Roots of Indifferences

by Terri Ragsdale

  Like a pro in the 200-meter, he dived into the water as if his life depended on it, into the oncoming waves. Coming up to the surface on his next breath, he tread water while he rubbed his arms and legs.

  The young boy and the three girls with their straw hats and basket of blue crabs giggled. They thought the tall man had lost his mind and was making a fool of himself. As the foursome stood there laughing at him, Fred discovered that one of the girls was the beautiful Dolores, and the others were her younger sisters. The young boy bobbed with Fred in the oncoming waves, gawking at him and smiling, while the girls stood and laughed. Fred felt his face flush. He was so embarrassed that he decided, what the hell, so he joined them and began laughing too.

  Later in the afternoon, as the three nuns and Father Gonzales were putting alcohol and cotton pads around Fred's legs and arms, Dolores and her younger brother, Juan, showed up, surprising all of the Florence Nightingale healing group. She asked Fred and Father Gonzales to join her family for dinner. There was no doubt—the main course was going to be crabs!

  The ten-minute walk from the church led to a dirt path leading to the one-level Gariby home. The large adobe house was made of plastered mud and clay, painted over with a mustard yellow color, which was barely visible from the distant road through the green shrubs that covered the landscape. Father Gonzales guided Fred around the house along a narrow path shaded by flowering vines.

  Fred was anxious to meet all of the family. El Señor Gariby was a short blond-headed, blue-eyed Spaniard. He was very gracious and seemed honored to have Fred as their guest in their twenty-room home. His charming wife, Señora Carlotta, was fair-skinned, short and heavy, with light brown hair and dark eyes, and seemed genuinely glad to have Fred as well. Among the six children were the three girls—Dolores and two younger sisters Gloria and Estella—and three younger boys, Juan, Lupe, and Chaño, who were the pride of Señor Gariby. The men in Mexico took pride in their sons, who were deemed more valuable than girls. There were also two other small children of Indian descent whom the Gariby family had adopted. In addition, there were twin spinster aunts, Niña and Piña—Tías—who lived with them. Everyone sat at the large wicker dining room table, which was outside next to the kitchen. In the middle of the table was a large bowl of different fruits: bananas, oranges, and coconut from their own orchards.

  The patio was open, with surrounding high arches, and colorful talking parrots in large wicker cages. The floors were inlaid with colorful homemade tiles mixed with a variety of polished stones. Throughout were lavish green vines of purple bougainvilleas and yellow mariposa flowers. The vines extended to the outside open kitchen, where three short, heavy, Indian women were busy forming round balls of fresh masa and making tortillas on top of an open adobe oven. Next to the outside kitchen was a water pump, whose water flowed into a large pond full of water lilies and colorful fish. Hanging along the kitchen walls were bundles of garlic bulbs and red chilies, and pieces of drying goat meat were draped over lines fastened from the kitchen to a gnarled old plum tree in the yard. The drying meat brought in hordes of uninvited, happy-go-lucky flies. The yard was full of clucking chickens and quacking ducks, wandering goats, barking dogs, and occasionally small pigs. To the back of the adobe house were several small thatched-roof shacks, where large canteens stored the goat milk, which would later be made into cheese. Large Ahuehuete trees shaded the area, with hammocks tied from one to the other, while another held a long rope children's swing.

  In the distance were lush gardens of corn and squash, and farther beyond were acres full of tobacco plants, and coffee, banana, mango and avocados trees, as well as tall stalks of sugar cane ready to be cut and made into piloncillo. It was truly a lost, hidden paradise. How could anyone ask for more?

  Everyone laughed and talked freely around the large table, especially the younger adolescent boys who bullied and teased one another. The stern looking Senor Gariby sat like a noble grandee surrounded by his family, but yet, he was a lenient pacifistic who would not punish his children when they got out of hand. Instead, his face muscles would twitch, or he would motion with his head, or flash a stern glance from his diplomatic eyes, or move his fingers. The Señor became a living, breathing ventriloquist dummy, and the funny part was, the children understood.

