Back to School!

Everyone in the house is going to school today. Some new students arrived yesterday from Spain and Australia, and they are leaving early for their Master's courses in International Studies at CUCEA campus of the Universidad de Guadalajara (a short light train ride away). All the girls in this house are also going to school today. Uniforms pressed, lunches made. I smell the coffee being made at this very moment. The other day I went to Santa Cruz, a small town about an hour northwest of Guadalajara on the Ruta Tequila with Lorena, the host mom in my house, and her daughter Vanessa. After taking a year off of school (Im still not sure how that happened, but they told me she decided to stay with her father for the year; he lives in Santa Cruz), she is returning to her last year of secundaria. In Santa Cruz she and her mom met with an older aunt who works as a seamstress. It was important for Lorena to return to Santa Cruz to save money on uniforms (in fact before this she had been quite stressed out about the price of tuition -- they go to private school). When we went to the aunts house, she took out her measuring tape and took Vanessas measurements and there ensued a struggle over the hemline. Vanessa wanted it short; her mom said no. The aunt mediated the conflict, using four fingers above the knee to measure what she thought would be appropriate. Both daughter and mother agreed, then we moved on to dinner with Lorenas sister.

Feria Patronal Atolinga 2010

You may note that I made the trip to Atolinga, Zacatecas and Agua Zarca, Jalisco on August 3 to attend the fiestas but haven't yet described those fiestas, instead focusing on family, dwelling space and movement. The fiestas were nonetheless the main motivation for the massive return to Atolinga from the US at this time in August (as revealed in the license plates belying the origins of vehicles as far away as California, Alaska, Washington, New York, Texas and Illinois). It's common for towns and cities to have their ferias and these can happen at any time of year. Usually, though, these kind of ferias patronales happen once a year, bringing back old and young, men and women, even second-generation children without their parents (unusual because many kids come only because of their parents and then enjoy it all in spite of themselves). I've also heard they are scheduled at a time that makes sense for the US members of the community -- sometimes because they contribute organizational funds.

It was the Feria Patronal (July 30 - August 10) that initially brought me to Atolinga at this time as a guest of Chavo and his family. I'm not sure how long these fiestas have been going on, so I'll have to ask around on my next visit. I didn't attend all the events, because I often felt pulled in different directions, stretched between the Lienzo Charro and family at the Rancho, or between sleeping in after a late night and going to visit family members down the street. Because I felt obligated to party as much as the twenty-year-old's -- and pushed myself to stay awake after 1am (without drinking as much tequila, mind you), I wasn't able to get to know older folk as much as I wanted (partying late at night requires sleeping in!). This will have to come on my return trip to Monmouth and my second trip to A/AZ. Ironically, this full participation may have distracted me from the larger cultural context that lay at the heart of my investigative voyage.

The Feria Patronal Atolinga 2010 begins one week before August 7, the day to celebrate Saint Cayetano. The formal, printed program reads chock full of events: theatre, beauty pageant (two candidates presented themselves on the cover of the program - Liset and Janett, but I heard that Liset won), music (including a talent show and a American idol-like performance on the main stage next to the square), sports (volleyball, soccer and basketball), the Lienzo Charro, carreras or horse races at Laguna Grande (a wetlands area about 10 mins outside Atolinga), rodeo (tickets sold for the benefit of the San Cayetano Parish), folk dances, la corrida or running of the bulls, banda groups like “Comillo Norte” (Northern Fang) and “La Skandalosa” at the town auditorium (recently inaugurated, according to Chavo's grandfather), mariachi bands and even more bandas, again at the town auditorium. In addition to being on the formal program, banda bands are hired for an hour or an evening at a time lining the plaza or town square, often within feet of other groups. The end result is that five or more bands, dressed in a variety of colorful costumes, play simultaneously throughout the night. Older folk who pass by don’t often stay very long often, not seeming to care for the blaring brass band sounds. A young people's music?

