sensory overload

Almost 11 months later, I'm once again sitting in the Lutheran Center in the south of Mexico City surrounded by a years worth of belongings, paralyzed into inaction. I don't yet have the words to explain the feelings of gratitude, joy, love, humility, peace, and calm that have characterized my YAGM experience. Instead, I'm going to try and get out of my own head space (generally a good call for me) and honor the places and people I've known and loved. The places and people I will ineffably miss. The places and people I can't imagine leaving in a few short hours.

At our May retreat, our country coordinator, Lindsay, had us reflect on the various sights, smells, sounds, tastes, and textures that we encounter in our daily life in Mexico. In my final days in Tlaxco, I consistently returned to that exercise. I wanted to invent a full sensory Go-Pro that could record everything I tasted, saw, heard, experienced and felt (patent pending). I am terrified that as I touch down in the US and return to the life I left behind, slowly my memories of Tlaxco will grow less vibrant. I hope some of these words can guard my senses of Tlaxco, mis sentidos tlaxquenses, in my heart and consciousness forever.

I invite you all to spend some time with me walking though my community and experiencing my sentidos tlaxquenses. 

visto:
I see the tree covered rolling hills that surround Tlaxco on all sides.
I see Popocatepetl e Itzaccihuatl the massive volcanoes which greet me every morning as I walk down to the garden from the patio of school.
I see altars honoring La Virgen de Guadalupe, as she watches over her pueblo Mexicano bringing a message of inclusion, justice for the oppressed, and radical love.

tacto:
I touch little hands as we walk down to the Rio Zahuapan. I hold them as little feet skip across rocks to the other side of the river bank. I hold them as we walk down the hill after school, chatting about what our mamás are preparing us for la comida. 
I touch dense, fertile, moist tierra. I break up clumps of soil creating a smooth and porous plant bed. I pass rich compost through a sifter to naturally fertilize our hortaliza. 
I touch my right cheek to the right cheek of friends, family, acquaintances and strangers as we greet one another or part ways.

olfato:
I smell the sharp scent of moisture of the natural construction materials used to create the 5th and 6th grade classroom. It's either that or the smell of 5th and 6th grade boys.
I smell fresh wood, sawdust, and varnish that wafts through the house from my host dad, Salvador's, carpentry shop.
I smell cinnamon as it boils on the comal, creating delicious and beautiful te de canela that amazingly enhances the flavor of Los Portales brand instant coffee.

gusto:
I taste homemade blue corn tortillas, as they come fresh off the comal from Doña Josefina's kitchen, across the street from the escuelita.
I taste tangy, spicy, fresh, delicious salsa verde.  I put it on tortillas, tamales, chicken, beef, eggs, spaghetti and basically everything else imaginable.
I taste the sweet, rich, milky, cinnamon-y atole de arroz con leche. If the love of family could translate into a taste, it would taste like atole de arroz con leche. It's a taste that wraps you in a blanket of familiarity and comfort. It helps that it's usually accompanied by the joy of community and a deep and rich post meal sobremesa with loved ones.

oido:
I hear the melodious laughter of 56 children as they play futbol, joke with one another, listen to a silly story from their maestra, and revel in the purest joys of life.
I hear Rocío, my zumba instructor, as she shouts ¿Cómo vamos, chicas? (How's are we doing, ladies?) to my class of largely middle aged señoras.  We do our best to respond, todo bien!, and exchange knowing smiles of exhaustion and laughs of solidarity as we move on to the next bumping reggaeton jam.
I hear my host mom give all her daughters su bendicion (their blessing). The home's phone is situated right outside my room. Most nights, my host sisters who live in Mexico City call home to talk to their mom. Without fail, before hanging up, my host mom blesses them en el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, del Espiritu Santo y la Santisima Virgen. Most days when I leave for school and every time I leave the house for travel outside of Tlaxco, I, too, receive my blessing. I feel her hand as she makes the sign of the cross on my torso.  I hear her bless my travel asking for the Triune God and Most Holy Virgin Mary to protect me, journey with me, and guide me.

