“Don’t come here to help us.”
Funny how a small sentence can change everything.
I came back to Mexico with the intent of teaching English as a second language to little Mayan children. I wanted to do some good in the world and I loved to teach, so it seemed like a good plan.
Until I met Fernando.
I had only been back a few days and I was ping-ponging between desperate desolation and delight. My soul was empty, but I loved the culture and the people of Mexico and I was excited to begin a new adventure. It was better than drinking myself to death on my couch in Virginia anyway.
One morning when the sun was not yet hot, I went to the market next to the church with the idea of buying some fresh cheese, some chilies, maybe an avocado, and a mango or two. And there was Fernando. He was a small Mexican man, dignified and greying. His English, although heavily accented, was easy to understand. I struck up a conversation with him and poured out all my bubbly good hopes of giving back to the poor Mexican babies, when he very politely and compassionately rocked my world.
“If you want my advice,” he offered, “Don’t come here to help us.”
I tried to hide the fact that I needed to pick my jaw up off the cement.
“You Americans come down here with good intentions, but you don’t know us. You don’t know what we need. If you really want to help us, come live with us. Eventually, you will find where you fit in.”
My bubbles all popped. I almost forgot the chilies and cheese. Thoughts spiraled through my head. Fernando was right. Most Americans go to poor countries thinking they have all the answers. But they don’t. And in all fairness, how can they?
It’s one thing to look at a culture from the outside. From the outside we judge by looking though glasses colored with our own culture. What would it be like to look out from the inside? What would it feel like to let go of my agenda and just be. I am such a goal oriented person that it wouldn’t be easy. But then again, after the rug was pulled out from under me with the loss of my husband, I didn’t really know what I wanted. My world was in turmoil. Goals were easy to think of, but difficult to stick to. The stress of his illness had stolen my logical reasoning and I needed time to just be.
I turned the idea over in my mind. And of course, I went and hung out at the local expat bar and shared a drink and some laughter with the with expat acquaintances I had recently made.
But the idea was there to stay.
And in the end, it changed everything.