. Helena agreed.
“Oba, nea! Are you saying that Sunday afternoons are still as hopeless as when I was part of the group?” I asked.
“Ha li dietschjat! Anna, you have no idea. They are worse now. Especially since you left.”
“Yes, not even Aaron Neudorf spends time with us here in the colony since you left.”
My heart started racing when they brought up Aaron. I figured, “This is perfect! I can fish for information without being too obvious.”
“Ahhh, that’s a good thing, right?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean because he is a schwien noagel and you don’t want him around.”
“Well, he doesn’t even like us. We heard that he is dating a Mexa mijal (Mexican girl).”
“What? I had no idea.”
“Yeah, you see how hopeless it is? Aaron would rather date a Mexa mejal then either one of us.”
“Oba!” I said and reminded myself that they might not know Aaron the way that I did.
That’s when I had to really bite my tongue, because I realized again just how separated we were from the people of the world in the way we thought about things. My experience in Canada had allowed me the freedom to think that it would be okay to go out with someone who wasn’t Dietsch. But in the colony, it was still ‘them’ and ‘us’--the thought of dating someone non-Dietsch was incomprehensible. I thought to myself, “Crap! Am I ever in big trouble.”
“I don’t know how you have done it. I mean live alone in Canada,” said Justina.
“Weren't you ever scared?” asked Helena.
“Well, it hasn’t been easy, but since I have been going to school, it's getting easier, because I am able to do so much more on my own. Sometimes it's still scary, but now that I can speak enough English to get by, it’s easier to figure things out. Since learning how to read and write I can learn how to take care of myself so much better.”
When they looked at each other with confusion on their faces, I realized that I had lost them. What I had just shared with them would have never crossed their minds, or mine before I had experienced it.
In the colony, you go to school until you are the age that you are done school, and that’s it. Whether you know more than when you started school is beside the point.
“I mean, it’s scary and hard for us here too sometimes, right?” I said.
“YES!” They both said.
Just as I took a big bite of my orange, Helena said, “We heard that you are not going back to Canada, that you are going to stay home.”
I almost choked on my orange as I asked, “What? Who is saying that?”
“We have to get going now,” said Justina.
“Okay,” I answered, and followed them out the door. I walked with them to the gate of our property line.
“Dan lot scheengon,” they both said.
“Junt uk. (You too.)”
At the end of the day, when everyone had gone to bed, I lay there wide awake, staring at the flickering light of the oil lamp on the ceiling and wondering who was spreading rumors that I was there to stay. The next day was New Year’s Eve, and I had a decision to make. Was I going to the dance with the tall, dark and handsome cowboy, or was I going to El Guero’s ranch in the mountains?
I imagined the conversation with my mom in my head: “Ahhh, Mom, I am going to a dance with a Mexa jung (Mexican man) tonight.”
“Oba nienich! (Never!)”
“Mom, a strangely dressed, light-skinned, tall, attractive, blue-eyed Mexican man nicknamed El Guero invited me to his New Year’s Eve party at his ranch in the mountains tonight. What should I wear?”
“Oba waut dreement die nicht noch aules? (Oh no! What else could you dream up?)”
“Hey Mom, eena Mexa mejal (a Mexican woman) invited me to a dinner at a ranch tonight. John is going too, and I would really like to go with him.”
“Nah jo, mool seen. (Okay, we’ll see.)”
Yes… I hoped it would be just like I imagined it.
The next day it was the usual madness of cleaning the whole house from top to bottom with Pine Sol, baking tweeback, and butchering chickens for noodle soup the next day.
I assisted John in catching a few chickens, and held them down while he chopped their heads off. I figured there was no better opportunity than that to run my plan by him. He agreed that I should tell Mom that a “Mexa mijal” invited me to a dinner, and that he was going anyways, so I could tag along with him.
It had been a long time since I had butchered chickens, so while Mom demonstrated how to rip the guts out of a chicken properly, I told her my plans for the evening.
