Mami and her Tios

Originally uploaded by elenamary.

Summer has begun and I am out of here. Tonight I’ll drive to Kentucky and possibly hang out with Thivai Abhor. In the morning Preston and I are off to Mexico. My friend Laura will be joining us later on. Maybe I’ll even get to hang out with El Oso too?

For you my dear readers this means, that I most likely will not posting with any regularity. I will post what I can when I can. I will be using dial-up and internet cafés, so don’t expect much.

The three poorest states in Mexico are Chiapas, Oaxaca, and Guerrero. These are also the three states with the highest indigenous populations. I will be spending my time almost exclusively in Oaxaca and Guerrero. I do plan on spending some time in Michoacan, my mother’s home state. And some time in the state of Morelos where my grandparents now live.

I hate the area my grandparents live. It is hot, dusty, dry, lots of mosquitoes, and no running water on Tuesdays. I guess I shouldn’t complain at least they have running water most of the time and a toilet that usually flushes.

From Morelos I hope to pick-up my sister and grandparents and take a road trip to my Michoacan, my mother’s state. Michoacan is much colder and I’ll be shocked if it warms-up to the low seventies. I’ve only once visited the house where my mother was born. It took me 3 different trucks and a 45 minute hike. There is no road to her house. The whole region was very isolated until recently when a freeway was laid down right through the state. In this region they speak Spanish and Purapecha. Because the French colonized this area, their Spanish dialect has a very prominent French influence. The food here is also different with a lot more bread (again the French influence). They don’t have Tamales but rather Corundas, honey instead of sugar cane, their empanadas are made with wheat and filled with squash.

The first time I went to Michoacan was the first time I felt truly Mexican, not Pochada, not a hybrid, but Mexicana. It was the first time I had seen a face similar to my mother’s face. It was the first time I talked to people who had grown-up with my mother (my grandparents didn’t raise her). I saw them make gestures and facial expressions like my mother. And in them I saw a part of me. As I went to the house of each Aunt they would open the door and say “¡La hija de Tacha! ¡Has llegado!” “Daughter of Tacha (my mother’s nickname) You’ve arrived” These were the people and this was the place that made the woman who made me.