El templo en Tijuana | Part II
My Mother's core memory of the temple on the hill.
My Mother tells me stories. The following is an interpretation of the stories my Mother has graciously shared with me about her childhood in Mexico. I feel strongly that my calling is to listen, archive, and pass on the stories of our family as my Mother has with me. Names have been changed to protect the privacy of family members and friends. Thank you. - M
II.
We’re ready to go. I feel ready, too.
Mama makes sure everyone has something to do. She tells the housekeeper, “Wash all the bedding. Iron my dresses.” She gives her a long piece of paper, “And go get everything we need for dinner. Chop the vegetables, I’ll do the rest.” Then, Mama gives all of my brothers a long look and tells them to behave themselves while she’s gone. I had 5 but now with Lito, I have 6.
She gives my middle brothers another look, a longer one. “Especially you two,” she says. “In fact, do me a favor – stay away from each other today. Please, Madre Santa, let’s have some peace today.” I put my hand over my mouth, I don’t want to get in trouble for laughing.
I run and find Lito, he’s awake in Aurelia’s arms. I give him a long look and tell him to behave himself while I’m gone. A quick kiss on his cheek and we’re out the door.
Mama and I hold hands on our long walk. I know how to cross the street by myself and I even remember how to get to el templo, but I like it when we hold hands. The sun is high now and my shadow is so small. The air is warm and dusty. All of the streets go up and down, up and down. The roads aren’t flat but the roofs are. We pass a lot of houses, they all look just like ours. Cement front and backyards. Shiny metal chain fences. I see some of my friends across the street, I wave so they can see me with Mama. But they all know who she is, because everyone knows who she is.
All the adults wave to her as we walk by, some stop and say hello, “Buenos días, Doña Hermelinda.”
“Buenos días, compadre,” or, “buenos días, comadre,”1 she smiles and says in return. But we don’t stop walking.
We walk and walk in the sunshine until I can see the hill. It’s a big hill, the biggest most tallest one in our neighborhood. And I can see the white walls of el templo at the tippy top.
“Remember what to do when we get inside, okay? And if you are very well behaved, we’ll get something good to eat afterwards,” she says.
“Yes, Mama. I remember.” I go over what to do in my head. Everyone at el templo is always happy to see me there but I do remember that I have to say hello to everyone, sit in my corner, be quiet, and not touch anything. I must be respectful and polite and not get in the way.
But even if you dared me, I wouldn’t touch anything. I think about the big eye hanging on the wall. I feel like the big eye is always watching me when I’m in there…
Mama doesn’t slow down as we walk up the hill. She never slows down. We’re getting close, the road is all dirt now. I’m getting a funny feeling in my stomach. I ask Mama a lot of questions but I don’t remember her answers. I feel like jumping or screaming – I’m so excited.
We get to the top of the hill and I turn around, we’re up high. I can see so far…
“Vente, mija.2 We don’t want to be late for the meeting,” she calls out to me. I skip and jump, and find her hand again. Mama makes sure the ribbon in my hair is smooth and then we walk inside.
It’s much darker in el templo than on the dirt road, it makes me rub my eyes. And it’s much colder, I can feel the goosebumps on my arms and legs.
And then I hear his voice.
“Bienvenida, Hermana. Buenos días, guerita.”3 It’s Don Sylvestre. Mama says he and his wife own el templo. They are both very nice to me.
“Buenos días, Hermano,”4 Mama says back. Then, she looks at me.
“Buenos días, Don Sylvestre,” I say. Both he and Mama smile, and then start talking about all kinds of things. I look around, lots of people are there already. Some of them are lighting candles. Some of them are grabbing the white robes. A couple are putting the chairs in a circle. One or two look over at me and smile. I smile and wave at them.
I look around some more, I want to find it.
I really want to find it.
I see the coffee and pan dulce5 at the small table. I see the baskets of hierbas6 and bottles of aceites7 on the floor next to the really big altar and – there it is.
The big eye.
It’s here.
It’s always here.
A dark blue sheet hangs on the wall behind the altar. And in the middle of it, there’s the eye. It’s really big, almost as big as the sheet. It’s gold and shiny and kind of pretty.
And I can feel it looking at everything – the room, Mama, me…
“Mija, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mama says. I look up at her. “Here,” and she hands me a galleta.8 “Go sit in your chair now, it’s time.”
My hands grab the galleta and I run to my chair in the corner, in the back. Away from the circle. And away from the big eye.
Don Sylvestre gives Mama a long white robe. She puts it on and takes out her little book of Resos y cantos from her purse. She picks a chair in the circle and sits down.
They’re ready.
Another voice, someone from the circle, starts to sing. Soon everyone is singing. They always start off the meeting with a song. I like this part of the meeting. I take a bite of my galleta, some sprinkles fall off but I don’t really care. I just keep watching the circle.
I can’t look away.
Don Sylvestre starts the praying, he reads aloud from Resos y cantos.9 I know some of the prayers, Mama taught them to me. I pray along with them but I have to be quiet.
I whisper to myself, “Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo…”
They sing another song. I take another bite of my galleta. Sprinkles fall onto my dress and the floor.
He starts reading aloud again – until he gets to the names.
All of the names. So many names.
The names of saints.
The names of angels.
The names of apostles.
And with each name Don Sylvestre reads, everyone in the circle answers back, “Ayúdanos. Help us.”
The Virgin of Guadalupe.
“Ayúdanos.”
The All-Powerful Hand.
“Ayúdanos.”
The Holy Child of Atocha.
“Ayúdanos.”
More names. But now, they’re names I don’t understand.
These names aren’t in Spanish.
I can’t understand them.
I take another bite.
“Ayúdanos.”
Don Sylvestre closes his eyes and holds his hands up to the sky.
He’s shouting now – he’s asking them to answer.
I drop my cookie. It hits the floor.
Glossary
compadre (m.), comadre (f.) = terms of familiarity, can be used like “friend”; more formally, used to address the godparents of your child
mija/o = slang, a combination of mi (a.k.a., my) and hija/o (a.k.a., daughter or son); equivalent of “dear” or “honey” or “darling”
guerita = term of endearment for fair-haired person, similar to “blondie”
hermano/a = brother or sister
pan dulce = Mexican sweet bread
hierbas = herbs
aceites = oils
galleta = a sugar cookie with rainbow sprinkles, a popular type of pan dulce
Resos y cantos = a prayer and song booklet