I'm still dealing with hardcore feelings that I would liken to homesickness. You know the feeling. You're away from home, maybe it was when you went to church camp when you were little or the time you were separated from your fiance for three weeks while he wandered around Ireland (oops, another personal experience...). Anyway, you know the feeling. Pit of your stomach, meloncholic, I-just-want-to-be-back-in-my-comfort-zone sort of feeling. It makes absolutely no, I mean NONE, no sense to me why I feel this way about Mexico and I'm sure you all are sooo sick of hearing about it from me by now, but I feel like I need to vent.
In my Chicano studies class today we had to read a very interesting article. One of the founders of The Association for Hispanic Journalists (I believe that's the name), wrote an article in which he addressed the fact that he calls himself "Hispanic" though his parents are both clearly white. Very controversial. He worked in Mexico, he marched for Mexican-American movements, and for this he calls himself "Hispanic." Interesting, huh?
We had a very VERY interesting debate in class and about 99% of the class felt that was wrong. It was like someone saying they could make themself Italian just by going and living in the country. There's so much more to the debate, but wow, it makes you think.
I definitely wouldn't ever call myself "Hispanic" just for loving the culture, the country and the language, though the language often times confounds me. (However, grasping a language was never thought to be an easy thing to accomplish nor meant to be, especially considering God separated us with the language barrier.) But for me it's all the more satisfying to be able to break that barrier and communicate with even more people and learn more about people who have led completely different lives, hold many different values and celebrate, interact and mourn differently than me. It's a celebration of diversity and taking lessons from others and learning that your way is not always the "right way" and that maybe, just maybe, there isn't a "right way" to do things.
My soul still hungers for my Mexico/border time. To wind through the roads, talk with the people and take in the atmosphere. Gosh.
I keep wondering when the desire will go away or at least dissipate, but it hasn't. Something's hooked me and I can't logically figure it out. I'm sure I've written this a million times, so here goes a million and one; I have no freakin' clue why I love the Mexican culture so much. Why? And who chose this? I certainly couldn't have forseen this happening, especially if you had talked to me in the fall of 2001, shortly after high school graduation, starting my first semester of my required foreign language; Spanish. I had thought to myself "well, clearly French wasn't all that beneficial to me because I never use it, but Spanish, yah, I'll use Spanish. I'll get my 4 classes done and know a sufficient enough amount of the language to get by." Little did I know that a mission trip in the fall to Hermosillo would change all that...
I saw the people. I spoke with them, my broken tongue and sheepish smiles amid nervous, embarrassed laughs. It was hard. And I craved more. I wanted to tell them about God, about the happiness I had, about what had changed me for the better. But I realized that I would not only need to overcome language barriers, but cultural ones as well. When will the cravings be satisfied? I'm not sure.
I'm studying Spanish literature right now in my SPA 325 class, however, what I should be studying is mi Santa Biblia so I can learn the Word.
Most importantly, in regards to my first trip to Hermosillo, I learned to love someone I couldn't even understand. I realized my inability to help and anything I was able to communicate had to come from God. It taught me dependence, though even now I strive for more knowledge so I can depend on myself. But as with many things I'm learning, it will never be perfect. I have to trust.
So who knows what comes from my love, the special afinity I have for Mexico, especially the border, but I'm willing to go where God wants me.
I thought I left my heart in Hermosillo, but now I realize that it's just in Mexico. I just need to figure out how I'm going to get it back or if I even can...