Hermana IT Works

Hola my Sisters and Brothers,
This morning around 7 , one of my dearest new sisters. , Antonia,  came up to the Mission. She was accompanied by another sister and good friend,  Trinidad. I automatically assumed they were coming to GET something, beans rice,  medicines. Ten days ago I accompanied her thru the birth of her 1st child and she walked very carefully up the hill, protecting her liitle bundle in a used rebozo tied about her
Slim shoulders. Her first trip out since the. Birth took place and she was tired.
I was wrong about her reason for coming.
This sweet little 16 year old mother had another intention entirely.
She had made the trek a mile plus uphill to bring us her tithe!!
Barely allowing me to say god morning she reached into a small hand sewn seed bag that most traditional mixtec women carry like purses. From it she extracted exactly 43 pesos in small coins (equals now about $3.15 US) She breathlessly counted it out and I cried and prayed over her sacrifice.
It represents a billion dollar victory for her. She started to learn about Yahweh s law of sowing and reaping in January.  At that time my father and pastor was visiting us and upon seeing one day of how we give food staples away that evening he very gently rebuked us. He said that we would never do any lasting good for the poor if we did not teach on giving in a practical way. He saw that we gave away 30 eggs. To each family and asked if we might not try to encourage the people to start by sharing just one egg or one cup of flour or what they receive with a neighbor or someone in need, Frank and I have struggled with asking for offerings/tithes from our people for years because a) they are outwardly the poorest people you’ve evet met apparently having nothing TO give and b) because any other missionary here NEVER teaches on giving kind of causing an unspoken taboo. Those though were really just our excuses for our own pride at not wanting to be seen as TAKING from those “poor people. Sadly,  our pride was holding them back.
But we had a breakthrough and
As soon as he left, we began doing just that, encouraging them to share what they got & backing it up with Gods Word on the subject.
Little Antonia & her unemployed. 15 year old husband Adrian,  began sharing eggs with family and flour with neighbors and today she brought her first tithe into the Storehouse! Along with the coins she brought news that her husband has gained a job! Not in the greenhouses where most underage men must start but miraculously on the packing house floor! Out of the sun of summer and cold of winter. She declared simply,  Hermana! It really works!
I was taken aback and overjoyed for I know that only a person who gets a real personal revelation like she has will always be a cheerful giver…….one willing even to walk over a mile uphill with a handful of God given coins. and a smile on her face………..

*in this foto we are resting on the back stoop and laughing as she is showing me proudly how Yahweh has blessed her with abundant milk,  which is normally a problem for malnourished teen moms……but not for Tonia!  (And it surprises her how the milk overflows and she jokes it is enough to feed even her neighbors children. Tiny little gal that she is,  she is now hilariously well endowed and full of wonder. True belly laughs ensued when she admitted her new gifts “frighten” her young husband.

