Dancharthos : Yucatan

Another Yankui in Yucatan

2 February/Febrero 1999
Visit schools w/Chacho, Chris & Beefy.
To Fiesta/Expo at sunset.

We trundle all up and down the backwoods of the thorn scrub of Yucatan, almost all the way to Merida. Five of us in a crowded, yet comfortable small truck with backseat cab. Chacho's wheels. Drop in on several small schools with gifts. The last one is the big one. They been expecting us. Everyone is all lined up outside, the teachers give speeches which I translate for Chris. Then they present soccer balls and books to the school, and bags of pencils, paper and candy to each student. Smiles and applause all around.

Meanwhile I'm looking at all these people in this small town, their skin every shade of white and brown imaginable, one kid looks like Tom Sawyer, down to red hair and freckles on his rusty bicycle. His best friend is a dark Maya kid right off the paintings of the Bonampak prince. What went on here, what goes on here? Your poet doesn't know. He sees only the tip of a cultural iceberg, but...

Thanks to Chris and Beefy and Chacho I AM SEEING that tip. And everyone seems so happy. It is fiesta day of the goddess virgin of the candelaria and we come in a white truck bearing cargo of gifts....

Wow.

By the time we get back to Valladolid I am feeling like I really gotta go gotta go gotta go over to the big FAIR feria. The guys say no they've been another night and just want to hang around the room.

I walk the few blocks ten or so, past the bus station, out toward the fairgrounds... what a deliciously small city this is. A drunk begs a cigarette from me. In front of a line of ladies selling tamales. He's so plastered he can't even hold a match still. The women seem embarrased for him, but I roll my eyes and hold his hand and the ladies giggle at him and he sucks in the tobacco smoke and doesn't have any idea we are all laughing silently at him, only how wonderful tastes a cigarette.

Pay my couple pesos to get in with the late afternoon fairgoers. Hundreds of people crowded in together. Hucksters booming through microphones selling dishes and blankets and clothes. I go into a pavillion with bakers. Watch two men behind big glass window making a huge pastel de tres leches -- three milk cake -- it Looks GOOD and Rich que rico que rico.

Watch a comedy audience participation show on the outdoor open stage. Eat greasy food and wonder if it will upset my digestion. That's all I will need. The beginnings of a cold and then... old trotty's revenge?

Wonder if I'll leave town tomorrow afternoon to go to Coba.