Night of the Radishes: Noche de los Rabanos

We usually don't look, we overlook.

Alan Watts

Diluted by familiarity, it is quite easy for me to look past, perhaps thousands of nativity scenes and Christmas carols in my lifetime of sometimes robotic December activities.
But the radish...this humble vegetable, has given me a new outlook, a new way of seeing the beautiful and humble mysteries of Christmas.
Because the lowly radish is given great esteem here in Oaxaca every Dec. 23. Given center stage and top-billing, a side dish member of the same vegetable family as broccoli, kale, cabbage, and cauliflower...the radish seems to play the same humble part in the Christmas drama much like the working-class shepherds who had important roles in the original story.
What began as a market place ploy, has developed into sheer art. In 1897, the mayor of Oaxaca started the first exhibition of radish art. The tradition dates back to the Oaxacan Christmas eve markets that sold dried fish and vegetables. To give the stalls a unique appearance, vendors started sculpting small radish fiqures and topping them off with lettuce, onions and flowers. And, since 1897, they have specially developed radishes to grow to extraordinary and distorted sizes and colors from white to magenta, from 21 inches to 10 pounds..thick as two liter bottles.
These are not the small rounded shapes you see on vegetable trays or salads. These are the blue whales of radishes.
And so, what began as a competition among vendors and growers, has grown into a unique festival between art and agriculture. The center plaza, or zocalo, in the heart of Oaxaca, fills in the afternoon with local farmer artisans, all trying to win the prize of 12,000 pesos or about 1,200 U.S. dollars. In the last few years they have added strawflowers and cornhusk displays.
There are nativity scenes, Mexican revolutionary heroes, fantasy fiqures, saints...I think I may have seen Sponge Bob!
It is such a magical sight and experience. The huge crowds that linger until midnight seem to be content in seeing the humble and simple radish transform into profound beauty. Gracias, Noche de los Rabanos.

photos: Night of the Radishes

photos: Night of the Radishes

Feliz Navidad!

Epiphany: sudden intuitive realization or comprehension of the essence or meaning of something.

Part of the epiphany of growing older is the recognition that we begin to live on borrowed time at some point, and that we should use that extra time to show appreciation for the gift of it. John Kay

Feliz Navidad y prospero Ano Nuevo!
We have been so blessed in the six months here in Mexico. We consider ourselves fortunate. The gift of sustaining memories of friends and family back home, and the endearing patience and open homes of the Oaxaquenos have given us such an attitude of ' gracias '.
Our God, our friends, the stories of love, the adventures...are much more than we ever deserved or dreamed. Gracias, Que un milagro! Bruce and Katy

'Los pastores regresaron glorificado y alabando a Dios por todos las cosas que habian oido y visto, que sucedieron tal como se les habia dicho.'

