WALKING ON THIN ICE

Thinking about a woman we met the other day, “Ruby.”

She’s Smith’s age.

I asked her, “Was the strike in Oaxaca a life-changing event for you?”

“No, because I’m an activist. I’ve done this all my life. I’ve lived in Central America, in Nicaraqua, in El Salvador. On the other hand, it was life-changing in that the sheer scope, the size of the movement was impressive. It offers hope.”

“Why do you think the movement had such support from the community?”

“Well, everyone knows a teacher. These are people who can’t be stereotyped as revolutionaries. So there was all this resentment already in the community, and then then URO broke up the encampment in the zocalo after three weeks, the rest of Oaxaca really came in to support the teachers.”

“Are many people still disappeared?”

“Yes, to this day. I expect we’ll have trouble tomorrow [New Year's Day] because it’s the first day office holders take their office. Many of the office holders are there as a result of election fraud. URO says Oaxaca is peaceful but it’s not. It’s bubbling beneath the surface and this is not really visible to casual visitors.”

“We hope to be more than visitors,” Smith says. We tell her about his upcoming social security, about our hope of staying here longer than six months.

“Well, how much will you make?” Ruby asks Smith.

He tells her.

“That should be enough.”

I say, “but that’s just him. I don’t make any money, nothing significant. I think they’ll require more income for two people. I’m his dependent.”

“Hm. I don’t know. Are you married?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“You could try. I really don’t know.”

I say, “All *I* know is I don’t want to live in the US for a long time.”

I want to ask her if she thinks Smith and I are foolish for wanting to stay here. Oaxaca seems closer to heaven and closer to hell.

Ruby learned Spanish in a language school in Nicaragua. She’s also done a home stay for a month. Regarding her language and cultural prowess, I feel I did a rude thing. Ruby translated the daily menu for us, spending a couple minutes explaining the dishes. But I really wasn’t hungry, so I ordered a fruit salad off the main menu. And I was hoping Smith would order something that Ruby translated, but I didn’t want to control him, either. So he also ordered something else.

I hate appearing insensitive but I really didn’t want all that food.

Ruby sets up community radio. That is the form her activism takes. During the strike, radio was the best means of informing people. The strikers took over the college station, had to defend it from the police.

She also helps a native coffee grower, a woman. She comes into town two days a week and sleeps on Ruby’s sofa.

I have lots to learn from her.

When we left the restaurant, Ruby invited me to come walk with her up some stairs. She does it every day with a fellow who wrote the appendix of a book about the Oaxacan movement.

“That’d be great, but another day. I walked at least five miles already today.” I took her hand and shook it, wrapped my other hand on top. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“I would like to see you again. I live down this street…”

“Definitely. I have your email address.” (Worry that I appear too brusque.)

I do want to see her again. I have lots of questions for her. I feel friendly towards her. I hated to reject her offer of climbing stairs, but I didn’t want to overstretch Smith and we had to get the the bank.

I am proud of myself. I looked into Ruby’s eyes without flinching, I wasn’t overly giggly, and my nervous chin wobble seems to have evolved away. I used to be unsure of myself in the face of really accomplished people. Especially after I was laid off; my engineering career was the only pillar holding up my self esteem. But since then I’ve accomplished some decent art and photography and I’ve traveled places many people are afraid to visit.

Eyes: I’ve learned to focus on one eye–the person’s left eye–rather than flit from eye to eye, because that gives me and the other person too much information. With just one eye, I’m comfortable. I observe it like it’s a dumb little animal. What is it about two eyes in combination that creates something larger than the sum of the parts? And is it only the person’s left eye that is comfortable to me? My right eye is my dominant eye; maybe right eyes really are more lively, more intelligent, and that is why left eyes seem dull.