Tlaxco has captivated my senses for the past 11 months. It's filled me with expansive vistas, delicious food, a symphony of new sounds, and a host of smells that will forever bring my heart back to central Mexico. I can't begin to understand how I will miss the sights, smells, tastes, textures, and sounds that have colored my vida Mexicana. All I know is that I'm beyond grateful to have had the opportunity to adopt them as my own this year.

enseñanza-aprendizaje

I spend a lot of my week working in IEIMC's 1st and 2nd grade classrooms. I help with reading, math, garden-work, and just general crowd control. These 22 little ones bring so much joy to my weeks at school. They are quick with laughs, hugs, and smiles. They have taught me more about unconditional, grace-filled, and Christ-rooted love in nine months, than I could have ever imagined.

In meetings at school we talk a lot about el proceso de enseñanza-aprendizaje, the teaching-learning process. The phrase makes the process feel truly reciprocal- that we, teachers, learn alongside our students in a mutual exchange. This has been exceedingly true for me throughout my YAGM experience. In this year of intentional living and service, I've received much more (help, grace, patience, joy, hospitality, life lessons etc.) from my host community than I could hope to give. I've thrown together a list of a few of the countless aprendizajes that the twenty-two six and seven year olds with whom I spend my week have taught me.

1. Forgive freely (and often)-Supposedly we're supposed to forgive those who have wronged us not once or twice, but 7 times 70 times. That's a reality in 1st and 2nd grade. Where instead of telling a classmate "I'm sorry" they ask one another if me perdonas?/do you forgive me? That question is posed probably 490 times a week. The answer is always yes, and the confrontation always ends in a hug. They forgive freely, genuinely, easily, and whole-heartedly. They've taught me to be a better forgiver. 
2. Sometimes you need to cry-Tears are pretty common in 1st and 2nd grade. The tears usually don't last too long, and are usually promptly followed by a return to more play and laughter. When my students feel sad or angry or scared or anxious they do not hesitate to express that emotion. They've taught me to honor my emotions and share my feelings with others. 
3. Sometimes you need to laugh-Laughter is the constant soundtrack of my days at IEIMC. There's always time for silliness in the life of a 1st or 2nd grader. When the day starts to feel long, I can always count on a superbly executed armpit fart from Armando to lighten the mood. They've taught me to never take myself too seriously and that laughter truly is the best medicine. 
4. Commit 100%-On a recent outing to the river, Yuliet, decided that it wasn't time to go just yet. As were all putting our shoes back on and getting ready to walk back to school, she quickly hid one of her shoes and announced to the group that we couldn't leave yet, because she'd lost a shoe. She joined us when we all searched the area for her shoe and acted incredibly relieved when we found it about 10 minutes later. In the dismissal line she admitted to me and Maestra Lupita that she had been the one to hide her shoe in hopes of extending our outing. Yuliet dedicated herself 100% to bringing about the reality she wanted. She showed no hesitation or trepidation, instead she committed fully to her goal. They've taught me to fully commit to the causes that I value.
5. Don't be restricted by "reality"-Most everyday during 10:30am recess, Bryan becomes a dinosaur or gorilla or zombie or shark. The patio of the school becomes his jungle or post-apocalyptic city or ocean, and his classmates become various characters in his story. On days when I patrol recess, I opt to be a mad scientist or jurassic park tourist. His personal make-believe becomes as grand and important as the reality in which the rest of the school is situated. His reality becomes greater than our reality. In a world of increasingly harsh social, economic, and political realities, Bryan reminds me of the critical importance of imagining a better world. He and his classmates remind me of the power creating and living into alternate-realities that fly in the face of the harshness of our world. They've taught me that imagination is critical and powerful.  
6. True art can come out of messes-A few weeks ago, I decided to make a collage with my second grade english class to practice colors and other vocabulary. Within seconds the entire library was covered in scraps of magazine, gluestick tops, and pens and pencils. I had planned on finishing this project in one class period and then swiftly moving on to our next unit. Four class periods later, we were still working our poster-sized collage, and I had all but filed that idea under the "good in theory, terrible in execution" tab. But, to my surprise my students loved the project and actually learned the targeted vocabulary. Beauty can come out of messes and successes can come from perceived failures. They've taught me how to encounter beauty in the unexpected.
7. Love more- Every day at school begins and ends with a series of first and second grade hugs. They write cards to their classmates reminding them that te quiero, I love you or that they'll be mejores amigos por siempre best friends forever. They love without condition and express that love fearlessly. They've taught me to radically love others.
   
