Unable to withstand her guide’s behavior any longer, Beth stopped and, with arms akimbo, asked, “Am I taking you away from something you’d rather be doing?”
“Doctora Lucia asked me to show you around, and that is what I’m doing.”
“But you don’t like the job or me!”
“I have no feelings about you. You’re a mere Norteamericana.”
“Well, this ‘mere Norteamericana’ will continue the tour alone since you’re so unhappy about everything. Just show me how to get back to Lucia’s building.”
Consuelo stared at Beth, her black eyes buried beneath heavy eyebrows. “I don’t mean to be rued, but truthful. I am cautious. Your people view Mexico with disdain.”
“Not all Americans do.”
Consuelo shrugged. “My country’s history is tied to those who wish to dominate us. My lineage dates back to the pre-Columbian peoples.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“I know. That’s what’s important. Your country has not been kind to us. I’ve experienced your hospitality in the north. You do not like us if we are not beautiful. That’s what is important to you.”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps I can change your mind about us.”
Consuelo’s taught lips relaxed. “Perhaps.” She walked away, stopped, and looked back at Beth. “Are you hungry?”
“Very. And thirsty.”
“We can walk to a torta shop. Doctora Lucia sometimes forgets about eating. Not everyone is so engrossed in their work that they forget to eat.”
At the store Consuelo bought tortas, a hard roll filled with avocado, cheese, and ham. Beth accepted the lukewarm Coke with a shrug. Didn’t they believe in ice in this country? For fear of getting another lecture, Beth kept quiet about the ice. While they ate, Consuelo continued her lecture about Mexico’s history, while Beth kept thinking that what happened years ago wasn’t her fault.
When it was time to meet Lucia, Beth sighed with relief. She’d thought the morning would never end.
“We’ve got a ride into town,” Lucia said. “You’ll miss the bus ride.”
“What a shame.” Beth smiled for the first time since she’d been with Consuelo. Although Beth was wearing comfortable shoes, the hot weather and walking had made her feet swell, and she had a blister on her heel. At the moment the last thing she wanted to do was walk through a museum, but she had little choice. Lucia’s enthusiasm was boundless.
“How was the tour?” Lucia asked.
“Interesting.” Beth waited for Consuelo to add something. When she didn’t, Beth felt obliged to continue. “We had a snack.”
“Good. Glad you thought of that, Consuelo. Especially after I explained to Beth how we eat our main meal at midday.” Lucia smiled. “Pobrecita. You won’t believe anything I tell you anymore. It’s getting late. I want to show Beth some of the Museo Anthropologia before we meet Dr. Gonzales.” With Beth and Consuelo at her heels, Lucia walked to her friend’s car that waited to give them a ride into town. “We’ll see you at five-fifteen tomorrow, Consuelo.” Lucia noted Beth’s surprised expression. “Didn’t Consuelo tell you? She’s joining us on the dig this week. I thought you’d enjoy the companionship of another girl near your own age.”
Chapter 3
Traffic, on the drive into Mexico City, jammed the streets in a honking, bumping crush of metal. Thick fumes spewed into the air. It was worse than anything Beth had experienced in Los Angeles. Their car crept down Paseo de la Reforma into Chapultepec Park. The driver let Beth and Lucia out in front of a huge statue that Beth soon learned was, Tlaloc, the Aztec god of rain.
“We don’t have as much time as I’d like before we meet Marcos, but at least I can give you an overview.”
Lucia hurried forward, and Beth was hard pressed to keep up with the bustling woman. Where did she get her energy?
In the museum’s center a huge curtain of water cascaded from an opening in the ceiling onto a giant wheel perched on top of a single basalt column. Beth lingered, enjoying the refreshing spray, but Lucia surged onward.
“I don’t plan on becoming an archeologist,” Beth said as she hurried after her godmother.
Lucia smiled. “Of course not, but if you’re going to be out on a dig with me, you’ll need some background.” She gesticulated with her hands, and her polished fingernails glinted in the museum’s light. “I know, I know. My students tell me the same thing. I’m a slave driver, but you will see. I am right.”
It seemed to Beth that Lucia’s statement, “I am right,” left no room for argument. She followed Lucia and became immersed in a brief history of Mexico that left her spellbound. Why hadn’t her Spanish teachers told her more about Mexico’s history?
In the empty museum hall Lucia’s voice resonated with passion for her subject. “Mexico was called Anahuac: land between two waters. The capital was built in the middle of a lake. In the time of the Aztec, causeways led into the center of the town. Since then, it’s been filled in. During earthquakes, the sand fill results in terrible damage to that area.
“Look here.” Lucia motioned to a glass case that contained small figures. “These are from the Olmec period. They are of interest to me because they show how far-reaching their influence was on other cultures in the state of Guerrero. That’s where I go on digs. These are the type of thing you may see there.”
Beth stared at the small figures of clay with their enlarged baby-like faces. The seated figures captured the performance of different tasks. The faces had trapezoid toothless mouths, deformed skulls, chubby bodies, and large hairless heads. Some were made of white terra cotta, others pink clay, while some were made of greenish basalt.
“Kind of odd looking,” Beth said. “Eerie, too.”
“A general summary of archeology information for you to know is that the Olmecs existed about 1500 to 900 BC, then came the Mayans, followed by Teotihuacans, and then the Aztecs. Naturally, there are overlaps, but each group left behind specific evidence of their culture.
“The area we are going to visit this week was greatly influenced by the Olmecs, but the small pockets of western cultures also coexisted with the Aztecs.”
“Consuelo said her ancestors are from the preColumbian people. Is that true?”
Lucia raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. “It’s possible. Some Indians refused to be assimilated by the Spaniards and kept their blood pure. After all, there were only 300,000 Spaniards that came to Mexico over a period of three centuries. The local Indians who merged with the Spaniards were called Mestizos. The children of the conquistadors were called Criollos. Through the years these groups’ political battles caused tremendous hardship for our people and our country. They were so busy fighting amongst themselves that foreign countries took advantage of the situation.”
“Like the Guadalupe Treaty that gave us Texas and California?”
Lucia smiled. “I see you had a discussion of this with Consuelo. Perhaps I should have warned you about Consuelo’s pride. Because of Mexico’s tragic history, she prefers to look to her Indian ancestry. I can’t say she’s wrong about this. She has a difficult family situation. Her ancestry gives her a feeling of security and pride.”
They continued the tour looking at figures and pottery from different eras. “So you go on these digs to find out more about the cultures of the past,” Beth said.
“Exactly.”