Vote for Pedro


From my DVD collection

In the movie Napoleon Dynamite, we see Mexicans in, of all places, the state of Idaho! As a bonus, you may also listen to the movie dubbed in Spanish. The first time I saw the movie, I thought, “But there are no Mexicans in Idaho!” Then I met a Mexican name Irene from Idaho. So, I guess there really are Mexicans in Idaho. In the movie, Pedro the Mexican is viewed as a foreigner by the high school principal who tells Pedro on his first day of school, “You do understand English. This isn’t really that complex.” And Pedro just stares at the principal, so the principal asks Napoleon Dynamite to show Pedro where his locker is. Pedro is the only boy at the high school with a mustache, which impresses Napoleon.

Napoleon and Pedro become friends because they’re both outsiders in this cliquish world of jocks and cheerleaders. They get along so well because they complement each other very well. Napoleon accepts Pedro for what he is, and Pedro listens to Napoleon’s stories and lies without questioning them. Pedro speaks English, but sometimes it’s not perfect. For example, Pedro plans to ask the cheerleader Summer Wheatley to the dance. When Napoleon asks how Pedro will get Summer to go to the dance with him, Pedro says, “I’ll build her a cake or something,” with a heavy Mexican accent. When Summer says no, Pedro asks Deb, Napoleon’s prospective date, to go to the dance. So that leaves Napoleon without a date. Pedro offers advice and Napoleon follows it. Napoleon is on his home turf in that high school, but Pedro exudes more self-confidence than Napoleon throughout the movie.

Pedro even has the courage to run for school president. Napoleon uses his skills to help Pedro for the school election. Later when Pedro runs for school president, Napoleon tells a kid who is being bullied, “Pedro offers you, his protection.” When one of the school bullies tries to take that kid’s bike, Pedro’s cousins, listed as Cholo #1 and Cholo #2 in the final movie credits, show up in their low rider that says, “Vote 4 Pedro” on the door, and they gesture to the bully to stop. The bully runs away without the bike. Of course, Pedro’s cousins look like the stereotypical gangbangers from East L.A. who would beat up the bully if necessary. The two cholos merely shake their head and the bully gets scared and runs away. The movie purposely plays into these Mexican stereotypes. By the way these cousins are eventually cast in the series Breaking Bad.

When Pedro makes a piñata of Summer Wheatly and the students break it, the principal calls Pedro into his office “Look, Pedro. I don’t know how you people do things down in Juarez … Smashing in the face of a piñata that resembles Summer Wheatly is a disgrace to you, and me, and the entire Gem State.” But Pedro doesn’t understand why not since they do it in Mexico all the time. Pedro and his family represent the foreign element in the otherwise homogenized American society of Idaho. Pedro really stands out at the high school as being an outsider because he hasn’t assimilated yet.

In the end, there is a school assembly for the presidential candidates Summer Wheatly and Pedro Sánchez to address the school. In Summer’s campaign speech, she promises two new pop machines in the cafeteria, new cheerleader uniforms, among other things, and then asks, “Who wants to eat chimney-changas next year? Not me! With me, it would summer all year long. Vote for Summer.” Of course, Summer, too, uses the Mexican stereotype for the purpose of fear mongering. For his speech, Pedro promises, “I think it would be good to have some holy Santos brought to the high school to guard the hallway and to bring us good luck. El Santo Niño de Atoche is a good one. … If you vote for me, all of your wildest dreams will come true.” Pedro doesn’t change his speech despite the fact that Summer Wheatly made Pedro look like an undesirable foreigner.

In the end, Pedro wins the election and becomes school president with the help of Napoleon’s skit. Well, the students accept Pedro and Napoleon for being themselves. Pedro’s family celebrates by having a picnic for Pedro. Of course, there’s a cake with red, white, and green stripes that says, “Presidente Pedro! ¡Felicidades!”

This movie illustrates how people have accepted Mexicans without realizing it. Until the immigrant marches last year, Mexicans were invisible. No one saw them as individuals doing landscaping, housekeeping, working in factories, among other jobs. And they accepted Mexicans exactly for who they were. Whether America admits it or not, a lot of people are voting for Pedro.

DDR

Immigration, legal or otherwise


Do you really want to live without Mexican food?

America, you better think twice. ¡No Mexicans, no burritos! Next time you’re about to bite into that burrito, will you ask yourself, “Is this burrito here legally?” Of course not! You crave that tasty burrito, and you’ll enjoy every bite of it.

Not many people really think about citizenship in their day-to-day existence, unless of course, they’re not U.S. citizens. No one really thought about how many Mexicans were in the Midwest until the immigration marches last year. Since then, everyone seems obsessed by a person’s state of citizenship, whether or not they’re here legally. It’s an immigration version of the House Un-American Committee, or the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy in the military. Now whenever I read about Mexicans in the news, there’s no doubt if the subject is a citizen because the author will state their citizenship status. Or, if not a citizen, we read something like, “does want to give last name because he/she is not a citizen.”

