Dispatches from Mexico: A conversation with my doorman
This was not meant to be an election story, and in large part, it still isn’t. This is not about the winners and the losers, or even what the results mean for the future of the United States. Nonetheless, it would be impossible for me not to connect the dots between my thoughts on the divisions in our country and the recent conversation I had with my doorman in Mexico City, Mexico. Our conversation was intentional (and in Spanish), and this article was always about shining a small light on our brothers and sisters to the south. Then the election happened.
No matter who you did or did not vote for, I hope we can all agree that we have not made much progress over the last four years reaching out to our neighbors. We haven’t practiced speaking with people who disagree with us without the explicit purpose of changing their mind, and we certainly haven’t embraced the idea that moving forward and coming together requires really hard work, compromise, uncomfortable conversations, and yes, not viewing your neighbor as your enemy.
I like to define neighbor in fairly broad terms, because Mexico is indeed our neighbor, and in many ways our family. After almost 2 years of living here, there is still so much that I do not understand about the culture, politics, or history. What I do understand, however, is that we are incredibly lucky to share a border with such a vibrant culture.
We live in a small, 12-unit condo building in Mexico City, and like many buildings we have 24-hour doormen; a word that doesn’t even begin to describe the amount of work they both do. Beyond always being available to buzz me in if I forget my key, they maintain the common areas of the building, accept packages when we’re not home, and are on-call for any emergency maintenance need. Some residents even pay them extra for weekly car washing. They are some of the hardest working people I know, taking 24-hour shifts at a time.
Margarito has been working in the building for a decade, and has become an integral member of our community, always waiting with a smile or a pásale Liz! as I walk in from outside. He was born in the Northern Central Highland state of Hidalgo in 1981, in a small corn-growing town. By all accounts, his childhood was fairly typical for the time and region; he completed 3 years of high school, entered the military at 18, and married his wife at 19. She was already pregnant when they got married, so he quickly became a father at the age of 20 to the first of four daughters.
Besides the fact that I am always amazed at his ability to stay cheerful as the lone male in a house with five females, his decision to enter the military caught my attention. Unlike my experience in the US, I have never perceived Mexico as a country that promotes career military service as strongly as we do. However, he told me it had been his dream since childhood as he recounted with pride seeing military units visit his town as a small boy. After three years of active duty, which took him to all corners of Mexico, he moved on to something else, but continues to maintain his position in the reserves.
Unfortunately, that something else was difficult to find. With a family to support, and jobs hard to come by (they still are), he made the tough choice to leave his wife and daughters behind, and cross the border into the US. During a previous, casual conversation, he shared a few details; paying a coyote to help him get across, and the long, dangerous walk from Las Vegas to Indiana. He eventually found good work as a roofer in Indianapolis, but after three years had to return to Mexico when his wife became sick. By the time she recuperated and things were settled at home, crossing the border had become too dangerous for a man who wanted to see his children grow up. What’s incredible, however, is that he would still love to go back and continue what he considers one of life’s biggest adventures.
These days, he and his family live in a small town in the State of Mexico, San Martín de las Pyrámides, which is about a 2 hour commute on public transportation to our condo. After his 24-hour shift in the building, he heads to a second job, which means he only sees his family every other day in the late-afternoons and evenings. For him, however, it has always been about giving his daughters a better life. He takes on the responsibility of financially supporting them so that they can fully focus on academics, a goal that seems on track. Thanks to a more affordable public university system in Mexico, finances are not an insurmountable barrier.
When we delved into the topic of politics, corruption, and violence in Mexico, he quickly admitted that he has never voted. Like so many Mexicans he doesn’t see the power of political participation because he’s never seen it work in his country. Instead, he has seen the strongholds of corruption at the highest levels of government continually stop progress. But his resolve towards politics doesn’t stop him from loving his country or from hoping for change for his children. He still tells me that Mexico as a beautiful place while grinning from ear to ear.
What strikes me about Margarito is that he and his family have so much in common with many American families; especially their desire to continue moving toward a better life through hard work. Yet we often look down on Mexico as an afterthought rather than our neighbors and family. To be fair, we’re also currently treating our neighbors in the US like afterthoughts. So as we all start down the path of confronting difficult conversations and realities in our own communities, let’s not forget about our neighbors like Margarito, his wife, and their four daughters who are ready and willing to share their beautiful country with us.