  On the contrary, La Señora sat staunch and stern, with several very long, thin sticks close at hand, which she did not hesitate to use on the ornery boys. Although they employed different disciplinary tactics, it was obvious the two strong-willed parents loved their children, and they were extremely grateful that a doctor was going to be living among them.

  The girls giggled and eyed Fred closely. Everyone in the household had heard about the incident with the ants since it had been repeated several times among the children, the twin tías, and the tortilla makers, but they had all been harshly tongue-lashed and warned by Dolores not to mention it.

  When the crab dish was brought in by one of the tías, everyone made a grab for the wooden spoon in the large pottery bowl painted with colorful flowers. It seemed to Fred that little etiquette had been taught in the way of table manners. The crabmeat had been cooked into a casserole with a cornmeal stuffing, onions, celery, and spices. Fred found it totally delicious. He had not had a full meal in years, nor had he been among a cheerful, close family such as this one. He yearned for the warm stability and security that came with a joyful family. He found the lavish meal and everything in the household wonderful, and he savored it all.

  The drink served was a very tasty liquid, called pulqué. Slices of the pineapple skin-fermented in the hot climate for about two weeks in wooden barrels, sugar and yeast were added. With cubes of ice, the drink was very refreshing, although it had a kick. Drinking too much of the pulqué was known to affect a person's balance hours later.

  As the evening progressed, a small band of musicians began playing favorite songs from the region, utilizing marimbas and maracas, which brought a refreshing sound to the ears and a certain joy energizing every part of one's body, making everyone want to get up and dance.

  While Fred sat and talked with the family, he realized they were not unlike the rest of the village people, so humble and giving, so easy-going and innocent of any intrusion from the outside world. They were also very set in their ways of thinking and believed completely in the blessings from the Catholic Church. There was no thought of rebellion here.

  The natives were also highly superstitious; they observed the weather and signs from the sky as prophecy. Everything had a time and a purpose. If a bird hit your glass window and died, it became a sign of death and most likely that of a relative. The cleaning of the floors was done early in the morning with a broom, and the house was always swept out from the front door to the back, and then sprinkled with holy water. If a black cat ran across your path, you needed to turn and go another direction. Finding a spider inside your home could be good or bad, depending on the color of the creature: if light-colored, it was considered good luck, if black, bad news. Meteors or shooting stars were signs of good luck and could indicate that a special wish would eventually come true. A groom was never supposed to see his future wife in her wedding dress; it was considered bad luck and the wedding would never take place. The list of superstitions went on and on.

  When the evening ended, Señor Gariby graciously invited Fred to stay in his residence, since they had plenty of room in their large home. From there it would be easy for him to walk to his medical clinic, rather than having to come from the seashore where he had been living with the couple who had rescued him. And the fact that Dolores had promised to help him would make it convenient for everyone. Before the two men said their goodbyes, Señor Gariby told Fred that he would find suitable clothes for him to wear. However, there was the problem of his large feet, which resembled sailboats. Mexican people had small feet, but Fred's were a much bigger size, and it would be hard finding shoes that large.

  In less than a day, Fred said adiós to the old man and woman by
the seashore and moved in with the Gariby family. He had been promoted. Things were looking up, from a grassy cot to a real bed with a mattress, and in his own bedroom. He had few possessions except for the ragged clothes on his back and the worn-out shoes he had come with.

  The longer Fred stayed in the village, the more he became captivated with the people living there. For the first time, because of his altruistic thinking, he felt a personal empowerment toward the natives, with gratitude and a strong obligation. There was a sense of stability in the adobe house he would call home. There was no opulence or magnificence, but here, warm gatherings took place, people shared their joys and sorrows, and laughing, happy children lived and played.

