Further South of the Border II: The Search for Trinidad

As I reviewed the pictures from our trip in preparation to write this post, I realized that there are a number of things to say to finish up the story of our first full day in Navojoa. My memory of the first day is foggy because of having gone without sleep for so long. I'll pick up the story starting with the end of our lunch under the tree.

After our lunch under the eyes of the stuffed wildlife, we went looking for Trinidad. He is another church member originally from the Navojoa area who was back home for a visit since Christmas. We arrived at his house to find him absent. As we waited to see if he would show up, we heard drums from down the street. We walked around the corner to find a group of children dressed as fariseos (I believe the word is Spanish for "Pharisee"). Fariseos are tribal dancers who perform traditional Sonoran dances and during Easter solicit donations to the Catholic church or so I'm told. I've tried to research this but can find very little information on it. They dance in the weeks leading up to La Semana Santa (Holy Week). As with many religious expressions in Mexico, it seems to be a blend of tribal religion and Christianity. They dress in home-made outfits of bed sheets, blankets and usually have a real fur head dress that serves as a mask. Around their waist and ankles are usually empty shot gun shells or beads to make noise and they carry noise makers in their hands. On the one hand, I find it interesting from a cultural standpoint. On the other hand, I find it kind of creepy due to the pagan origins and what I have told of the demonic involvement in these kind of dances. This fariseo is asking for money from the Mario.

I had previously encountered a group of fariseos in Nogales while working with Carlos in another neighborhood. In spite of the pagan origins of the dance, I was thoroughly entertained by the children dancing and imitating their elders. They were particularly cute because their costumes were child-like representations of the adult farisaos costumes. Their noise makers were plastic Coke bottles filled with rocks. Here is a video I took of them:

After the children danced, we all sat down and the pastor told them about Jesus Christ. We all joined in singing a song called “Jesus is my friend”. We then found one of Trinidad’s relatives who told us where he was. We set off for an area called Huatabampo. We found Trinidad stuccoing a building with two other men. Mario, the pastor’s father, is very good friends with Trinidad and he had really missed Trinidad since he left Nogales during Christmas. I have several times seen them walking together across the hilly terrain in our neighborhood, helping each other from stumbling on rocks and uneven surfaces. I think that this is beautiful picture of the kind of fellowship and brotherly love that Jesus always talks about. The reunion was sweet and they enjoyed visiting for a little while. In this photo, Trinidad is to the left, Mario to the right.

After my nap beneath the shade of a palm tree, we left for Juan Pablo’s neighborhood to look for turkeys and goats to take back with us to Nogales. I had known this event was coming and I was steeling myself to ride in a truck crammed with animals. If I am learning anything in Mexico, it is to be flexible and roll with whatever happens. This would really be a test.

While looking for said animals, we stopped by a small farm. There, two women where making whole wheat tortillas. As one woman mixed the dough and rolled it out into tortillas, another woman cooked them over a stove made from a 55-gallon drum.

In the true spirit of Mexican hospitality, we were offered a tortilla. They were more meaty than flour and corn tortillas and I really like the taste and texture. We chatted for a while about my experiences in Mexico. Again, the question that I always get was asked: “Do you really like Mexico?”. My answer is always: “What is there not to like?”. We thanked them for the tortillas and all piled into the truck, driving along a canal toward the next farm where we might find our animals. On the way, we passed a woman and her children washing their clothes in the canal.

We arrived at the farm and found lots of goats, chickens, horses and turkeys wandering through a field that for all the world reminded me of rural Virginia in the cool of a spring evening. I was so tired that I walked back to the truck to take a quick nap while everyone else was looking for just the right turkey. I awoke as Ramon, Carlos, Mario and Miguel got in the truck. I did not see, smell or hear a turkey. I was relieved.

This is the point in the previous post where we returned to Carlos’ mom’s house to eat tamales and sleep. The events of this post and the previous post about Navojoa all took place in one day, March 10, 2008. It was a very full day. Even now, I’m not sure how I stayed awake.