Travel to Teach: Mexico Volunteer Story

Kelly Hancock

When I was twelve years old, my mother took me to TJ for the first time. Her and I browsed a touristy artisan market, where shopkeepers heckled us in "Spanglish", accusing us of being "cheapskates" when my mother embarrassingly haggled for lower prices. She likes to remind me about my reaction to that experience: "I HATE it here! Mom, let's leave. PLEASE! I'm NEVER coming back here!"

When I was 25 years old, I visited TJ for the third time. I went straight past the tourist markets, past the tourist bars and past the hecklers. I found myself surrounded by dry, dusty, cliffs; small, colorful buildings with flat roofs covered with graffiti; hand painted signs and advertisements on businesses; green and white station wagon "route taxis"; dusty, old cars along narrow pot-hole filled, hilly streets; taco stands, fruit stalls, churches, and pedestrians filling the sidewalks, going about their business. "Ah-ha," I thought. "THIS is Tijuana."

I'm from northern California, and any Californian would understand what I mean if I were to use the derogatory term, "dirty Mexican." It's a term that, fortunately, isn't used often in my generation - at least not in my small circle of friends; but it was a common term for my parents to hear as they were growing up. It's obvious and undeniable that there is a certain stereotype about "Mexicans", especially in California, where many of the landscape artists (yard workers), sanitation technicians (janitors), agricultural engineers (farm laborers) - all of the jobs that require hard labor - are indeed Mexicans. The "dirty Mexicans" are the low-income, Spanish-speaking workers who stare and catcall to high school girls on their way to school. I won't deny that I grew up believing that there is truth the stereotype about "dirty Mexicans"; and I won't deny that I generalized that stereotype to describe all Mexican men that I saw raking leaves or cleaning bathrooms in California. But I didn't realize how much I bought into this stereotype until I spent a month in Tijuana; I didn't realize that I grew up afraid of Mexican men until I walked around the streets of Tijuana.

It was in the streets of downtown Tijuana, in the cafes and ice cream shops of Las Playas, in the taxis, in the small shops in Tijuana's surrounding neighborhood, where I met intelligent, sophisticated Mexican men and women who gladly taught me about life and the struggles it brings to many people in Mexico. These are the people who don't want to leave Mexico, who love their country, love their culture, and enjoy their lives.

While the streets may be lively, bustling with street stalls, cars and people, everyone agrees that life in Mexico is "tranquilo". People may be on the move, but that doesn't stop them from taking time to chat with others at the markets, enjoy long homemade meals with their families, and making time for good conversation with good friends over a bottle of wine (or three) long into the evenings.

But life isn't easy for many people in TJ. Many of the people living in TJ come from the south of Mexico. They are poor, and they are risking their lives to make money for the sake of their family. You can see many of these people at border crossings, begging for money from the cars that are queuing to go into the Unites States. You see lonely men hanging out along the border wall, in search for a place to jump onto the other side, while the US border control helicopters fly back and forth overhead. The infamous maliquiladoras (foreign owned factories), where young women do hard labor - sometimes 10 hours a day, six days a week, for 50 USD cents an hour - can be throughout Tijuana. Living conditions for these migrant workers are very poor. They spent their families' savings to get to Tijuana in search for a better life, and then they get stuck with no way to get back and no way to improve their lives - all for the benefit of rich people in foreign countries who can now buy clothes and toys for cheap prices. This, too, is Tijuana.

For the month that I was in Tijuana, I traveled around the city with Adriana, soaking in the different issues facing the people in Tijuana. Adriana and I talked to a variety of people and talked to each other about what can be done to help. If we could help at least a handful of people to improve their lives, if we help could connect the rich with the poor to create learning and understanding, then we would be doing something meaningful. Adriana is committed to helping the people who don't know how to help themselves. Her projects are created from genuine empathy and compassion.

Tijuana isn't beautiful upon first glance. But when you walk along the beach and see the dolphins playing in the ocean, when you see the children enjoying their fresh fruit or corn on the cob from the street vendor, when you see the people laughing and talking as they eat and drink at the taco stands, you realize internal beauty. Tijuana is intriguing and rich with culture, with an inspiring vibrancy of life. After a week it becomes familiar. After two weeks, it feels comfortable. After a month it feels like home. So my third trip to TJ was enlightening, and now, for me, that border between Mexico and California has disappeared and my second home is somewhere I never thought I'd go back.

Kelly Hancock

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