First Person Chris Strickling
Life in a pueblo has its charms
I
traveled from my home in Fort Worth, Texas, to a dusty pueblo near Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, in 1967. I was 15. The youth counselor from our church drove four other teenagers and me to the border for a good cause. We would join the adults in this small town to finally finish the construction of a schoolhouse for the children of the community. I don’t remember the name of the town, but I can’t forget the limited access to water, food, and electricity. Housing was basic. The low wages and disregard for their rights made it difficult for the workers to stay in these jobs, but they had nowhere else to go. During our four-day stay, we carried concrete blocks and buckets of water, small mixed batches of concrete, and did anything we could do. The adults fed us from their simple, private kitchens and we slept in their homes on makeshift beds. Their children taught us games. Everyone showed pride in their accomplishment and gratitude for our help when the school building was finally finished. We did it together, enduring the hottest sun I have ever experienced. That trip made me realize what “culture” means and how privilege works. I returned to my middle-class life with a new respect for those workers and the children I met, in awe of their stamina and goodwill toward us. I learned Spanish in high school and college and traveled to Mexico as much as I could for more than 20 years. I escaped to Oaxaca in 2005 to deal with the trainwreck of a life I’d built for myself. It was the right thing to do. Living in an environment where nobody knew me, enjoying the art, the cuisine, strolling in the zocalo, and visiting the Cathedral helped me get back on my feet. I knew then that I would live in Mexico. By early 2013, retirement became my goal. I wanted a quiet life, a space dedicated to writing, and a chance to go a little crazy on gardening. When a friend offered me the chance to build a home on his property in Izamal, I didn’t waste any time. Settling into Izamal was never a decision between city or pueblo for me. It was a free fall into a quieter
8
CARLOS ROSADO VAN DER GRACHT / YUCATÁN MAGAZINE
and slower lifestyle that I needed, one that beach, the safety, the language, and culture I could financially sustain. I’m an amateur of the Yucatán. They settled first in Mérida gardener. Yucatán has blessed me with new September 2019, in García Ginerés. plants without cursing my ignorance. My “The neighborhood was beautiful, but I large Izamal property thrives because I have kept feeling that I needed to see more than a jardinero to help me, and I exchange plants nice swimming pools and tall walls. I can’t with my neighbors. I’m a writer. The stacked stand having the walls!” stone walls around my home keep things When they left García Ginerés and quiet. I have frequent conversations with my rented a small house in Chelem for two neighbors, in Spanish, I argue months, they soon discovered with CFE, and distribute mangos “ I miss the that the beach life wasn’t for and mamey in season. I have them, either. They had not cultural almost learned to like the music counted on how much energy it experience takes to deal with the sand and that roars out of my neighbor’s house at night. The mercado realized that the heat and sand, a city has bounced back from the together, had already started to offers, but pandemic, new restaurants have damage furniture. it doesn’t arrived. We have an art gallery! Soon, they began looking for After nine years of residency, an undeveloped property that move me no robbery, no property damage they could shape for themselves. to leave the Izamal offered wide open spaces from neighbors. I’m set to live here, happily, as long as I want to. that they could develop as pueblo.” I miss the cultural experience they please, a complex culture, a city offers, but it doesn’t move me to leave and opportunities to learn new languages the pueblo. Maybe the longing for a big city (Spanish and Mayan) and customs. Debis about scratching that itch. It seems to me orah has the freedom to choose what she that those of us who choose to live in pueblos sees every day. They found what they were have a different itch. looking for. That’s the case for Deborah Kawabata “I’m not done living, and I’m not done and her husband, Hidetaro. They met in learning,” Deborah insists. Japan, married, and raised two children I couldn’t agree more! there. The third was born in Canada, Deborah’s homeland. They sojourned in Bali, Raised in Texas, Chris Strickling lives Izamal where they spent their honeymoon, for six in a house she designed and built in 2013. Chris months after their children left home. Debis most at home when she’s riding her bike in the orah researched Mérida during their stay. early morning, cooking dinner for friends, or She was drawn to Mérida’s proximity to the writing the next short story that beckons her. ISSUE 7 | YUCATÁN MAGAZINE