My heart was pounding out of my chest. “Mom, a Mexa mijal invited me to a dinner tonight. John is going too. Can I go with him?”
I held my breath and thought, “Please don’t say ‘We’ll see what dad says’.”
Dad hadn't said much to me at all. It was clear as mud where I stood with him, and I imagined his answer to my request would be clear as mud too.
“Nah ekj glive me es dot endont. Blose nich to loot wach bleven (Well, I think I’m okay with that, just don’t stay out too late),” said Mom.
In spite of the chicken-gut stink, my stomach began to feel warm and tingly as relief washed over me after Mom’s answer had sunk in. But my warm and tingly feelings immediately turned to guilt, knowing that we weren't going to be too late. Instead, we would come home really early the next morning.
At the end of the day, everyone had had their baths and all the chores were done. Everyone was busy doing their own thing. My parents took my youngest brothers to Schoendarp to visit my older, married sister. My younger sisters went to visit their friends.
The house was quiet and the smell of Pine Sol still lingered in the air. I got emotional as I recalled the many happy memories I had of my childhood in that house. I realized that most of my happy memories were associated with the smell of Pine Sol. At that moment I felt included, instead of pushed aside because I had plans of my own. I was being allowed to do something that I wanted to do. At that moment I felt like I was home and I belonged there.
I put on my dad’s radio and listened to Santiago’s radio station La Tremeda while I had my bath. I went through my suitcase looking for an outfit to put together for the party, something that was not a pleated Mennonite dress. I had no idea what would be appropriate to wear. I chuckled as I remembered my purple dress experience with George, and how dressing struggles seemed to follow me wherever I went. Finally, I just put on my jeans.
I didn’t have any makeup, so the all-natural look was my only choice. I combed my hair, grabbed the magazine my brothers had brought from Cuernavaca, went outside, and sat in the sun to let my hair dry.
While I was enjoying the peace and quiet, flipping through the magazine and attempting to read about actor Joaquim de Almeida’s role in the film One Man's Hero, Javier pulled into the driveway.
All dressed up and smelling amazing, Javier gave me his usual cowboy greeting of a hat nod and said, “Hola Anita, como estas?”
“Oh no!” I thought, “Now I have to tell him that I'm not going to the dance with him.”
“So tell me, Anita, are you ready to dance with me all night and until next year?”
I turned red like a tomato, and my heart sank when I made eye contact with him.
“I’m sorry, but I am going to a party with my brother tonight instead.” I held my breath.
“Don’t worry, Anita, I understand. It was wishful thinking on my part, but I will see you later at El Guero’s ranch then,” he said. He did his hat nod again as he turned and went to see my brother John in the garage.
All I could do was inhale a breath, or I would be sure to pass out.
Javier left, and John went inside to get ready. He came outside dressed in his best cowboy clothes, matching ostrich skin boots, and hat. “Ready?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“Okay, vamonos pues. (Let's go then.)”
I followed him to the pickup.
“I spoke to Javier yesterday, and I told him about our plans. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Ahhh…no, no, that’s okay, I guess. I was wondering how he knew.”
When John said, “You know we're not coming home until next year, right?” my heart sank to the dusty ground. I thought, “I really hope this will be worth the trouble I will get into tomorrow.” Click here to continue reading my story.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Continued from Misfit Mennonite in Mexico
It was no secret that Abram, who is a year and six months younger than me, had some hostile feelings toward me and my situation.
“Why shouldn’t I go to this party?” I asked him.
“Because then people in the colony will spread rumors about you.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“Oh, you know, that you are a schtruntz (slut)!” he shouted.
“Oh really? I thought that was old news. I have been a schtruntz ever since the first time someone saw me talking to a long-haired schwein noagel in Canada.”
“Exactly! You need to behave in a way that proves otherwise. Mom and Dad should have never let you go in the first place!!!” he yelled.