Miracles in Baja

Hey Everyone……………………

It seems that either thru my own ignorance of other interference most
everyone missed last weeks miracles. The original which I wrote on my
laptop has disappeared and it bums me out, because when I am truly writing
inspired things seem to come out so easily. Those of you who know me know
that I can only really write anything worth reading when I am in the
Presence. At times I pressure MYSELF to make things/whatever flows thru my
fingers to this keyboard ends up unreal and not really exact. d of story.
……………….I have to be in His Presence to write . End of story.
No other way. But when something so magnificent happens and I write it,
it is to encourage my brethren and I feel ripped off that it disappeared
into cyber-space. Usually , I’ll just sadly just let it go. But this was so
bizarre that I feel the need to attempt to re-create what I wrote on
Monday…which no-one received….I hope I can. Here I go.
Last Sunday, we had several of the indigenous men come here to the mission
and help with heavy work. Landscaping, planting , mixing cement and
generally banging on things, too. Forget sleeping till 5:30am, Pas. Frank
wanted to be ready so I set to making food for the coming workers.
Around 12ish, the men we never see but know their children started arriving
from their own regular jobs, and they set to mixing cement and planting
(they are best at planting it seems). So by about 2pm , the women folk,
wives upon wives started showing up. We had a 25lb hunk of frozen chicken
legs that I had marinated my way, but I turned it over to them. They, the
women and girls started gathering firewood and got a good fire
going.offering. Then put on the pollo and so very much lovely asparagus.
If we had bought the asparagus it would have cost at least $50 dollars, but
they are cutting the first fields so it was an offering. By 4pm serious
workers were laid out under the few trees we have , and on picnic tables
and just having a siesta. The women were laughing and admiring their
offspring. Had to of been maybe 60 people hanging around……
Out of nowhere I thought it was either a dying cat or a kitty wishing for
death. I looked down by the new playground under the miracle tree and
there was an old fellow banging on an instrument that looked like a mix
between a guitar and a banjo and a bizarre looking harp. (When he first
started playing it sounded like Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody……….I know I
sound totally nuts, okay…)but it did.It was something I’ve not been able
to find on Google. But this guy was banging away an banging fiercely on
this odd instrument.
Honestly, at first I was just overcome with laughter. (I know it sounds
irreverent) But hey, the noise was wild. But suddenly I felt a burning
need to SING in the Spirit. An d I did. The women looked and laughed
shyly, the men seemed cool with it. The many kids , well they thought it
was better than the tortilla. They were watching me and this old guy (at
least like 70?) just in the Presence. Within a few minutes I guess, I do
not really know, I started gathering the kids and whichever mamas that
wanted to follow. I had them rounded up and started praying for each one,
and I was praying for the Infilling, because I knew who had recognized
Yeshua as King.
Within say 30 minutes  I’d touched their throats and sang (accompanied by
this great instrument man) for all of the kids. Now about 16 children
were singing in tongues. Some mothers, too.
Realize this was OUTSIDE at the mission, people wandered about eating
chicken legs and getting ministry. The neighbors saw and heard it all.
By about 6pm, as twilight set and people began to go their ways, I asked
Theo who the guitar man was. She responded that she had assumed he was our
“Tio”, (which to Mixtecs,means any man who is not your father or
husband….. In Spanish it means “Uncle”). I told her he waS NOT my Tio)
she said it wasn’t hers either. I lit out after the old guy. WHO WAS HE? I
was thinking “dang we can use him every week for worship. But as I ran
from dish duty under the Pila(cistern) asking, “Hey where’s that guy??”
People looked at me like , “What guy?” Your Tio?” I’m like NO YOUR TIO!.
In the end he was never found. The people who got filled with the Holy
Ghost recall him, those who just came to eat do not. In all I think I had
16 total either saved, or filled. They all recall him. But even tonite, he
is fading from my memory. I can’t really tell you what he looked like, how
tall or short he was. I just know he was here. It was one of the most
awesome times in Yahweh’s Presence i have ever experienced. I was pain free
from my torturous bladder for a whole day. PAIN FREE. Had a bit of a a holy
Ghost hangover, but not suicidal pain. I find that only being in the
Presence His anointing is when I am free.
All week we’ve had those kids a lot of new ones returning to watch the
work and listen to stories we tell;some about Noah, some about the Son and
the Father and their Spirit.
I keep looking out for that old guy. But he hasn’t come back. BUT HE WAS
It was the best afternoon I have had in a long time. IT IS MOSTLY
INEXPLICABLE. I know if you only believe what you can see and touch you
won’t get it But I pray that whoever reads this WILL understand the
necessity of putting yourself in Yahweh’s Presence.
As you gather with the Ekleesia tomorrow or as you gather with your mate
or child at home, seek Him. He desires to be found.
The account I have now written is not close to the inspired Word I wrote
and lost, but you get the gist……………..
Love each other, in deed and word and appreciate the Presence, We love you
all so much in Christ,
Sis, Detra

Baja Report Sept 20 2014

Had no internet yesterday. The storms down in Los Cabos (#1 Odile and

now #2 Polo) are messing  up my internet connection thru the Hughes

/Starband system I have.

