This week seems a good
time to introduce some of the people we have got to know here in Zamora.
Not long after we
arrived in Zamora, we were returning from a stroll in the cool of the evening
and met two of our neighbours strolling in the opposite direction. Don Pepe
(Pepe is the familiar form of José. Don is a traditional title of respect
mostly applied nowadays to older people) remarked Somos como novios (“We
are like a courting couple”). When we asked for how long, he replied “68
years”. We estimate that Don Pepe must be very close to 90 years of age.
Don Pepe and his wife
live in a very substantial house on the corner of our block. He owns other
properties in the neighbourhood. He tells us that he has 33 grandchildren.
Several other family members live in houses close by: we often encounter Pepe
and his wife returning from lunch in a granddaughter’s home. Almost every day
we greet one another, and occasionally stop for a chat. A few weeks ago, Don
Pepe had a small patch of grass (about 1 foot by 6 feet) laid to brighten up
the pavement outside his house. We often encounter him watering it of an
evening. The family owns a “small piece of land” in the country and frequently holds
gatherings there. On Don Pepe’s saint’s day more than 70 people gathered. In Mexico
family and parties are very important.
Don Pepe’s prosperity
was built on his shop on Calle Ávila Camacho, a short walk from home. He tells
us that he opened it in 1969. The shop sells fruit, vegetables and chicken. His
son José Manuel runs it nowadays. Manuel’s customers seem to enjoy his jolly
manner, and we often exchange a joke. He tells us that he works twelve hours a
day, six days a week. He certainly is the only person left tending the store
late in the afternoon.
Another Zamora friend
is Sergio, a vet. When he graduated, he was obliged by law to undertake six
months of social service. He chose for his service a small town in the state of
Oaxaca, Miahuatlán de Porfirio Díaz. Porfirio Díaz was a military man who was
born in Miahuatlán. He defeated the French invaders at a battle there in 1866:
a proud moment in the town’s history.
Don Porfirio ruled Mexico with a combination of pan y palo (bread and
stick) from 1876 to 1911 when the Mexican Revolution sent him into exile in
France.
Sergio’s task was to
visit villages in the region of Miahuatlán to inoculate livestock for a charge
of 15 centavos. The first step was to visit the village authorities. Upon arrival,
Sergio was offered a large glass of mezcal (a potent spirit). Being a conscientious
professional, he politely explained that he was working and could not drink.
The authorities then held a conversation in their indigenous language and the
meeting ended with no animals inoculated. Once Sergio realized that he would
not inoculate a single animal if he did not drink the mezcal, the inoculation
programme progressed famously.
After completing his
social service Sergio worked for the agriculture department of the federal
government. There he developed a national system for tracing livestock
movements. Now, in retirement, he is the only person in Zamora officially qualified
to tag animals to meet the requirements of the movement scheme. He is much in
demand.
Commemoration of the solar eclipse of 1875 in 2015 |
Miahuatlán, by the
way, has a claim to fame in addition to being the birthplace of Porfirio Díaz
and the site of his famous victory. In 1970 it was the place of maximum
duration (3 minutes and 28 seconds) of a solar eclipse and was officially
declared the “Scientific Centre of the World’.
Occasionally, we relax
in a rather trendy café close to the Colegio de Michoacán with an ice cold frapé
de chocolate. We are served by a cheery young woman who comes from a small
village about an hour and a half from Zamora. Her family, including her
husband, lives in Chicago. She had gone to Chicago to study, but after a time
found employment. All was well until somebody in her workplace denounced her to
the immigration authorities. Undocumented residents of America live very
precarious lives. The US government increased the rate of deportations under President
Obama and President Trump exploited fears of immigrants to win the election. In
these circumstance, individual lives and facts matter little.
In a café on the plaza
of Zamora, we met another Michoacana who lives in Chicago. She told us that she
is one of nineteen children, born on a farm just outside the town. She lives in
Chicago and runs a real estate business there: our brief conversation in halting
English suggested that most of her customers must be Mexican. A few days later
we bumped into the same lady in our neighbourhood. While we were choosing bread,
she hurried home and came back with a gift of avocados from the family farm.
The main entrance of the Colegio de Michoacán |
In the Colegio de
Michoacán a number of people make our life agreeable. A small group of vigilantes
guards the three entrances day and night.
They have got to know us well enough to admit us with a cheery buenos días,
que le vaya bien (“Good morning, have a good day”). The man who guards the
entrance to a private street, in which one gate is located, has two jobs as we
discovered one Saturday morning, while walking to the Mesón de Valle hotel for breakfast.
Our afternoon vigilante was working his second job, cleaning a medical
building and the pavement outside. One Sunday, when we went to the Colegio to
read in the quiet and cool of the garden, we found the vigilante at the
main entrance making brooms of twigs, collected in the garden, to sweep the
entrance area. His evident pride was matched by the formal beauty of the
brooms.
The vigilante's broom |
Weekdays, we take our
lunch in the cafeteria of the Colegio. Front of house is run by Lety and her
brother-in-law (her sister is the cook). The team starts work at 6:30am to
prepare for breakfast at 8am. Lunch starts at 2pm. The working day finishes
about 5:00-5:30pm. Lety then spends her early evenings doing other jobs: one is
to clean our apartment once a week. We know when Lety has been cleaning: the
smell of Pinol, the universal disinfectant floor cleaner, lingers, and some of
our less tidy areas are made orderly. Lety finds my name hard to pronounce. I
explained that Ian is the equivalent of Juan, so she addresses me as Don Juan!
The gardens of the
Colegio are a haven from the noise and bustle of Zamora. Trees provide shade
and a haven for birds. Bougainvilleas provide brilliant colour. To one side of
the cafeteria is a tree with orange flowers much frequented by a hummingbird. A
roof garden, with shaded areas with seats and tables for working, connects the
main academic buildings. All of this is cared for by one gardener. I met him
one day dusting the solar panels: Zamora generates dust in quantities. Since
there are some 40 or 50 panels that need dusting, this alone keeps him busy.
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