“You’re right, they shouldn't have, but they did, and I can’t turn back time. Sometimes I wish I could! What am I supposed to do now, live like this forever?”
“Live like how?”
“Letting others tell me what I am, what I can and can’t do when they haven't got a clue about what is really going on?”
“You asked for it the day you left all of us!”
“I asked for this?”
“NO! I didn’t!”
“YES, you did!”
“NO, I didn’t!”
“YES!!!!! You did!!!!”
“NOOOOOOOO!!! I didn’t!!!!!”
John couldn’t stand it anymore, and he intervened, “Okay, stop it you two! Caray (wow), you two sound like a couple of kids. “
I walked away and went to the outhouse. That seemed to be the only place I could be by myself. The outhouse on my parent's property was located right beside the barbed wire fence that separated uncle Jake’s property from my parents’ property. Occasionally I peeked through the space on the side of the outhouse where the wood panels met, to make sure no one needed to use it. I sat in there wishing that I could make myself disappear. I imagined living by myself at the mountain where a short time ago I had discovered a slice of the feeling of belonging, feeling connected to the universe and the nonliving at the same time. I imagined myself living without people at the mountain, alongside the crows and donkeys.
“Oh George, where are you right now? I miss you so much. I could really use your company right now. When I leave this time, I am never coming back!” I thought to myself.
I opened the door, and the brightness of the Mexican sun blinded me. I wiped the tears off my face, pretending that the sun had caused my tears.
Uncle Jake saw me and waved me over. I climbed through the barbed wire fence and went to see to him.
“Hey Anna, how’s your visit so far?”
“I think I'm going bonkers. How about you? Are you almost ready to go home?”
“What do you mean, go home? We are home, aren't we?”
“I think I have the flu. I feel very ill. Could you do me a favor?” asked Uncle Jake.
“Oh no, that’s too bad. Sure, what can I do?”
“Could you go to Patos and pick up these items for me?”
“Ahhh, me, driving your pickup in Mexico?” I asked.
“Well, yes, we are in Mexico, right?”
“Anna, believe it or not, driving in Mexico is the same as anywhere else.”
“Okay, I will just go and talk to mom first.”
“Okay,” he said, and handed me a list, money, and the keys to his pickup.
I explained to mom what Uncle Jake had asked me to do and she said, “Okay, can you bring a bag of pink icing and a jar of coffee?”
“Sure,” I answered. I got so excited about the idea of being able to drive to Potes myself that I felt warm and tingly on the inside and my heart began racing. I loved driving by myself. I had learned that sitting behind the wheel and driving was the best form of therapy for my torn, frustrated, and lonely feelings. Not only was it was the best form of independence I had ever experienced, but I did my best thinking while behind the wheel. My thoughts spoke clearly, and they made sense in whatever mixed up language they were. I often thought, If only I could voice my thoughts the way they are in my head while I am driving.
My glimpse of new-found hope turned to despair when mom said, “But, one of the boys should go with you.”
“I knew it!” I thought.
“Mom, would it be okay if I went by myself?” I asked.
“You want to go all by yourself?” she asked.
“Yes, I do. I would love to go all by myself.”
She looked at me like I had just landed a spaceship from outer space right there in front of her with no apology for the disturbance I had caused while doing so.
“Mom, I traveled all the way from Canada to Mexico by myself. Please just let me drive to Potes by myself. I will be fine.”
When she said, “Nah jo (Okay),” My George-influenced brain thought, “F#ck it!” as I lost all control, and hugged her. She stiffened up so much that it felt like I was hugging a concrete statue. I was a bit embarrassed for her, but I was okay with my decision. The one thing I was sure of was that for a hug to be effective, both parties had to be willing participants. I compared the experience to my relationship with Aaron Neudorf.
