2010, More Than a Year Later

The entire year 2009 flew by and no more entries to Stories from the Great Mex. Not even one post.

However, I did write a letter to Femia around the time of their 29th anniversary in December and I will share it here because in it I reminisce about how our friendship began.

December 13, 2009

Dear Femia:

A week ago, December 6th, was your 29th anniversary. Around that time, I came across an article that mentioned your names as I was perusing the local newspaper! How timely was that! It was Jim Garringer’s column. Of course, I cut it out planning to mail it to you.

Jim couldn’t have known about your anniversary or when the article would be published. And I have no idea when this letter and enclosed clipping might reach you. (Remember the birthday greeting that took two months to get there?) But here go my sincere wishes for a wonderfully blessed thirtieth year together!

The next day I met him at the university and commented on his piece and how much I appreciated that he had written an article inspired by your lives. I did have a question, however, about something he wrote. He said that you went to college in the USA. That did not agree with what I thought you had told me. (Or could it be that my memory fails me? Heaven forbid! )

A year ago is when I wrote the last entry in the series titled Stories of the Great Mex. I fully intended to write another chapter in honor of your special day, but like many other intentions, it was preempted by the pressures of the Christmas season. Instead, I am writing you a letter and thinking back, preparing my mind to continue writing your story.

I remember our instant rapport the day we first met and why we’ve since called ourselves ‘twin souls’ (almas gemelas).

We were at the airport in Cancún with thirty high school students, several couples as chaperones, and me, the Spanish teacher, the only bilingual in the crowd. The two leaders, Junior and Lorie, had been to Yucatán many times and were so excited to see old friends.

I was sitting up front in the bus, maybe it was a way of honoring the oldest one there. And I was alone, every one else had a partner. When you sat next to me, I had no clue who you were, this small Mayan lady.

The trip to your village, Xocenpich, took over two hours. We ate the bag lunch provided and I began to ask you questions about yourself. I was increasingly amazed at your flawless English and excellent pronunciation. I finally asked the burning question: "How is it that you speak English?" From then on we talked constantly, every chance we had, all week long, switching back and forth between languages with ease, sharing the many stages and details of our life stories.

We were often seen together. Some say we look alike; we’re nearly the same age, both very short, similar build. I referred to you as my Mayan twin. We very quickly understood why we could communicate and connect so deeply. Both of us are TCKs, Third Culture or Trans Culture Kids, often called 3CKs (Three Culture Kids) because we move between worlds.

I grew up with my American family in Argentina, and though you remained in your birth country you were raised by American parents. Neither one of us ever totally fit into either culture, we belong to a third community, almost like a different nationality, where the members sense an instant bond. There are books written about this phenomenon. In fact, I gave you the one I was reading.

Well, that was the beginning of a special friendship and many more encuentros. I came back to your village twice with my own university students, and you have been to our area a couple times.

The last time we were together was for Ted’s wedding, your oldest and the first son to marry. Ted and Paulina were so dear to us. He was our driver and tourist guide and both became a part of our team.

The wedding was so beautiful. I stayed on with you, was it two or three weeks? Such precious memories! You were recovering from a stroke. I was so glad to be there, share in your life, and help out a bit.

Another very special aspect of that visit was to get to know your husband better! This time Ulises was home and didn’t have to be away most of the time pastoring a church in another city. You will really like how Jim described Ulises: his heart consumed by the call to be a pastor; his passionate preaching; and finally, without going into details, quoting the scripture that says, “He who has been forgiven much, loves much.” That chapter in your life is the one I want to write about next: how Ulises’ waywardness affected you and the boys, and how going against the advice of many, you hung in there and believed! And, of course, the happy ending. I hope I have sufficient notes for a first draft. Then I will have a wonderful excuse to call you, not that I need any, mind you!

Let’s see if we can get this project rolling again.

Affectionately,

Rita, your alma gemela

6 de diciembre de 1980

That was the day, 28 years ago, when Ulises married Femia after five years of courtship.

Some were opposed to the match. Ulises had survived a difficult upbringing and perservered through much rejection. There had been run-ins with some of the Bible Institute people, but Ulises would not give up either on the Bible training or on wooing the woman he loved.

Mom and Dad Finley had already retired to the USA (so much more needs to be written about their story!) leaving Femia well settled into a little house of her own across from the clinic where she worked.

