On Foot

by Mitchel Griffin (‘15)

Monday, May 25, 2015

Six hours, 1,000 miles, cars, planes, and taxis. Getting to Oaxaca was easy for us - travel is an afterthought at this point. For migrants, it's a different story. Centro de Orientación del Migrante de Oaxaca is just one of the many nonprofit organizations helping migrants on their transnational journeys. This morning we had the opportunity to visit COMOI (as it’s affectionately named), the migrant transit headquarter in Oaxaca City. Modestly tucked away on a side street, this little complex sees a steady stream of people, although its quite street tells a different story. As we made our way through the front gate, a beautiful mural accurately summarizing Dr. Goldberg’s Transnational Migration class greeted us. Immediately, our cameras began to click and we chattered, revealing over the excitement of visiting COMOI and witnessing its mission in action - helping migrants. COMOI’s workers told about their deeply humbling work they did everyday. After, they led us on a tour around the complex. We passed the food pantry filled to the brim; we ventured into the women’s dormitory where two bunkbeds were fixed on opposing walls and at the foot of one bunkbed a fully stocked women’s and children’s clothes closet for migrants to take as needed. We rounded a corner as we made our way into the backyard, stopping in the kitchen just before we walked to the men’s dormitory entrance. It was there that we made a new friend, a migrant in transit.

Two months, 1,000 miles, and all on foot. For our new friend, his journey to Oaxaca was different from ours, to say the least.

“I did not tell my family I was leaving. No one knew where I was going. No, I have not called my family since leaving.” Our new friend shared with us his story as we sat in a circle in the backyard under a large shady tree. He recalled his journey from El Salvador to Oaxaca with a soft smile, tired eyes, and restless feet. COMOI was not his first or last stop, only one stop on his tireless foot journey to the U.S., a promised land. COMOI allows its guest three days to rest before they must continue. A sobering reality of the nonprofit’s constraints. Our friend was on his third day; he had hopes of extending his stay, since COMOI was not crowded at the moment.

“I was fleeing violence back home,” our friend told us when we asked why he left El Salvador. Unfortunately, violence followed him. Along the journey from Central America into Mexico, authorities and bandits, alike, know the path migrants take as they cross borders. Our friend told us about his experience in a dense part of the forest where both authorities and bandits lie in wait, ready to pounce, robbing migrants of the very few things they carry with them. For our friend, it was just a single backpack with a few items of clothes. He said he was lucky for only being robbed once. COMOI told us about other migrants having their shoes robbed off their feet, just to ensure that their trek is that much harder.

“I am going to the U.S. I am a hard worker, and I know lots of skills. I am willing to learn more so I can work,” our friend proudly said as he told us about his end-goal. He does not have any contacts in the U.S., nor does he know at which point at the U.S.-Mexico border he will cross. As we know, it is a dangerous border to cross. Our friend knows the deadly realities of his trek. A matter-of-fact look in his eyes accompanied the words he shared about coming to terms with the possibility that he may not survive this journey he started only two months ago. We all shared a brief moment of silence.

Studying transnational migration, then speaking with a migrant who is just in the beginning of his journey, you can imagine, was a bittersweet experience. Our hearts were warmed by COMOI’s efforts to help these migrants, but a heavy toll still accompanied us as we heard the realities of making a transnational migration journey. Our blog aims at sharing the story about our wonderful trip, but also to share the realities of transnational migration. Several us wanted to do a bit more than just share COMOI’s or our new friend’s story. We wanted to give our whole selves (in true Hendrix spirit) to helping COMOI in any way we could. After lunch, we ventured back to COMOI to do some volunteer work. We helped label and reorganized the clothes storage closet and the food pantry. Tasks ranked high on any nonprofits' to-do list, but always crossed out last without extra helping hands. Our pride shinned as we completed these tasks and gave a little something back. In the kitchen before we left, we ran into our new friend one last time. He shared in our laughter at Kelsey Atwood (‘15) as she methodically cleaned the food storage cabinet with her always graceful animations. Sharing in laughter with our new friend was as equally important as sharing his story on this blog.

Something Old and Something New

This past weekend, Florencio led the gang a few hours away from Oaxaca City up into the mountains to spend the night in a new landscape, physically and culturally. We visited some of the oldest churches in southern Mexico on the way, truly a testament to the Dominican influence in Oaxaca.

