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A fridge
We moved into the house and started to, I believe the expression is, make it our own. I say we, but I mean mom and dad with a lot of input from my abuelos (mostly abuela), my tia, tio and bisabuela. My bisabuela has, you’ll be happy to know (I certainly am) mostly recovered.
The first major purchase was a new fridge. Mom and dad decided that the mini fridge my abuelos had lent us was too small. Mom said she needed a big freezer so she could make me popsicles made of real fruit. I am not sure of mom’s logic but I am happy to go along. Dad said he needed a bigger fridge so we could have food for more than one meal at a time. As you know, I don’t rely on the fridge for my food, so again, not sure about dad’s logic ether, but happy to go along.
The research began and discussions were had.
My bisabuela said we had to buy the fridge from Liverpool, a big department store in Xalapa (the nearest city). Dad said we needed to buy the fridge in Coatepec. He explained to my bisabuela that if we bought the fridge from one of the stores in town, the salesperson would get a commission which they could then spend in my bisabuela’s restaurant. My bisabuela argued strongly for Liverpool and my dad argued strongly for the local economy.
I visited downtown Coatepec with mom and dad no fewer than three times. They found a fridge they liked then reported back to my abuela. My abuela didn’t like this brand or that brand but liked other brands. We were encouraged to buy a Mexican brand. Easier to fix we were told. Mom and dad didn’t know anything about fridges. Neither of them had ever bought one. They relied on the opinion of my abuela.
When they had finally made their choice, they went to the store with the best price and a very nice salesman. They told him they were ready to buy the Mabe, a Mexican brand. Dad gave mom his credit card and wandered around the store with me while the paperwork was being done. Mom called dad to come back to the counter. They needed a piece of ID. Dad gave them his Mexican Permanent Residency card. Apparently it wasn’t on the list of approved IDs and as a result wasn’t acceptable. Mom argued it was government issued and pretty darn official. The cashier wouldn’t budge. Dad asked for the manager. The manager wasn’t in.
We bought the fridge in Xalapa at Sears. The same mall as Liverpool. Sears was marginally cheaper. Sears is owned by Carlos Slim, the 6th richest man in the world. He used to be number one. Sears just filed for bankruptcy in Canada. Dad didn’t tell my bisabuela.
A stove
My abuela bought a used stove for us before we arrived. Turned out the oven didn’t retain heat. Mom and dad tried to have the gas stove man fix it when we moved. His solution was to offer mom and dad a used stove from the 1950s. He assured them it was much better than the stoves that were made today. They agreed to buy it based on a picture sent via WhatsApp. The gas stove man, who wandered around the streets of Coatepec with a backpack fixing stoves, assured mom that the oven worked well. Turns out the oven worked real well. Everything dad cooked came out dark, very dark.
Instead of spending more money fixing used stoves, dad suggested they buy a new one. Mom said it was up to dad since he was the one who did all the cooking. Dad doing all the cooking may have had something to do with the words on the fruit plate.
En esta casa la reina no cocina. (In this house the queen does not cook.)
The purchase of the stove happened quicker than the fridge and with far less consultation. I wonder if there is a connection. Anyway we have a new stove in the kitche and a stove graveyard in the courtyard!
San Jeronimo, patron saint of Coatepec
At the end of September, the people of Coatepec celebrate San Jeronimo, the town’s patron saint. It’s an elaborate celebration. Roads leading to the main church, are carpeted with sawdust. It is not the tan sawdust found in a carpenter’s workshop but rather dyed sawdust stenciled into the roads and streets.
Mom told dad about it and we all went out to see the work in progress. Everyone worked on the sawdust carpet, carefully, meticulously. Mom explained that eventually there would be a parade down the sawdust carpets. Part of the parade would involve the carrying of arcs made from tree trunks woven together with banana-leaves, flowers, and other natural materials. The arcs would be two or three stories tall and as wide as the road. Each one required a lot of men to get them from the start of the carpet to their final destination. Mom explained that like a truck requires gas, the men who carried these required an assortment of fuels themselves.
Dad was very excited at the idea of photographing the parade but we were already committed to 3pm dinner at my abuelos. Mom said maybe we could go after we ate. The parade was scheduled to begin at 4pm. Mom ended up sending dad on his own. Mom said it was too late for me to be going out. She has already started!
When dad returned he was very excited. He told mom it was all crazy. It started to rain before the parade started. That meant that all the beautiful collages of sawdust turned into colourful rivers.
When the parade reached where dad was, he ran out into the road to take pictures. Then wham, a wild demon character that had caused all the children to scream and run away, wrapped it’s long tail around dad’s legs. This caused dad to pay much more attention to what was going on around him.
Eventually the arcs, each one carried by about 50 men of all ages, came near. As the men moved down the road, the arches they carried veered from one side of the road to the other before coming to a stop and being set down. Each rest stop allowed time for the passing around of plastic bottles of liquid. A a couple of minutes, the arches were picked up by the men who continued to move down the road veering from side to side a bit more.
Each arch, was destined to arrive at one of Coatepec’s many churches. Once there they were hoisted up using a pulley system until they leaned against the church’s steeple and entrance.
And so it was that the festival of St. Jerome turned out to be one big party. It was a party planned, created and then attended by the entire town. Except there were no police and dad found that really refreshing. He says the people were very alive, so much more alive than back home.
Victim of the Israeli occupation
Dad also discovered, as a result of having one of those nagging thoughts in his head, that St. Jerome, the patron saint of Coatepec, was the same saint he had seen a statue of in Bethlehem, Palestine. Only in Palestine, there was a bullet hole in the back of the statue; the result of the Israeli siege on the Church of the Nativity.
St. Jerome is much safer in Coatepec.
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