   
   
   

culpable

On February 11th, YAGMexico sat in silence in the public viewing gallery of the Tucson, Arizona US District Court. We watched 46 migrants be criminally sentenced in 45 minutes through proceedings called Operation Streamline. We listened to 46 migrants plead culpable to charges of illegal entry or reentry after deportation. Almost three months later, I'm honestly still shocked by what we witnessed. Here are some facts and feelings regarding Operation Streamline.

Plaque outside the Tucson, AZ US District Court

FACTS:

• Operation Streamline is a program of en masse, fast-track criminal prosecution of immigrants in federal courts along many sectors of the US/Mexico border. 
• Operation Streamline began in Del Rio, Texas in 2005 and was expanded to Tucson in 2008. At the height of the program, Streamline was operating in six of the nine sectors on the southern US border with Mexico, in every state on that border but California. It continues to operate in Tucson, Del Rio, and Laredo sectors today. 
• Statutes criminalizing illegal entry and re-entry were passed as part of the McCarran-Walter Act in 1952, but were rarely enforced before 1986. The vast majority of migrants caught crossing the border without authorization before 2004 were returned or deported through the civil immigration system without criminal prosecution. 
• Prosecutions climbed slowly throughout the 1990's and skyrocketed beginning in about 2004, largely as a result of Operation Streamline. 
• Approximately 700,000 people have been prosecuted for illegal entry or re-entry since Operation Streamline began. Almost 70,000 migrants were criminally prosecuted at the border during the federal fiscal year 2015 alone. 
• The US spent over $5.5 billion dollars incarcerating criminally prosecuted migrants between 2006 and 2011. Private prison companies made a profit of $246,561 per day for incarcerating migrants on criminal charges in 2011 alone. 
• The two largest US private prison companies CCA (Corrections Corporation of America) and GEO Group inc, received more than $1.4 billion in revenue from federal government contracts in 2011. 
• CCA and individuals closely affiliated with that corporation have provided Arizona Senator, John McCain with over $30,000 in campaign donations during the course of his career. John McCain has long championed Operation Streamline as an effective facet of the US border policy of "prevention through deterrence"
• Latin@s now make up more than half of all those sentenced to federal prison, despite only comprising 17% of the country's population, due in large part to the criminalization of immigration. 
• In Tucson, up to 70 migrants can appear in court in one hearing lasting less than two hours. All defendants receive between 30 to 180 days. All defendants are shackled during the court proceedings. 
• Prior to the court proceedings, the migrants meet with a public defender who explains the charges, describes the offer of a plea agreement, and conveys the migrant's options. In Tucson, migrants may have up to 30 minutes of one on one time with their lawyer. 
• As a result of the en masse hearings and severely limited time with legal counsel, Operation Streamline raises serious and troubling questions of breeches in constitutionally protected due process.  
• Streamlined people bear lifelong criminal records and severely damaged chances of ever being able to return to the United States with valid immigration status. 

FEELINGS:

• I felt nauseated when the first group of migrants stood before the judge and it was announced that they were detained near Douglas, Arizona on February 9th. 
• I felt embarrassed knowing that my group was touring the Douglas, AZ Border Patrol station while they were detained. While we stood squinting in the sun looking in BP's state of the art ATVs and trucks-equipped for optimal human detection, they sat inside holding cells uncertain of what would await them. 
• I felt my heart sink remembering the words of Officer Cody, "we can't take you in the holding cells because they are occupied."
• I felt suffocated in my own privilege, knowing that our feet had trod along the same route--from the border wall, to the BP station, to the Tucson US District court. Mine sat freely, theirs sat shackled. 
• I felt anxious during the few second lag time between the judge's words and the translator's response. 
• I felt disillusioned that my four years of studying political systems and processes left me with no explanation for these crooked proceedings. 
• I felt powerless as the proceedings continued undeterred. As I watched more young migrants shuffle out of the court room sentenced to 30, 60, 90, 180 days seemingly indiscriminately. 
• I felt hopeful when one young man asked the court to allow him to serve his sentence in LA, to be closer to his daughter-a US citizen. 
• I felt angry at the past eleven years in which I'd lived in blissful ignorance of this process and bastardization of our legal system. 
• I felt even more disgusted by the concept of private, for-profit prisons as I watched each group of migrants exit the courtroom, in chains, as if they had price tags on their backs. Sold to forces of insatiable greed. 
• I felt called to bear witness to this injustice. 
• I felt called to share this experience. 
• I felt called to honor the 46 migrants who were convicted, who were labeled as culpable. 

