Community outreach - mijo

“Hispanics can’t just be coworkers, we have to be friends and family, too.” 

My coworker, Leti, informed me. 

During the second half of my internship I transitioned to Project Vida’s main office. My task was to take the Chronic Care Coordination model and fit it to the needs of the Women's Health Family Planning of Texas. The goal was to meet those with HIV/AIDs, Hepatitis C, and STDs with continuing education, resources, and group support through WHFPT's small reproductive health clinics. This involved knowing a bit about the clinics themselves, the endemics of the area, and creating educational material. 

I’ve said this before, as I said it on the day of my goodbye, I couldn’t have been placed in a better department. As the youngest one around, I soon was given the nickname “Mijo” and “Niño”, affectionate terms for “my son” and “boy”. They practiced Spanish with me. We talked weekends, dancing, la communidad, and our families. I accompanied my coworkers to outreach events, which weren’t always busy so, one by one, I got to know them.

Leti was once a journalist for a Spanish newspaper in Los Angeles, it shows. She’s particular, neat, and well respected. She loves photography, making jewelry, and going dancing. I’d say we spent the most time together, mostly her sharing stories, sometimes over burritos. 

Pat was once a school bus driver for a Native American reservation in far east Succuro, she took me there on my second day, and showed me a museum there. She has stories about that community, which suffered many tragedies from suicide and alcoholism. She loves working with kids in any setting, took pride in her own children, and her pug, Henry. 

Maria shared music with me, she gave names to the songs on the radio that I liked but could not parse out the words (like ‘Cedí‘). She likes Zumba and makes her own kombucha with lemon and limes. She loves opera, and sang while she worked.

Cristina, from the day I met her, struck me as strong. She drove a big red truck and wore bright red lipstick. Our communication was mostly gestural and we often met each other halfway with Spanglish, but shared a lot of smiles and greetings, nonetheless.

It was during this time that COVID-19 became a critical nationwide issue- there was talk of state borders being closed to travelers from areas that became ‘too hot’. One day I recieved a message from Antioch's co-op department telling me that I was to be called home from Texas. El Paso declared a state of emergency at 3pm that day. 

When I announced that I would be leaving to my department, I felt the punctuated goodbye. A few of my new friends, upon the news, flattered me with teary eyes. 

“Goodbye, Niño.” 

“Goodbye, Mijo.”

“Goodbye, Chico.”

“Goodbye, Ike.”

I said my piece as well, and goofily, we bumped elbows goodbye. 

I’m sure I’ll think of them, by and by, 

as friends and family do.

March 10th, 2020