I think, however, we all were the most enchanted by the women of Chicahuaxtla. Chicahuaxtla is a Triqui community, isolated and surrounded by beautiful misty mountains. The central valley of Oaxaca is steeped in Zapotec culture (with a little Mixtec thrown in for flavor), but the Triqui people are an indigenous group linguistically distinct from any other in Oaxaca. Florencio has pointed out Triqui women in the Oaxacan markets by their colorfully striped red huipiles (what we might label a poncho of sorts). The Triqui are famous for their woven textiles, and the women of Chicahuaxtla (I just like typing that name, let's be honest) are award-winning weavers.

All their weaving is done on back-strap looms, portable and versatile. For around two hours this Friday, we learned how to use these looms straight from Martina and her daughters. It was one of the closest interactions we have had to Oaxacans outside Florencio, and we were all pretty taken with the experience. At one point I looked around to see everyone around me laughing at a joke that had to be translated into three different languages to make it around the group, and it occurred to me what a once in a lifetime interaction this was.

This has been an interesting week for me, to say the least. I studied abroad just one state over almost two years ago, and this is my first time back to Mexico since (if you don't count a jaunt across the border on LAST year's Hendrix trip). In many ways I am more comfortable in Oaxaca City than I would be in a city like New York or San Francisco. I just know it better. This puts me in a very different place mentally than my companions on this trip, and I often wonder what I miss simply because it's no longer new to me. I miss the "travel high" that normally comes with leaving the U.S., that panicky excited feeling in my stomach every time I do something as simple as ordering a coffee by myself. It sharpens the senses and makes everything vivid and burned into your mind when you leave, and I've worried on this trip that I will have missed that.

But this weekend was something I have never been able to do in Mexico, and that is why I wanted to write the blog post for it. I never had the opportunity or the confidence to speak with the indigenous people in the markets in Puebla (not that Puebla has nearly as high an indigenous population as Oaxaca), and it's from living in Mexico for a time that I get how crazy of an opportunity this was. A group that is so normally cut off and separate from tourists like us (and mestizo Mexicans, to be honest) was suddenly open to interaction. We have Florencio to thank for that, in more ways than we know, I'm sure. It takes a lot of trust to let strangers into your community like that, especially when your community is so routinely threatened from the outside.

Despite our tired bodies and buzzing minds at the end of each day, we have a lot to be thankful for with this trip. I have never bought straight from the producer so much in my life! We've discussed the strange juxtaposition of feeling like such a gaggle of tourists and yet participating in opportunities no normal tourist would ever have. Those two hours of weaving lessons helped me feel like we got a taste of less observation and more interaction, which I know is what we all crave.

Border Crossers

We passed through many languages today, many cultures, past and present. We moved from the warm valley of Oaxaca to the high mountains, driving over the Sierra Madres, where it is cold and raining. We drove into the clouds.

We began the day in the sophisticated city of Oaxaca, the capital, where the day before we enjoyed the most delicious cup of coffee I have ever had. I, one who relishes cream and sugar, happily drank black coffee, prepared for me with the utmost care and timing. A city where the cuisine rivals any in the world, mixing chocolate with chiles, handmade tortillas from nixtamal (not from any old masa), where anyone on the street can tell you how to use the freshest herbs - like tepiche - to their best effect.

In this city, people speak Spanish, of course, but there is a strong presence of Zapotec. The ancient and enormous site of Monte Alban looks down on the town, reminding people that this land has been a city for over 3,000 years. Words from Zapotec are commonly heard, but so are words from the Aztec conquerors' language, Nahuatl. All the place names that end with "tlan" come from Nahuatl, meaning "place of." We drove through Nochixtlan, a community whose name comes from a story about a fight between two brothers in a field of cactus. Their blood spilled on the ground and cactus there, creating the red earth and also cochineal, the source of Spanish wealth in this area. Cochineal is the tiny insect that feeds on prickly pear cactus in this region, from which an intense red dye is made. Thousands of tons of these insects were exported from here, and the Spanish kept the origin of the dye a secret, claiming the bugs were actually seeds from a plant, to monopolize the trade.

The wealth from this trade convinced early Spaniards that their capital would be near Nochixtlan, so they set about building an enormous church in 1540 at nearby Yanhuitlan. They built this church on top of a pre-Columbian site, using the existing mound and stones to construct what was intended to be a cathedral. Plans changed, and the actual cathedral and capital are in the city of Oaxaca, and this would-be cathedral stands in a tiny town, surrounded by red hills and agricultural land.

