A Wetback in Reverse

by Frederick Martin-Del-Campo

  Their pride, however, was fallen, and their tone was modest, thus the anger was not felt, nor was a reaction expected. Following the mischievous discovery of Don Pedro’s bequest, if we contrast the rapid progress of her mother and her evil genius in securing legal title to it, with the slow and laborious advances of Becky and her siblings to make a place in the world for their own, my old friend, according to the temper she might be feeling at any given moment, will laugh or weep at the folly of her decadent family. Evidently she did find time to reply to me, for no sooner had she cursed her mother (knowledge thereof courtesy of Santiago), when she forwarded the following missive:

  ~ Dear F: I appreciate your situation, and thank you for sharing your experiences with me. That is just awful, I hope you weren’t too disappointed. In any case, I am sorry for not warning you about customs around these parts, but it never occurred to me, what with all that is going on with my family.

  I suppose one of my brothers already told you about what is going on regarding the discovery of a legacy my dear father left his three youngest, eh? I honestly don’t know how to handle myself. At this point I could use the inheritance, but I may get nothing after all the trouble with my mother, who honestly does not need it, and that vicious sister of mine just wants to annoy us, and is clearly showing her jealousy. I asked my silly mother, “if you were to get the money, what is going to happen to all of it when you leave this earth?”

  But, I know she has been ill-advised by Margara herself. I hate to sound egotistical, but my brothers and I, at least, might be able to enjoy some of it as a compensation for all that we went, and are going, through, and for the honor of our father’s name. It is an incentive for us, furthermore, to stay together, to uphold the family name, even though the eldest have done a rotten job of preserving our dignity. I just don’t know anymore, but I am also thinking of my own children, the grandchildren of Don Pedro ~ I think he would have been so proud of Gamaliel and Emanuel, and would have adored Campanita.

  Take good care of your-self,

  Becky ~

  With the shock of the revelation, and all of this new trouble she was handling, I momentarily forgot about my own concerns, and replied:

  ~ Thanks my friend, and blessings to all of you guys. But, you know, I very, very much doubt you will get anything from anyone, forget about your mother. I think she was indeed a victim of evil counsel. I know how you feel, that she has back-stabbed you so many times. I don’t blame you for wanting to cut her off. You want to get out of there, far from her presence and from Margara, and never see them again. I will pray for you, for what it is worth prima, that you don’t allow hate to poison your heart, though you are fully justified in having it. I had those very feelings for my own brothers, of rage and resentment, and it hurts the bearer more than it does the reviled.

  Well, did you have your June reunion with your other brothers and cousins? Who else was there?

  Take care,

  F ~

  Little could I know that things had indeed happened, and, after suffering the trauma of seeing her son accused of narco-trafficking, illegal gun possession, et cetera, young Gamaliel had apparently beaten the rap ~ not a small matter in provincial Mexico where public enemy number one is narco-trafficking. Thus, she responded as though nothing remarkable had happened:

  ~ Dearest Primo, we observed the Summer festival with a bit of nostalgia gnawing at our innards. At last they let my baby out, and we had, at last, occasion to celebrate something besides Campanita’s birthday. We went to the movies in the afternoon. Campanita and Gamaliel are very close (I think I told you this before). Gamaliel had some money saved and decided to take her to the movies because she wanted to watch the new Disney feature, so we did that and came back home around 9pm. Dinner was ready before we left, so we just came back and ate. Enrique actually deigned to come, so it was only the five of us. We waited until midnight watching TV, exchanged hugs, Enrique returned to his own home, and the rest of us went to bed. The next day we exchanged gifts, which was a total failure because Campanita’s MP3 player did not work, Enrique’s television broke down so she couldn’t play the video game that she received from Emanuel. Overall, to me it was the best reunion having my son with me. He came out so clean, thin, handsome and good looking. He has a very different mentality and I pray he continues that way, positive and eager to succeed in life!

