Xela

We are leaving Xela tomorrow.
I am sad. I have made friends in one week.
Ilsa: She is our house mother. She is a widow in her sixties who is about 4'10. She barely eats because of a stomach problem and her hands are shriveled with arthritis. She is warm and wonderful, the best parts of everyone's mother. She reminds me a lot of mine, especially because her smallness and sweetness doesn't mask the incredible strength of her heart. She pulls me down for hugs and smiles whenever she sees me.

Before every meal she prays. She thanks God for the food and for all his blessings. And she always prays for Allegra and I. She asks God to protect us and guide our lives. My eyes fill with tears every time. Her prayers are a gift of care and goodness. For some reason this gift is gigantic to me right now. Perhaps I appreciate finding so much motherly care so far from home. Perhaps her care reminds me of my simple humanness. I am not an American or a psychologist or a democrat or a whatever... I am another child that has wondered into her kitchen for a warm meal. I am sad to leave her house.

Mariana: She is Ilsa's eighteen-year-old daughter. She is dramatic and moody and completely beautiful. She is always in teen-age chaos about something.
The best thing about Mariana is that she laughs a lot during every meal. She teases me and accepts my teasing. Although she did make fun of my dancing... We both love the character Pus in Boots in Shrek 2. We practiced our pouty faces at dinner tonight. She is a good sport about my bad Spanish and finds ways to correct me without making me feel stupid.

Francisco: My Spanish teacher who reminds me of my brother, Dan. He is twenty-three and working his way through university. He is mellow and happy and loves music and beer. He is extremely patient with my mistakes. We manage to have fairly complex conversations about politics, religion and the comparative metaphysical qualities of the psyche, energy and soul. Yeah, I don't know...
He is also very warm and we laugh a lot, mostly about a kitten who falls asleep on my backpack everyday and the fact that I manage to spill some of my coffee everyday.

These people and a few more have made it very easy to be here. None of them speak English. None of them are familiar with my culture. Somehow, despite many differences, I have had moments of meeting with each of them. I've had real conversations, real laughter and an exchange of respect and concern and interest and care. Miracles.