It’s a mess down there. I mean a true cluster-mug.  So far they have

evacuated 18,000

tourists/foreigners……the Army is in charge and they have such

antiquated equipment it is not even believable. Cell towers are down

all over and no-one can call relatives to verify they are okay or

where they are. The refugees are being transported in troop carriers

on that long long  2 lane highway 1, so  u can imagine. Hotels have

been commandeered in TJ , Rosarito and even some here in Ensenada.

I feel  bad for the folks but it still concerns me that people don’t

really understand that Mexico is really not all that advanced and they

don’t seem to get why they cant just pick up a phone or email somebody

and they get all worked out, which gets the Mexicans all worked out

and well it does no good. I am just praying that people have patience

and get home safe. I am growing weary of  hearing idgits on the telly,

in high-pitched voices with bad comb overs (which after 5 day trips in

troop carriers on Highway 1 look more like a porcupine than a comb

over and I am not sure which is worst.) But I am tired seeing them

filmed by news crews in those tinny fear laden voices how “they damn

well wont be treated like THIS! Why the Australian Consulate will have

someone’s hide.”

In my experience  threatening to call one’s Consulate (as if it is

their own mercenary group at beck and call 24/7) these threats really

piss Mexican authorities, especially the sort who carry guns,totally

off. Best just let it roll off your back like a duck or whatever rolls

off a duck . I forget.

So, Clinic went great. Dulce was out of town for like two weeks , so

I had another Doctora. come in. Her name is Delilah Kennedy Garcia

(and yes she is a Mexican) .

She is in her 50’s, not a

Christian (yet) and referred by Dr. Vasquez.  It worked out well,

although it’ll be better when Dulce returns because the people  really

have a relationship with her.

We had 10 patients. Two newborn (5 day old both) exams. Both were born

in a nearby camp, one I don’t think I’ve taken you to.it is down  in

the riverbed and pretty big.  50 or so families. We’ve been reaching

out to them with food. and were blessed to give away 6 solar power

mp-3 New Testaments that we were given by a Wycliff Translation couple

who has been down in Guerrerro for  40  or so years.  The mp-3’s are

neat because  they require no batteries, and they can reach people in

their own dialect  and  no reading is required. They are also sturdy

little things that seem to resist water. I saw one lady listening to

hers as she washed clothes on her washboard yesterday. Water was

being flung willy-nilly and the guy just kept on doing his best “Paul the Apostle” which I must say, was pretty good. I need to procure some

more of

these little jewels.

Back to Clinic…………we had those two new  babies in great shape,

we had 5 ear infections a PID in a younger girl (13) and one child

that just comes  every time , like clock work, for  vitamins. He is only  5, but

quite consumed with  those chewables, not those new fangled

gummi-vites either, he prefers the

old Flintstone kind. The ones that taste like a sugary dirt substance

and leave your chopppers  orange, purple or green with no apparent

correlation to whatever the color was of the little figure that you

ingested. (I am not big on vitamins for myself but part of the job as

pharmacy director requires that I  actually must consume at least one

of each thing prescribed to each patient, just so I can be POSITIVE

they “get it.” (I learned this the first time I ever gave out a bottle

of ear drops that the mama put in the childs mouth instead. She kept

coming back saying “It isn’t working. It isn’t working.” I finally

figured it out and there was born a new procedure. I guess there is in

fact a reason for  every little annoying thing we must learn in

elementary school afterall.

Back to VIta-muchacho (as I call the vitamin boy) I have to

practically scare the beejeezis out of him to make sure he

doesn’t just eat them like candy as soon as he is out of my sight.

He’s cute as a button  and healthy as a horse, but has a sneaky-gene.