The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told. LUKE 2:20

The Virgen of Guadalupe

She is on taxi cabs, playgrounds, taco stands, churches, T-shirts, buses, bars, candies...and she is made from wood, tin, paper, sugar, plastic, paint and bottlecaps. I had no idea she was so affecting, and everywhere in this culture. Maybe there is no other religious symbol and ritual that is shown in so many places and so many ways as the Virgen of Guadalupe? She is a profound force; a strong ritual.
RITUAL: the general purpose is to express some fundamental truth or meaning, bring out emotional responses and engage a group of people to strengthen their common bond.
There are many rituals in our lives that give us meaning: handshaking when we meet a person is a cultural ritual, wedding ceremonies, swearing on the Bible in court, raising flags, etc. Here in Mexico, the Virgen of Guadalupe is such an interesting blend and reconciliation of European Catholic and pre-Hispanic indigenous beliefs and rituals, that gives meaning and links family, religion, politics and national/ethnic indentity. Simply, she makes her presence known...she matters alot it seems, and creates an emotional resonse for many.
Octavio Paz: "There are two beliefs deeply imbedded in Mexican consciousness; belief in the lottery and belief in the Virgen of Guadalupe."
Sandra Cisneros: " That was why I was so angry every time I saw the Virgen, my culture's role model for a brown woman like me. She was an ideal so lofty and unrealistic it was laughable. Did boys have to apsire to be Jesus?"
Bishop Oscar Romero: " Shortly after 'civilization' entered our continent, the Virgen of Guadalupe came to offer a special presence of the church, with her own unique physical presence. She was not a European woman, nor just Indian. She is the expression of MESTIZO, the new race which in that moment emerged in history. And so the brown woman will be from then on also the one who gives unique physical presence to the church on this continent."
A bit of background of " Virgen Morena" (the Dark Virgen)..Nuestra Madre (Our Mother). Ten years after the taking of Tenochitlan, today's Mexico City, by Cortez in 1521, the first fiqure in this story is an Aztec man named Cuahtlatuatzin, born in 1474. He did not belong to the Aztec social categories such as priest or merchant. He was not a slave, but was of a low position who worked the fields and weaved plant fiber mats. He was married with no children.
In 1525 he was converted to Catholicism and baptized with a name change to Juan Diego. Every Saturday before dawn, the locals said he walked the nine miles to the church in Tenochitlan for mass and religious instruction. He walked barefoot, as did all the people of his class, and in winter would wear the common robe made from the fibers of the maguey cactus.
When he was 57 yrs. old, and on an early morning walk on December 9, 1531, he was stopped by light and music. Here he saw a vision of a beautiful dark-skinned woman calling herself the Virgen Mary, mother of Jesus. She told him it was her desire to have a church built on that very spot, and go tell this to the local Bishop Juan de Zumarraga. No easy task, but finally Juan Diego got to see the Bishop. The Bishop asked for some proof of this unlikely vision. Confused and scared, Juan Diego avoided the hilltop of the vision for a few days. But on Dec. 12, while rushing to find a priest for his sick uncle, he took a shortcut across the hill. The Virgen appeared again, and Diego told her that he needed proof. So the Virgen told him to pick the roses of the usually barren hillside and put them in his robe, to take to the Bishop. Juan Diego did that, and while emptying out his robe before the Bishop and others, there was left behind on the robe the perfect image of the Dark Virgen.
The Bishop ordered a small church to be built, and by 1709 the larger Basilica of today was finished. The robe is still there on display.
Why should a form of the Virgen Mary appear to an indigenous man in recently conquered Mexico, and speak to him in Nahuatl, the Aztec language? And call herself 'Guadalupe' a Spanish name? The origin of the word is in controversy. It is thought here in Mexico that the name came about from a translation from Nahautl to Spanish. The Aztec word of 'Coatlaxopeuh', which is pronounced 'guatlasupe', sounds very close to the Spanish 'Guadalupe'. In Nahuatl, COA..meaning serpent, TLA...meaning 'the', and XOPEUH means to stamp out or crush. And in the Aztec mythology, the serpent-god Quezalcoatl was an important figure. Was the Dark Virgen here to crush the serpent? Interesting to note that in Genesis 3:15 of the Old Testament, it is said a woman would step on the serpent's head.
The Virgen was supposed to have told Juan Diego in his native language, " Let not your heart be disturbed. Do not fear sickness. Am I not here, who is your mother? Are you not under my protection? Am I not your health? Are you happy in my fold? What else do you wish? Do not grieve or be disturbed by anything."
Juan Diego lived until he was 74 yrs. old, telling of the vision. When he died on May 30, 1548 he said, " I am a nobody. I am a small rope, a tiny ladder, the tail end. A leaf ".
The imagery of the Virgen is interesting, it merges allusions from Song of Songs 6:10 " I am dark, but I am lovely"..and Revelations chapter 12, " the woman of the Apocalypse, a woman clothed with the sun ". Her face is Mexican, MESTIZO, her dress Judeo-Christian. By combining the imagery and synbolism associated with female deities such as the sun, moon and stars, the colonial image of this new Virgen gained strong importance for the native population. Rather than just purely reflecting European tradition, Guadalupe proved to be a kind, loving and accessible. The miracle was reconized by Rome in 1745.
It was the image of Guadalupe on the banners for Mexican Independence in 1810. The first President of the Republic of Mexico, Manuel Felix Fernandez, after elected changed his name to Guadalupe Victoria. In 1859, the Mexican President Benito Juarez drew up the new laws of dividing church and state, severly cutting back the power of the Catholic church, but he created Dec. 12 as a national holiday, the only religious one to remain.
In colonial times, the Virgen was interpereted as a native and submissive, forgiving mother. Today she is also reinterpreted as a symbol of liberation and action. The Virgen gives ritualistic and real meaning to many.
In Oaxaca, on Dec. 11, 12, people are in the streets and go to the Iglesia de la Virgen de Guadalupe to show tribute, ask for a miracle, or give thanks for one already received. And the usual tradition in Oaxaca is centered around children. Focused on prayers of protection and grace for them. And so, on these two days thousands of girls are dressed in costumes of the indigenous groups and the boys are dressed to look like Juan Diego. Families come with loads of roses and poinsettias to leave at the church.
All the these images, all these rituals are such an absorbing reconciliation of Catholic and pre-Hispanic beliefs. Guadalupe is a huge symbol of popular religion. A feminine metaphor for the understanding of the sacred. Complex and strong, and with a very emotive power and meaning for Mexicans.