  Tu Becky ~

  For my friend, I was genuinely happy, but the prison release came as a total surprise. It must have happened suddenly, and it just hadn’t occurred to her to run and write to me. I did reproach her a bit for the oversight in the following reply:

  ~ Becky, Well, that is fantastic about the reunion and about Gamaliel. But Becky, you crazy woman you, how could you forget to inform me when he came out! I am over here thinking that maybe he was still in because you didn’t actually confirm it. Well, now that is all over, I am so happy for you. You must have been overcome with emotion at having this early Summer reunion. Your wish did come true, so you must be so hopeful and optimistic about the future. Looks like better days are ahead, and all possibilities are laid before you.

  My very best regards to you, Gamaliel, Emanuel, and the rest for all that the future holds. It’s a new beginning for us all.

  Freddy ~

  I suppose I did catch her off guard, and she was quick to reply and offer her apologies:

  ~ My dear Primo, I am so sorry! I thought I did tell you. I am truly sorry, I was really excited. It happened like this: they called me from the court house around 2 pm on the 23rd to tell me that he was being released, cleared of ALL charges; I had to drive all the way to Puerto Veracruz, whereto they had transferred him, to pick him up, and the traffic and hassle with the paperwork were demoralizing. We came home late because of all the return traffic (due to one of the festival parades, which congested the streets). The next day we went to see his Parole officer, then got dressed, then I treated him to the movies, since he loves the cinema above all else, and then dinner. I guess it all happened so fast, and I’ve been so overwhelmed with all the stuff that I totally thought I had told you. I am so sorry.

  I wish you had been here to share the reunion with us.

  take good care of yourself,

  R ~

  The news of his release truly heartened me. So much has been at stake, and so much has been in the news about drug traffickers. The violence, police actions, government intervention, et cetera, and then to have this nice boy accused of being in the thick of it, the stress of the situation was great even for a detached party like myself, let alone my pitiable friend. All I could offer was my felicitations and hopes that things truly improve with her family, which I fear I may not see for a very long, long time:

  ~ Dear Prima, That’s alright, babe, I am truly happy for you guys. How wonderful for you that this nightmare is over. May this never, ever happen again, even if you are chastened to the realities the experience thrust before you. I know it must be of no comfort to consider that you are a better, stronger person for having come through it all, and Gamaliel as well, but you are, and things can only get better from now on.

  Take good care of yourselves, may you all rest and sleep truly happy now. I hope and pray that we have a big family reunion (assuming that would please you) very soon.

  Take care, and may blessings rain on you all,

  Freddy ~

  That was sweet enough, but somehow I sensed there would be no grandiose family reunion considering the recent altercations regarding Don Pedro’s legacy. It was in the offing, so to speak, and company would part ways, and another chapter in the annals of a family’s history would come to a close. For the moment she betrayed no doubts or resentments, and was gracious with her reply as always:

  ~ Dear F, I also wish for that family reunion to come soon! And I also wish that, as for the feeling I have, all things will be getting better for me, although it’s just a feeling. I know good things will happen to you too, and very soon. They just have to.

>   R ~

  At this point it was obvious she had a lot on her mind, and proceeded to send me another email without my having a chance to reply:

  ~ Freddy, What joy it has given me to be able to correspond like this with you for certain. And, I am truly sorry that, without intending it, you should have been involved in this thread of emails. They were indeed disagreeable for all concerned, but it feels like it was all part of some awful reckoning. My boys are grown up, the rest of the family is disintegrating, and now we face the reality that we are no longer idealistic youths, but mature, weighed down with responsibilities and the cares of domestic life.

  But look, in the last analysis there is something extraordinarily good and truly positive about all of this, all that has transpired. We learned to stand for ourselves, and to defend our convictions and opinions by the force and presence of our own minds. If this means that the price I have to pay is to stand aside and no longer participate or contribute anything more to these frictions and commentaries, polemics, whatever---it’s all so destructive---well then, I believe that it was all worth it.