The facts presented here were complied from presentations given to our group in Tucson, AZ by organizations such as the End Streamline Coalition and No More Deaths/No Mas Muertes. Learn more by visiting their websites:

http://derechoshumanosaz.net/projects/coalition-work/the-criminalization-of-migration/end-streamline-coalition/

http://forms.nomoredeaths.org/en/

Epiphany epiphanies

I celebrated the season of Epiphany (1/6-Ash Wednesday) for the first time this year. I left my shoe out by the nativity scene, was rewarded by the Magi for my good behavior, cut the King's cake/rosca

Rosca de Reyes (shoutout to Aunt Jody for the great hot cocoa!)

de los reyes, found the hidden baby Jesus doll, went to Mass on February 2nd, and ate homemade Tamales. Just your classic Epiphany. 

Yes, for the first time I celebrated Epiphany. In the midst of my Epiphany celebrations, I celebrated countless epiphanies. This whole YAGM experience is starting to feel like a year long epiphany season. I'm usually not one for ~according to Miriam-Webster~ quotes and definitions. But this time I've got to hand it to my girl Miriam, because she hit the nail on the head. 

Epiphany-a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something, an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking.

an intuitive grasp of reality through something usually simple and striking

Some Epiphany highlights and related epiphanies.

1) Back to school after a three week long Christmas break!

2) Was sent on an secret mission to go down into town during recess to pick up a rosca cake to have an incognito convivio with the other Maestras to celebrate the Reyes Magos and spend some fun time together after three weeks apart.

3) I celebrated the fourth birthday of one of my favorite pals and coloring buddy, Magaly. Cut into my third rosca and this time found the baby Jesus doll (still not convinced my host mom giggling while cutting the cake and my receiving the muñequito were unrelated...)

4) Hannah and Josh came and visited! We hiked, sampled fresh pulque, and ate a ton of Mole.

5) I enjoyed a long weekend with my family in Mexico State. We visited the Monarch Butterfly preserve, Valle del Bravo, and spent the day exploring Frida Kahlo's neighborhood, Coyoacan.

6) Celebrated Dia del Candelario for the first time. I helped make tamales and successfully replicated the Plauka family favorite hummingbird cake (now dubbed pastel de colibri) and went to the Mass to have our images of the Christ child blessed.

7) Ran into a few of the more *spirited* 5th and 6th grade boys outside the gym on my way to zumba class. They told me they practice soccer there three times a week right before my class starts. Now I leave for class a little earlier so we stop to chat and joke around as they're on their way back up the hill and I'm on my way down.

8) At school we celebrated the end of the first semester workshops and got geared up for the second semester ones. I've started to give a photography workshop-stay tuned!

9) I participated in my third Consejo Tecnico Escolar with the rest of the Maestras. At the end of each month, every primary school suspends class so that the teachers can participate in state mandated professional development meetings. This month we focused on planning school wide math and reading activities so that all our students would see improved understanding. We discussed students who were struggling, and collaborated on ways to best serve them.

Before I knew it, I was packing to head to our midyear border immersion retreat. When waiting for the bus from Apizaco to Mexico City, the reality of the words "mid year" sunk in and a wave of anxiety and self-doubt washed over me.

