Adventures in Apaseo
by Evelyn Kohl LaTorre
My first experience living outside the United States occurred the summer between my junior and senior college years at Holy Names College (HNC) when I went to central Mexico with a melange of Catholic men and women from the University of California at Berkeley, St. Maryʼs, University of San Francisco and other Bay Area Colleges. We wrote our theme song and sang it with gusto to the tune of the Harry Belafonte calypso, “Kingston Town.” It was a musical description of who we were, our goals, plans and mostly of our youthful enthusiasm.
" " " Verse I: Here we are, a motley crew
Assorted gringos through and through
They call us Amigos Anonymous
And weʼre heading south on a Greyhound Bus
* * * Verse II: Bears and Broncos and Dons by jingo
Senoritas from Santo Domingo
Gaels and Fraels from Holy Names
All kinds of guys and nursing-type dames
We prepared for our work Saturdays at the UC Newman Center with pastor, Father OʼLooney, the organizing force behind our projects. We studied Spanish and made lists of where to obtain medical, school and library supplies. We hammered out the details of projects designed to help the residents of our future summer homes, three small towns in central Mexico. To practice Spanish, some weekends, we went door to door taking a census among Mexican migrant laborers in the Fresno Valley with Cesar Chavez. It was the beginning of the United Farm Workers labor organization.
" " " Verse III: Weʼre going down without much dough
Our apostolic zeal is all weʼve got to show
Who cares about steaks cooked with care
Weʼll settle for tacos cooked medium rare
" " " Chorus: But weʼre glad to say weʼre on our way
Wonʼt be back for many a day
Weʼre on our way
Weʼre ready to go
Weʼre heading for Old Mexico
In April, Father OʼLooney assigned me as assistant director of the projects in Apaseo el Grande. Thirteen of the co-eds were to outfit a library and an elementary school there. I was disappointed we would be a group of all females with none of the guys I admired. I had attended an all womenʼs college for three years and thought this summer would be a good opportunity to know a few like minded guys. The Senor Cura (head priest) of Apaseo, did not want a mixed group of men and women to be placed together in his town; they might mix in unholy ways.
After a two day bus ride from Tijuana by way of Guadalajara, through Queretaro, we arrived in Apaseo. The town was ready for us. A ceremony on the plaza with town officials and the Senor Cura was our first welcome. Then, we thirteen young women were each assigned a family with whom we would live. Dr. Herrera, the townʼs physician, his wife and their six-year-old twin daughters were my family. Dr. Herrera spoke fluent English and asked me whether I preferred to be spoken to in English or Spanish. “Spanish,” I responded immediately wanting to improve my fluency. The family communicated with me only in Spanish; I forgot that English was an option.
Verse IV: Weʼre ready to face the rain or sun
Typhoid and tarantulas wonʼt be much fun
Thereʼs Montezumaʼs revenge we all know
When it hits you, Amigo, you just got to go
Apaseo, was not grande but rather pequeno with five dusty cobblestone streets running straight from the corners and one midway from a dainty, wrought-iron bordered central plaza to fertile fields outside town. Itʼs adobe homes didnʼt look like houses I had ever seen. They all ran together as a single adobe wall for the entire street and were separated only by alternating wall colors. Separate homes were distinguished on the outside by a change in wall color from white to blue or cream and by the unique doorways; some with big round brass knockers, some made of thick unpainted splintering wood, all with a smaller human sized door inset into the bigger door. Inside all the rooms surrounded brightly colored patios often with flowers and fountains in the center.
Apaseo already had a library, but El Senor Cura said it was a communist library and he wanted a less political one. I had worked as a book shelver for the Alameda County Library System, which put me in charge of setting up the new, approved library. Barbara, also from HNC, whom I had persuaded to come, worked with me. We began with a small unfinished room off the main church on the plaza. We painted, ordered bookshelves, and catalogued the 100 donated by friends, schools and libraries at home. I was expected to make a speech at the libraryʼs dedication, since I had been charged with setting it up. It was then that I remembered Dr. Herrera spoke English. He put my fractured Spanish into appropriate sentences which I delivered to the gathered throngs. Most of those who came to the opening were the young men of the town who attended for the refreshments, the live music and the gringas, not the books. My hard work was worth it when Stefano danced with me most of the evening. Senor Cura made certain that a proper distance was maintained between the U.S.A. college women and the local guys.
