Is what Jaclyn and I have become known as here in Lamud. Whether standing outside Maria's home and hearing a young girl shout gringa to get my attention or an old woman exclaiming gringita as Jaclyn passes her alone, we have grown accustomed to the label. Jaclyn and I are like a different species here, aliens that most only see through the TV or media. Most elements of life here I can relate to in some way, however distant, but I cannot imagine what it is like to have someone enter your environment who is so different that their mere presence ignites a round of 'gringas.' The children are most fascinated by our presence here, or maybe they just express their interest the most. The two times that Jaclyn and I have sat atop the stairs that overlook the town a different little girl has peered at us the entire time, asking some questions but mainly just observing and staring at these two foreigners in isolated Lamud. On our trips to Pablo and Pedro's expositions at the school, a flock of children has hoarded around us, wrapping their arms around us and gifting us with their hugs. Their excitement bubbles with our translations of simple spanish words, and with our pronunciations of their spanish names (which is often exactly the same). I wonder what they think of us, of why we are here and of our distant identities universes away.
Yesterday, Jaclyn and I walked for almost three hours through the mountains surrounding town, until Lamud and Luya appeared as tiny specks in the distance. It was a beautiful escape and a nice opportunity to remove ourselves from our normal setting and reflect on the town's existence and our being here. We met a friendly man, trekking his way to his chacra who told us of Lamud's struggles with the municipality and the lack of support for projects like expanding the highway and distributing water to far-off fields. He recommended various sites we must visit in the area and wished us a nice rest as he began work on his fava beans. The other night I spoke with Dona Marina's brother on the phone, learning a bit about his life and how grateful and appreciative he and his family are that Jaclyn and I are simply here, living with them and showing respect for their way of life. Yesterday in the afternoon, we spent a few hours working in the huerto, mothers, children, fathers, gringas, and all. We planted about 17 beds of beterraga (beets) to send to Don Raul in the future, to become chips!
Sitting far away from Lamud atop a mountain yesterday made me think, what is the point of all our rushing around and trying to get ahead, with the beautiful, simple existence led by people here? Yet I am only able to be here and have this opportunity because I am fortunate to travel and to have people in my life who support me. So the people here may not see their lives and what they have here as a visitor's eyes do. Does it take an outsider's perspective to recognize the incredibility of the surroundings and the charm and wealth of life here? Do I only see things this way because this is what I don't have? I hope that my presence here is able to express my respect for what they do, to show curiousity for their way of life, and to connect two seemingly separate worlds.
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