I'd arrived at the halfway point of my YAGM experience. Shouldn't I be doing "better" than this by now? By now I should have met...and surpassed (because let's be real you can take the girl out of achievement-oriented college life, but taking the achievement-oriented out of the girl is a bit trickier) all of the expectations I'd set for myself. By the halfway point I'll be fully integrated into my community, I'll truly understand what it means to be in accompaniment, my students will all earn 8s and higher on their English midterms, I'll be 100% fluent in Spanish, I'll have tons friends, I'll feel like part of a family, I'll be thriving everyday in Tlaxco. 

That was all supposed to happen by our mid year retreat.  I was supposed to receive some celestial sign telling me that this year was progressing successfully. So, I kept waiting and I kept watching. I kept trying to put metrics on how well my time here was going-to prove to myself that yea, I've got this YAGM thing on lock. I kept hoping that my giant, neon sign saying "you're doing great, Alyssa" was waiting just around the corner. 

That didn't happen. Nor will it or should it. 

Instead of a flashing neon sign...

I laughed with my host sisters over coffee about our countries' pretty laughable political situations.

I finally realized that when people are telling a story and refer to a person as "Fulano"-that's not a specific person that's just a name to use when you don't remember the person's name. (Though, now I'm disappointed I'll never meet Don Fulano who I was convinced was the most popular person in Tlaxco, because EVERYONE was telling stories about him...). 

I sat and listened as Emmanuel told me about the different places he could sign up for middle school, and where would be the best place to further his dream of becoming a physician for the Navy. 

I wrote up lesson plans and submitted midyear grades. 

I learned more about my host family's personal relationship with US border policies, from my host mom's father's time as a brasero and his 12 contracted trips across the border, to my host cousin's unjust deportation. 

I got to show two of my closest pals my life in Tlaxco. 

I still make lots of grammar errors and have yet to master the subjunctive tense. I'm still trying to figure out what accompaniment, interdependence, and mutuality mean for me in my life here in Tlaxco. There are still days when I feel like an outsider. There are still days when July feels really far away. 

These past 7 months (jury's still out on how we've reached month number 7) have proven to me time and time again, that growing in relationship is not a linear process and trying to mold it into one is useless and frustrating. Understanding comes in sudden manifestations, in bouts and spurts. Nothing hugely earth shattering happened in the 6 weeks of the season of Epiphany-my life continued, school progressed, holidays passed. But in the midst of what's become my norm for this year, I experienced epiphanies of every sort. 

My midyear epiphanies didn't provide me the affirmation I thought I needed. They didn't tell me if I was YAGM-ing "right"(whatever that means). These epiphanies weren't about me coming to some grand realization through my own intentional work or practice. They are truths that have been revealed to me through the most quotidian and yet really holy of ways. They are truths that continue to be revealed to me through the grace of my host community.

Tlaxco is home-truth. 

There is nothing more valuable than reminding a child they are precious-truth.

Nothing beats family bonding with carne asada and pulque-truth.

Understanding puns in Spanish is hard-truth.

The reality of the US-Mexican border is heartbreaking, personal, and somehow still hope-filled-truth.

Patience, grace, and love are critical-truth.

If you pay attention, you can experience holy epiphanies everyday-truth.

presente

"...we confess that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves." ELW 95.

The majority of Sundays in my life I've proclaimed those words with the whole congregation of First Lutheran Church, Norfolk as part of the order of confession and forgiveness that most ELCA churches begin their liturgy with. Its one of those churchy phrases or proclamations that I've said so many times I didn't ever consciously have to memorize it, but its forever seared in my memory. Even now as I read it, I hear it with sing-songy intonation, I hear it as it is recited in plenary.

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Our YAGM group slowly gets out of the 15 passenger white van. We watch as members from our host organization, Agua para La Vida, fill giant cisterns of water hoping to lessen the number of migrants who die of thirst trying to cross through the crippling heat of the Sonora desert. We slowly make our way toward the border wall, that has extended undeterred 20 miles into the desert from where we last encountered it in Douglas. We walk exposed in an dried up river bed in the middle of the day without fear of the Border Patrol agents watching from the other side or the cartels watching in the hills behind us. We walk fearlessly because of small navy blue booklets that sit in our backpacks in the van. Small navy blue booklets that make all the difference. As we walked closer to the wall, my heart beats faster, my stomach drops, and my palms sweat. Sin, as I've grown to understand it this year, are the forces that alienate us from one another. The arbitrary distinctions, social systems, and political forces that aim to classify us, separate us, anger us, and pit us against one another. The forces that actively break down the beauty and fullness of the Kin-dom of God. I reached out and touched sin in its truest and most blatant form that day.