On the July 4, I read “Squeegee economics” in the Chicago Tribune about Chicago skyscraper window washers from Mexico. For example, Salvador Mariscal of García de la Cadena, México, cleans the windows of the John Hancock Center and he’s a legal immigrant. Juan Ortiz, who worked illegally in Chicago for three years, is mentioned by name because he is now living in México again. Would you believe the Tribune reported that there are illegal immigrants washing skyscraper windows in Chicago?

Maybe we should work on the immigration reform bill a little harder. If we deport all the illegal Mexicans, we won’t have burritos and we’ll have dirty windows to boot.

DDR

Singular plurals


Chicago Flag

In Chicago, we have a very special way of speaking English. That’s right. Da Mayor’s (pronounced “da mare”) English, with its dem [them] and dose [those]. However, in Chicago, each neighborhood also has its own dialect. In some cases, you can tell from which neighborhood, or parish in the old days, someone hails. But my favorite topic of all grammatical points in the study of Da Mayor’s English is the formation of plurals. This may vary greatly from neighborhood to neighborhood. For example, the plural of the pronoun “you” in the Queen’s English is “you.” On the Southside, however, the plural is “youse guys,” but no one knows the correct spelling because it’s only used in conversation and has the unique power to include males and/or females. My other favorite formation of a plural is derived from “man.” In certain neighborhoods, one male is a “man.” Two or three males are “men.” Four or five males are “mens.” More than five males are “menses” (two syllables), as in “Hey, all y’all. There’s ten menses on the corner.” The logic of this is just so … well, so logical. Sometimes, a plural form is made where none exists: Soldier Field becomes Soldiers Field. On the other hand, some plural words inadvertently become singular: “I’m going to the Cub game.” And of course, the plural of “police” is “polices” (three syllables), as in “The polices asked me how many feet are in a yard and I said, ‘It depends on how many peoples are in the yard!'”

DDR

Ese


Mi abuelita

I’ve had a few of my Spanish students ask me were the Spanish term, ese comes from.

Well, now it can be told! I really believe my abuelita, my grandmother, started it. When we had our holiday parties, say for Thanksgiving Dinner or Christmas at my uncle’s house, more than one-hundred family members and friends would show up. We didn’t always know everyone’s name. This was before the invention of nametags. I remember asking people there, “And how are we related?” “I’m your cousin Agustín. You met me in Mexico when we were four.” “Oh, yeah, now I remember you,” I would lie. At every party, I would always meet a new family member whose name I would forget by the next party.

I have never been good at remembering names, but my abuelita had an even worse memory for names. I do believe I inherited this deficiency from my abuelita. At dinner, everyone would have to eat in shifts in the kitchen. She would make sure that everyone at the party ate in a smooth, systematic manner.

With my abuelita coordinating everyone and controlling the distribution of food, no one went hungry. Of course, that would involve everyone in close proximity of my abuelita to participate and obey her direct commands to the letter. The punishment for disobeying was a rap to the hand with a wooden spoon! Everyone entering the kitchen was on their toes.

So if you were standing by the stove and she didn’t remember your name, she would point at you and say, “Ese, dame el arroz.” [That one, give me the rice.] Since my abuelita couldn’t remember very many names, just about everyone in the house became ese. So now whenever I hear a Mexican say, “Oye, ese,” I think of my abuelita!

DDR

Street people


Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

Okay, all you people working on the streets of Chicago. Leave me alone!

You, selling “Ice-cold water! Ice-cold water!” Don’t tap on my window. I’m not hot and thirsty because I’m in an air-conditioned car!

Hey Homeless Man, stop asking me for money for food. At least be honest. Just say you want to buy a bottle of whiskey. The last time I gave you my sandwich, I saw you throw it away.

Squeegee guy! Please don’t squeegee my windshield clean when it’s raining out. That’s why I have the windshield wipers on!

Preacher Man, yeah you with the portable sound system standing on the corner of Washington and State. Don’t preach to me when I’m walking arm in arm with my date for a night on the town. Do I look like I’m preoccupied by Eternal Damnation?

Newspaper Dude, pay attention to your customers. When I actually want to buy a newspaper, I want service with a smile. I don’t have time to wait for you while you flirt with the crossing guard.

Mr. Street Salesman, if I’m wearing a suit and tie, I most certainly don’t want to buy white socks!

Hey Lady of the Evening standing on the corner! I really don’t want to take you out on a date! Ever!

Mr. Sax Player, no one wants to hear the same Christmas carol over and over again in July!

Hey! Bucket Boys! I have nothing against the Bucket Boys, but get a performer’s license so you won’t ever have to run away from the police again!

DDR