Whenever we have leftover tortillas after mealtime, he’ll get me by

myself and ask me for exactly 8 of them .’ OCHO, Hermana.  GRACIAS

HERMANA!GRACIAS YAHWEH!” (ALL RUN TOGETHER LIKE ONE BIG WORD.) Then if I don”t give him a bag fast enough, he’ll roll em up and place them in

a back pocket and off down the hill he goes, dragging a milk crate on

wheels with 5 2 liter plastic bottles of water and his little sister

who hangs on for dear life (she’s about 18 months and he  watches her

everyday) anyway she hangs on tight because he likes to push the milk

crate down the hill and let go and it goes pretty quick for an 18

month old. Not to mention it at times fails to make that sharp turn at

the bottom  and upends everything requiring him another gruelling trip

back up the hill for band aids (he likes those too, the more the


I’ll try to video it. It is really like something out of a

Peanuts cartoon, the brother  with that Pig-pen aura and the  baby

girls crooked and tangled pigtails flying out behind her. (I keep

expecting Snoopy too sweep down in his bi-plane and pluck her up but

it hasn’t happened thus far. And  I probably never will video it. It’s

one of those things you would have to set yourself up in the brush,

pestered by scorpions and snakes for hours only to find out he isn’t

coming that day. So maybe best just imagine it. It would probably be

more entertaining for you that way. Bosh that, “I picture paints a

thousand words, I’ve learned what you can imagine paints  a jillion

things that probably did not even happen.

Jose has a great new job now, praise God. They have a black and white

tv, too.  WE miss his help but he needs to support his family and I

think Theo is on baby # four , not SURE, but time will tell.

The playground is almost ready for me to send pictures. We have the

welder making the last two toys, a merry-go-round and two big teeter

totters. Things are being delivered and the kids  just think we can’t

move fast enough. The big metal stand  for clubhouse One is in the

front yard and has been for a while. When delivered it came wrapped in

plastic, well, somehow someone took it off. So yesterday evening I see

Ivan, age 7, but tiny and

Pablito same age but bigger. They have absconded from downstairs my

huge roll of saran wrap and in 35 mile an hour  hot sandy winds are

trying to wrap the stand back up. At first I was ticked off because

they had my saran wrap (of which I consume a lot of) and where

attempting to rewrap this 12 foot metal stand . It was hilarious. I

didn’t let on that I was watching  but just left them to their

methods.Now , see I have a fairly good idea of who unwrapped it in the

first place. Anyway, they went round and round that things with a

COSCO sized  box of Saran Wrap and by  twilight Pablito had enrolled

some help from his little friends and I HAD to go down their because

all they succeeded in doing was wrapping up Ivan in  quite a think

layer of plastic. NONE was stuck to the stand. I acted all mad, and

tried to simultaneously wave a broom around  in a menacing manner

while  tears of laughter oozed out of me– and put them on rock

gathering duty today.

Thankfully for them, it only took  two hours of brutal rock-searching

for the wheelbarrow tire to pop and they got off  easy  for now

anyway. Till Frank gets back today anyway. Wheelbarrow tires are super

expensivo  down here and also  pretty sturdy and also pretty

necessary right about now.

I’m sure they’ll get the moral of some story when  Frank arrives,

although they’ve been rather scarce since they turned in their busted

barrow and  about 8 medium sized  rocks,

What else? What else? Oh,tomorrow about 5 of the men  who work just

till noon on Sundays are coming to help  with landscaping the

playground perimeter. I am shocked and amazed by this. It will also

leave room for a message and prayer.

Carlos (guy with broken leg) is doing nicely. He’s coming to  spend

the night tonight. He is returning to his home,, he still can’t work

and so has no  place to live. He has to be at the bus depot at 5:15am

and Frank is taking him. Sad to see him go, but glad he got  some of

the Eternal Seed really implanted in him. I’ve held back one mp-3 New

Testament as a going away gift and  Theo will make him food  for the

3 day trip (at least) home.

