Anay's Will to Learn: A Woman's Education in the Shadow of the Maquiladoras

8. The Missionary and the Beauty School

A nay and her family had moved 1,500 miles away, and I did not hear from her for months. Her computer was not working. She had access to a telephone , but the technology to make calls to the United States was difficult to manipulate and very costly. I tried calling the number she gave me, but the calls did not go through. She could use an Internet café, but the owner raised rates and the costs added up quickly. Also, Anay and Enrique were extremely busy. I was uneasy about their new world and was anxious to know what was happening, so I purchased a plane ticket. I told Anay the dates of my trip during one of the few conversations we shared on the phone. She called me a few days later and told me that their cell phone had been stolen, so I should not accept any calls from that number. Then the line went dead. I e-mailed her to remind her of my arrival, but I never heard back, and the departure date was drawing near. I took a deep breath and thought back to our times together and how dependable she is and how she remembers every detail. I paid a high price for an El Paso taxi driver to take me to the airport in Ciudad Juárez, and I boarded the plane. When I arrived at the airport, still two hours from their home, no one was there to meet me. I found a snack bar and purchased a bottle of water, read the paper, and breathed deeply over and over to try to keep my pulse rate under control. Af-| Eight | The Missionary and the Beauty School | 140 | Anay’s Will to Learn ter an hour, I started visiting with the taxi drivers and the car rental agencies. I knew where Uncle Margarito’s store was in Huixpan. Maybe I could drive there and someone would direct me to their home. Maybe I could manage the bus system and all the exchanges for that two-hour trip. I turned away from the car rental booth, looked up, and saw four children with big smiles squealing and running to me with open arms. Anay was with them and Enrique was waiting outside in the truck. I grabbed Anay and hung on tight—she was alive and well, and I was not stranded. Grandpa Roger’s pickup has a large cab, so Enrique, Anay, and I were in the front and the four children were secured in their seat belts in the back. I handed little fun packs to the children —stickers, markers, small toys, and games. Eva was nine years old and spoke to me almost entirely in English. Anay’s English had improved to the point that we spoke at least half of the time in English. Juliet was also able to conduct short conversations in English. Elaine and Kiké were still learning and practiced words and phrases with me. Enrique said he would stick with Spanish for now. Anay spoke to the children in English from time to time and made them watch one hour of Englishlanguage shows every day, sometimes a movie video and sometimes a television show. We took a leisurely route from the airport to their home and drove through mountain lands where coffee grew on the family ranchitos—organically grown, shade-grown coffee. Enrique pointed out cement slabs in front of some of the houses. “That is where they dry the coffee beans.” I enjoyed the scenery , but I was more interested in talking to the children, watching them take turns playing with the gifts, and listening to Anay tell all that they had been doing. Higher up in the mountains, Enrique turned off the highway and drove down a steep dirt road to a small valley with a stream running through it. There were two palm-topped shades and two concrete grills near the stream. A pickup was parked under the shade, and two families were cooking, visiting, and playing in the water. “¡Hermano!” (Brother!), they shouted when they saw Enrique walking toward The Missionary and the Beauty School | 141 | them. Anay introduced me and there were hugs all around. The women were making homemade tortillas and roasted chicken on the grills. We were warmly invited to join, but Enrique told them that we had just eaten in the city. Anay and Enrique...