A stroll (una vuelta or un paseo) around the plaza is quite common. Couples hold hands and walk slowly around or groups of friends strut as others look on. In the past (and the strolling seems to be an ancient ritual), men would eye women they found attractive, and possibly find a match there. The plaza becomes more and more densely packed as the week goes on until, on the last night, it is virtually impossible to move amongst the crowd (one friend mentioned this was because outsiders came from surrounding towns on this night, having heard about this renown fiesta). At this time, two friends in town began to sell parking spots, hanging big vinyl cloths with the letter E marked to announce estacionamiento.

Snacking folk eat tacos in stands lining the plaza and chat with friends they haven't seen over the last year (especially if one or the other lives in the states) and, lest we forget, drink tequila. Younger folk, all gussied-up in Cowboy boots, rodeo shirts and hats (for men at least) and high heels and short skits (for women – I was usually under-dressed) gather in groups, and bring bottles of tequila and Squirt and drop them in the middle of the circle for everyone to share. Members of the groups who gather around the square seem to have gotten to know each other over the years; many live in other places – in the US – during the year and come home for the fiestas. Few live in Atolinga year-round (a subject for later discussion).

Los bailadores (dancers) show up at 9 or 10 after a few tacos adobados. They may walk around the plaza a few times and catch up with friends, but the dancing occupies most of their energy, so forceful and loud that there's little possibility of having a conversation. Banda groups dominate. If there were a musical equivalent to a frijol salterín or jumping bean, this would be it. Its rhythm is absolutely non-stop – clarinets, trumpets, trombones, tubas, saxophone, bass drum and snare drum. The clarinets and tubas make it unique (and caused me to lose my hearing in my right ear one night); while the tuba resonates with a deep, reliable and solid oompapa sound echoing the polkas from Northern Mexican and tejano music, the clarinets offers a crazy pico de gallo flavor sounding much like a chicken pecking and rounding around in circles. Players wear the same uniform with the name of the band on the back. Couples dance closely something like the Texas two-step, and, every now and again, fancy it up with a turn or two. The most fascinating (and yet troubling for the female dancer) step in their repertoire seems to be la quebrada; this literally translates to the breaking, but means the lead dancer, the male, will dip the woman down almost near the ground then shake her body once or twice. It looks pretty cool when others do it but feels rather like a roller-coaster when you are the female being dipped!

Quinceañera

Today is the fiesta for Vanessa's 15th birthday. Vanessa lives at 77 Cruz Verde, one of Lorena's five daughters. Lorena and Charlie manage a few properties in this area, quaint turn of the century properties renovated for rental (mostly by foreigners). Our house hosts two Americans (Qiana, an English teacher and myself), one French woman (Aurore), one German woman and one Mexican man. Oh and just arrived from Spain is Elisa, a Master's student in International Studies at UDG.

The five daughters are not currently in school but start on Monday. We took a trip to Santa Cruz, Lorena's hometown, the other day to order uniforms with Lorena's seamstress aunt. And I got to meet most her family! Since I arrived, the girls have been pretty happy to wake up late in the morning, lay around and chat, and help their mom clean later on. But they are sweet and talk to me and laugh with me. It was Vanessa's bday a while ago, so Qiana and I gifted her a manicure a few days ago (and took her to the salon de belleza). I am not sure I'll offer any other presents, but will probably help out with the preparations.

It's customary for Mexican families to really do it up for this bday (sorta like the sweet sixteen in the US, a coming out party). When our Fulbright group visited the Basilica de la Virgen de Guadalupe in Mexico City, for example, we witnessed what seemed to me to be an extravagent quinceneara with the girl dressed in this beautiful, flowing royal blue taffeta dress. I remember that Julia Alvarez wrote a book about this rite for girls in the US, and I really need to read more about it.