For now, I’d better go. I am amazed the internet has stayed working

this long because the winds are  whipping  up dust devils and one of

my wicker chairs just got whisked off of the


Love and Blessings  to all,

Sis Detra

Victory in Baja

We had a good Meeting today. (Friday) . We have been bringing in a few  new people from a work camp in Maneadero. They met us thru the  Clinics that we have This one man heard about free medical care from some relative who lives over here in the local Cuarteria.
> >> The poor guy had broken his leg when he fell somehow attempting to cross the US border.  It happened days  prior  to finally getting to the Clinic…..he had been gimping along in unimaginable pain  until he showed up at the last clinic.
> He didn’t know his leg was broken….. just knew it hurt really bad and he had no money.
> The *coyotes* stole what money he had (plus obviously kept the $4000 his family was extorted up front) and left him for dead in the desert. So, he and his family are having a very hard time. They were so happy to get the beans, rice and other foods we give out.  He was so hungry he was eating raw oatmeal as we  passed out food. I’ve seen quite a few people adults and children alike, do this over the years, but it is always unsettling.
> They were so broken by the whole experience which had engulfed them, that their hearts were totally open and receptive to the Word. FRANK had laid hands on him at the last Clinic, but today he heard the Gospel of Resurection and got saved along with his 12 year old son.  My belief honestly, is that had we just preached salvation and.not focused on Resurrection, this man would not have responded.  For I see now,  that his concern; at that moment was; his age and the condition of his body  and what,  if anything, ( besides chubby little Raphael-esque Cherubim angels floating lazily on a sea of puffy clouds, some playing instruments in the nude) which  to people who are actively suffering and reaping abuse)  seems superfluous and even possibly painful…. No, this man was wondering what for him, lay beyond.
> This boy , Carlos’s son,  had actually gotten placed in a different group than his dad, (it is common practice with coyotes  to know in advance that  they are going to place certain people  in a ‘bait group ‘or a ‘diversion group’ and usually they use the older people or weaker individuals for this purpose. )  Carlos is a very old version of 65 and thus an easy target for mistreatment by hid fellow man.
> The sad part is that even knowing this is a very real possibility, ( being used and abused) people will continue to pay coyotes and try, time and time again,  to cross illegally ….nevermind  horrifically daunting obstacles, because the allure of the American Dream is so strong.
> >> So , his son, a 12 year old boy, DID make it across ; all the way in to the USA,  to the rondevoux point in L.A.. . Upon finding that his father did not succeed,  he panicked , THANKFULLY escaped his ‘guides’, and returned to distant relatives in Maneadero,  where,  as the Lord would have it,  he was was reunited with his father eventually.
> >> So,  all of this,  plus the broken and now infected leg had put them in a place of such humility,such a  state that their hearts were opened to the idea that “some god” (Carlos’s words)   was at work….FRANK  explained it was the Great I AM.
> >> For a guy who has been through such a bitter experience, Carlos holds absolutely no bitterness against anyone! (and this humble acceptance of failure I find as a common denominator smong the Indians here )
> The Lord told him, thru Frank, that this attitude of humility,(not acceptance), is going to cause a huge blessing to come upon his entire family in addition to being healed. It was magnificent to see and hear. Yahweh is great. I was so amazed to find Carlos  touched that we,  being strangers expecting no return would GIVE him food and care…..it was so heartbreaking to be appreciated so much….I dont know if I can get across how happy  and at the same turn broken,  i felt, being in the presence of this man’s gratitude….its has had  me weeping on and off all day.
> >> And not that God caused any of these bad things to happen to the man, for He did not,  but it was a great showing of the Lord working all these things together for the Good, you know?
> I mean he COULD have died alone in the desert. He COULD have been separated from his son forever,  and likewise his son could of fallen into yhe hands of every type of evil awaiying the innocent in Los Angeles, alone. The coyotes could have killed the son to make an example of what happens when families don’t or can’t pay the extravagant fees that they charge. Apny number of  horrible alter- endings could have come to pass……
> But even as horrifying as the situation was,  Yahweh was mercifully working every  circumstance together for His Good. And ours. He remains Ever Faithful,  Ever Loving, no matter how grave our circumstances appear,  He will work it all out for our good,  At times we just need to rest in Him and allow that.
> love and blessings,  sis dee
> coyotes-
> ** people who make their livelihood charging huge sumd of cash to guide other individuals across the Mexico/ USA Border. Their services are wildly illegal and their motivation is greed.  They are unequivocally dangerous and not to be trifled with & are usually affiliated with drug cartels.

