I write this as an outsider, as an observant visitor whose everyday appetite devours your plethora. I’d like to share my honesty about your children, your inhabitants who I have seen demonstrate raw humanity. I understand they misbehave – all flawed humans do – but for the most part, their core means well. They adore you; your residents speak so highly of you it begins to haze into a grandiose pride that will never quell. But fear not, an inexhaustible pride would be my exact sentiments. And even though their love may not always be obviously demonstrated, there are moments such as the 19th of September, in which your parenting skills shone.When our existential Mother Earth shimmied her plates and shook Mexico City and its neighboring states, true humanity manifested itself. The mighty shift induced frenzied shrieks accompanied by helpless sobs and overwhelmed blubbering. And fear, so much fear the prominent caramel skin tones paled to a leaden white. But it passed, in the span of those elongated hours, the reaction of helping others seemed instantaneous. Humans formed assembly lines to pass dust, water bottles, food, any rubble or supplies to destinations in need. It was absolutely one of the most beautiful sights my mind later acknowledged. For those hours, we were all one. We were all human, each capable of doing anything no matter our man-made constructs aimed to separate us. We all felt the same pain, the same angst, anxiety, and human emotions.
Last night, the second night of El Día de los Muertos, your truly remarkable and fascinating holiday created to commemorate and rejoice those who have left this earth, the solidarity was seen again. In the main park plaza once replete with tents each specific to a particular ailment, water, or shelter, a procession of mourners united. Each following a jubilant jazzy band belting New Orleans beats, enthused by life and holding incandescent cempasúchils. Last night, each person who passed away in the unexpected earthquake was celebrated so vivaciously, it was as if everyone, living and dead were existing in one dimension. And as a remembrance, one by one the cempasúchils were passed down from children to adults, united once more, to the main stage resembling an illuminated alter.
Your people bicker and fight like the siblings they are, but in the end, Mexico, be proud because you have raised an empathetic community full of unity.