Lorena told me she waited to hold the party until tonight because I was out of town in Atolinga. I don't know if that's the real reason. She also told me her family doesn't have enough money to do it in style (I've heard it is common for families to spent $10,000 in the US), so they are renting a juke box and setting up tables and chairs for a meal (of course a very meaty meal of arrachera, adobado, etc). This seems pretty cool to me!

Going academic: friends and methods

Over the last few days I have begun to make inroads at the Universidad de Guadalajara. I met Hugo, the History Professor with a literature background and friend of a former Spanish professor of mine who had led a 6-wk study abroad program of students from the University of Texas here. Hugo had also spent time in Austin teaching in the Department of Spanish and Portuguese and then a fellowship at the Benson Latin American Collection. At my professor's request, Hugo helped me immensely in finding a "home" for me at UDG and procuring a letter of support so that I could complete my Fulbright application. Fortunately, he was quite persistent in the whole process and cared about getting things done on my behalf. I don't think I could have done anything without him.

We met Tuesday at 1pm at Cafe D'Val on Moreno, just a few blocks from my house, then went to El Pargo (supposedly this is a Mexican fish found on the Pacific Coast, a kind of red snapper) for mariscos. It was a delicious meal - the best were the shrimp empanadas and then dessert (something like a creme brulee, but I cannot remember the name of it!). He said I should feel free to ask him whatever questions necessary, and asked about my research. He said he had previously worked up on Colotlán (which is not far from Tlatlenango), so knew Atolinga by name, and felt that the research was quite important. In addition to teaching Spanish to foreign students at an institute called CEPE (attached to UDG), he also teaches a undergraduate course on anthropological methods. In addition to talking with anthropologist friends in the US, I think I can consult with him in the future if I run into problems or barriers of some kind (in terms of methods).

Today at 1pm I met my contact, Sergio, a professor of Comparative Literature and the Department of Literary Studies at UDG and at the Catedra Julio Cortazar. He confirmed that I would be offering a brief course on Immigrant Voices in American Literature in the fall, then would collaborate with him on a Comparative Literature course in the spring. The building where he works -- the Catedra -- is absolutely splendid. It was funded originally by Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Carlos Fuentes, who still visit, especially in November during the Feria del libro (an event I am very much looking forward to attending). He asked if I wanted an office but I said it wasn't necessary, because I will be in and out so much. I can always work in the computer lab or in the library. He took me around the various offices and introduced me to colleagues, the director and administrative staff.

We then met Humberto in the DEL (Departamento de Estudios Literarios), who teaches courses on literature, intercultural issues, and Mexican identity (amongst many other subjects!) at UDG and ITESO (a reputable, private, Catholic university in Guadalajara). Since his research and teaching are all over the map (the sign of a true intellectual, perhaps? of course, if it is, then that justifies my own wide range of interests!), it was a fantastic opportunity to share my research ideas with him; he had all sorts of thoughts about social space and identity in Jalisco, reiterating what Prof Zamudio at UDG had told Fulbright fellows during his lecture in June--that it was a conservative state with an extremely repressive, religious history, and that people likewise tended on the conventional side. Humberto mentioned first that there are only Independence heroes from this area and no heroes of the Revolution (a significant difference since Independence, unlike the Mexican Revolution is today considered to have brought about a change in leadership but not one in the power structure) and second that one of two bishops in all of Mexico is located in Jalisco (the other in Mexico City); that this repressive history can also be seen in the history of the Cristero Rebellion (the church against the government following the Mexican Revolution, in 1929) -- in fact two of the canonized priests came from Tamastian near Atolinga (I will delve into that in a later post); that Jalisco receives incredible support from the Vatican because it remains a geopolitical center for the Catholic church, and that one of the largest groups of priests worldwide is educated here. Of course I will integrate this historical and political perspective into my writing about Atolinga. About that specific region of the state, he added that there was very little mestizaje there - that the colonial and colonized populations remained distinct. I will look more at this issue in my readings.

