Orientation and New Characters

My YAGM [Young Adults in Global Mission] journey began with a week at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago with more than 70 other YAGMs. During the week we discussed a lot of important and tough topics, such as privilege, racism, the global economy, and how many reflections we could see ourselves from the underside of "the bean."

Chicago. Photo Cred: Gracia

We also had time to form new friendships, and think about what the coming year would hold. At the end of the week, we sadly said our good-byes to friends heading to Uruguay, Argentina, the United Kingdom, Rwanda, Madagascar, Hungary, Jerusalem, the West Bank, Cambodia, South Africa, and those staying in the U.S. My nine compañer@s and I boarded our van at 4am and headed to the airport. We were Mexico bound.
Upon arriving in Mexico, we spent a few days with the Guadalupanas - an order of nuns just a stone's throw away from the site where the Virgen de Guadalupe appeared to the indigenous Juan Diego in 1531.  

Photo Cred: Ryana

Following our time with these charming hermanas, we traveled to Tepoztlán, a magical city that lies in the shadows of mountains looming so close that you would think you could reach out and touch them. In Tepoztlán, we lived with short-term host families and attended language school for a week. 

After Tepoztlán, we began a mini-tour of central Mexico, in which we had the blessing to see all of one another's worksites for the year. During this tour, we learned about dry toilets, composting our poop, and filtering "gray water" without wasting thousands of gallons of fresh water [cough. cough. U.S. sewage treatment facilities]. We played with kids at after-school community engagement programs.

Photo Cred: Hannah

We visited a library in an rural, indigenous, Nahuatl-speaking community. We witnessed a beautiful community that works with differently-disabled people by teaching them life skills and employing them in their bakery or green house. We heard the stories of Central American migrants, and we heard from two powerful women who work for an organization that fights for the human rights of workers in rural parts of Mexico. Along the way, we bonded during long, bumpy, music-filled... and sometimes nap-filled car rides.

Photo Cred: Hannah

 We spent time in magical town centers filled with history and vibrant markets.

Cuetzalan at Night. Photo Cred: Hannah

And, we saw amazing views.

Puebla Countryside. Photo Cred: Hannah

We even managed to visit two stunning brisas [waterfalls] during our free-day in Cuetzalan.

Photo Cred: Alyssa's Camera 

After our tour, we returned to el Districto Federal [Mexico City] for a few more days of orientation before departing for our respective home communities. This good-bye was even more painful than the one in Chicago, but we know that it really is just a "see you later."

For a fuller description of our orientation wanderings, check out my friend Gracia's blog post: "Orientation: Wandering Wonderers"


After spending three weeks doing orientation in Mexico, I have now been living with my host family and working at La Sagrada Familia shelter for two weeks. I will be sharing a lot about my worksite and the migrants I meet during the year, but for now I would like to introduce you to the crazy people I call mi familia.


Shortly after 4pm, I walk up to the beige door on the side of my house, and pull the key out of my backpack. It is attached to a red cow squeeze toy with bulging eyes, just as I received from my mamá. I try to open the door, but the key doesn't seem to what to fit. After a minute of struggling, I finally manage to jam the key in, turn the key and push open the door. I walk across the car port and step into the house, which is a bit darker than the bright sky outside. There I find my twenty-five year old primo Jacobo watching a Mexican Disney Channel show with my nine year old primo Nahomi, who is still dressed in her school uniform: black shoes, long dark songs, and a black dress over a pretty white shirt. Jacobo is a thick guy, with a big boyish grin, and tons of humor. He talks loudly, usually with lots of slang and grocerias [bad words]. The only time he is not over the top loud and smiling is when he is worried about me being sick. Meanwhile, Nahomi seats inches away, cute and as sweet as can be.