On my way to a slice of freedom, the distance between me and Uncle Jake’s pickup seemed too far. My feet felt extremely heavy as I made my way to the pickup. I never looked back. It felt like I was climbing my way out of a dark hole before I got sucked back in. It was like the sort of dream where you are running toward something you so badly want, but you’re standing still in one spot. You gain new hope when it feels so real, but when you almost get there, you wake up. This was really happening—I was awake and fully aware. I put the key in the ignition, placed my foot on the brake pedal, and turned the key. My heart was pounding out of my chest as I slowly lifted my shaking foot off the brake pedal and placed it on the gas. “Anna, eyes straight ahead!” I thought as I left my entire family in a cloud of dust.
When I turned onto the highway and drove away from the colony, I let out a scream I still had inside me from my earlier frustrations. After I listened to my thoughts say, “Anna, you sound like an idiot,” I got busy becoming one with my thoughts while miles of desert land whooshed past me. The feeling was unlike any I had experienced up to that point. I was collecting and storing my experiences to keep with me forever and ever. Every time I experienced something that made me feel like I just might be okay, I reminded myself that it might be short-lived.
When I drove into Potes and passed a few buggies, I told myself, “Do not make eye contact!”
I decided not to go to Centro Valle, where I was guaranteed to run into Mennonite people who would recognize me. I drove to the new purple grocery store that had opened since I left.
I successfully parked Uncle Jake’s pickup in front of the purple store while a large group of Mexican men watched me. They could very well just have been admiring Uncle Jake’s ‘fancy Texas pickup,’ but my bad attitude decided that they were waiting for me to hit someone or something, proving that I wasn’t cut out for this.
When I stepped out of the pickup, a few of the men whistled at me and yelled, “Guerita Preciosa!”
I pretended I didn’t even notice them while I enjoyed a bit of new-found confidence about my successful parking job. I thought to myself, “You didn’t think I could do it, did you? Bunch of cabrones!” And just like that, my confidence fled the scene and left me stranded and vulnerable.
With uncle Jake’s list in hand, I walked into the grocery store. Before I began shopping, I stopped to look at the list:
ü Pork chops
ü Tequila (El Jimador)
ü Auguameneral (sparkling mineral water)
ü Panque de nuez (Nut bread)
ü Salsa Valentina
ü Saladitas (soda crackers)
ü Caldo de Camaron (shrimp Mr. Noodle cups)
And, medication I couldn't pronounce.
When I looked up, every eye in the store was on me. I slowly made my way to a cart and grabbed it. I began looking for the items on the list, pretending that being stared at didn’t bother me one bit. When I turned into the salsa aisle, there was a Mexican woman looking at me and whispering to a man. It was obvious they were talking about me. I thought, great! This is just great! And my already bad attitude got worse. “I thought at least the natives would be on my side, but noooo!” The woman began to smile as she made her way toward me. I quickly looked away and began looking for Salsa Valentina.
“Anna! Anna! Eres tu?” she shouted.
“How the heck does she know my name?” I thought.
When she got closer, she looked so familiar, but I couldn’t figure out who she was.
“Anna! Soy yo, Irma. (Anna! It's me, Irma.)”
“Sí, sí, soy yo. (Yes, yes it's me.)”
“Irmaaaaa!” I yelled, and she leaned in and hugged me.
I was overjoyed. Irma had been on my mind since the moment I got off the bus at the colony. When I saw that the house where she grew up was abandoned, I thought that I would never see her again. We had a lot of history. I believed that because she taught me the Spanish alphabet, I was able to learn English the way I did, and find all those words in the English-Spanish dictionary, and learn them. She had no idea how much she had helped me by doing that, or how much I loved her for that. The fact that I was standing in that store at that moment, I owed to her.
At first, I was speechless. Then I began babbling on in a mix of Low German and English, while Irma stood there and stared at me. She didn’t understand a single phrase that was falling out of my mouth. It seemed to me that she wasn’t even trying to understand me. Not even the word “okay.” It was hopeless. I had no choice but to dig deep for my Spanish words, if I was going to communicate with her.
