Mau y la Peste

Hello and Welcome! My name is Mauricio and I will be posting "Pandemic Journals" here. La experiencia de un alumno de Michigan en medio de una pandemia viviendo en Ensenada. 

[mauylapeste]

Pandemic Journal #3

In order for me to stop focusing on something I can’t change and control, I decided to focus on something that I can. My handwriting. I’ve always loved the way my aunts write in cursive. I have always wanted to learn for the longest but never had the chance to work on it. I intend to write every journal I post on paper to keep track of how my handwriting evolves. This way, I can feel joy that I have been able to see myself improve in something, and not focus on white people feeling oppressed because they have lost the ability to do what they want whenever they want for the first time in their lives.

If you cant read my handwriting, trust me, I understand. I struggle too. Below is the typed journal.

…

           I come bearing good news. Since Mexico is now in phase 3 for covid-19, the clandestine masses my grandma would make me take her to are now cancelled for good. Not a good thing that we’re at stage three but good that my grandma isn’t putting herself and others at risk of contracting the disease at god’s house. This being said, I see how covid-19 prevention practices have changed drastically in the city that I’m living in. The same store where I would go to last week with my family now doesn’t allow more than one member per family to enter the store at the same time. Also, you are not allowed to go inside without a mask on. This makes me think about the people who cannot afford to buy masks or those who are no longer able to buy masks due to their unavailability. How are they supposed to get groceries to feed their families? I then found out that as long as your nose and mouth were covered whether it’s with a bandana, a rag, shirt wrapped around your face, it would be acceptable to enter the store. I’ve been thinking a lot about the pandemic and how hard it will keep hitting the United States with white people asking for liberation from oppression since they can’t go to the beauty salon. I sometimes think this must be a simulation because I’m merely in disgusted shock due to the revolting stupidity and privilege of those who don’t give a shit about themselves or others. It’s just… wow. In order for me to stop focusing on something I can’t change and can’t control, I decided to focus on something that I can. My handwriting is somewhat legible, but I want to improve, specifically my cursive. I’ve set as a goal to write every journal I post on paper to keep track of how my handwriting evolves. This way, I can feel joy that I have been able to see myself improve in something, and not focus on how white people are feeling oppressed because they now have to do the bare minimum to help others.

[mauylapeste]

Pandemic Journal #3

[mauylapeste]

Pandemic Journal #2

A confused atheist going through a pandemic

This week has taken a very interesting turn on how I’ve been going through this pandemic. I identify as an atheist, since I was a sophomore in high school I’ve identified as an atheist. My family members are devout Catholics. I’ve confronted them before on my beliefs and how I don’t believe in Jesus, the bible, saints, holly water, or holly anything. Recently I’ve been lighting my paschal candle along with praying the rosary every other day. I’ve also been attending mass during the weekdays and weekends. Why?

I start to think it’s because I missed my family and this is a way I can spend time with them. But this is not true, I already spend so much time with them, there is no need to be praying with them, we literally don’t talk, we just recite the same prayers over and over. This isn’t really spending time with them. Is it so I can fix any problems I had with them? Is this a way I can get them to fully acknowledge me and a way to actually be considered part of the family? I don’t even enjoy praying. I hate all of my Grandmothers religious sanctimonious lectures on how we are horrible humans and how this pandemic is a punishment from god due to us. Instead of helping hospitals, doctors, nurses, she decided to donate 10,000 pesos to the church she attends. This gave her a special privilege to attend clandestine masses that are held during the week and makes me take her since she doesn’t drive anymore. The bishop at my city was informed of her donation and he decided to gift her the candle that he used to light the cathedrals pascal candle. She felt like a celebrity. Once this horror of a pandemic ends, I’m sure she’ll think it stopped because of her prayers and her attendance at church… if she survives. This disgusts me, it makes me sick.

I’ve tried talking to her and explaining how viruses work. I’ve showed her articles on how the virus is affecting some communities harder than others and why. I go nowhere with this woman. She’ll answer with “God is very angry with us, you should be scared of him and start praying with me.” I’m merely shocked at how she doesn’t want to receive scientifically proven information for her own health or the health of others. Disgusting.

“Don’t get me wrong, I am very scared. But God is the least of my concerns.” I merely don’t know how to tell my family that.

[mauylapeste]

Pandemic Journal #1

I’ve seen that little by little my city’s activity that I’m currently living in is dying. The first week that I arrived to Ensenada B.C. Mexico, there were still many people in the streets, at the beach, at restaurants, and going to parties. I saw that some bars and clubs had shut down, I was very thankful for that; I told this to my mom. She explained that they only shut them down because there were shootings not long ago. This brought be right back to where I was at the beginning. Feeling hopeless because sadly, if it weren’t for those incidents, those bars and clubs would still be very active at night. For these past two weeks that I’ve been home, I’ve been thinking that everything is ok. I’m healthy and so is my family along with those around me, thankfully. We haven’t had to worry about food, about a roof over our head, having a place to sleep, losing the house, despite everything going on, I knew everything is going well. My mom still has a job that she goes to every day, she’s also the person that I talk to the most at home. Every day that she’d come back from work she’d seem different. Very odd. She’s the type of person that in Spanish people would refer to her as a “valemadrista,” meaning nonchalant or laid-back. She typically arrives with very high energy, greeting us with an array of questions about our day, cracks a joke or two, even if she’s having a bad day. When she’s feeling under the weather or tired from a long day of work she’ll just be a little quite compared to other days. Recently its different. Every time she’d come home she wouldn’t say a word. I’d have to start the conversation. I would have to repeat my question or statement up to three times for her to fully hear me and acknowledge that I was speaking to her. This is when I realized something wasn’t right.

My mother is the only bread winner in the family. She is the owner of a small vegetable processing company that was passed down to her from my Grandfather. I asked my Mother, “What’s wrong?” and she answered, “They’re cancelling all my shipments, my clients are going bankrupt, my farmers no longer want to start planting anymore in case I can’t find people to sell all their produce to. I have no work for my workers, how are they going to live without their check, how are they going to feed their kids? They literally live off the weekly checks they get.” This was the beginning of the concerns that she had. She finished with “Mijo, ¿que hago? No se que hacer y no se que pasara mas adelante” (Son, what do I do? I don’t know what to do and I don’t know what will happen in the future). A concern her and I have because depending on how the future looks will determine if I return to Kalamazoo College for my Junior year. I was struggling with my homework because of how slow the Internet was at my house, a problem for everyone from where I live. Forget the WiFi, I’m struggling with professors having the same expectations from all their students to be turning things in by a deadline when we are all having to fight different battles, some bigger than others. Yes, I’m frustrated, but I can’t go to my mother and complain about how I’m struggling because I know she’s struggling as well and it’s not her fault for the shitty situation that we’re in. And I also have to understand that it’s not my fault either nor is it particularly anyone’s. For the past week this is all I’ve been able to think about and try to work with. I have to figure out a way to cope and fix these feelings of anger, frustration, anxiety, and hopelessness. I also need to find a way to stop thinking “Why am I doing all of this homework and stressing about deadlines during a FUCKING PANDEMIC.”

 Hay mi Mexico lindo y querido. Si se puede.