"...we confess that we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves."

Ran through my head over and over again as we walked back to the van. As we passed by fresh foot prints and food wrappers. Evidence of the brave souls waiting until sundown to continue their trek northward in search of hope, asylum, peace, opportunity. We drove back through Agua Prieta, to the official USA Port of Entry, presented our small navy blue booklets and passed without question or alarm. As we pulled away I felt more and more captive, in the midst of all my freedom I felt so very captive.

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Our YAGM group slowly gets out of the 15 passenger white van (this time in a McDonald's parking lot). We approach a group of about 30 who will also be participating in this week's non-denominational and public vigil. We each grab 3 white crosses. These crosses have the names of migrants who have perished in Cochise County, Arizona in the past 15 years. When the information was available, their birth and death dates are also listed. Many have "no identificado" written where their name should be honored. We begin at sundown, just as hermanos y hermanas in the hills that surround us prepare their crossing.
One by one, each name is called out proudly, loudly, angrily, con tristeza y con esperanza. The group responds, yelling in unison "presente." They are present. They are human, they are more than numbers, they are more than statistics calling for a more militarized border. They are mothers, fathers, sisters, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, friends. They are present.
In proclaiming their presence, we also proclaimed our commitment to being present. We proclaimed the holy and healing power of presence. We stood in defiance to the structural sin that works to divide us. We fought that captivity.

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We cannot fight that captivity to sin if we do not first confess it. If we do not first look critically at the institutions in which we live. If we do not acknowledge that oppressive systems exist and we (people of the global north) benefit from that oppression.

"...we confess we are captive to sin and cannot free ourselves."

When we join our voices together and acknowledge the broken systems and the sin in our world, we can begin the work of liberation and grace. The work of accompaniment and solidarity. The work of listening and the work of a holy and healing presence with one another.

"prevention through deterrence"

On Controlling Our Borders
by Walter Brueggemann

Jesus—Crucified and risen—draws us into his presence again,
the one who had nowhere to lay his head,
no safe place,
no secure home,
no passport or visa,
no certified citizenship.

We gather around him in our safety, security, and well-being
and we fret about “illegal immigrants.”
We fret because they are not like us
and refuse our language.
We worry that there are so many of them
and their crossings do not stop.
We are unsettled because it is our tax
dollars that sustain them and provide services.
We feel the hype about closing borders and heavy fines,
because we imagine that our life is under threat.

And yet, as we know very well,
we, all of us—early or late—are immigrants
from elsewhere;
we are glad for cheap labor
and seasonal workers
who do tomatoes and apples and oranges
to our savoring delight.

And beyond that, even while we are beset by fears
and aware of pragmatic costs,
we know very well that you are the God
who welcomes strangers,
who loves aliens and protects sojourners.

As always we feel the tension and the slippage
between the deep truth of our faith
and the easier settlements of our society.

We do not ask for an easy way out,
but for courage and honesty and faithfulness.
Give us ease in presence of those unlike us;
give us generosity amid demands of those in need,
help us to honor those who trespass
as you forgive our trespasses.

You are the God of all forgiveness.
By your gracious forgiveness transpose us
into agents of your will,
that our habits and inclinations may more closely
follow your majestic lead, that our lives may
joyously conform to your vision of a new world.

We pray in the name of your holy Son, even Jesus.