I asked her if she was shopping too, and she explained that she was the owner of the store and the man that I saw her whispering to was her husband. And that’s when my half-ass Spanish language began to confuse her. Just like so many other times, I couldn't explain myself in a way that the other person understood.
She asked what I was looking for. I looked at the first item on Uncle Jake’s list and said, “Chuletas de cuerpo (body chops)” but I meant to say, “Chuletas de puerco (pork chops).”
When I realized my mistake, we both laughed, and she said, “Quieres comprar chuletas de cuerpo de puerco? (You want to buy pork chops from the body of a pig?)”
I thought, “Oh man, this sucks! Why am I always on this end of the language barrier? Why can't others learn Plautdietsch for a change?”
“Caramba! Irma! You should have learned Plautdietsch—you grew up in a Mennonite colony, after all. Yes, that’s what I want to buy,” I said.
She stood there with a blank stare on her face again, until I said, “Sí, sí, así es (Yes, yes, so it is).”
We both awkwardly laughed for a moment, then she reached out her hand and asked, “¿Puedo? (May I?)” I handed her the list. She looked at it and said, “Por favor sígame. (Please follow me).”
I followed her around the store while she placed everything I needed into my cart. It took a whole five minutes.
“Que tal esto? (What about this?) I asked and pointed to the name of the medication on my list.
“Deberá ir a la farmacia para eso (You will have to go to the pharmacy for that),” she explained.
“Okay. Thanks,” I said.
“Pero espera, no te vayas todavía (But wait, don’t leave yet),” she said.
I stood there with my arms stiffly crossed. Irma yelled something to her husband about putting the chuletas de cuerpo de puerco back into the freezer, as she grabbed her purse. She slid her hand through my stiffly crossed arm, firmly tucked me close to her side and said, “Vamonos amiga (Let's go).” Click here to continue reading my story.
Friday, January 5, 2018
Continued from Mennonite girl problems
I woke up in the middle of the night from the echoing sound of a coyote howling nearby. My body, tired and aching from all the physical labor of washing the laundry the day before, kept me up. My mind wandered off to a place it had gone many times before. “I should have been born a man.”
Those thoughts were never calming enough to allow me to fall back asleep. When I finally heard mom roaming around in the kitchen, I decided to get up right away and test her to see what would happen if I wore my jeans again. When mom’s eyes met mine, she said, “No! Go put on a dress!” I turned around, went and changed into a dress. That was just the beginning of my day, proving my thoughts right.
While doing chores, I contemplated best ways to convince my mom to let me go to the New Year’s Eve dance with Javier, the Mexican cowboy. I had a feeling that my brothers and many other men from the colony would be at that dance, and they wouldn’t have had to ask anyone. They would just go. My thoughts got very loud and angry.
When my older brother John came inside, I just stared at him, hunched over by the handwashing sink washing the black oil off his hands. I scolded myself, “Anna, don’t hate your brothers just because you aren't one of them!”
While he was drying his hands, he asked if I was enjoying my visit. I just stared at him and said, “Ummm…,” I answered.
That was such an unexpected question. I sensed that John was feeling sorry for me. We stared at each other in awkward silence as I desperately searched for a meaningful answer. It was so complicated I couldn’t answer him simply.
“Hey you know, we just fixed a truck, and we need to take it for a test drive. Would you like to come?”
I got all excited and shouted, “YES! I would,” and asked, “Where are we going?”
“To Patos. Aka Nuevo Ideal. We want to go and eat tacos de tripitas (beef intestines).”
And just like that my excitement left me, “Ahhh okay, yeah, I’ll still come, but I am not eating tripitas!”
Mom giggled as she overheard me say that. I asked her if she had ever eaten tripitas, and she said, “Oba nienich! (Never!)”
We both looked at John, and he said, “You don’t know what you are missing. They are delicious.”
“No thanks, I’ll pass,” I said as I followed him out the door to the pickup.