Que milagro! Adios, Bruce

Virgen de Guadalupe:pics

Dia de La Virgen de Guadalupe:pictures

Francisca

Classes take place in two locations on Saturdays. We set out from Oaxaca early, about 7:00 a.m. We leave the city and paved roads about 30 minutes later. From there, it’s about 2 hours on winding dirt roads. We occasionally pass through small towns where there may be a telephone, a tienda or a casa de salud (a health clinic). Our drive takes us to almost 10,000 feet in elevation, a 5,000 foot climb from where we started. We end up in the county seat of San Mateo Tepantepec. We drive very slowly through this one street town, making ourselves known to whoever is around. There are always people milling about, it’s polite to greet them and let them know we’re here. After all, we are strangers to their community. They keep a watchful eye, checking on who is coming and going in their terrain. Our first stop is about half a mile downhill from here, to the pueblo of Morelos Uno.

We hike a short distance from the truck and set up class which will last for about 2 hours. The students are all women, anywhere from 8 to 14 will show up on any given Saturday, and always a handful of kids. The kids come with shouts of “Bruce, Bruce, trata de agarrarme!” (Try to catch me). My class is the alphabet group and beginning number recognition. It’s all I can handle linguistically. A young Mexican woman in her mid-20s teaches the more advances women. After class we pack everything up and hike back up to the truck for the half mile or so drive back up the switchbacks.




We end up driving as many women and children, as will fit in the truck; back up the steep narrow hillside, dropping a few off all along the way as we pass the pathways to their dwellings. By the top all have disembarked. All but Francisca.

Francisca is one of our students, a Mixtec woman (one of many indigenous groups in S. Mexico); who knows how old she is? Life can be hard on these people; it can be difficult to tell ages. She is very quiet, shy and timid but she comes faithfully to class every Saturday afternoon in the next pueblo, Cerro de Aguila. I’m not sure why she meets us at the bottom of the hill in Morelos Uno since her destination is Cerro de Aguila; but I have a few hypotheses.
*She may live somewhere between the top and bottom of the hill. It would certainly be easier for her to walk downhill to Morelos Uno knowing she is assured of a ride to the top.
*Perhaps it elevates her in the eyes of her peers to come driving to school in the teacher’s car.
*Resources can be limited in these somewhat isolated communities. Has she realized that we always stop for lunch and of course will offer her some?

It could be any of these, all or none. Regardless she is welcome. We offer her a sandwich, juice, fruit; whatever we are sharing amongst ourselves, we share with her as well.

Francisca rarely speaks. She usually sits alone in the backseat of the truck, in the shade. We take turns checking on her, offering her more juice, a cookie, etc. She always accepts with a soft spoken, “Gracias.” I often try to imagine what she may be thinking?

