curbside lessons

Niña Toña is sitting on the curb in front of her house and she invites me to sit and join her. “I used to sit out here every night with Niña Berta until 11, but now it's too dangerous, and she moved away. I miss it.” I sit down and my dog lays down beside me. It's early evening and finally cooling off from the heat of the day. People are coming and going on the main street with black plastic shopping bags in hand, kids in tow, or pailas (wash basins) on their heads. “Buenas Noches” they call out. Sometimes “salu”. Everyone in the community seems to know her and she everyone else, so lots of people stop to chat. We platicar (chat) a bit. Laugh too – often about something I've done or said. But tonight I don't mind. I just like being on the curb with Niña Toña. She has been a friend, mentor and grandma to me ever since I arrived in San Antonio, about a year and a half ago. Even though she never studied beyond second grade, she has quite a lot to teach people about living their life well.

Work Hard
Niña Toña was born in the mid to late 40s. She's not sure and at this point she doesn't really care. From her first marriage she had five children, but one of them passed away. Then her husband passed away. She remarried and had one more child, and then husband number two passed away. So she was left to raise her five surviving children by herself. She remembers working in the cafetales (coffee fields) on the San Miguel volcano, basket for cafe in front, and a child strapped to her back. “Those were hard days” she tells me. “But what else could I do? My family had to eat and it was just me.” Her children are all grown now, and one even made it all the way through university. She is rightfully proud of the life she has provided for her children. But she's not just twiddling her thumbs now into her old age. She still works. Every day she makes tortillas to sell and some days she sells 7 dollars worth of tortillas. She hasn't stopped working yet, and she says that she won't stop until she absolutely can't work anymore. She gets too bored if she doesn't work.

Play Hard
However, it's not like Niña Toña only works. She spends a good part of her day visiting friends, vagando as they say. She also goes to almost every vela (wake) and entierro (burial) in the community, as well as every celebracion and vigilia at her church. She's an incredibly religious woman, but she tells me that she also just enjoys the company at the events. It's a chance to visit and check in on lots of people and see how they're doing. When I was new to San Antonio she was the one who took me around, introducing me to people for the entrevistas (interviews). We eventually visited 50 families and stopped there, but not because we ran out of people she knew, it was because I needed to wrap up the diagnostic. She could have kept going day after day taking me to other friends' houses and we probably would have eventually visited all 600 houses in San Antonio. For an old lady she sure does have a good time.

Give Thanks
And almost a year and half later I'm still hanging out with Niña Toña. Sitting on the curb in front of her house that night she asks me if I want a tamale. She won't let me say no. “They're pisque” (filled with beans) she says. “And they're spicy.” Okay, I'm game. She brings back one for each of us and we eat them with our fingers. As we finish eating she says “Gracias a Dios, ya comimos.” (Thanks to God, we've now eaten.) I nod in agreement. While I don't completely agree with whom she's giving thanks to - I mean, she made the tamales! - I do like the idea of giving thanks, and giving it frequently. I think it's important to acknowledge the sources of our continued existence and Niña Toña does so after every meal and cada rato (every chance) during the day. Whether for you that means thanking God, your parents, the United States Government, your own two hands, Mother Earth, or something in between, I think thanksgiving is a good lesson.

Last Lesson
It's become dark in the time we've been sitting on the curb. The neighbors across the street turn on an outside light and we can see again the people walking up and down the street. The same neighbors have twin girls – 3 years old and quite a handful. I guess it's bed time because all of a sudden a great racket starts up from inside their house. I shake my head and chuckle but refrain from commenting on their parenting skills. Niña Toña seems to understand what I'm getting at. She looks over at me, puts her hand on my knee and says to me in a voice that seems to say – you'll understand when you have kids - “No, Carol, it's okay. Kids need to scream a lot when their little. It develops their vocal cords.” Well, I guess no one can be full of sage advice 100% of the time. But Niña Toña sure gets close.