  Within the coming weeks, Fred began to examine sick children and consulted the native wives in his one-room clinic next to the church. He lacked many supplies, but he managed with what little he had until he was able to order more. Energetic and beautiful Dolores was always there, so willing and pleasant, to assist him in cleaning wounds, handing him scissors and bandages, and helping in the sterilizing of instruments. Most of the ailments were common dysentery, acute bronchitis, and ear infections. But many of the children had head lice. Some had ringworms, pinworms, hookworms, or threadworms; others with yellowish skin were harboring parasites that affected their growth and weight. Some were covered with skin lesions caused by the bite of the sand fly, which caused a disease called "leishmaniasis." Other children suffered from trachoma, infection of the eyes, brought on by small flies and if not treated with sulfonamide, would cause blindness.

  Fred had a problem making the local women understand the necessity of boiling their drinking water. Most of them were also anemic, for which he would normally recommend blackstrap molasses since it was so rich in iron. The local sugar cane was boiled to make the molasses put in milk. Cow and goat milk needed to be heated to a certain degree to kill bacteria and then cooled. The sessions went on and on, with Fred constantly trying to educate the mothers with young children about proper hygiene and nutrition. He would give each attending mother a bar of soap to use for washing. Quinine was used to treat malaria; aspirin came from the willow bark, and salvarsan was used to treat syphilis.

  As the weeks and months passed, Fred would occasionally visit Dr. Terán and his wife in Tampico, making the trip for supplies and information. He had visited the telegraph office several times but had not as yet received a return message. He was reassured by the clerks that messages sent between foreign countries usually took longer, but the long delay began to worry Fred.

  When the torrential rains came, which were often and lasted for days, he would find himself restless and would travel across the Rio Panuco. He would ask one of the natives to drive him to Tampico and would then find a ride home after spending a day or two with the Teráns. Normally, Dr. Terán would send him back with several boxes full of donated medical supplies.

  One evening, while eating dinner at Dr. Terán's upscale home overlooking the Gulf, the gracious Señora Terán suggested that Fred use their mailing address since no mail was received in Tampico-Alto, and she knew how difficult it was to live in a small village with no communication. The tall Señora Terán was not a pretty woman, but her gentleness and kindness more than made up for her lack of beauty. Her high cheekbones and black hair and eyes indicated part Indian blood in her heritage, and her disposition was that of a very strong-willed individual. According to Dr. Terán, it was her family's money from large agricultural estates south of Mexico City that had put him through medical school.

  That same evening, Dr. Terán showed Fred a Mexican magazine from Monterrey featuring headlines relating that Juan Alvarez, the popular former physician, was going to run for governor of Tamaulipas in the next election.

  "See what's ahead for doctors," he said, chuckling. "I guess after I get fed up with doctoring, maybe I, too, will run for office."

  Señora Terán grinned and shook her head while gathering up the dishes, saying, "You'll do no such thing!" She laughed and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Fred's eyes widened after reading the optimistic column from the magazine showing Juan's picture taken in an elaborate office full of books and wall paintings by known artists. He laid the magazine down and stared at it for the longest time, then spoke: "He was my idol when I was young. He hasn't changed much—he's beginning to go gray at the temples, but he's as handsome as ever."

  "You know him?" Dr. Terán inquired with surprise.

  Señora Terán returned from the kitchen and sat listening to the conversation.

  "Yes. I've known Juan since he came to our home in Spanish Acres a long time ago. I must have been about ten years old. As a matter of fact, it was Juan who gave me the urge and inspiration to become a doctor. My sister, Victoria, had high hopes of marrying him, but instead ended up marrying somebody else—unfortunately, a man she hates. She displayed an interest in Juan while growing up, but she was forbidden to have anything to do with him. However, during her education in Monterrey, she ended up meeting Juan again, getting pregnant, and having his child. It's a long story," he said, expelling a deep sigh.

  "How interesting," Señora Terán commented. "Spanish Acres sounds so romantic. Was that your home in Texas?" Her husband eyed her sharply at this questioning.