In these early churches, we see a strong influence of the indigenous populations. Angels have Mixtec faces, sculptures retain the indigenous sense of proportion, and many of the churches in corporate features that speak to conversion. The church at Yanhuitlan was built by a system that sent 600 people to work for six weeks, to be replaced by another 600 until the cathedral was finished and all souls were transformed. They worked in the morning and learned about new gods in the afternoon.

Until conversion, people could not enter the sacred spaces, so outdoor areas were important. At our next stop of San Pedro Teposcolula, a tremendous "capilla abierta" was constructed to preach to the unbaptized.

After visiting the churches in the relative lowlands, we began to ascend into the Mixtec mountains. Another language, another heritage. We wound our way into pine forests, noting hand-written signs that implored people not to litter, not to hunt the coyotes and wolves, to respect the plants. We started to see Mixtec names on stores. Ox teams plowed fields, agaves bloomed, and corn grew in most available fields.  We drove through the mostly Mixtec town of Tlaxiaco (more populous than Conway and at 8000 feet) until we arrived at the Triqui community of Chicahuaxtla, surrounded by clouds in the high mountains.

Triqui is in an entirely different language group. We had read about Triqui migrants in an ethnography for our class, called Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies. In that work, we had missed the presence of women. Imagine our joy at joining a family of women, all weaving on backstrap looms. Martina, the matriarch, is quite famous for her weaving. She and her daughters strapped us into their looms and proceeded to instruct us in completing their projects. They used Spanish with us, but switched into Triqui with each other. They wore their distinctive huipiles, red panels with a butterfly design across the chest, symbolizing womanhood, and colored ribbons floating from the collar.

After weaving they walked with us down to their church. Inside, the Virgin Mary wore their huipiles, as did other saints. Jesus wore their hair. The church was adorned with a kind of palm leaf down the center aisle, left over from a fiesta. For celebrations, they cover the floor with pine needles, to bring their environment inside. As our guide, Florencio asked, "Are they Catholic?" He answered with a a shrug.

For me, these women brought memories of the dozens of rural women I have spoken with around the world. Their most consistent piece of advice to us, to other women, is to get yourself some kind of work for money. Weave, sell donuts, raise fish, grow coffee - just work. Martina is widowed now, but she can depend on her weaving, as do her daughters. One of them told me that she had been going to a technical college but that she stopped. When I asked why, she smiled at her infant daughter in her arms. Weaving she can do at home, with family, and make enough to live.

We crossed many borders today - language, time, cultures, climates. We spoke with people whose lives are very different from our own. Yet I know that many of us felt at home, and could even imagine living there. And I felt a thread of connection from these Triqui women to others who I will never forget, in Costa Rica, Tanzania, Vietnam, and the U.S.-Mexico borderlands. We don't just cross borders, we are changed by them. Mexico is not just "Mexico," and neither is Oaxaca. We are all layered, complex, moving between worlds. We are as tied together as we are separated.

Oaxaca Botanical Garden and Nuevo Mundo coffee

by Mary

Thursday, May 21

As my fellow travelers know, I have been (perhaps a little obsessively) interested in Oaxacan plants throughout the trip, stopping here and there to examine interesting weeds and trees that might belong to this or that family and marveling over the diversity of succulents and cacti so outside my usual range. Happily for me, today’s adventures centered on the plants of Oaxaca, from edibles and medicinals in the Botanical Garden to the possible emergence of a local “coffee culture” in the state. It was a shorter day than usual in preparation for our long drives on Friday and Saturday, but still a full and fun day. As a non-coffee drinker myself, I’ll focus most of my attention in this post on the Botanical Garden.

The Botanical Garden is a relatively new project, only opened in 1998. The physical site has an interesting history in itself, having been an exercise field for the Mexican army before its conversion to the garden. Before that, it was an orchard cultivated by the monks of Santo Domingo, who lived right next door. This older use left cisterns under the land which connect to a rainwater collection system, so the gardeners don’t have to buy water for their plants. Score!

Although we all expected to be impressed by the beauty of the carefully cultivated and well-manicured plants, I don’t know if any of us (save Dr. Goldberg and Florencio) realized that this garden represents not only the biodiversity of Oaxaca, but cultural history as well. Reflecting on my notes for the day, I realize that my comments on the characteristics of the plants are frequently interspersed with human uses and relationships to them, past and present. This, then, is the meaning of ethnobotany.

We had an excellent tour guide lead us through the sections of the garden,  organized generally by ecological niches of the plants. There was also a nice agricultural section. We saw the Three Sisters (squash, beans, and corn) which are so important to many indigenous peoples across the Americas. Evidently, squash was first cultivated in Oaxaca for its seeds, which were roasted. Now, people here use not only the seeds and fruit, but also the stems and leaves in a tasty soup. There were also many varieties of peppers, and a stand of Teosinte, an ancestor of modern-day corn.

