Looking out my Backdoor: Oblivious me

I am a marked woman. Last week I announced to my little world that I am studying Spanish, obviously a language tagged as subversive. When next I arrive in Havre, I'm likely to be met on the train by armed Border Patrol, cuffed, and dragged into the slammer.

Oh, woe is me. I followed the Havre news story (also in the international news, by the way) about the two young women apprehended for speaking Spanish in the convenience store. I know that Spanish-speaking women are dangerous. I should have thought.

Oh, man, the story of my life. "I should have thought." Not me. I'm oblivious. I blurt out whatever is on my mind.

It's too late now. The die is cast. I've crossed the Rubicon. So I'll continue forward, see where this path leads. Might be cold baloney sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner in the iron bar hotel?

When I say "too late," in the night I wake up from dreams with Spanish phrases in my head. I'm determined. I may never speak fluent Spanish but my Spanglish gets better every day.

My latest language hang-up is "me gusta," which means "I like." This phrase is common, one I already knew. Yesterday I discovered there is "a mi me gusta" which also means "I like." I learned this version is sometimes used for extra emphasis and sometimes "just because."

What's that mean? "Just because?" How am I supposed to know the difference? I'm serious. I want to know why.

And that - the need to know why - is a big determinate to my lack of language skills. I want to know why. And there is no why. Different languages developed in different times and places. There may be no why or reason or logical relationship between languages. Relax and accept. Easy to say. Relajar y aceptar.

The answer to most of my problems my whole life long: relax and accept.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining and my latest project is my "Mask Factory."

One of the things I most like about being in Mexico is that nothing is thrown away. When an items is broken, it is either fixed or a different use if found for it. Like in olden days.

Recently, I gathered a bunch of scraps from a basket in my bodega. Tore apart a couple pillow covers I no longer use. Sat with my seam ripper and dismantled a couple blouses that were faded, but fine when used for lining. Bought several meters of quarter-inch elastic.

Just like that, I had a production line set up for my one-woman mask factory. My face masks are very simple in construction, easily sewn together, washable and durable. I began making masks for myself with nary a thought for others.

"Hey, Sondrita, nice mask. Where'd you get it?"

"Ah, would you like a couple?"

That's how it all began. Then I said to self, "Christmas is a coming soon. No tengo los regalos este ano para mis amigos." I don't have gifts to give but I can make masks and share the work of my hands.

I don't consider the masks to be real Christmas gifts. After all, they are made with scraps and used materials. I'm glad to share something so useful and easy for me to make.

My friends and I now have the best-dressed faces in Etzatlan, in English, in Spanish, in Spanglish.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton's essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].