On a different topic, he also taught me a few new things about "norteamericanos" (Americans, as we call ourselves, but I'm never comfortable with that terminology), who apparently live in huge numbers in this region, especially retired folk who seek a temperate climate and a less expensive lifestyle than in the US. He believes this cultural presence has injected the city with a US outlook on things and changed it very physiognomy--its architecture, urban space (he told me a story about the space of the Cathedral... which I'll have to look up later) and even clothing (that people from the US had changed people's historical modesty, which, he said, dated back to Arabic influence on Spain). I am too much of a recien llegada (newcomer) to verify what he said but I will definitely try to test his hypothesis. He seemed to think this would be a great research topic.

I spoke with my friend K today, who is leaving soon for Mauritania to conduct dissertation research. She studies anthropology at the University of Indiana. We didn't talk long but she had so many good ideas for a method of doing research that would engage people in Atolinga. When I told her I may want to volunteer at a school there, she said that perhaps I could ask teachers (or do it myself) to have kids write on themes related to their community: their family, their horses or cows, their home, etc. With their permission, perhaps, we could also create a photo or a video project. I could distribute cameras for them to record their experiences. Eventually, if we also did this on the Monmouth side of things (with the help of teachers like Ana and Todd Franks), there could even be a traveling exhibit compiled from both perspectives. The exhibit could go to Monmouth after Agua Zarca. It could also be a way for people to gain a bit of income. Finally, we thought of creating a website where we would create interactive maps and identify places where people lived, as well as attractions such as names of rivers and regional landmarks (on both sides of the so-called border). When I go back in October, I would like to discuss this with teachers in AZ.

Moving between, part 2

The family house in Agua Zarca, painted a bright orange matching the home in Atolinga, remains vacant but the one in Atolinga is inhabited by Tío Jaime, Tía Carmen and their children, Victor (2 yrs old) and Maria (4 yrs old), who leave one room on the ground floor and one room on the second floor open for Chavo’s parents, Don Luis and Doña Mari, or so it seems. Don Luis’s sturdy maroon Chevrolet truck, recently adorned with a rosary hanging from the mirror, is stored in the garage during their absence and the empty room or two in the house await their summer sojourn. Both homes were mentioned as places for retirement once the time came for Don Luis to stop working at the meat processing plant. One day when we visited the rancho, I think the same day we went to Temastián, he and Mari took me across the street from Tía Maria and Tío José’s home to see their home, with a wire corral fence at the start of the driveway for security and cercas or walls made of stones demarcating different rancho territories. Although they hadn’t lived here for more than twenty years, they returned to this house several times when they came to Atolinga/ Agua Zarca. This particular time they showed me the bedroom (with blankets and sheets still made up) and the yellow kitchen, including the comal built into the wall, and the fenced-in grassy area in the back of the house, which Don Luis said he hoped one day to use for horses. Clearly this place housed memories for the couple, perhaps even deeper ones than in Atolinga. This may have had something to do with the fact that Don Luis grew up on the rancho and lived across the street in what is still his father’s home. I would like to ask him more about this space and growing up here: the feeling of reconnecting to this community even though he has spent most of his adult life away from it, in the US. I would like to ask him how much he feels he has changed (Mari grew up on a rancho not far from here. Even though her mother and stepfather now live on the same street in Atolinga, she is primarily connected to Agua Zarca through her husband’s family). I would also like to explore the meanings of family - what does it mean when a woman joins her husband's family and a man his wife's? In this case, how did these two families end up living on the same street? And why did we spend most our time with the husband's family? Was it just coincidence?

