My
husband and I were invited to a traditional boda (wedding) that was
being held this weekend in Ciudad Obregon, a city in Sonora, a
northwest region of Mexico that borders Arizona and New Mexico. Paolo,
a young psychiatrist had grown up in Italy and we have known his family
since he was a child. He was marrying Teresa at the church in her
hometown, Santuario de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. The young couple
had met in the States where they were both completing their education.
When we received the invitation, we were delighted. But admittedly,
we did think twice. Our unbridled enthusiasm about sharing this day
with Paolo and Teresa was quickly sobered by the increasing reports of
kidnapping, violence, and murder attributed to drug cartels in northern
Mexico. A recent U.S. State Department travel alert said that US
citizens should "avoid certain areas, abstain from driving on certain
roads because of dangerous conditions or criminal activity, or
recommend driving during daylight hours only." It also recommended not
going too afar of tourist areas. My cousin called and told me that he
had hired a bodyguard for his college-aged son's spring break trip last
month to a luxury resort in Acapulco. "Take only fake jewelry with
you," cautioned a friend. In the end, we weren't deterred by fears
because of our long friendship with our Italian friends as well as our
fondness for Mexico, its people, and its culture.
So we were among the 300 celebrants this weekend, mostly Sonorans,
who attended Teresa and Paolo's wedding reception at a ranch-like
restaurant, called "Mr. Steak." It took place immediately after the
church service in a beautiful outdoor courtyard, covered with crimson
flowers that seemingly thrive in the desert heat.
It turns out that when it comes to births, weddings and funerals,
many traditions are global. The wedding singers and dancers who might
have just as easily been hired to entertain at a gaudy bar mitzvah
(particularly if they had they been singing in English) got things
rolling. The bride and groom danced their first dance to Louis
Armstrong's, "What a Wonderful World." Guests ate, drank and exchanged
memories of the couple's childhood and of their own courtships and
weddings.
The energetic band got the crowd on their feet to do the "Pony" and
the Mexicans danced to lively Latin beats for hours showing no signs of
exhaustion. There was a dais and a tiered wedding cake, photographs
taken of the proud families, beautiful deep-skinned bridesmaids dressed
in vibrant turquoise dresses, and wedding favors.
My wedding reverie was interrupted when a friend sent me an email on
my iPhone. Attached to a "breaking news alert" about the potential
swine flu pandemic in Mexico City that had already felled more than
1000 persons and killed about 60, my friend Patricia wrote, "You're not
there, are you?"
That was our first inkling of the panic that was terrorizing the
people of Mexico City, where we had been just two days before. We were
glued to CNN whenever we got back to our hotel room. The death rate
among victims was estimated at about 7 percent. The lead story in the
local paper reported three new cases in Sonora. My friend, Margie, a
veteran traveler and adventurer emailed me: "Get out of there. I'm
worried about you." We decided to cut our trip short, aborting plans to
visit the nearby colonial town of Alamos, Mexico, one of the Pueblos
Magicos, after the wedding.
It wasn't easy to rearrange our flight schedule but we were able to
get stand-by seats. Our return flight from Obregon connected through
Mexico City, an international hub where there are usually hoards of
people. Compared to only a few days earlier, both the landscape of the
airport and the nature of our anxieties had taken an unexpected turn.
The terminal was sparsely populated. Airport employees with blue gloves
and passengers with blue masks were cautious and kept their distance
from each other. Security was efficient and turned out to be far more
brisk than usual.
As we donned one of the ubiquitous blue masks being handed out
freely by men in army fatigues, every TV set around the airport was
reporting the emergency measures invoked by President Calderon to quell
fears and protect public health. Soccer games would go on, but without
fans, and the faithful would no longer be flocking to churches. They
were warned to stay away from crowds, not shake hands, or cheek-kiss as
is traditional among Mexican friends. Museums, schools, universities,
bars and restaurants were closed down. People were hunkered down,
stockpiling DVDs and Tamiflu.
We worried whether we would get out of Mexico before we got ill or
the flu became pandemic. Would airline or immigration officials be
ordered to screen travelers crossing borders to prevent its spread? At
the same time, we felt terrible about the mounting economic woes being
faced by Mexico, a U.S. neighbor that is heavily dependent on tourism,
which has already taken a big hit because of crime fears and the
downfall in the economy.
At the airport, we read English language newspapers and surfed the
Internet. We found out that the swine flu had outpaced our own return
to New York and had jumped across continents---within days, cases had
already cropped up in several other US cities, Australia, Canada and
Israel. I wrote this post on our return flight. More than ever, it
became clear to me that whether it is a drug war, global disease
outbreak, or other human disaster, international borders are permeable
and we are all in this together.
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