Riding along the highway in the pickup with my brothers was incredible. The experience was indescribable. That never would have happened before I left. It almost brought tears to my eyes.
As soon as John parked beside the taco stand in front of Hotel & Suites Nuevo Ideal, I felt out of place. There was a crowd of very well dressed tall men in shiny shoes surrounding the taco stand. None of them looked Mennonite or the type of Mexican men I had seen before, but then again I had been gone a long time, and I was practically still a kid when I left.
My Low German thoughts decided, “Dot sen utlanshe mana. (Those are outlandish men.)”
One of the men came over and greeted us right away. He knew my brothers, and he introduced himself to me as El Guero and shook my hand. As he shook my hand, I figured his nickname could be El Guero because his hands were as white as mine and he had blue eyes.
I turned red like a tomato after I heard myself say, “Soy Anna, la hermana. (I’m Anna, the sister)” as I pointed to my brothers. The way I said it, it sounded like the start of a song. I held my breath and awkwardly looked around wishing for that moment to pass already.
“He visitado el taller de Juan muchas veces, pero nunca te había visto antes. (I have visited John's garage many time, but I have never seen you before?)”
“Vivo en Canada. Solo estoy de visita por las vacaciones. (I live in Canada. I am just visiting for the holidays.)”
“También estoy aquí solo por las vacaciones. Vivo en Indianapolis Minnesota. De acuerdo, eso lo explica. (Okay, that explains it. I'm also here just for the holidays. I live in Indiannapolis, Minnesota.)”
John placed his hands together, rubbed them up and down as he said, “Okay, let's go eat some tacos de tripitas. I’ve been craving them for a long time.”
“Well, you guys go ahead! Enjoy. I’m staying in here,” I said.
Not only did I think that I didn’t like tacos de tripitas, I just couldn’t picture myself standing in a group of people on a sidewalk, holding a plate of tacos in one hand while trying to hold a taco in the other and eating it. I pictured nothing but awkwardness and salsa dripping everywhere. I thought, “Oh their shoes! They won't be that shiny when they are done eating. And all that ironing their wives or mothers did for them will be such a waste. What a shame! Ah, kringel! I'm thinking like this because I am not one of those men and I’m quite jealous. But, still, I would need both my hands, free to eat tacos, with lots of napkins by my side.”
I stared at El Guero’s shiny shoes as he came walking back toward me in the pickup. I couldn’t figure out how his shoes could stay that shiny in such dry and dusty desert lands.
“Anna, why aren’t you ordering tacos?” He asked.
My English and Spanish got all mixed as I explained to him that I wasn’t hungry and he began speaking English to me.
“I have invited your brothers to my New Year’s Eve party at mi Rancho. I would love it if you could come too. You see all those people over at the taco stand?”
“Yes. You mean all those men?”
“Ahhh, yes, those are all my friends and family members. They are all coming to the party.”
“Wow, that sounds like a lot of fun, but I can’t come.”
“Well, because I am a girl, a Mennonite girl. People in the colony would… Ay caramba! I can't even imagine what would happen.”
“Yes, I know about your people’s strict ways, but Anna, you look like a grown woman to me, and I think you should decide for yourself if you want to come to my party or not. And don’t worry, there will be plenty of women at the party.”
“Okay, well, ahhh…”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward, but when I heard you say that you are a girl I just couldn’t help myself.”
I chuckled and said, “Okay.”
“Why don’t you come into the hotel lobby? My cousin Paula is in there talking to the chef and making a list of food were going to serve at the party. I’d like to introduce you to her.”
“Does she speak English?” I asked.
“Ahhh she speaks Spanglish, kinda like you just did. I'm sure you will be able to communicate just fine,” he explained, and we both laughed.
“I shouldn’t go in there. If the wrong person sees me go in, I will get in big trouble.”
“Okay, I see how this is going to go,” he said, and suddenly everyone including El Guero and I turned to look at the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in real life, stepping out of the hotel lobby. She looked like one of those telenovela actresses.