Maybe my favorite plant of the day was the Gringo Tree, so named because it has a skin that turns red and peels. Hehe. Apparently the tree has a similar name across other countries in Central America, many people finding humor in the moniker. The Gringo Tree, however, represents not only a good joke, but has a medicinal use. Mothers know that the tree’s red skin can be peeled off, gently heated in water, and applied to a child’s skin to ease the symptoms of chickenpox. In this one species, then, we see not only a neat biological feature, but cultural interaction and human ingenuity. Again—ethnobotany in action.

After our tour, we walked on over to the Nuevo Mundo coffee shop. Everybody really enjoyed the experience of fresh-brewed, high quality coffee varieties. (The room smelled heavenly, by the way.) Taken after our trip to the Botanical Garden, I can’t help but see the two as intricately connected. Coffee is, of course, an agricultural product, though it’s easy to forget that at 6am when you desperately need a pick-me-up.

The owners of Nuevo Mundo talked at length about their efforts to create a “coffee culture” in Oaxaca, a state that grows good coffee but mostly drinks instant NesCafe. Here, we can see yet another local movement in reaction to globalization, and the owners of this shop swimming against the dominant international currents of money and goods. With the rise of globalization, people all over the world have had their relationships to the food that sustains them and the plants that surround them change in dramatic ways. Generally speaking, we are becoming more detached from our immediate physical environments, sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse. Nuevo Mundo coffee and the Botanical Garden represent attempts to reclaim the best parts of the local environment for local use, enjoyment, and identity.

Today was a celebration of the ethnobotanical heritage of Oaxaca, including the tasty coffee and the lovely plants of the Garden. Today was also a day of awareness for the rapid shifts in our relationships to the plant world. An introduction to the ethnobotanical history of the region forces us to take a fresh look at the present, and the ways in which global trade and decentralized food, medicine, and other plant-based commodities fundamentally change our relationships with plants.

Monte Alban

Yesterday, I Had One of Those overwhelmingly life-altering experiences. I know it was life-altering Because I can not really find a combination of words to describe it. Simplified (albeit immature), over-used (by me) and wholly Insufficient phrases, things like "ah-freaking-mazing" and " effing beautiful, "seem to be the only words I can conjure up yesterday to describe my experiences. And my camera could not seem to squeeze into its' little lens the images of it so passionately That I remember. It's kind of the same thing- the inadequacy of words to describe intense emotions, and cameras to capture the magnitude, scale, life-changing beauty your eyes So Easily detect. Maybe we're not supposed to describe or capture Things That Can not Be Described or captured-Things That are really important. Maybe we're just supposed to see them and feel them and experience them. And goodness, am I glad I did. 

Monte Alban HAD Been contained in books That I HAD to read to pass a class. A very cool class acerca very cool things, but still, a white-walled classroom and a black and white book in the hands of a kinesthetic learner. But as our van sturdy Climbed the mountain, and the old walls of Monte Alban poked out from behind the trees, my excitement Reached an almost-embarrassing level. 

Our first actual contact With the physical remains of Monte Alban Were patchwork structures, floors of royal courts and Their underlying tombs. 

Picture to come

I say this with excitement lacking Because I 've been spoiled With the almost supernatural experience of stumbling upon Monte Alban's central square and ball court, Which I will get to later. Be patient. 

Picture to come 

But Please, do not mistake my enthusiasm for These structures lessened as discontent or to failure to Recognize Their grave importance. Believe me, When I first saw them I almost wept humbled With excitement. Walking the paths of Mesoamerican former royalty, standing on the same limestone plaster They stood on, and looking out onto the very mountains They did was almost too much for my millennial mind to handle. Certainly, it HAD Been the most amazing batch of rocks i had stepped on short and inexperienced in my 21 years of life, but That would change in a short walk due east. 

Picture to come 

That short walk along, we found beautiful ceramics littering the ground. 

Picture to come 

And Then, there it was ... 

The single most amazing image my eyes would ever take in. I stood in silence humbled at the top of the world, looking out over the central plaza of Monte Alban. Like a child running to her mother after a long day away, I spirited towards the vast sea of ​​grass and stone. 

Picture to come

Monte Alban, thank you for being. 

