Borderlands

Borderlands

You can always find someone to talk in the bus. From a construction worker to a student to a house wife. Normal people with their everyday life. If you ask them they'll tell you “Soy Latino, Mexicano Hispano-Americano, Mexican-American, Amercian” They are like any other American, and believe in the same American principle “The harder you work, the better you will live”.

Our community is old and is constantly growing. We have roots here and in the other side of the border. Tucson is only 60 miles away from the Mexican border, but it feels like we are closer.

All through the barrio you can find the American flag, waving in all its glory, reminding us that we are here now. In our home, en nuestra tierra.

Growing Roots

Growing roots

The neighborhood is always looking nice. Beautiful murals are there to remind us who we are. The symbols, the traditions that keep us together are the inspiration for this murals. 

The past, the present, and the future are there, painted on a bricked wall that is as strong as our heritage.

 

Doña Julia

A church is not just four walls and stained glass. A church is made by its people. Doña Julia knows this better than anyone. She comes here to thank God for the blessings we receive everyday, and asks Christ to keep us from dismay. “It is always good to remember that we are not alone.” We couldn't chat very long, because a funeral was to take place. Before I left she told me that “It's important to believe in something that gives you hope.”

Paletero

Paletero

 

There was the ice cream man, el paletero, with his dreams packed in a box with wheels, and he pushes it forward, always forward. His body was tired, so he stopped in the shade of the mesquites. Around two in the afternoon, when the sun hits harder, he waits for the high school kids near the bus stop. His body was tired, and everybody needs a break, even middle school kids that are waiting for the bus. “Buenas tardes joven, ¿qué le doy?” Tucson's sun was really playful that day, so I got an ice cream bar. He managed to talk on the phone, keep a conversation with me, get my ice cream, and give me change as if he was cooler than the ice cream. His body was tired, and the mesquite's shade was asking me to take a break too.

Arroz con Leche

That day was an ordinary day.

Ice cream bar in one hand,

the camera in my lap.

and my hopes in the bag.

Rice pudding, so simple

so ordinary, tan deseado.

Arroz con leche, refreshing memory,

melting in the desert heat.

A bar of ice cream

keeping me awake

in this ordinary dream.

Rice pudding, the only way back.