Memories of Church As a Child

Today’s thoughts due to last weeks meeting-


When I was a small girl about 8 years old, actually in the beginning of my father’s perpetual LAST slide into alcohol and the delights of cocaine, my mother had a very large mole removed. At the time in my eyes it was a dire situation and my mother relished treating it as such.

Neighbor women arrived to sit watch, whatever that was.  From my perspective it was all about a period of time  when the neighbor/school ladies who you gossiped fiercely about at all other times were welcomed into your home with graciousness. Casseroles seemed to have a great deal to do with the whole ritual. Looking back on it, it was the closet thing to  a family reunion that I ever experienced. In general Cali’s don’t  sit watch and in all due cases rarely  give a rip about a mole removal or a death in the family, so it was actually a big deal.

So, for 3 days after the Great Mole Removal, our house was  a wonderland of gossip and casseroles.  I recall with trepidation- the Great Tinfoil Shortage……several large women I didn’t know  in a panic about how to cover and thus preserve arriving casseroles once Reynolds aluminum was wiped out. That was about as deep as it got, but there was one  wonderful thing that happened……

For the 3 days that women arrived to sit and guard food, it seemed to me, anyway, my father was  even more scarce than normal. See. Some of the neighbors, were what he called “church ladies” and he found it difficult to sneak round and drink incessantly while under  such a watch.  Mostly he was a beer man then , but was just acquiring  his scotch taste. He viewed the women as deacon harlots (hi s term) and remained in a constant fit of paranoia while they were in house. In fact fter the 1st 24 hours he spent most of his time after work in front of the TV tightly gripping a spiked Coca-Cola and shooting the evil eye at the helpful women.

As for me, I have awfully fond memories of it, truth be told! Our home never had such warmth and so damned much hot food. By that age  was accustomed to heated up a bagel for myself if I desired any breakfast. And packing the Barbie lunch box was always a solitary affair. To have these people doting on me and feeding me, well it made me feel all warm and fuzzy. They were the aunts, uncles, and grandparents I had left behind. For three days I was part of a family.

The local Methodist preacher,  Pastor Lester, even came and visited. I fondly remembered him as the guy who gave a rousing sermon at Easter, the one time my parents took me to a church. He was funny.

After the successful cosmetic procedure my mother was invited to that Church an dwe actually went  at least 3 times in a row. I had my name  on acute cutout at Sunday School and was learning some neato for the next few Sunday  when bamo-! Someone offended my mother.  Then Bro. Lester got run off for an indiscretion,which I never fully understood and the church split wide open.  My dad DELIGHTED in this and harped on it 24/7 until I suppose Mom just gave it up. The Bubble Bus still picked me up the next few Sundays but I found myself feeling unnerved at facing my inebriated father and I gave up too.


Still , those few Sundays when I was scrubbed and dressed and hauled off to “church” were probably the fondest memories I have of my folks marriage.

In the past couple of weeks I hve seen parents action s in the Church, their response to an offense real or imagined deeply hurt their children and their children’s friends. I am not judging but feel I should share the reminder to be careful about accepting “offenses” and jerking your fmily up to change churches-I beg you to be aware of how it might affect your child or family members…..It is harder to stay nd work things out where the Lord has set you that it is to up and leave in THE SHORT RUN. But I gurantee you that  cutting and running in a time of conflict in your church in the long run can destroy lives!




It ‘s been unseeingly humid down here lately.