  I mean, even though it is sad that we have to go our own way, live our own lives apart, at least we know that each is following his or her own happiness, and each one has a right to their own thoughts, their own soul, and above all to protect and defend them as they see fit. I will stop being a coward and live now for my children.

  The only thing I objected to all the time was that I was never in accord with this relationship my brothers and sisters maintained, of losing respect for each other, just as it was.

  Nonetheless, from then on I had no problem. The poison of their suspicions and resentments is out of my system. My brothers and sisters, and all of my cousins are truly lovely and good-hearted persons, but, perhaps, some are accustomed to treat others, especially the helpless, the defenseless, in a disrespectful manner. Being as simple as I am, I cannot abide such behavior. I insist on being treated with the utmost respect, including by my own mother.

  It was better for me to treat them from a distance, to be detached from these familial concerns because I accept that I too can be difficult at times. In such a case it is precisely, with respect to everyone else, that I believe we should all continue dealing with each other as Destiny has decreed ~ from a healthy distance.

  You cannot imagine how I have come to admire and respect your tranquility and presence of mind, though, in the final analysis, you had such an awful time with your own family. It has given me such satisfaction, notwithstanding, to see how your soul has also escaped the torments of their humiliations, has protected itself and has survived so much filth, so much dolor.

  I wish I knew you better now as a mature adult, but I admire you all the more, and feel genuine affection for you because between sympathetic souls there is no distance great enough to separate us. It is enough to have found each other, understand each other after all of these years since we attended school, and empathize in the truest and purest sense.

  You are my cousin like all the others, precious to my soul. I offer, in the same way I have done with all people who have crossed the path of my life on this road we call Destiny, an open heart, a sincere heart; a heart that knows dolor, but is, for the same reasons, always struggling and persisting before all challenges.

  Always with love, always with hope and faith, I will survive.

  Love you always, my primo,

  Becky ~

  It felt odd, but upon reading her closing thoughts I felt a chill run up my spine. Somehow I knew that this would be the last correspondence I would receive from her, at least for the length of my stay in Mexico. I worried at first that, if I should have a run-in with the authorities, she would not be able to vouch for or against my Wetback status. Eventually I got used to the idea, and later inquired from Santiago of her whereabouts; apparently, with her son back in her arms, the legal headaches associated with the battle for the legacy, and the problems associated with the maintenance of the Finca, she had decided to abandon it all and moved, but she failed to inform anyone of her decision. She had formerly promised to take her family to Mexico City, to partake of hospitality from other relatives, and opportunities that would help her to get back on her feet, figuratively speaking. I honestly felt bad for her, and prayed for her well-being. But, like she often said, life goes on, and she went on, defying disaster, the unexpected in all of its forms, and hardship. She lived only for her children, and would sacrifice everything to ensure their future well-being. She was just that kind of person and offered no apologies, and I honestly admired her for it.

  So, Becky, until we meet again. Too bad there was no reunion to be had. Too bad there was no one around that I could talk to, like a Fulgencio San Roman, about this email experience with my old friend. It had been eerie, sometimes disturbing, but it all had to have some meaning, even the fact that so much drama and feeling had been revealed by way of emails.

  Now, time enough for introspection.

  HUMOR TO BE FOUND

  IN THE PORCINE FLU

  The hour had come to board the ADO-line bus, and this time around I was headed for Mexico City, at last. Oaxaca had been a great adventure, though her people certainly did not charm me. Oaxaca City is a lovely, old colonial town with civic pride and cultural sophistication ~ as much as could be had from a population of not so hygienically-minded Cro-magnons. The architecture was lovely, the overall touristic atmosphere was lively, but the food was mostly disappointing; I can’t honestly explain how these people survive on culinary crap. It is true, though, that I did not really get to meet anyone of note since my concerns were occupied with Becky’s saga. Yet, the hours flew by, and I occupied them fully.