Birth mother was present at the wedding.

Femia the Firstborn

Fact: María Eufemia Haas Argaez was born March 20, 1941, in Nunkiní, Campeche, México.

Circumstances surrounding the birth: uncertain and unverifiable.

Carlota, the birth mother, lay in the hospital during one of the final bouts with the illness that ended her life, and called for Femia. She related her version of the event in this one and only memorable conversation.

The town festival was to begin so Carlota dressed for the occasion: huipil, festive regional dress, hair pulled back with a big red bow, and high heels.
Her Mamá asked: Where are you going?! Look at you about to give birth! You are not going anywhere!
Headstrong and only 13, Carlota determined to go anyway, jumped over the albarrada (stone fence) then fell or fainted and never knew what happened.
When Carlota awoke, she was in one hammock and there was a baby in another.

Was she married at the time? Femia has pondered this question over the years.
As far as everyone knew Carlota Argaez and Marcelino Haas Haas had been married and there are documents to prove it, however the reliability of the dates is in question.

Among those earliest memories, there are none of the young woman doing "motherly" chores, instead images of piles of unfinished laundry. Food was scarce. Femia from an early age learned to be resourceful in order to provide for her younger siblings. The neighbors often looked out for the youngsters and little Femia made sure her brothers got something. Where were the young parents? Frequently out partying.

Was there no family support? Probably not. His sisters never liked or accepted Carlota. And she maintained that these "aunts" had sold Femia to the missionaries, perhaps because they were being paid for all the work they did at the mission school she assumed they had been reimbursed for the child as well.

After a very rocky start, many fights, seasons of separation, and three children, Carlota and Marcelino parted ways forever.

Escape from Cruella

the saga continued...

Newlywed Rita finally understood the extent of cruel treachery when she asked for Efrén's favorite recipe wanting to prepare a surprise for him. She lovingly toiled and set the dish down before him.
"Why do you give me this!" he screamed. Tía Vicha had suggested a dish he despised!
Realizing what had just happened they got out of there.
When Ulises saw them coming, he rejoiced and immediately strangled the fatted turkey to celebrate their escape!

Some hurts happen in order to set us free!

And sometimes it takes a long time to become free.

Rita went on to say that there were two occasions when Efrén could not preach without breaking down--Mother's Day and Father's Day.
He added that only recently has he felt sufficiently healed of the deep hurts of the past to be able to maintain composure and speak joyfully.
"Seeing the love in Rita's family and observing her as a loving mother to our children, has finally healed me."

There were other examples of inflicted cruelty, but let us dwell foremost on the redemption stories. Perhaps a chapter could be entitled "Los tres regalados, recogidos y redimidos" (The Three Who Were Given Away, Gathered Up, and Redeemed)

A Gentle Touch

Finally getting back to the Mexico Stories and to the very significant conversation between Femia, middle brother Efrén, and others present, his wife Rita and her sister Livis, and Ulises.

I could kick myself for not recording it but will do my best to recall the meaningful memories.

Setting: Breakfast meal, variety of foods/leftovers/fruit and coffee; seated at the round table in Femia's kitchen; conversation threads criss-crossing; subject, early childhood memories and more specifically now--cruelty of the aunts

Tía Vicha raised Efrén and had no children of her own. Her sister, tía Clara (or often called Clara la cruel), lived nearby and had a family of her own; her children always received preferential treatment.

Rita recalls the days of their courtship: "I was appalled to hear the aunts refer to Efrén as el recogido [the one we took in]."

Livis: "I would have called her [tía Clara] la recojita [the very cripple, as she had a slight limp]!"

The sisters then talk about their growing up years, six girls and so much love in the family! Dysfunction was so foreign to them that it took a while to recognize and accept it as such. Tía Clara knew nothing else and married to a drunk she was forever envious of the good fortune of others. Rita is convinced that tía Clara poisoned her sister's attitude.

Femia: "Remember the wash tub at the missionary school? Tía Clara used to bathe me, grab me by the hair, pull and drag me around in the cold water. I hated cold water!"

At the first mention of the wash tub, Ulises (Femia's husband) reached over to touch her cheek and put his hand on her shoulder, a gentle loving supportive gesture. He knew what was coming, the pain stirred up by those memories of intentional cruelty still brings tears to her eyes even 60+ years later.