Moving between Atolinga and Agua Zarca

Members of Chavo’s family live part- or full-time in Agua Zarca, a rancho about 15 minutes from Atolinga. There are three different paths to get there. Either you go by car down a recently paved road (which traveled several times sitting on chairs in the back of his father’s Chevy), or you take an unpaved, rocky path leading to the paved road just outside Atolinga. The third way we took one evening as the sun set, begins on the second path, then forks off onto a trail, the second half of which is infested by mosquitoes due to the nearby polluted river. The movement back and forth between the two places seems a common pattern for families of the area and families who hail from this neck of the woods but live in the US; they may have one property or two, and return usually once a year to – often during the fiestas – to take care of land, renovations and relatives. Those of the family who permanently live in Atolinga inhabit a few houses and often visit the rancho; even though Chavo’s paternal grandparents still own their rancho there in Agua Zarca, the corral in back of the house is primarily used for Tía Maria’s dairy and queso fresco (fresh cheese) making.

Tia Maria and José live next to this property and across the street from Chavo’s parents’ house in Agua Zarca, which they look in on every once in a while, cleaning out the wasps or sweeping up dust and feathers from birds who have swooped down through the light shaft in the roof of the ceiling. Chavo lived in this house when he was a toddler ages 4-5, and went to the school across the way-- now painted electric green. I have a few pictures of the schoolyard because one afternoon Chavo and I climbed up on the painted brick wall surrounding it. On account of this unique perspective, we took photos up there of one rambling and one jogging cow, and two men on horseback. When I posted this last photo on my website, later a friend from Monmouth saw it and told me he knew one of the men in the photo. He asked me to visit his friend, a coach in Agua Zarca, and say hello. I'll surely do that on my next visit.

A few days later we played at the school volleyball as part of a team led by one of the younger men who permanently lived in Agua Zarca, Salvador, who came back from Monmouth about four years ago. Though I was the least competitive member of this team, the experience of playing in the schoolyard with the overgrown grass (school’s out!) as the sun became a darker and darker shade of mauve was not to be beat. I definitely plan to find out more about kids’ sports clubs in the area like this one.

Tamastián

Tamastián hosts the sanctuary of El Señor de los Rayos, a beautiful Cathedral attracting pilgrims at all times of the year (but especially for the annual peregrination here from January 3 to the 12), which we visited one day with Chavo’s parents. Chavo’s cousin Nina drove us there with her daughter whom I held in my lap on the way there as she alternately munched on a warm egg taco and put her pacifier in her mouth (much like Maggie Simpson, we remarked, she actively sucked on it until she fell asleep in my arms). Once we arrived, we went down a white, painted path (for pilgrims to kneel on) until we entered the place. Chavo’s parents knelt to pray, and we walked up to the altar area and sat in the pews. I stared at the towering Virgin Mary figure to my right and wondered, as I have many times since coming to Mexico, about her immense importance here. After a while Chavo’s father guided us into the room of milagros, which was filled from floor to ceiling with different ofrendas of thanks to saints who, at one point or another, protected people in the community from suffering. One of the older ofrendas dates back to the 1911 and the most recent was from this year. Don Luis mentioned that long ago he had hung an offrenda in El Señor de los Rayos but he no longer could locate it. I forgot to ask him the reason why he had done so and when. Previous to entering this room, I had only read Jorge Durand and Douglas Massey’s book Miracles on the Border: Retablos of Mexican Migrants to the U.S. (Tucson, Arizona University Press, 1995); I hadn’t experienced a room so packed with retablos (according to its Latin etymology, retablo means “tabla detrás de un altar”(“tabla” meaning plank, board or table). In the Mexican context, these originated during the colonial era (16th-18th centuries) as a folk painting or drawing depicting some kind of divine intervention; the artwork is considered a form of ofrenda or offering to the saint responsible for producing the miraculous result, for saving the victim.