Vantage Points

by Shelby Morrow

Today, the mountains almost got me. Here I am, minding my own business, hanging out in Oaxaca, trying to learn things, when all of a sudden--

And I mean, I probably should have expected the enchantment, almost everyone who knows even a little bit about me knows that I have kind of a thing for mountains; they're definitely my type. Let's just say it was an easy seduction, and the effort required to climb back into the van that would take me back down these beauts was a lot a lot a lot.

We spent this morning on the side of a mountain, at the Centro de las Artes de San Agustín. Let me tell you, this is an amazing place. CASA is funded by Francisco Toledo, an artist we haven't stopped hearing about since our arrival. Referred to often as "Maestro", Toledo is from Juchitán, Oaxaca, and his work is beautiful (http://www.franciscotoledo.net) and well known. Toledo, in effort to give back to the communities that raised him, taught him, and house him now, has a huge--gigantic, large, massive, etc--philanthropic and activist presence in Oaxaca. Besides CASA, Toledo has worked to establish the Instituto de Artes Gráficas de Oaxaca (IAGO; a graphic arts center and art library), the Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Oaxaca (MACO; the contemporary art museum in Oaxaca), the Patronato Pro-Defensa y Conservación del Patrimonio Cultural de Oaxaca (a cultural conservation organization), as well as several other libraries throughout the city. 

So we drove up, all of us really excited about the mountains and the trees and the baby goats we were passing (that excitement might actually have just been me and Mariah, others were less enthused about the goats), already making plans about ditching the van and just living here. We parked and fell out of the van and immediately were all so taken with San Agustín. The town is beautiful and wonderful and magical; it felt like something out of a film--I don't know if I'd comprehended that places like San Agustín actually exist in the world until today.

CASA is an arts center, and it hosts exhibits as well as classes and workshops, and a library. It also hosts different artisans from all around to come and teach or work on commission--today we saw two Triqui women weaving on back strap looms. There was an exhibit on pinhole cameras, a showing of cameras made by artists in a workshop and then the photographs they'd made with them. As a photographer and as someone who's attempted pinhole before, holy moly were these images stunning. The work and effort put in to not only the images (which was a lot), but also the cameras themselves, was really amazing to me.

Right now, CASA also has stunning exhibits up by Sergio Hernández (http://www.sergiohernandez.com/sh/frames.php?lang=en). 

We wandered around in awe for a little while, but we were really at CASA today to participate in a workshop of our own. In San Agustín, just a bit down the street from the art center, is a paper workshop. 

Also funded by Toledo, this workshop specializes in handmade paper for various commissions and projects. We got to speak to the men and women who work with this product at every stage of production, from actually working with cotton and pochote and paper pulp, to folding the paper into boxes for a commission. It was fascinating to see a process like this handled by one group of people from start to finish. We had the chance to make our own paper, as well. Each of us made a sheet of natural cotton paper, all embellished a bit differently, and we'll get them next week. I, for one, am very excited to send some letters. 

We spoke in reflection today about how wonderful it is to be a little bit out from under the STEM umbrella--Dr. Goldberg pointed out that CASA and the system it creates make it very clear that math and science are not the only ways toward progress; we found ourselves questioning that definition of progress. I am really excited about this idea, this possible path: that art, this rich representation of humanity, can push us forward in ways different than, but comparable to, these math and science forward marches.

We ate an amazing lunch after this workshop, and then made our first archaeological stop at a site in San Jose Mogote. San Jose Mogote is a really really important site in like, the way humanity has come to be humanity. It's possible that corn was, y'know, developed, here. It was an amazing experience for a lot of different reasons, but we spoke this evening as a group about the relationship between this site and the town that is built literally on top of it. This theme has followed us today, this idea of building on top of ourselves. 

Yesterday, we saw a museum and language library that's built on top of old, ancient, foundations, and they show it off--there's a room with a hole in the floor that shows you the old stones. We toured churches and churches and churches, some of which are built on sites that are and have been important to many and various indigenous peoples. Today we saw one of the oldest archaeological sites in the world, and a significant portion of it is underneath a town. Francisco Toledo is creating new Oaxacan cultural centers based on the old myths. We build on top of ourselves. 

Nothing is new, but most everything is beautiful.

Only Day One!

by Seaera Carney

So here I go, about to embark on this amazing trip like none I have ever experienced before. To begin, I must mention the newness of everything for me. I have never been on a commercial airplane nor have I traveled to another country. This trip was full of many firsts before I had even stepped foot in Oaxaca. Obviously there are a thousand exciting experiences to share of the first day in Oaxaca, Mexico, nevertheless there were a few that stood out to me more than others.

