I was given his number by a friend in 2004 before a trip to Mexico to see an old girlfriend who was volunteering in Oaxaca City. We met in Mexico DF and partied. He showed me around on a couple of further trips I made there and I told him he always had a place to crash in my hometown New York. A year ago he called me from San Diego with the idea of making a docu about crossing the border. I thought maybe because I was a citizen I could actually follow a coyote through the desert without getting into any trouble. It turns out that it would be totally legal for me to enter the US through the desert but if I was with anyone without papers, I could wind up in jail for aiding and abetting human trafficking.
I also knew this had been done before and we didn't want to wind up with something sensationalistic or exploitative, so I encouraged Alex to come up with a better idea. I trusted him because I knew he was a good musician and an artistically minded guy with a strong education and feeling for socio-political issues. He did his homework (quite a bit) and six months later I found myself back in Oaxaca, but this time in the stunningly beautiful but remote, Sierra Mixteca, where Spanish is a second language to Mixteco and the people are quite a bit shorter and darker than Alex. Poorer too; neglected by the state and not eating vey much meat. Most importantly; kind, curious and very loving. I learned to love eating tortillas and beans with flowers and plants. Recently, In New York's current condition (12% unemployment) my freelance ass hasn't been eating much besides tortillas and beans (with the luxuries of cheese and avocado).
Alex had spent a few weeks having to convince everyone he's Mexican and then I showed up. Another guero, and indeed a gringo, speaking mediocre Spanish. But people accepted us and they wanted to talk. We worked in corn fields (I was born in NYC and I'd certainly never done that before) with families, drank with young people our age and got to know almost everybody. They all had family north. We met kids a little younger than us who spend as much time as possible in the cybercafes and blasted hip hop (American and Mexican) across the corn fields. I started to like chileno ranchero music.
Alex learned as much from my advice as from witnessing my mistakes. My 11 year old Sony VX-1000 was having trouble right before the trip but I thought it would be okay. Then I forgot to bring the battery charger. My roommate in New York Fedexed it to the nearest town (90 minutes away) for $100 and we shot our first interview with it to discover that my red CCD chip was gone. Interview #1 was useless and $100 and the effort of a long trip to Tlaxiaco were wasted. I felt like a fool but now Alex realized how important it was that I'd talked him into buying his own DV cam for secondary footage. I certainly didn't think mine was going to crap out entirely and thank god we did have this other camera.
Alex changed a lot of my preconceptions about Mexico and poverty in poor countries in general. I'm a liberal New Yorker, quick to blame all the world's ills on our government. Alex showed me that we had to get past simplistic ideas about the evils of imperialism and look at what's the matter with the Mexican state.
Going to small town Minnesota also showed me that not everyone outside New York is a racist hick. We met people of all opinions; racist, sympathetic and everything in between. The police chief doesn't want to ever have to enforce immigration laws because it's his duty to protect and serve all the people in his jurisdiction, not make them hide. Most people don't think Mexicans steal these jobs from citizens, they blame the large American corporations who rely on the labor since young people from Austin prefer to move to big cities after graduation.
In this town of less than 20,000 there is a Mexican community of two or three thousand, almost half from Magdalena and environs. Approximately half of them work in meatpacking. One can earn decent wages ($11-18 an hour) in a slaughterhouse and life is a lot cheaper and less stressful for immigrants than in big cities. However, it is a stagnant life in a pretty run down town and the meth trade from Minnesota and Chicago calls to both immigrant youth and Americans.
It almost seems like the Mexicans there have more of a community than anyone else. I know Central American immigrants in New York have their own soccer leagues and their own places for first baptism, wedding and quincenéra receptions, but I never thought I'd find myself at a huge wedding-dance in a high school ice hockey arena with 5,000 Mexicans who had come from all over the midwest; Iowa, Chicago, St. Louis. I even met a kid who grew up in New Jersey who wanted to know what the hell we were doing.
I taught Alex a lot about interviewing for camera. He didn't always take my advice, but the importance of having people repeat answers to questions for the camera, leaving them space between their answers and the next question and generally, keeping things at a comfortable pace so that subjects wouldn't be intimidated by this chilango, seeped in eventually. (I now think that people from Mexico City are the only people in the world more rude and tense than New Yorkers or Mumbaikers.) Sometimes I wanted to kill Alex because I'd be in the middle of shooting something he didn't think was important but I recognized as perfect b-roll and he'd be asking me tech questions. The more I taught him the more he started to question and even criticize my work. But by the end, he'd become a pretty good cameraman himself.
After 5 weeks of sharing a room and shooting every day we were tired, but we'd achieved a symbiosis that really worked. We knew what each other were thinking and we'd pushed each other to look at things in new ways. We both learned about local culture and Alex taught me about how things really work in Mexico. In Minnesota we went into a VFW hall, which Alex thought would be more an office for a civil association than social club, and we were first met with strange glares. But, after a few Coors lights the old vets really opened up to us. Just like drinking aguardiente in Mexico with the farmers.






1 Comments:
thank you for writing jon- i really enjoyed reading your entry. i can't wait to see the rough cut and i look forward to meeting you. please engage your filmmaking friends in this blog!
--rebecca
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home