We walked around the room and there were many retablos of thanks for the graduation of a daughter or son from high school or college (not a few were schools located in the US – a handful from Illinois), or for their survival of a horrific accident or operation. As Chavo and I wandered amongst these popular expressions of artistic gratitude, I admired the sheer power and unifying force of religious belief in that room. My fascination with the gory quality of the works almost pulled me from painting to painting, from collage to collage and diploma to diploma. Sometimes it seemed to me that the more grotesque the event the higher its aesthetic appraisal. Some retablos included additional images of a bloody, bruised Jesus figure as if to recall that the person’s suffering was not in vain. Attached are two photos; one of a retablo painted in 1963 and the other from Lake Geneva in 1973 (in thanks for saving the victims of a truck accident). Interestingly, almost a week later, I would attend the Amador Montes exhibit entitled “Retablos” at the Museo Regional de Guadalajara, a contemporary reworking of the theme of the retablo incorporating Oaxacan (and Japanese, I think) themes. I will attach photos of his exhibit here and comment more here. Chavo and I attempted to discuss the meaning behind Montes’ use of the form of the retablo. Although I’m not sure we reached any elevated conclusions two days ago at the Museum, I’m fairly certain I’ll return to these questions at a future date during my stay in Mexico.

Atolinga, Zacatecas

Los arcos de Atolinga, gateway to the town from Tlatlenango

Heather here! In this blog I've fashioned myself a cigarra, cigale, or cicada -- that is, a musical creature humming and buzzing with perpetual movement. I began this blog while in Tanzania in 2007-8, which is why you won't see a lot of entries since then. I'd like to continue it here in Mexico to observe and document my adventures and experiences. I received a Róbles-Garcia Fulbright Scholarship to teach and do research in Guadalajara, Atolinga, and Agua Zarca, Mexico for the year. I will be teaching a course on US immigrant literature at the Universidad de Guadalajara (UDG) starting in November, and have already begun research in the field, en el campo. After some tales from rural Atolinga and Agua Zarca, I will circle back to the present in Guadalajara.

Mi llegada

Arrived two nights ago from a week in Atolinga, Zacatecas, a town of about 3000 permanent inhabitants, located just over the state line from the northernmost area of Jalisco. On August 3, I traveled by Omnibus from Guadalajara to Tlatlenango, Zacatecas to meet my friend Chavo and his family there. In Tlatlenango we shared mariscos and gulped down a sweet and nutritious licuado of milk, banana, granola and nuts (we opted out of the tiny speckled golondriz eggs) while strolling around the market and noticing the word for cream is joque (a cream reminiscent of lait caillé), then took the combi from there to Atolinga in the company of Isa, who, having grown up in Bloomington, Illinois, had returned to Atolinga with her brother for this special week. On the trip there we rode up until we reached a kind of mesa and commented that, with the sunset colors, it seemed a kind of paradise or tierra prometida. Biblical references aside, I felt honored to finally see Atolinga and meet my friend’s family, who opened their arms to me for the week. By entering into their lives there during the feria patronal (a week-long series of fiestas devoted to San Cayetano and culminating in the siete de agosto) I got a glimpse into the town and its customs and feel ready to tell, from my perspective, select stories about the people I came to know this week – people who either live there or return there from the US during the fiestas.

Historia de los lugares y del paisaje

Atolinga is located in southern Zacatecas, whereas Agua Zarca is in northern Jalisco. People living in the towns regular cross state lines. The two states share many features, one of which is their high degree of outmigration (although supposedly Zacatecas currently outranks Jalisco), and the northern region (called El Norte de Jalisco) has looked more often to the city of Zacatecas than to Guadalajara as its cultural center. Following Independence, writes one historian, power networks were established by elites with little connection to the center of Jalisco, converting la región norte de Jalisco into a zone of refuge similar to those of the Coras and Huicholes in the Northwestern part of the state. The absence of economic development in this region meant that, in the 20^th-century, campesinos would depend strategically on the migratory flows of Braceros to the United States for their survival. In the last fifty years, migration to other parts of Mexico and emigration to the US has completely de-structured the regional society in the North of Jalisco, even in spite of high birth rate, these migratory flows leaving the region virtually empty.* (in the following section, which I am currently drafting, I will describe the history and geography of the region, as well as its shifting cultural identity).     

* Eliseo López Cortés, “Cambio sociocultural en la sociedad regional del Norte de Jalisco. Un modelo de análisis longitudinal.”