Sr. Cura was always looking after our virginity. Iʼd liked to ride horses, having grown up around them in Montana. There were horses to ride in Apaseo but Sr. Cura forbid any of us Amigos women to ride them unless we rode side saddle. I didnʼt know how to ride that way and one day straddled a horse for a great gallop in the countryside--where Sr. Cura couldnʼt see.
Every morning all thirteen of us gathered in the lovely dining room of the two spinster Cabrara sisters for breakfast. Between bites of scrambled eggs, black beans and pan dulce washed down with orange juice, tea or coffee, we made our plans for the day. It was a great way of bonding and feeling we were working towards the same goals, even though we had two separate projects. We often invited Maria Elena, Vivien and Lupita, girls from the town to join us. They assisted us with our endeavors and became our close friends.
One day each week Barbara and I left our library work and joined the other eleven women at the elementary school being refurbished on the poorer outskirts of Apaseo. Money and materials raised by local families and the church was added to what we brought from the U.S. It was enough to turn a run down building next to a rutted dirt road into an attractive and legitimate elementary school. The male Amigosʼ muscles (those at the two mixed sex sites) would have come in handy to help with the lifting, sawing, hauling and painting, but we managed fine with our own developing strengths.
Verse V: Weʼll sweep and scrub and paint and sew
Quien sabe? The cerveza will flow
Going down to lend a helping hand
Sprinkle our love in Manana Land
Barbara and I got on a local bus that took us to the transportation hub in Queretaro each weekend. From there we hopped onto other buses that transported us to a different city each Saturday: Mexico City, Acapulco, Oaxaca, San Miguel de Allende and Guadalajara. In the latter city I went by the house of Flavio, the boy I had met on the Tres Estrellas bus from Tijuana to Guadalajara. He wasnʼt home so I left him a note inviting him to visit Apaseo el Grande. He never did.
June and July went by too quickly and in August, it was time for me to leave. I returned a week earlier than the others to attend the National Association of Catholic Colleges Convention in Minneapolis. I cried as I left Apaseo on the bus headed towards Guadalajara to connect with my friend Jackie. Jackie had just visited relatives in Mexico City and had been assigned to the Amigos project in Zinapecuaro. We sat together on the bus to Tijuana and Jackie told me about her activities where she had been assigned. She helped out at the newly built hospital in Zinapecuaro, tried to create a mothersʼ group and taught children how to sing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” and the importance of washing their hands.
Epilogue
Jackie recently wrote, “I know I did not impact the town of Zinapecuaro so much as the town impacted me.” Iʼm not so sure. In 1977 she, her husband and her two young children lived in Zinapecuaro for a year. She now runs two exchange programs to the area every year: one, for teachers and others who want to learn the language and culture and a second each spring for those wanting to see the gathering of the monarch
butterflies. It helps Mexican townsʼ economies as well as international understanding. Her children are fluent in Spanish.
"There were many positive results for others too. At least three couples married from getting to know one another in Amigos. Barbaraʼs brother went down the following year and married one of the University of San Francisco women who worked in the Jesus del Monte project. Vivien, a native of Apaseo, married Frank from St. Maryʼs College; they live in California. Kay, the head of our project graduated from UC Berkeley in 1963, married a physician from Celeya, had two children and lives in Mexico.
The school we started in 1963 eventually was supported by the Mexican government and continues to turn out good students whom Amigos helps go on to higher education through a scholarship program. Every year, with the average $6000 in donations, students from our school go on to earn university degrees and/or complete technical studies from industrial institutes, nursing programs, engineering and MBA programs.
Flavio wrote me an impassioned letter in June, 1964 stating he was coming to join me in Fremont. I was just leaving to join the Peace Corps in Peru. There, I met and married a Peruvian university student. Upon my return, I obtained a Masters in Social Work and a Doctorate in Multicultural Studies. I worked thirty-two years in education.