Firstly, the views from the plane flying into the city were beautiful. I spotted lava from volcanoes, huge, full clouds, a small lightning storm, and tiny dots of the street lights of the city. My first impression of Oaxaca was magical and I can not wait to leave after two and a half weeks with a camera full of pictures and a head full of wonderful memories. After landing, I was surprised with how easy customs and immigration was to get through. I had this vision of long slow lines and way too many people, but everything went smoothly and I didn't come across anyone rude. Once settled in at the hotel, that I fell in love with at first sight, I joined with several others in the group on an adventure to discover our next meal. This lead us, after many blocks, to a quaint little place with some surprisingly tasty tacos. And then I realized, this is my first bite of authentic Mexican food, I can get used to this.

Another thing I noticed immediately, was how many people spoke English or at least tried to. This reminds me of how oftentimes the opposite can be said about the U.S. Here, people are so willing to make you feel welcome and part of the community. That's not to discount how it is so evident that the group sticks out here. I can't count how many stares I've gotten already and the many more I will receive. There was even an instance of a man trying to take a picture of all of us standing together gawking at one of the many beautiful churches. Nonetheless, I don't mind the stares at all. I am here with an incredible group of people and experiencing Mexico in the most unique way.

The first night was not hardly a peek at what was to come the first full day spent in Oaxaca. Day one was like nothing I had previously experienced. The colors! Everything was vibrant shades of orange, red, blue, every color. There was brilliant wrought iron on nearly every building as well as new foliage I have never seen before. I think traveling abroad is almost like visiting another world. Everything is different but there are still many similarities to home. I could go on and on for many more paragraphs and not cover half of the amazing things I saw on the first day. I do however want to emphasize the churches that the group visited. The history, gold plated walls, intricate figures, every detail was worth capturing. I really found it interesting how symbolic all the designs were. There was not one piece of architecture or statue without a meaning. Specifically, there was a common theme of duality throughout the church. Duality of indigenous people and conquerors, of man and woman, of heaven and hell. All of it fascinated me.

In closing my post, there is one last thing I would like to mention. Oaxaca is nothing like I read in class. Reading of a place in books and studying it for a semester only scratches the surface of what it truly is. As Mariah said on reflecting the first day here, (paraphrased of course) it is nothing like in the books and I can start to understand how they feel when coming to the U.S. with such a language barrier. The rest of this trip is going to be filled with unforgettable memories. I cannot wait!

Getting Started

About the Trip

This Odyssey was made possible by the Cynthia Cook Sandefur family, who generously support an Odyssey professorship. Faculty at Hendrix College can submit proposals for projects lasting up to three years, which include experiential learning for students. This project examines globalization and transnationalism and the U.S.-Mexico relationship and this is the final activity for the professorship. In the first year, students and I investigated migrants in central Arkansas. Last year, we looked at the border region (see our blog here: http://borderlands2014.blogspot.com/). This year, we are heading to central Mexico, the state of Oaxaca. Each student on this trip took a course with me, Transnational Migration, and wrote a self-selected research paper. The course especially focused on works related to Oaxaca, Oaxacan migrants who work in the United States, and the U.S.-Mexico relationship.

About Me (The Professor)

Before coming to Hendrix College, I lived and worked in the U.S. Southwest for many years. I worked as an archaeologist with the National Park Service before returning to school to pursue my doctorate at Arizona State University. My dissertation topic examined identity and education, and concepts of place, at the U.S.-Mexico border. I worked with school districts in Phoenix, Nogales, and Douglas, Arizona. I also worked with non-profit organizations on issues of mental health and homelessness, National Heritage Areas, and conservation ranching. Since leaving the southwest, I have been working with a colleague, Maxine Payne, to document the lives of rural women around the world. We have worked in Costa Rica, Tanzania, Vietnam, and Arkansas. Four years ago, we took students to Douglas, Arizona and Agua Prieta, Sonora, to interview and photograph women at the border. You can see Maxine's photographs here: http://www.maxinepayne.com. I have traveled to many parts of Mexico, but Oaxaca holds a special place in my heart because of the warmth of the people, the ethnic diversity, the archaeological heritage, and the dramatic beauty of the state.

Arrival

On May 17, we began our trek to Oaxaca from Arkansas. We have a lot planned - visiting archaeological sites, indigenous villages, shopping in markets, and hiking in the cloud forest. We'll even head to the coast! Stay tuned for updates from all of us over the next two and a half weeks!