After what Bruce read me this morning, I’m really wondering what she is thinking! Bruce found an article that deals with cultural mannerisms of many indigenous people here in Southern Mexico. The author pointed out that because food can be a scarcity at times people always eat what they are offered. It would be wasteful and rude to not finish it and have it thrown away.

I immediately flashed to our lunches with Francisca. Here she is sitting in the backseat of a truck with me trying to be polite, from my cultural perspective, and offer her more to eat or another drink. Every time her cup is empty I offer to fill it. From her perspective, she can’t waste it or be rude, so she quietly says, “Gracias.” I keep offering to fill her cup and she keeps accepting. Yet, if Bruce’s article is correct, both she and I have been missing the mark as we try to respond each other from our own limited cultural perspectives.

Bruce and I are here to be open to new things, to learn new ways to perceive the world, and ourselves. To do so we need to let go of old routines and be open to new observations and conclusions; new ways of thinking. Francisca is helping to teach us.

Just one more time

Everyone was sitting in a large circle. Our instructions were to put a piece of paper on top of our heads and try to draw a picture. I couldn’t hear all of the instructions and wasn’t sure if what I did hear was correct so I asked the lady next to me, “Dibuje que?” (Draw what?) “Algo“(Anything) was her response. So I tried to draw a rabbit.

Then the sharing began. One by one each person took turns sharing their picture, who they were and a favorite pass-time. My response was: “Me llamo Katy, este es un conejo. Me pasatiempo es estudiando verbos (no es mi favorito, pero es necesario)”

Hours later on our bus trip home, I was talking to Bruce about the morning. That is a common part of our day. We go over what he heard and understood, what I heard, new phrases, etc; it helps us clarify a lot of things in this new language that we struggle with daily. I asked, “How come everybody had pictures of people, I was the only one with an animal?” This is where clarification helps! Evidently I had NOT understood the instructions and I didn’t even realize that there was a misunderstanding until hours later.

It was an innocent, inconsequential activity but it became more than I could bear. I sat quietly for the remainder of the bus ride home trying to hold back the tears of frustration and embarrassment. Day after day we are faced with new situations. Mostly new words and phrases, but I get SO tired and frustrated of not knowing what is going on, of not understanding, of embarrassing myself. These types of experiences are common, more so than I would like. That day they were more than I could take.

Henri Nouwen describes similar emotions in his book Gracias.
In displacing ourselves into a new and unfamiliar milieu, old, unresolved conflicts often start asking for attention. When our traditional defense systems no longer are available and we are not able to control our world, we often find ourselves experiencing again the feelings of childhood. The inability to express ourselves in words as well as the realization that everyone around us seems to understand life much better than we do, puts us in a situation quite similar to that of a child who struggles through the world of adults.

All too well I understand Nouwen’s words. I know these feelings of helplessness and lack of control, and they can be scary, and lonely. The smallest seemingly innocent circumstances can set off a deluge of emotions leaving you wondering, “Where did all that come from?” However, the opposite is also true: a patient word from a shopkeeper, a friendly bus driver, a kind neighbor can be all the encouragement needed to allow me to brave the unfamiliar just one more time.

But I am not the only person in the world who lives with these pressures. I keep thinking of the many immigrants in my home town that go through this same thing on a regular basis. These people come to California with very little. They work hard to find safe, dependable and honest work. They want what is best for their children. They try to work with an educational system that is not designed to support their linguistic or cultural needs. They often don’t have the resources that I have. I have a bank account to support myself in this country for a year. I have the time and resources to go to language school daily. I have it much easier than they do. Yet these people do what they can to provide for their families in a strange, sometimes unfriendly, country.

So when you are out and about today, be on the look-out for a stranger, for someone with a puzzled, frustrated expression; with a lost-look on their face. Offer them a smile and a kind word- these things are always appreciated and understood, regardless of language. It might be all the encouragement they need to brave their unknown world just one more time; believe me, I KNOW!