Los Cerros The wet boulevard had that sheen that reflects all that is above it. There on the pavement read the small handpainted words, Mexico Lindo. "Ah, there it is," the wife smiles. A little bell tinkles our arrival as we enter, "Buenos Dias," I offer to the familiar figure behind the counter. "Buenos Dias," she replies, her radiant smile welcoming us into the small shop. "Como estas?" she asks. "Bien, Bien, very well, gracias" I reply. A look of vague rememberance crosses her face, "I know you," she says. "Si, the last three years at this time, we have stopped in........." "Oh, Yes! Please, come on in, so good to see you!" The little shop is jam packed with her gathering of articles for the Christmas season, it is so packed, it is hard to simply walk through the aisles. We visit about her wares, the artists who she displays, the new things she has brought from 'back home', her ambitions to join her present business with her teacher's degree, her desire to educate the masses and also to raise her people up. She is an encyclopedia of knowledge. We visit about the Indians of Mexico, her ancestry.......and I offer to her my own discovery some years back that Mexicans are Indians, not Spaniards. "Oh Yes!", she enthusiastically replies, as if to find someone who understands. Across the street is a shop, with T-shirts with Mexican-American themes. One loudly states, that "We are not Hispanics, they come from Spain. We are not Latinos, they come from Europe. We are Mexican..........and then lines describing familiar themes such as "People of the Fire", "The People of the Sun".....etc. Such familiar themes. Behind the counter, an Elder is busy with her hands. She is weaving some sort of tapestry, with quick, dexterious motions. She smiles at me. The wife and the shopkeeper engage themselves in bartering and the sort of back and forth dialogue women carry on during 'business transactions". I wonder over to the Elder. She holds up the tapestry for me to examine. "Bonita", I offer. She simply smiles. She offers the tapestry to me .......confused, I look at her with bewilderment.....I don't understand her words. "She wants you to try the weave", says the shopkeeper. "Oh, No!, I say, afraid of ruining the beauty of the work. She had been using this weave for many years, a very particular weave, from a very particular part of Mexico, how could I learn this weave in only a few short moments? I make some kind of fumbled statement about being too old to learn somethng so complicated. "Viejos?.........Los Cerros!, The Elder replies. We continue our visit and the transaction is now complete, Donald Trump would be no match for the arbitration performed by the shopkeeper and the wife. The wife is happy, and so is our friend. Everything should go so well as their ability to barter. We visit more on our many visits, of the number of years we have been coming here, the many joys and the friends we have made, and our yearly rekindling of these friendships. I encourage the shopkeeper to reach for her ambition, she smiles. "You're never too old,' I say. The Elder nods her assent. I look at the shopkeeper, "Ah, bueno, you understand." The Elder smiles. Again, the Elder looks me with soft dark eyes that dance with the glint of a rain-soaked pavement, her eyes flash her approval. "Viejos?.......Los Cerros." Old?.........The Mountains. "Aaaaah," I get it.....we say our goodbyes with a promise to once again find our way to Mexico Lindo, and our amigas and step out into the streetlights reflected on the boulevard...... Bonita....... The sentiment is, "you're not old, you're never too old, how can you be old? Now, the mountains? they are old......" Comprende? |
"Los Cerros" © wauhilau as posted in
alt.discuss.clubs.public.culture.native-american.benable
on Mon, Dec 19, 2005, 9:12pm (EST-3)
"Mexico Lindo" midi courtesy of Manuel Ferre bead bar courtesy of Greasy Grass "Tejedora" © Cabana Digital