The two aunts worked at the missionary school and that was the connection that eventually led to Femia being given to the missionaries.



1. Efrén and Rita's wedding 2. With tía Vicha and husband 3. Livis, Efrén and Rita (6/12/08)

Goodbye, friends...

A month ago Femia and Ulises took me to Pisté to catch a bus to Cancún. We had spent two weeks together every day and blended our daily routines nicely. At the beginning Femia needed more help due to a stroke suffered April 5th, but by the end she was chasing me out of the kitchen.
My main reason for traveling to Mexico was to spend time with Femia and help out in whatever way possible. From the moment we met four years ago, we have felt like soul-mates--almas gemelas.

She has a most fascinating story and I would like to put it in writing. So my intentional focus was to be attentive and listen, to ask questions and record the many stories. Now I need to begin to gather all that I have gleaned, do more research, write and see what comes of it.
At the beginning of the summer, before traveling to Yucatán, I had begun to read books about adoption by speaker and author Sherrie Eldridge. As I read excerpts from the book Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew and shared some of the concepts with Femia, many memories and feelings surfaced.
Femia was never legally adopted, however her experiences are very similar to those described in the book. Throughout her lifetime she has had to deal with issues of relinquishment and the pain of abandonment.

A conversation I shall never forget, happened during a brief visit with Efrén and his wife Rita visiting from California. We sat around the table, Rita and I serving breakfast, then Femia asked her brother one question: "What are your earliest memories of childhood?" and he spent the rest of our morning together recounting feelings and happenings that were uncannily similar to hers.
Femia was the oldest of three siblings and each of them at some point was taken away from their dysfunctional mother and placed in a different home. They struggled for years, far into adulthood, with emotions surrounding the abandonment by their father as well.
Efrén told of the day, after he had been taken to Aunt Bicha's, when his father told him to wait because when he came back they were going to go cut wood together. The little guy did just that, very eagerly at first, he sat on the rock by the gate for hours, even in the rain, and refused to go in until after dark when it was obvious dad was not coming back for him.

For Femia, the train whistle has always triggered a similar memory. Dad told her to pack her things, in the morning she would be going with him. Her little box was ready, but when she woke up he had left already.
Hoping to spare them pain by avoiding the truth, this parent caused greater anguish. Both children suffered the deep pain of abandonment and damaging hatred for years but by the grace of God and the loving families He gave them later, they were finally healed and able to forgive and reach out to their birth parents.

Ted's wedding brought the three siblings together.

What a meaningfull moment was captured in this one photo!

Efrén, Femia and Mosi Haas

Remembering the village wedding/s

Another monthaversary happened yesterday--Carla and Harvin's.

Whenever a group of extranjeros was staying in Xocenpich, Silvia (Femia's half-sister) came around selling her crafts (crocheted handbags, coin purses, hats, doll dresses, hair accessories, as well as hammocks). Her daughter Carla always came with her and she talked about wanting to learn English.

Well, this year during my visit, I was privileged to attend both of her wedding ceremonies.

An invitation was personally delivered in a fancy little box inviting us to both celebrations.

The civil ceremony was held at noon on Thursday at her parents' home, the blue house on the corner of the plaza, with the arcade games.

The church wedding was Saturday evening in the Templo followed by a reception at the Bíblico.

For the first, she wore the traditional regional style dress and for the church wedding a modern bridal gown.

The food was also very different. Thursday after the lengthy and heartfelt delivery of the government's sermon by the jueza, the women served relleno negro, typical wedding fare (turkey stew in black sauce) and the ever-present tortillas. It was a smaller crowd, family and close friends including the Estrellas and the nurses from the clinic, myself, and Goliat the dog.

Live music was provided by a men's trio from another church, sometimes competing with the daily mid-day storm. The special tent nearly blew away at one point.

An ominous looking sky was the backdrop for the church wedding Saturday, but then a lovely rainbow shone before the arrival of the bride. And the weather cooperated beautifully the rest of the evening for the outdoor reception. Each person was served a styrofoam tray with three tacos, condiments were on the tables, plenty of canned pop, and then the cake.

The crowd included all the church and community friends.

They really know how to throw parties and make everyone feel special.

Another beautiful experience.

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