I walk into the kitchen to see what's for lunch. My mother Oliva makes comida for us each morning before departing for her doctoral duties at a local clinic that last into the evening. As I turn around from the stove, Tío Socrates rounds the corner. "¡Hola Josué!" he jubilantly greets me. Like Jacobo, Socrates is loud and outgoing. He houses his law office out of the first floor of our home, utilizing Jacobo as his assistant. He is a boisterous man with a big heart for his family.

Socrates turns on the stove to heat up the food. It will still be four hours before mamá gets home. I sit down at the kitchen table with a glass of water. Within minutes Norma, mi tía, arrives and pulls out plates. She sits down with Jacobo, Nahomi, Socrates and I. We begin eating the pozole, and pollo en mole that mamá has made. We are without a doubt accompanied by salsa and heaps of tortillas de maíz and limón. Jacobo and Socrates begin telling me stories of the volunteer that lived with them last year. They told me about how his Spanish got better after drinking tequila with them, how he walked the family dog each Saturday morning, and how he loved to drink leche at night. While we ate, Luis a family friend arrived from his job as a history teacher for una escuela preparatoria. Luis grabbed a plate of food and joined the conversation.

After eating, Luis began washing plates in the large concrete sink outside our back door. As he washed, I carried out more plates. Once they were all in front of him, I stuck around to chat for a bit while he washed the dishes. We began to talk about his graduate studies on the pre-hispanic people of Mexico. Then, we talked about our favorite musicians. He mentioned The Doors, and Bruce Springsteen. We also talked about our favorite literature. He listed off Mark Twain, Hemingway, Kerouac, Machiavelli, Shakespeare, and more. Feeling a bit inadequate, I tried to explain who my favorite author Donald Miller is. Luis finished washing the dishes and we carry them into the house together, placing each dish in its respective location.

By the time we finish putting the dishes away, Tío Noe has arrived from his job as a Civil Engineer. Noe pulls out a plate and fills it with the delicious concoction we had also eaten. I sit down with Tío Noe. Between bites, Noe teaches me the meaning of different hand gestures in Mexico and tries to egg me on to call Jacobo a... well, I better not say that word here. After eating, Noe begins to tell me about Mexican Mythology. He talks about how the Aztecs and other indigenous tribes in Mexico had extensive knowledge of astronomy. He tells me about how some think that they had contact with extraterrestres. Then, he tells me about Nahuals, and the ruins nearby to Tlaxcala. Tío Noe has been talking to me for an hour before his twenty-five year old daughter Laura Belen arrives. Belen, as the family calls her, is quiet and calm, but also doesn't mind going out with friends. She has worked on and off at resorts and camps in the U.S. as a cook during the last four years. She is home for a while, but plans to return to Miami in December once she receives a new work visa. She told me on day one, "I will speak to you in English, and you can speak to me in Spanish. That way we both get practice."

By now, some of the family has trickled out. We retire to the living room and begin watching a movie in Spanish about a woman named Adeline who doesn't age and finds herself dating the son of a man she nearly engaged forty years before. Eventually, the spell is broken and Adeline becomes a mere mortal again. As the movie wraps up, mi mamá Oliva arrives home. We sit in the living room chatting for a while. Shortly after nine, Noe and Belen are the last to leave the house. Mamá and I sit and watch half an episode of "Friends." It's in English. The few minutes of hearing my native tongue is comforting, and Oliva doesn't seem to mind the Spanish subtitles. I do feel a little guilty because they do not contain all the humor, puns and sarcasm as the original words, but we watch it anyways. Once the episode ends, we kiss each other on the cheek, say "buenas noches," and depart for our respective rooms.


On the weekends we are joined by my twenty year old hermana Annie, who is studying Relacciones Internationales in a nearby city, and my twenty-six year old hermana Karla who works as a nurse in the same city during the week. Both are very kind and compassionate and bring energy to the home in the moments when our boisterous ti@s and prim@s aren't present.

Some days, we are joined by even more family. But, these are the primary characters in mi nueva vida here in Tlaxcala.