Student to Student

Learning Survival Skills as a Student in Mexico

By Heather Mansfield, UCLA

To tell the truth, my reasons for choosing the Yucatan Peninsula to study abroad were not academic. The thought of being able to spend weekends frolicking through the Mexican Caribbean and the ancient land of the Maya was the deciding factor in applying for the UCLA independent research program.

When I arrived, I knew very little about Mayan indigenous culture. My projected thesis, studying the correlation between ancient goddesses of the Maya and modern-day Catholic santa worship, was discarded when my research adviser informed me that the ancient Maya only had one goddess, the goddess of the moon. Nevertheless, she reluctantly drove me four hours east of Merida on a Sunday morning to introduce me to the small indigenous community of Xocen (pronounced show-ken), a focal point of religious activity and believed by the locals to be the geographic center of the world.

I had the idea that the Xocenese would be accustomed to foreigners studying their culture and that the community had a long-standing relationship with the university. Not so. They hadn't even been told that I was coming. Within minutes after arrival it became obvious that I was in a sobering and serious predicament.

When I extended my hand to greet a little girl, she screamed and ran in the opposite direction. Fearing the worst, the girl's grandfather immediately took me to the village church so the Gods could judge the nature of my spirit. It is said that the church was built by the Spanish directly on top of the portal to the ancient underworld. I wasn't struck by lightning and bad winds didn't begin to blow, thus the Gods approved of me and I was able to stay.

Thanks to my ignorance and lack of preparation, the thought never occurred to me that the Xocenese wouldn't speak Spanish. Thankfully, my appointed "sister," Pasqualla, was fluent in both Spanish and Yucatec Maya.

I spent two months in Xocen. In the beginning the children still wouldn't come within 10 feet of another human being who looked, spoke, and acted in ways beyond their imagination and understanding. But four weeks into my stay I finally had the breakthrough I had been hoping for. I etched a hopscotch in the road, and the outrageous sight of the silly gringa hopping on one foot finally won the trust of the children.

My previous conception of "women's work" was challenged and subsequently was changed considerably. I discovered I was even guilty of not valuing traditional women's work. The North American model of feminism has very little relevance in the Xocenese community. The separation of labor is respected and necessary for survival.

Along with survival skills, I learned about human kindness and humility and grappled with the injustice of poverty, oppression, and racism toward the indigenous people. The experience gave purpose to my life and changed my vision of the world. I've just recently returned from another land of the Maya, Guatemala, where I volunteered at a school for poor children, and I will return there for the rest of my life when time and finances permit.

As for the goddess, contrary to the somewhat biased anthropological establishment, she is alive and thriving in the hearts of the Mayan people, primarily through the cult of the Virgin Mary. The Mother Moon Goddess, Ixchel, gave birth to many daughters who then passed on their knowledge to their own daughters, sisters, and aunts. These modern-day feminine deities are deeply rooted within the Mayan spirit.

As for frolicking on the beach, it didn't happen. I did manage a short Caribbean excursion but found it difficult to enjoy myself knowing that a good number of my friends in Xocen would die without ever swimming in the ocean, although they live only five hours away. To this day, the absurdity of such extreme poverty is difficult for my "first world" mind to understand.

I'm still in contact with my friends and family in Xocen. They love to decorate the inside of their thatched dwellings with the old calendars I send each year. Last year, Pasqualla sent me a baby dress that she had sewed and embroidered herself in traditional Yucatec style. That I would travel alone and unprotected in a strange land was a constant source of bewilderment for the Xocenes, and Pasqualla's gift was surely a statement about my seemingly perpetual husbandlessness.

One day I will return to Xocen with my own daughter, garbed in Pasqualla's fine needlework. I just hope that in this era of free trade agreements, globalization, and migration to the cities the Xocenese community will still be there to receive us.

HEATHER MANSFIELD writes from Los Angeles, CA. She is a graduate of UCLA. She traveled by rail through Europe the summer after her junior year, and completed two study abroad programs her senior year: a field research program in Mexico and a political science exchange project in Chile.