Terry Ofner in Mexico by Terry Ofner
Submitted September 2022
I traveled to Mexico in 1973 for a youth conference in Puebla. But then I stayed after for six months (the length of my visa) and offered any help I might give the National Assembly of the United States of Mexico. They suggested I take a Spanish course in Mexico City for five weeks or so. Then they sent me to a small village in Chiapas for a short visit–way off in the mountains. The villagers were leveling a basketball court on the side of the mountain for inter-village basketball tournaments. This seemed strange to me at first. But upon reflection, it’s fitting, since the classic Mayan civilization had a game with a hoop and a ball long before James Naismith “invented” basketball in 1891.
Then I was sent to a smallish village called Saybaplaya in Campeche–lovely sunsets over the Gulf of Mexico.
My main purpose while living in Campeche was to help prepare the Baha’is in several villages for Ridvan and the election of their Assemblies. My roommate and I travelled several times to each of the villages we were to help. Of course, I took my guitar with me. And every time I got off the bus with my guitar, a bunch of children would gather and chant “Canta Baha’i, Canta Baha’i!” That was fun. Getting the adults to agree to meet at such-and-such a time on such-and-such day was . . . challenging. That was back when assemblies had to be elected on the first day of Ridvan. So Guibaldo and I had our work cut out for us. How to get to each of seven villages by bus, help the Baha’is elect the Assembly, then catch the next bus for the next village–all in one 24-hour period. Youth!
Most of these villages didn’t have potable water. You would see children or youths carrying two five-gallon containers of water hanging from the ends of a pole, the pole balance on one shoulder or across the back. They got the water from a public well near the center of the village. I think some of the children did it for the family and some did it for hire.
The names of some of the towns still carry Mayan names, like Sihochac. The “chac” suffix, goes back to the Mayan god of rain, but means, Guibaldo told me, “well.” Such villages built up around a natural fresh-water well or spring.
During one of our visits, I leaned my guitar (no case) against a Coca Cola cooler in the bodega. The guitar slipped and cracked the head–right above the nut–that’s the part with the tuners. Sad. On the first day back to Saybaplaya I had to go to the post office first thing to get mail from home, so I carried my broken guitar with me. The woman who worked the post office–really part of her parent’s home–knew me because I was always checking my mail–remember when postal mail was the main form of communication? Anyway, she saw my guitar and without skipping a beat, she ordered me to take off the strings. Then she took it from me, glued the two pieces with some kind of packing glue and wrapped packing strapping around the break. Not good as new, but it held for years after that. She sent me letters for several months after I returned home.
The hardest part of the entire experience was acclimating to life in the US of A again. Part of me desperately wanted to return to Mexico. But part of me said that I had nothing I could offer. So it was back to school for me.