:: Your neighbor's vision is as true for him as your vision is true for you. ::
- Miguel De Unamuno
There are the Ice Cream People, the ones that rent the house next door to mine, which use to be part of my original house. The war began when the person or persons living in their backyard, under a corrugated asbestos roof shack, caught it on fire just before the closing on my house. It continued when my first contractor turned the water on without checking the tinaca that sits atop the roof holding city water. The old tinaca was basically a busted concrete drum. My water flooded the ice cream shop. The first weekend I stayed here, I had only the space in front of my house for parking. Several hours after parking, I heard police sirens. Several minutes later I hear a knock at my door. One of the Ice Cream People is telling me that the police say I have to move my car. Why? Because the police say you do. Hum.
Before I had actually received title to my house, a collection of three Abuelitas are asking me to provide the electricity to the Vigen de Guadalupe alter for our block. The small shrine is between the end of my wall and that of another neighbor. I gladly agreed, initially believing that this would make me part of the community, but finally realizing that like the Ice Cream People who asked my contractor to take out their burned up trees when he was cleaning my yard, it was just a civilized way of getting me to pay for something that belongs to them. Though every week for three months during renovation the Abuelitos reminded me of my promise to light the Virgen, in the following three months of living in the hood, not one of them has thanked me.
Manuel, aka Lolo, my contractor took care of the Ice Cream People. Manuel shows up with two men who install a glass block in my kitchen ceiling. He has also brought along Yoyo, his assistant. When the work is completed, Manuel brings us next door for ice cream. Head Ice Cream Heffe services us with a smile. There I am, surrounded by four strong men, all laughs and smiles because we have played a trick. It was a truly triumphant moment and a lesson that had an extended warranty.
The final act of terrorism occurred when I had no choice but to park my car in front of the Ice Cream Peoples' home. Later, as I head back to the car for an evening outing, the Head Ice Cream Heffe gets on his cell phone and two Gordo Ice Cream People come out of the house, wearing heavily shaded glasses, arms crossed, and block most of the sidewalk. In a "What Would Lolo Do" moment, I give a little wave and say, "Buenas Tardes." They don't budge. My car has been sandwiched between the Ice Cream Peoples' cars, with two inches from either bumper. I shimmy a few times, smile and wave at the Gordo Twins, shimmy some more, smile some more, notice that one of them is about to crack up, and wave. After what feels like a life time, my car is finally released from their sugary clutches.
A few days ago, as I was getting out of my car, I met one of the Abuelitas. After a brief greeting, I invited her to come over for a cup of coffee. As we speak two different languages, it was phenomenal how an open willingness to share, created understanding. I learned that she had been caring for her elder sister who has stomach cancer. She learned that I wanted to raise Yucatecan stingless honeybees and offered to teach me, as she had watched her father raise them throughout her life.
Not quite home, but I'm working on it.
The Broad
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