Chepina drives her Quad ATV in the bumpy streets of Sayulita, doing housecleaning in several rental homes owned by Americans in this little surf town on the Riviera Nayarit. I hand her a $100 Pesos (~ $8 USD) tip for her work keeping the house clean these past few days. A big smile lights up her face and her eyes get wet with tears. She’ll use the money to buy flowers for her friend’s funeral. He was found shot dead the night before in a car on the side of the road. This is our first exposure to the reality of violence in Mexico. Chepina confesses that it is probably related to narcotraffic, though she doesn’t know any details. The tears in her eyes are happy ones because she wanted to buy flowers but didn’t have enough money for them… until now.
***
Salvador is the generous neighbor who helped me change a wheel when we got a flat tire. He used to run his own arts & crafts workshop, making mirror frames, lamps and other traditional Mexican objects. At one time he had up to 10 employees and he shipped his pieces throughout Mexico as well as Texas and France. Unfortunately there is too much competition, both locally and from China, and tourists are not buying as much as they used to, so Salvador had to close shop. Now he works as a maintenance man and gardener, mostly at American and Canadian retirees’ homes in “colonies” around San Miguel. He is grateful for the afflux of foreigners because it means jobs for the locals, even if it also caused the cost of living to increase. Salvador has 4 boys and 1 girl. When I told him we had no kids yet he smiled and said it’s important to have kids so you can pass on what you know. The day we took the road to continue our journey Salvador gave me a big hug and said he hoped we would visit again. I know he meant it.
***
The girl walks to me as I lock the door:
– “Hello Sir, are you a friend of Emily’s?” she asks politely.
– “Yes” I lie, unwilling to explain the concept of a rental agreement to a 10-year old.
– “Are you staying with her?”
– “No, she’s not here right now. But we are staying at her house.”
– “My name is Maria José Guadalupe Rodriguez Villalobos.” I get a flashback of The Fifth Element scene when Leiloo says her 15-syllable name.
– “Nice to meet you. My name is Cedric.”
– “Nice to meet you Mr. Cedric” the girl repeats as she trots away.
A few hours later I return home. She appears out of nowhere:
– “Hello Mr. Cedric!”
– “Hello, how are you?”
– “Good. Do you have any ice cream for me?”
– “ … No I don’t have any ice cream.”
– “Will you buy some?”
– “I don’t know, maybe!”
The next day, I get out of the house and hear the sound of small feet on cobblestone:
– “Hello Mr. Cedric!” she grabs my waist for a big hug.
– “Hello, it’s good to see you.”
– “Are you my friend?”
– “Yes of course I am your friend.”
– “He’s my friend” she tells her brother as I walk away.
My faith in the innocence of 10-year old girls is shaken. Thankfully I will be thousands of miles away by the time Maria José turns 16!
Cedric, 09/10/2011
(Journey in Mexico: July and August 2011)
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