Boston to Patagonia

It's an alluring title, isn't it? I finally got my hands on a copy of The Old Patagonian Express, a travelogue by Paul Theroux (author of my recent favorite obsession The Mosquito Coast), who starting on a Boston subway, takes a succession of trains South all the way to Patagonia. Talk about my life's dream...well...? I only read the first chapter, but his writing is just as enticing as it was in Mosquito, filled with engrossing descriptions and metaphors that keep you glued to the page but by the end of the sentence become too abstract to apply to a sane man's reality.

Anyway, I read the first chapter, "The Lake Shore Limited", which covers Boston to Chicago, during which he meets a few interesting characters. The best part, however, is how he describes leaving the familiar, how every detail is that much more impressionable when you know you are going away for a long trip:

I knew the names of these suburbs, I had been here many times, but because I was headed so far away I saw every point we passed as important. It was as if I was leaving home for the first time, and for good (7).

This gives a certain levity to the story he tells, even though up to this point it's only a domestic train trip, sprinkled with a dousing of snow, a few delays, and a number of loud, outspoken passengers. It is more inviting a book than Sophie's Choice; every page beckons a new adventure, and the prose is easy, fast reading --devoid of the overtly literary musings of the other.

Today Mom suggested I do some investigative reporting on a Hispanic community in Charleston. That got me thinking on the possibilities of freelance work here in Durham (why go elsewhere when I have here a place to stay and contacts within the Latino community?). Anyway, I immediately thought back to last Thursday, when my friend the volunteer coordinator Fanny asked me if we could record some interviews with recent immigrants, mainly to document how the Spanish literacy program has benefited them and their families (she is so strategic!).

This got me thinking about last Thursday when I walked in the church where I volunteer, and a lady was spilling her life story to Fanny --bawling-- explaining how her illiteracy caused her to be fired from a job; I couldn't hear much else over her sobs. But by the end of the class, two hours later, Fanny had her laughing and cavorting with a fellow pupil, as the three played a version of memory with the letters of the alphabet.

The hardest students to tutor are the ones for whom Spanish is a second language; and these students make up a large part of the "Circulo de Estudios." Many of these are Otomi people, whose native language is exclusively oral --thus, they have little experience with the written word. When they come to Fanny for the first time, they can usually write their names, but to them it's just scribbles and meaningless symbols.

According to Ethnologue.com, Otomi is a language spoken by approximately 100,000 people in Mexico (1990 census), including 100 in North Carolina. So for some reason, NC has become the locale of choice for the Otomi community. Having observed the difficulties that these people face in learning to read (for instance have their native language ridiculed in front of them, which I have seen), I am betting that there is a more robust story as to how this minority within a minority community functions in NC. As I continue to think about his issue, I will add to this list of rough research questions, which will guide any sort of investigation or article, should I choose to pursue it:

* How is your experience different from that of native-Spanish speaking immigrants?
* How did you come to live in NC?
* How close-knit is the Otomi community in NC?
* How are you perceived/treated by the majority of Spanish-speaking immigrants from Mexico and Central America?
* How do your children perform at school --do they become trilingual?
* What contact, if any, do you have with your home village, and family there?
* Would you be more discouraged from learning English since your native language, Otomi, is exclusively oral?
* How do Americans (employers or acquaintances) treat you? Like other native Spanish-speaking immigrants or different?
* What traditions specific to Otomi culture do you retain in the U.S.?

These are a few of the questions brewing in my mind, supposing I decide to pursue this story. If nothing else comes through this summer (which looks probable at this point), I may have to do just that.