Amigos Anonymous was just the beginning of many life changing adventures.
by Evelyn Kohl LaTorre
My first experience living outside the United States occurred the summer between my junior and senior college years at Holy Names College (HNC) when I went to central Mexico with a melange of Catholic men and women from the University of California at Berkeley, St. Maryʼs, University of San Francisco and other Bay Area Colleges. We wrote our theme song and sang it with gusto to the tune of the Harry Belafonte calypso, “Kingston Town.” It was a musical description of who we were, our goals, plans and mostly of our youthful enthusiasm.
" " " Verse I: Here we are, a motley crew
Assorted gringos through and through
They call us Amigos Anonymous
And weʼre heading south on a Greyhound Bus
* * * Verse II: Bears and Broncos and Dons by jingo
Senoritas from Santo Domingo
Gaels and Fraels from Holy Names
All kinds of guys and nursing-type dames
We prepared for our work Saturdays at the UC Newman Center with pastor, Father OʼLooney, the organizing force behind our projects. We studied Spanish and made lists of where to obtain medical, school and library supplies. We hammered out the details of projects designed to help the residents of our future summer homes, three small towns in central Mexico. To practice Spanish, some weekends, we went door to door taking a census among Mexican migrant laborers in the Fresno Valley with Cesar Chavez. It was the beginning of the United Farm Workers labor organization.
" " " Verse III: Weʼre going down without much dough
Our apostolic zeal is all weʼve got to show
Who cares about steaks cooked with care
Weʼll settle for tacos cooked medium rare
" " " Chorus: But weʼre glad to say weʼre on our way
Wonʼt be back for many a day
Weʼre on our way
Weʼre ready to go
Weʼre heading for Old Mexico
In April, Father OʼLooney assigned me as assistant director of the projects in Apaseo el Grande. Thirteen of the co-eds were to outfit a library and an elementary school there. I was disappointed we would be a group of all females with none of the guys I admired. I had attended an all womenʼs college for three years and thought this summer would be a good opportunity to know a few like minded guys. The Senor Cura (head priest) of Apaseo, did not want a mixed group of men and women to be placed together in his town; they might mix in unholy ways.
After a two day bus ride from Tijuana by way of Guadalajara, through Queretaro, we arrived in Apaseo. The town was ready for us. A ceremony on the plaza with town officials and the Senor Cura was our first welcome. Then, we thirteen young women were each assigned a family with whom we would live. Dr. Herrera, the townʼs physician, his wife and their six-year-old twin daughters were my family. Dr. Herrera spoke fluent English and asked me whether I preferred to be spoken to in English or Spanish. “Spanish,” I responded immediately wanting to improve my fluency. The family communicated with me only in Spanish; I forgot that English was an option.
Verse IV: Weʼre ready to face the rain or sun
Typhoid and tarantulas wonʼt be much fun
Thereʼs Montezumaʼs revenge we all know
When it hits you, Amigo, you just got to go
Apaseo, was not grande but rather pequeno with five dusty cobblestone streets running straight from the corners and one midway from a dainty, wrought-iron bordered central plaza to fertile fields outside town. Itʼs adobe homes didnʼt look like houses I had ever seen. They all ran together as a single adobe wall for the entire street and were separated only by alternating wall colors. Separate homes were distinguished on the outside by a change in wall color from white to blue or cream and by the unique doorways; some with big round brass knockers, some made of thick unpainted splintering wood, all with a smaller human sized door inset into the bigger door. Inside all the rooms surrounded brightly colored patios often with flowers and fountains in the center.
Apaseo already had a library, but El Senor Cura said it was a communist library and he wanted a less political one. I had worked as a book shelver for the Alameda County Library System, which put me in charge of setting up the new, approved library. Barbara, also from HNC, whom I had persuaded to come, worked with me. We began with a small unfinished room off the main church on the plaza. We painted, ordered bookshelves, and catalogued the 100 donated by friends, schools and libraries at home. I was expected to make a speech at the libraryʼs dedication, since I had been charged with setting it up. It was then that I remembered Dr. Herrera spoke English. He put my fractured Spanish into appropriate sentences which I delivered to the gathered throngs. Most of those who came to the opening were the young men of the town who attended for the refreshments, the live music and the gringas, not the books. My hard work was worth it when Stefano danced with me most of the evening. Senor Cura made certain that a proper distance was maintained between the U.S.A. college women and the local guys.
