LUPE's Corner

We always talk about the cultural differences in foreign countries but we never stop to think that cultural differences begin at home. At least this is what I learned when I was a 14 year old. My parents were from a small town, Ejutla, in Oaxaca, Mexico. The town is also well known for the production of Mescal and I was fortunate to live there for a year, after my mother decided to send me off for an enforced “sabbatical”. I guess she decided I needed some time off from Mexico City.

At the beginning, Ejutla seemed to be a boring place for an active child like myself. So, as usual being the inquisitive person that I’ve always been, I started to get involved with my father’s business. During those days, my father used to own a mescal distillery just outside Ejutla and every weekend he had to deliver a fixed number of gallons to some of the major mescal wholesalers in Oaxaca City. I made it my job to personally oversee the mescal production and every week, I would take a trip to the distillery. My father used to put me to work. My main job was to inventory the number of mescal barrels. I also had to check the quality of the mescal. During my trips to the distillery, I met a lot of the local ranchers who worked for my dad and this is where I met Alfonso.

Alfonso was an 18 year old who did not know how to read or write. He also was a very hard working young man who was charming and funny. I particularly enjoyed talking to him about his home and work experiences. This was definitely something very unfamiliar and interesting to me because I lived all my life in Mexico City with all the conveniences, comfort and of course I had never worked in my life. I liked Alfonso so much that I decided to start teaching him how to read and write. I would see Alfonso every afternoon (Thinking back. It is funny to think that I could actually teach an 18 year old how to read/write). The days went by and one day Alfonso told me he was starting school, for me this was a big accomplishment. He thanked me for my efforts and I did not see Alfonso for about a month.

One morning and just before I was finally going back to Mexico City, Alfonso and his family came to my house. Alfonso looked different this time and he seemed more confident about himself. I remembered his father was carrying a huge basket of bread, his mother held a couple of chickens, his young brother had some candles and his sisters had what seemed to be gifts. This definitely was a special occasion but for what! The family asked to talk to my mother and father. I remembered, they were talking for some time and when they came out Alfonso never looked back at me to say good bye. I never saw him again.

Sometime later, my mother told me what had happened with Alfonso. I guess, he asked my hand in marriage. In small ranches, this was the tradition. Girls marry young and they never get to date their future husband. Alfonso was very sweet but he had other customs that due to my young age I was unable to discern. Traveling can open your eyes to many cultural differences, just look what I found only a couple states away.