Godless Gringa

        The day my host mom took me to her childhood home I rode in the back of the truck as my host dad drove through el campo in one of the most beautiful parts of the Monteverde rainforest. She was taking me to an annual Catholic celebration of a miracle that occurred in her mother’s house many years ago. She had been preparing for this significant event since the first day I had arrived and she was beyond excited that she would be bringing along the gringa from California to the festivities. Later during the event she would grab the microphone and introduce me to a crowd of a hundred people as “the girl from California who needs your help finding god.” She then asked for everyone to say a prayer for me and I stood there politely smiling and nodding my head as people began to introduce themselves. I had become the godless gringa after that and I decided to sit behind the musicians' corner and listen to them sing ballad after ballad in order to avoid as many curious people as I could. Most of them were surprised to see that the gringa my host mom had been talking about was really just a short Mexican girl who looked no different than themselves but spoke funny Spanish. I explained that my parents were from Mexico and that California has a large Latino population and so on and so on. Their seemingly endless curiosity did not trouble me as much at first but as soon as we left the house that night I was reminded that it was time to ride in the back of the truck again and at that point it had began to pour. With no way of completely sheltering myself from it I was forced to embrace the downpour for the entire thirty minute ride through the forest. It was then that I was first hit with the sudden realization that I was thousands of miles away from the comforts of home and that my identity here had been reduced to a godless gringa. But just as I became slightly melancholy I noticed that through the heavy rain the pathway was illuminated by thousands of fireflies. I was awestruck. I had never seen a single firefly in my entire life prior to that moment. And all of a sudden I found myself laughing out loud as I thought about how stupid it was to feel discomfort in isolation when I was in the midst of something so magnificent and ordinary. 

  

            

Por la ventana hay un mundo más allá.

Earlimart, CA.

           I grew up in a small house in Earlimart, California. My dad and step family still live there and I don't know if they will ever leave. That little old house looks much different now than what it looked like when my sister and I once occupied it. My dad has turned the entire front lot into his auto shop, and the backyard (which as a child appeared to be a wild forest with ancient trees) is now completely fenced off with all of the trees and bushes long gone. That area now houses a large collection of salvaged vehicles.

           Earlimart represents the most innocent and happiest days of my childhood. I have very fond memories of that small town and of the public library with the book about puppies that I would check out over and over again, of the elementary school, of the hardware store down the street that seemed to have been there since the dawn of time, of the tortas and pan dulce, of the swap meet on Friday nights, of my primos and primas, of my Abuelita Elena’s room, of my Abuelito’s garden, of baby Roky, and of the old log in the backyard that my sister and I used as a bench until one day fire ants swarmed all over my shorts and I cried and cried and cried in pain as my mother hosed me down in the front yard.

           When I was ten years old my parents bought a new bigger house in Delano, the city seven miles south of Earlimart. Delano would come to represent a much different part of my upbringing, the part of self-discovery I suppose. Delano would be where my parent's marriage would fall apart... where Ivan & Christian would be born.  

           Here I have a collection of video stills taken from home movies. They span about six years, beginning in 1991 when baby Roky first came home and ending sometime in 1997, right after the Earlimart flood.