“Guero! Necesito hablar contigo (Guero! I need to talk to you),” She shouted.
“Ven aquí Paula (Come here, Paula),” El Guero yelled back at her.
Every single eye followed her as she made her way to me. “Anna, meet my cousin Paula,” said El Guero.
She shook my hand and said, “It’s really nice to meet you, Anna.”
“Likewise,” I said.
“Anna, it's too hot out here, why don’t you come inside?” asked Paula.
I looked at El Guero, and he winked at me. My heart dropped to my feet as I thought, “Oh no! You didn’t just wink at me!” and just like that, I was accompanied by George in my mind.
I felt so underdressed and embarrassed to be seen in that crowd with my dust-covered shoes.
In awe of Paula’s beauty, I followed her and El Guero into the lobby of the hotel. “While you two get acquainted, I will go make us some drinks,” explained El Guero.
“Okay,” Paula said, as she waived her hand gesturing him to leave. She turned back to me and said, “Let me get this straight, you are Juan El Mecánico’s sister?”
“I am thrilled! Finally, a Menon (Mennonite man) brought a sister along for me to hang out with. Juan El Mecánico just became the coolest Menon in Nuevo Ideal.”
“Okay,” I said awkwardly.
“So tell me everything about yourself. I have been to your colony many times and how come I have never seen you before?”
After explaining my story to Paula, she hugged me, held on to my shoulders and said, “You really need to come to the New Year’s Eve party, in fact, this party should be dedicated to you for your incredible bravery.”
“NO!” I said.
Paula changed the subject and began telling me about the food she was planning on having the chef make for El Guero’s New Year's Eve party. My mouth was watering, as my desire overwhelmingly blanketed me with the temptation to go to that party.
El Guero brought Paula and me a drink and sat down beside me. I took a sip of the drink. It tasted almost as good as it felt going down. It made my taste buds sing a happy song in Spanglish. After each sip of the drink, I felt a little braver, and my worries about being seen by the wrong person in that lobby faded further to the back of my mind.
I enjoyed the Spanglish language conversations and was eager to keep them going. It was fun. It made us laugh, and it took the pressure off of me having to pretend that I spoke Spanish.
“What is this drink?” I asked El Guero.
“It's my version of the vampiro.”
“Well, it's delicious, thank you.”
“You're welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
Every once in a while I noticed every man that came from the back room of the lobby seemed to have the sniffles when they came out.
“So, where exactly es tu Rancho?” I asked El Guero.
“It's just a few kilometros fuera de Nuevo Ideal (kilometers outside of Nuevo Ideal) past a few small mountains detrás de una gran montaña. (behind a big mountain) .”
“Okay. So, entonces el lugar es un secreto? (So the place is a secret?)”
“No, not necessarily. At least not for the ones who know where it is,” he said and winked at me again. I quickly looked away and took the last sip of my drink, and when I looked back up, my younger brother Abram stood beside me. “Okay Anna, it’s time to go now,” he said.
I put my cup down and said, “Okay.”
“It was really nice to meet you, Anna, and I will see you at the party, yes?” said Paula.
“It was nice to meet you both and thanks for the drink.”
“See you at the party, Anna,” said El Guero.
On the way back to the colony, I talked to my brothers about going to the party. John didn’t seem to mind as much as Abram. He didn’t think that I should be allowed to go.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you are a woman. That’s why.”
“Really? That’s the only reason?”
“Well, and you don’t know those people.”
John said, “I’m going to that party, and if mom says you can go, I’m okay with it.”
“John, can you help me convince mom to let me go?” I asked.
“Sure,” he answered.
“Mom will never let you go anyway,” said my younger brother Abram.
“If only I would have been born a man, life would be so much easier for me.”
As John said, “Ummm, I don’t know about that,” I remembered, “Javier! How will I explain to him that I would rather go to this party in the mountains than go to the dance with him?” Click here to continue reading my story.