Christmas Story

Please pardon this long post--a well-worth-the-read story from the newspaper, Big Bend Sentinel, December 22. It was published in Spanish the same day, in the Intenational based in Presidio.

"South Brewster County residents remember their Mexican neighbors during Christmas" by Sharon Collyer

"Our vehicles loaded with people, canoes, and supplies arrived at the Rio Grande Village boat ramp in Big Bend NationalPark amid a torrent of activity, noise, and excitement. A small group of park visitors, who moments before enjoyed the quiet warmth of a clear winter day, moved back courteously to allow for the synchronized unloading of the vehicles along the Rio Grande shoreline.

Curious about the endless piles of bags and boxes that we stacked against the river's edge, they approached and asked questions. Within 10 minutes, our new friends received an introduction to the ancient ties that bind the two shores of the Rio Grande River. They learned about the Spanish who traveled this land centuries ago, about the dozen or so trading posts along the river where cultures mingled and about the history of the small mining towns that sprung up nearby seven generations ago.

They heard about the open border crossing between Boquillas and the park, a crossing that had allowed park visitors and Mexican nationals to cross over to the opposite side of the river for almost 60 years. They grasped the economic and cultural significance that this crossing had for Boquillas residents, who still live four and a half car hours away from their closest re-supply point and who depended on American tourist dollars and the Rio Grande Village store for all their basic needs, including food, gasoline, clean water and an emergency telephone.

And our new friends were saddened to learn that the May 2002 border closure in Big Bend National Park wiped away all hopes for a continuing tradition of cross-cultural life, and that the ties that bind the two shores were quickly unraveling under the strain of politics, terrorism and misunderstanding.

Piled along the shore were 27 smoked hams, seven frozen turkeys, eight bags of sewing material, four bags of clothes, five boxes of dehydrated milk, 20 pounds of candy canes, four boxes of children's books, a gigantic antique treadle sewing machine, seven tires, four brake pads, seven canoeists, and two supporting volunteers. All supplies were donated, or bought with cash donations.

"But why today?" asked one of the visitors.

"Christmas!" one of us responded. "This is our gift to our friends and neighbors, the people of Boquillas."

Compassion welled in the man's eyes. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. "Please take this. You are doing great things. Thank you."

"Most people want to help. They just don't know how," explains the Boquillas Flotilla organizer, Cynta De Narvaez, of Terlingua. "Events like this give people the opportunity to get involved in any way they feel most comfortable."

De Narvaez has been immersed in the plight of Boquillas' residents since the border closure. As a tour guide, she led travel trips through the area for many years. As a friend, she visited frequently and was welcomed as a member of the community. Today, as an activist, she is hard at work helping the town establish an independent economic footing. Along with Marathon local Danielle Gallo, who taught school in Boquillas prior to the closure, she has set up a local legal craft trade which hopefully will be the first step in the long process of economic stability. In fact, the Boquillas Flotilla was originally Gallo's idea, who maintains close ties to the village despite the closure.

Working directly with the benediction of the National Park Service, De Narvaez organized the Flotilla to strictly follow international border laws. She says, "We need to keep this legal so that the park can allow us to do this every year." Keeping the Flotilla legal means not donating anything that may have resale value, not bringing anything from Mexico into the United States, and not stepping on Mexican soil. Aslong as our feet remain in the canoes, we are following the letter of the law.

Have you ever tried to unload a fully loaded, unbalanced canoe sitting in a swift section of river without stepping out?

Along with the Flotilla, DeNarvaez and Forever Resorts, the park's concessionaire and lodge operator, are presently working together to sell Boquillas-made crafts in National Park gift shops. This endeavor is the culmination of many months of planning and meetings and is an indication that the National Park and its affiliates share the local community's hopes of an independent Boquillas.

"Ahi Vienen!" shouts the man who first lays eyes on the Flotilla. Soon, the Mexican bank is swarming with men, women, and children who rush out to greet us. As we balance precariously on our canoes, the goods are unloaded quickly. Old friends shake hands; I swallow back a lump of tears. Victor, Geraldo, Yolanda, Carla, Pablo....the whole town is here. Phyllis Grolla, age 80, a winter resident of Terlingua, shares news with Pablo, age 80, a permanent resident of Boquillas. "So how's the little girl?" she asks. "Fine, muy bien. That's her over there and her little girl," responds Pablo. "Oh my gosh, Carla, you are all grown up!" cries Phyllis. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

Our time is short. We can't stay long, the authorities warned. Neither can we legally accept their gifts: walking sticks, scarves and copper scorpions sit untouched on the shore. The Mexicans, more than anyone, understand our apprehension at taking anything home.

One by one, once unloaded, we point our canoes upstream to start the strenuous one-and-a-half mile paddle back to the boat launch. I am the last one to leave; Victor launches into his classic rendition of "Cielito Lindo." I turn to wave, and almost tip my canoe. My Boquillas friends are starting to load up their vehicles to drive their presents home.

"Feliz navidad y prospero ano nuevo!" I holler as I take a last look back.

"Y a usted tambien! Hey! Thanks for the tires!" Victor yells back.

In the calm after the storm, in the privacy of my own canoe, I let the tears flow. Although only 30 feet of river separates our neighbors in Boquillas from our lives in the United States, our realities are as far removed as the planets in the solar system. The line between comfort and poverty is established by the side of the river on which we were born.

It wasn't always this way.

If you'd like to help, or find out more about the present status of Boquillas, Santa Elena, San Vicente, and Paso Lajitas, please contact Danielle Gallo at 432-386-4282 or email her at caveat5@hotmail.com