  Fred's eyes became filled with tears, and he swallowed hard but did not answer Señora Terán right away. He stared out the window, momentarily lost in thought, and then, in a moment of guilt, depression, and weakness, he began to tell the Teráns his life story. It was a moment of truth and a critical period of reassessment in his life. It was for the best. The Teráns had been wonderful to him, always willing to help him, giving him guidance, medical instruments, and everything to assist him, and they had never asked questions about who he was. It was the only honest and sincere thing to do—to tell them the whole truth.

  It was then that Fred launched into his fascinating story: the arrival of Juan Alvarez and the Revolution with Madero; his family status; his diplomat father; his academic school life; his successful medical career; how he had been accused of killing a young woman; having to leave his fiancée and flee the country; and bringing to light who he really was, and how mysteriously, perhaps for a purpose, he had appeared in Tampico-Alto. Occasionally, he would wipe his eyes with a napkin from the table. After talking without stopping for an hour, he paused, fearing he had sabotaged their friendship. Why would they want anything to do with him now? Sinking once again into self-pity, he thought his life was ruined.

  "I want to thank you both for your kindness and for being my friends, giving me the opportunity to open a medical practice in Tampico-Alto, and for your hospitality. I'm a fugitive from the United States, and it's all right if the both of you don't want me to come around. I will understand."

  Sobbing quietly, Señora Terán came over to Fred and hugged him with compassion, then wiped the tears from her eyes. She had never felt more humble. "I'm sorry," she said, "We did not mean to pry."

  Dr. Terán was obviously caught off guard. He knew that there was a story to tell when he first laid eyes on Fred, but he still had a good feeling about their friendship. He stepped up and gave Fred a warm abrazo. "We do not want you to feel that way," Dr. Terán said sincerely. "Whatever happened in Texas is not our concern. We have heard about the terrible things that have happened in South Texas. This is Mexico, and many good changes are coming into our country, especially in medicine. A new discovery called penicillin, a drug to fight infections, will save many lives. My wife and I have become very fond of you, and we want you to stay in Mexico and be our friend. We want to help you any way we can to make your life better."

  For the first time in many months, Fred felt as if the whole world had been lifted off his shoulders. "I can't thank you enough," he said softly. "I knew I would eventually have to tell you folks the true story, but I can't find it in me to tell the people in Tampico-Alto. They would see me as a charlatan."

  "Don't worry about that. They all seem to like you
and are happy that you help them with their ailments. For you to be their friend is all they want." Dr. Terán smiled charitably. "Now forget it, and let go of your despair and nostalgia. Release your regrets and fears. This is a new life. Relax, this is Mexico. We are your friends, Compadre! I've heard worse stories. If we all get our heads together, we will elect Juan Alvarez as the new governor of Tamaulipas."

  *****

  Changes were coming into Mexico as new presidential candidates were bringing fresh new ideas in education and land distribution. Pasual Ortiz Rubio was still president of Mexico, although he had several attempts on his life since he took office after Obregon's assassination. But Plutarco Elias Calles, the previous president, still controlled the paramount political power in Mexico.

  In the middle of the summer, President Hoover signed the Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act, eventually weakening the already failing U.S. economy by raising tariffs to historically high rates and provoking the foreign market to drastically curtail foreign trade. It became a perilous era for trade. Unemployment rose into the millions and brought soup lines to the larger cities to feed the poor. The lower and middle-class people were starving. Vendors appeared on main streets selling their fruits and vegetables for pennies. Con artists were inventing underhanded, get-rich-quick schemes, taking people's money and hightailing it to other towns. To make things worse, in the Midwest, where drought occurred, dust storms arose, making the poor pick up their belongings and head for California, where people were needed to work in the orchards and fields. The production index fell to the lowest in history, and the banking industry collapsed, exceeding many millions of dollars and sinking the Depression to its very lowest. The unfavorable Hoover was making a desperate last-ditch effort for his coming re-election in the midst of the Depression, and Prohibition became unpopular with the common man, who was desperately trying to bring food home to his hungry family.