 All photos were taken along the Agua Prieta, Sonora and Douglas, Arizona border. The wall pictured here was constructed 3 years ago as part of the US's "prevention through deterrence" border policy. By constructing walls and increasing security around previously safe and well-used crossing points, migrants have been forced to walk farther into the Sonoran desert to cross. Since 2000, there have been over 400 migrant deaths in desert of Cochise County, Arizona. 

life lately

List of things Alyssa wants to blog about:

1-Food

•  I want to tell you about weekend mornings with my host sisters. When I wake up and see our tortilla-presser and know that I’m about to eat some amazing quesadillas, memelas, huaraches, etc.
• I want to tell you about walking down the hill a bit on Sunday mornings to Doña Kily’s home, greeting her and her daughter and ordering fresh tlacoyos and tamales. Walking back (sharing one of the tlacoyos we just bought because they’re too good not to eat hot out of the frying pan) and chatting with my host mom about how Doña Kily has been making those same tamales and tlacoyos for the past 60 years.
•  I want to tell you about when Doña Mari asks me and a few students to pick some radishes from the garden-because today we’re having pozole at school. I want to show you how excited those students are while they wait in line for their hot and delicious bowl of pozole.
• I want to tell you about how cooking with my host mom has become my best antidote for homesickness and the notebook that we’re planning to fill with my favorite recipes.

2-Time

• I want to tell you about la hora Mexicana and how I’m slowly but surely showing up less and less obnoxiously early to events.
• I want to tell you about the first weeks in Tlaxco that seemed to move so slowly that I meticulously kept track of how long I’d been away from home, mainly to prove to myself that time was indeed passing.
•  I want to tell you about how the 19^th of every month felt like a little victory. Marking one more month away from home and one month more integrated into my familia Tlaxquense.
• I want to tell you about how on December 19^th my life felt so normal that I didn’t notice that my special date had passed. It wasn’t until writing this post that I realized that my YAGM year has entered month number 4.
   
• I want to tell you about the sunsets in colonia Iturbide when the multicolored sky outlines three of Mexico’s highest peaks and time stops for a bit.
• I want to tell you about Hannah, my hermana YAGM, and her call to “stop trying to fill your time with things, but instead let things fill your time.” I want to tell you how and why that’s become my New Year’s resolution.

3-Migration

•        I want to tell you about the 40% of my students who come from single-parent households who tell me about their madre, padre, hermano, primo etc who live allá en los estados unidos.
•        I want to tell you about the days I spent working at the Sagrada Familia Migrant Shelter with my hermano YAGM, Josh.
•       I want to tell you about registering a group of young men into the shelter who had just gotten off la bestia.
•        I want to tell you about entering their responses to questions such as “Are you fleeing danger in your home country?” “Would it be safe or possible for you to return home?” “How many times have you made this journey?” “Have you experienced violence during your journey through Mexico?”
•        I want to tell you about the economic institutions, oppressive regimes, systemic violence, and organized crime that force these migrants to flee their patrias.
•       I want to tell you about how the US has often directly caused the dire situations from which these migrants are fleeing.
•        I want to tell you that because of these experiences and conversations, I will never understand the Christmas story in the same way.

4-Language

•        I want to tell you about my host dad’s love of playing with words, his absurd puns and classic “dad jokes.”
•        I want to tell you about the time I accidentally cursed in my 4-6^th grade English class, because when I learned the word desmadre no one clued me in on the fact that it was a groseria.  I want to tell you about the ridiculous 6^th grade boys who will never let me live that down.
•        I want to tell you how incredibly comforting it feels to be called mija, querida, hermana, maestra.
•       I want to tell you how much I miss hearing my name with familiar English vowel sounds.

I want to tell you about all of this and so much more. I want to share with you all that this crazy, challenging, beautiful year is showing me. I want to, but I’m scared. I’m scared you won’t understand. I’m scared my words will fail. I’m scared to set free the experiences and memories that, for now, just exist between my community and me.

The more Spanish I learn the more frustrated I become when I try to translate new vocabulary or phrases into English. They end up sounding off, losing some of the beauty and some of the sentido. The deeper I dive into this YAGM year the more challenging it’s becoming to explain the true richness and complexity of my vida Mexicana.  In the coming weeks and months, I’ll hopefully share much of this ever-growing list. Some of these I’ll guard away for a longer conversation in person over some good coffee, because that’s what they deserve. All them will stay forever in my heart and mind in a swirling mess of English, Spanish, and Spanglish--translation unnecessary.