It ‘s been unseeingly humid down here lately.  We even had a
thunderstorm, reminding me of Mississippi…………..the hot summer rains
that arrive  from a gunmetal sky and drench the red delta dirt  of my
childhood visits to “home”.   Those rains inevitably caused the old
white men in the Kroger’s to fret and grumble if the cotton had yet to
be picked up. But that’s another story.  For some reason I always
thought of Mississippi as home, even though at an early age I was
uprooted and transported to  California. In California, it seems that
no one has roots there, that everyone  originated from somewhere else.
I ‘ve never felt entirely comfortable calling it “home.” And so.
But here I am completing my 16th unlikely year in the unlikely
environs of  Baja California Mexico.
Who’d of ever thought I’d wind up  here…….and call it “home?”
Back to the weather, though.  It had me feeling a bit homesick and out
of sorts………………….but the clouds broke around  5:30 and the air  brought
the smell and chill of the ocean so close by. I  decided to say
“forget it, for now” and procrastinate on gathering  the receipts for
last month for which my crazy bi-polar accountant is hounding me
already, and to sit on the balcony with  little green coca-cola.
No sooner than I arranged myself on a lounge chair with my icy soda,
than I see puffs of dirt on the trail thru the weeds from the
cuarteria to the mission. Voices carry thru the now brisk air, and
little ones start appearing getting larger and larger as they
approach. Still most are only about 3 feet tall. It’s “toddler’s hour”
when the littleun’s come to get their 2 liters of water. At the end of
the line  is a bigger one though.
I cant tell who it is , just another brown round face in the setting
sun, but as the silhouette nears a bright white smile appears. Big
white teeth and dinner-plate eyes. It’s Aquilino.  I am trying to
figure why the big smile which is visible for some 400
As he gets below the balcony, I’m bursting with questions. (It’s been
a slow day at the mission, and I’m a Mexican neighbor now, and well,
we thrive on NEWS. Not CNN, or MSNBC, neither of which I get, but
neighborhood news. Who had a baby, why did the police come, who’s
arriving or leaving from or to Oaxaca……………….the lifeblood of a “slow”
The news is actually minor so far.  But I feed him a sandwich as he
regales me with tales of someone’s grandmother and his cousin (both
the same person, go figure but everyone but me is related) and I
continue to ply him with chips and half my soda to get the real source
of the smile on his dirty little face.
See I ‘ve learned that here nothing is fast or easy, watches are
scorned and dates not really applicable unless you own money and even
then, well , it’s Mexico, right? So I am impatiently playing patient
pastora, because this guy is just grinning like a madman.
Finally, I can’t hold it.  “So Filli, (which is what everybody calls
Aquilino, only the Lord knows why, but no one in Mexico goes by their
birth name , but an “apodo” or nickname that has usually no bearing or
reason in it’s assignation). When I call him Filli, he gives me a sly
look. Like okay down to business.
“Hermana! They are back. THEY are back. The Ixpa’s. The funny people.”
And I am instantly hungry for details and so intrigued as he tells me
of two families who were moved OUT of the Camp to make way for these
curious Ixpa’s. They were here like 5 years ago. And Filli was totally
on love with the oldest Ixpa girl. Ayela.
The thing is tho that the Ixpa’s are not from Mexico. They are a part
of a Brazilian tribe, who somehow stole over Mexico’s Southern Border,
then got stuck in Puxtla, Oxa. Then got to know some triques and made
their way up here. Really rare and a bizarre group to the Mexican
Indians. An “exotic” people.
Filli and I bust open another Coke and reminisce to his 7th birthday
when this exotic  group arrived.   They are exotic, more so to me than
even the Zapotepos which rarely arrive from Guerrerro. They are so
otherworldly, like something from a National Geographic page as the
women go topless and bath in the open…………………….and the little boys wear
a little leather pouch around a strategic area, and even the big boys
revert to this on the days off. They will live in the Camp but apart
in their yurts, thee mud and stick huts that they are already
constructing…………(I sent Aquilino down with my camera tonight hopefully
he’ll have pics by manana. He ‘s on a secret  correspondent’s
So I look forward to seeing if they will remember me, if they are the
same families who were here years ago and a million other  things.
There is a buzz of excitement as I now here other children telling
Frank downstairs that “they” are back.
I am blessed to live this excitement. But MOSTLY truly the blessing is
the smile on Filli’s face when he arrived. And the way he included ME
in the neighborhood excitement. Taunting me with his “knowledge” but I
m grateful that I have been accepted. Like the news arrived and it
needed to be delivered and though I am a foreigner, I am on the
“pipeline”.  A neighbor.  It is a privilege for which I thank  Jesus.
For me it is a big deal to feel a PART of the community, not a visitor
but a member.  It is the Gospel that has made us such for no other
glue exists between us but that we all BELIEVE in HIM.
Praise JESUS