Sr. Cura was always looking after our virginity. Iʼd liked to ride horses, having grown up around them in Montana. There were horses to ride in Apaseo but Sr. Cura forbid any of us Amigos women to ride them unless we rode side saddle. I didnʼt know how to ride that way and one day straddled a horse for a great gallop in the countryside--where Sr. Cura couldnʼt see.
Every morning all thirteen of us gathered in the lovely dining room of the two spinster Cabrara sisters for breakfast. Between bites of scrambled eggs, black beans and pan dulce washed down with orange juice, tea or coffee, we made our plans for the day. It was a great way of bonding and feeling we were working towards the same goals, even though we had two separate projects. We often invited Maria Elena, Vivien and Lupita, girls from the town to join us. They assisted us with our endeavors and became our close friends.
One day each week Barbara and I left our library work and joined the other eleven women at the elementary school being refurbished on the poorer outskirts of Apaseo. Money and materials raised by local families and the church was added to what we brought from the U.S. It was enough to turn a run down building next to a rutted dirt road into an attractive and legitimate elementary school. The male Amigosʼ muscles (those at the two mixed sex sites) would have come in handy to help with the lifting, sawing, hauling and painting, but we managed fine with our own developing strengths.
Verse V: Weʼll sweep and scrub and paint and sew
Quien sabe? The cerveza will flow
Going down to lend a helping hand
Sprinkle our love in Manana Land
Barbara and I got on a local bus that took us to the transportation hub in Queretaro each weekend. From there we hopped onto other buses that transported us to a different city each Saturday: Mexico City, Acapulco, Oaxaca, San Miguel de Allende and Guadalajara. In the latter city I went by the house of Flavio, the boy I had met on the Tres Estrellas bus from Tijuana to Guadalajara. He wasnʼt home so I left him a note inviting him to visit Apaseo el Grande. He never did.
June and July went by too quickly and in August, it was time for me to leave. I returned a week earlier than the others to attend the National Association of Catholic Colleges Convention in Minneapolis. I cried as I left Apaseo on the bus headed towards Guadalajara to connect with my friend Jackie. Jackie had just visited relatives in Mexico City and had been assigned to the Amigos project in Zinapecuaro. We sat together on the bus to Tijuana and Jackie told me about her activities where she had been assigned. She helped out at the newly built hospital in Zinapecuaro, tried to create a mothersʼ group and taught children how to sing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” and the importance of washing their hands.
Epilogue
Jackie recently wrote, “I know I did not impact the town of Zinapecuaro so much as the town impacted me.” Iʼm not so sure. In 1977 she, her husband and her two young children lived in Zinapecuaro for a year. She now runs two exchange programs to the area every year: one, for teachers and others who want to learn the language and culture and a second each spring for those wanting to see the gathering of the monarch
butterflies. It helps Mexican townsʼ economies as well as international understanding. Her children are fluent in Spanish.
"There were many positive results for others too. At least three couples married from getting to know one another in Amigos. Barbaraʼs brother went down the following year and married one of the University of San Francisco women who worked in the Jesus del Monte project. Vivien, a native of Apaseo, married Frank from St. Maryʼs College; they live in California. Kay, the head of our project graduated from UC Berkeley in 1963, married a physician from Celeya, had two children and lives in Mexico.
The school we started in 1963 eventually was supported by the Mexican government and continues to turn out good students whom Amigos helps go on to higher education through a scholarship program. Every year, with the average $6000 in donations, students from our school go on to earn university degrees and/or complete technical studies from industrial institutes, nursing programs, engineering and MBA programs.
Flavio wrote me an impassioned letter in June, 1964 stating he was coming to join me in Fremont. I was just leaving to join the Peace Corps in Peru. There, I met and married a Peruvian university student. Upon my return, I obtained a Masters in Social Work and a Doctorate in Multicultural Studies. I worked thirty-two years in education.
Amigos Anonymous was just the beginning of many life changing adventures.