"Those Who Don't"

"Those who don't know any better come into our neighborhood scared.  They think we're dangerous.  They think we will attack them with shiny knives.  They are stupid people who are lost and got here by mistake...

All brown all around, we are safe.  But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled up tight and our eyes look straight.  Yeah.  That is how it goes and goes."

(Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street, 28)

I'm from the state that has the highest percentage of Mexican Americans.  I'm from the city that has the third largest population of Mexican Americans in the country.  My best friend from high school is Latino.  Not far from my house, there's a gas station where a couple dozen Mexican men gather each morning, waiting to be hired for a day of Manuel manual labor by other men who cart them away in the beds of their pickup trucks.  Two summers ago, I worked in a part of town very heavily populated by Latinos - most of the store signs are in Spanish, and many houses and other buildings are painted in bright, Latin American colors.

Despite all of this, I still feel like I don't have a good understanding of Mexican American or immigrant culture.  Most of the Latin culture I'm familiar with is what I experienced on my mission in Paraguay.  However, since I served south of the border speaking Spanish, lots of people assume that I understand Mexican slang or that I'm a connoisseur of Mexican food.  Especially returned missionaries who served in Mexico.  ("Let's go to this one place... they sell really good horchata!"  "What's that?" I ask.  "Are you serious?"  I'm still not entirely sure.)

I got a very sobering taste of immigrant life a few weeks ago, though, during a phone call with a mission buddy from Guatemala.  Here's part of our conversation:

Me:   "How's work?

José:   "Okay I guess.  It's a lot of work.  You guys (in the US) make more in a day than I make in a week."

He told me how much he makes, and it's true.  Dang.  Later on in the conversation:

José:   "My brother was in the USA for a while; he was in Texas."

(Being from Texas, I got excited and asked him about it.)

Me:   "Oh cool!  What city did he live in?  Did he like it?"

José:   "He was working there, but he didn't have documentation.  The cops found him and put him in jail.  We didn't know what happened - we hadn't heard from him for weeks and we were all really worried.  They deported him and he came home later on."

What do you say to that?  I didn't know how to respond.  I somehow managed to finish the conversation.

That phone conversation, along with The House on Mango Street and La Misma Luna, have helped me understand a little more about this very difficult aspect of Latin American culture.  Life is hard.  There's a lot of distrust going on out there, and I think a lot of it is due to ignorance.  I don't know if there's a solution to everything that's going on or if the whole immigration thing will ever get sorted out.  I only hope that building trust (from both sides of the issue) can help smooth things over.

Favorite

I'm not really what you'd call a 'literature' person.  (Sorry, Dr. Mack, I know that's your thing.)  I read, and I enjoy reading (most of the time), but I'm not a fast reader.  It's a lot easier for me to relate to other types of art.  (But this class is REALLY helping me get more out of reading - seriously.)

I roomed with one of my good high school friends for my first three years of college.  He studied film here at BYU, and continues to do so as a graduate student in California.  While living together, I think some 'film critic' rubbed off on me.  I try to watch movies as pieces of art rather than mere forms of entertainment.  (However, different films serve different purposes - everybody needs a little Nacho Libre every now and then.)  I've also been playing music since I was five years old.  With this background, it's easier for me to relate to sound and visual images than to text.

My favorite thing we've studied so far this semester was the film The Mission.  (As mentioned in a previous post, I may be biased because I served my mission in Paraguay and visited the ruins of the Jesuit missions.)  But as we discussed in class, this film isn't really about the Guaraní Indians.  I think I'd like this film just as much if the setting were a different Latin American country with a different Indian tribe.  It's the message and high quality of the film that gets to me.

The Mission is about redemption - it has one of the best 'atonement' scenes that I've ever seen.  The film makes you think about life and hard decisions and how to treat others.  In addition, it's stunning from an artistic perspective.  It won the Academy Award for Best Cinematography and was nominated for Best Picture.  The film score is equally beautiful - I heard "Gabriel's Oboe" several times before I ever saw the movie or realized that that's where the melody came from.  The music was ranked #23 on the American Film Institute's 100 Years of Film Scores.

Conclusion:  that's why The Mission is my favorite so far.

Agua y fuego

"These things of the water, the mermaid, the golden carp.  They are strange.  There is so much water around the town, the river, the creek, the lakes-" (117)

"I thought about the sins of the town and how the golden carp would punish the sinners.  He would drown them in clear, blue water.  Then we passed the church and I thought about God's punishment for sinners.  He casts them in the burning pit of hell where they burn for eternity... Drowning or burning, the punishment was all the same." (137)

(Rudolfo Anaya, Bless Me, Ultima)

Fire and water are two of the most raw, elemental symbols that exist.  Their contrasting characteristics make them go well together:  fire rises up, water sinks down; fire's heat dries up water, water puts out fire.  There's a very good yin-yang feel about them.

source

In a religious setting, I think most people associate water with "good" and fire with "bad".  For example, fire destroys; the "fires of hell" remind us of punishment and suffering.  In contrast, water soothes and cleans us; we are baptized in water.  Our physical lives depend on it, and Christ talks about "living water".

But are we not also baptized by fire?  Fire also cleanses and purifies, and gives us heat and warmth necessary for life.  Moses saw the power of God in a burning bush, and later as a pillar of fire.  Joseph Smith talked about heaven as a place of "everlasting burnings"; the Bible Dictionary says that fire is often a symbol of God's presence.  Water also has some negative connotations - Noah and his family were saved while water destroyed the rest of mankind.  Lehi's family and the Jaredites had to pass through stormy seas; the apostles were also frightened during a storm while Jesus slept on the boat.  And how often do we hear that nonsense about "Satan controlling the waters"?

source

I think it's awesome how symbols can be used to denote completely opposite ideas.  Fire and water aren't the only examples.  (Snakes are another good one - a symbol for the devil, right?  But what about the brazen serpent and feathered serpent?)  I think that's what's going on with all the water stuff in Bless Me, Ultima.  Water is a precious resource in the dusty desert... how lucky for their town to be surrounded by it.  But remember that one day the Golden Carp will return and flood the city, punishing all the sinners.  Antonio is a mix of the sweet moon water and the salty sea.  "[Is] the power of good and evil the same?" (page 55); power might just be power, and it depends on how we view it - the same for water and other symbols.

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o'erflow,

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie,

My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply.

The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

-Robert Keen