  I did have some fun during those final days, and while the most memorable night forays of this trip included a full-moon pinta parranda (fun-filled party) beside the sea in Oaxaca, that wanderlust of mine was biting at my guts, and felt I had to move on. One thing about entrusting your life to the people of another country is that you are practically obligated to place your safety and well-being into their hands. Forging and renewing a new social circle of friends is essential to your overall experience of travel and exploration, wherever you may go. One must always keep in mind that the intended destination might fail to live up to your imagination, so you must be flexible and adjust to circumstances as they are served to you. Yet, I leave the state with some sense of satisfaction ~ I had entered a region that reflected my romantic image of the “real” Mexico. Mexico City beckoned, however, and I just had to get out lest I allow sloth and the warm sands of Puerto Angel, a truly magical spot on the coast of Tehuantepec, to entice me to wallow away the Summer in lecherous self-indulgence.

  The bus-fare wasn’t costly, but the company on board was typical of what you could expect on one of these interstate vehicles; one fellow, typically, had a flatulence problem, and no one thought of offering him Rolaids, or some other anti-gas tablets.

  The bus-ride took over 12 hours, but we rumbled into the great metropolis on a chilly, drizzling night. The Summer rains were just arriving, and it would be a humid time in the old town.

  Mexico City beckoned, and guess what? The alert was raised, again, to watch out for the Porcine Flu. This time, however, changes were to be noted that Mexicans, at last, had remembered their sense of humor. Specifically, instead of panicking and wondering what new horror the virus would bring, there was a lot of talk about how hum-drum the experience of enduring the scare was becoming.

  To begin with, popular TV soap operas were taking out all “nonessential” kissing and fondling, leaving the actors to fake it somehow. Secondly, and quite laughably, a song called the “Influenza Cumbia” was climbing the ratings charts, and the damned tune was heard everywhere. It was fast becoming annoying. Vulgar, yet hilarious, swine flu jokes were spreading faster than the illness ever could ~ a sheer sign that Mexicans had found their stride and were making the best of the danger.

  As Mexicans incarcerated themselves within their own
abodes for fear of catching the virus, they couldn’t help but have a little fun with it as well. Times were bad, so why not poke fun at misfortune.

  It was becoming quite evident that the surgical masks that Mexicans had reluctantly put up with by the millions had become canvases for creativity, as some news-paper pundit put it, while others took to embellishing their masks with painted-on gorilla lips, enormous “Zapata” or Walrus mustaches, or even cute animal faces, and certain taxi-drivers had fashioned protective “bras” for their vehicles. It made for a silly spectacle, but at least the fear factor had abated. Dog owners walked Mexico City’s streets with matching masks for their none-too compliant pets, though veterinarians had yet to confirm that chihuahua-to-chihuahua infections is a threat to the public safety. I wasn’t planning any sallies with a chihuahua, anyway.

  Mexico’s ebullient society and colorful culture were still trying to make sense out of the poorly executed anti-flu campaign after months of scratching their heads. Hugging, handshakes, kissing, public fondling, standing in crowded places, or eating crap from street-food stalls are all a part of a routine life that no one in this city of 20 million would prohibit just because of a little flu anxiety. The signs of discouragement abounded, and the authorities were making the most of it. For my part, I did not plan to get intimate with anyone, just yet. I wanted to see some of the sights, contact some old friends, perhaps inquire into Becky’s whereabouts, and most certainly begin the search for my family’s origins, which, everyone I spoke to assured me, had to begin in Mexico City. I wanted to find out why I was named for the name I was given. Perhaps then, I could make sense of my life.

  There might not be much to the daily round of getting up, going through morning rituals, dodging traffic in the busy streets, and interacting with the ruder locals, yet it was pleasing to see that the same people were laughing, and acting as though nothing was unusual. Most people I’d run into delighted in gallows humor, and made frequent mention of what some wags referred to as “The Aporkalypse.” This new reference to an “imminent doom” had been going about the metropolis, and everyone was having fun with it.