Mariachis and Angels
By Don Adams © Don Adams 2002

Scenes from Guadalajara's Mariachi Parade 2002 All Photos © Judy King 2002

Recently some folks on one of the Mexconnect forums asked why people choose to live in Mexico. They offered the opinion that you could live in certain regions of the U.S. or Canada for less money while retaining all the privileges and rights of your home country. I wouldn’t argue with that, but those are not the primary concerns of many of us who have relocated to our new homeland.

Each of us probably has a totally different set of reasons for both moving here and for staying, and the items on the list may change from time to time, but for those of us who appreciate her Mexico provides a wide range of reasons why we stay.

As an example, last Sunday morning some friends and I drove into Guadalajara to watch the opening parade for the International Mariachi Festival. Groups from Cuba, Canada, Greece, the United States, Ecuador, and others, as well as many towns and states of Mexico participated. Thousands of spectators lined the parade route, dozens of security personnel patrolled the sidelines, and many representatives of the press, some from as far away as Japan, roamed the street conducting interviews and getting their shots for the “film at eleven” presentations. Normally none of this would be particularly note-worthy, but there were other elements that we didn’t expect.

Courtesy. Self-respect. Respect for others. And a total lack of concern for personal safety. This huge crowd was incredibly well-behaved and very appreciative of the many participants, both in the parade and those watching. There was none of the pushing and jockeying for position that I’ve experienced in many other places. There were no scowls or growls exchanged by spectators. There were no harsh words passed. I don’t like crowds but I was perfectly comfortable in that situation.

The mariachis flirted with the crowd as they passed. Those who really wanted a big response struck up Guadalajara! or shouted “Viva Jalisco!” as they passed the church where I stood, while others offered up spirited renditions of their favorite tunes. There seemed to be little difference in the degree of appreciation shown for each group by the crowd. Regardless of the place of origin, each group was enthusiastically cheered by the spectators. Some of them, the best flirters, or the most demonstrative, got a slightly greater ration of adulation and applause, but all were appreciated.

So too were the many mounted horsemen and horsewomen. Some, like the Zapopan contingent, were dressed in khaki Canadian Mountie-type uniforms and were very formal. Others wore more casual charro gear. And a number of folklorico groups marched and performed along the length of the parade route but there was one particular group that put the crown on the entire day as far as we were concerned. The “Angels”. That’s how one of my friends referred to them. The Downs Syndrome and mentally retarded children. The special people.

As a Special Education teacher in Texas I worked primarily with those identified as having behavioral disorders. Many of those boys were very bright, very inquisitive, and very busy. As a Special Education teacher I also came into close daily contact with other groups, including the “Angels.” I learned first-hand that the description wasn’t always applicable, but nonetheless they were always special people to many of us. In the U.S. there’s often a resistance to treating these people with respect. Many times they’re hidden away or have their activities restricted for a number of reasons. Bringing attention to them, aside from certain special programs and events specifically aimed at showcasing them is often frowned upon. Oh sure, there are groups formed to insure that they’re included in mainstream classroom instruction and activities so that they’re not deprived of any of their legally mandated civil rights, but in Mexico things are a bit different.

Let me tell you about their appearance and the crowd’s response. They came into view as a group, dressed in traditional clothing; some boys in white peasant outfits complete with straw hats, some dressed as vaqueros; many of the girls wore the gorgeous ribbon dresses of the folklorico dancers. All were broadly smiling and totally self-assured, secure in the knowledge that they were accepted and adored. As we watched and clapped and cheered we saw a reporter from one of the major TV stations rush into the street to march between two of the youngsters to tape a short interview. There were few dry eyes as we watched “Angel” faces light up in appreciation of the response to their participation. As an educator I was also aware of how unobtrusive were the teachers and parents who accompanied them. As a human being I was aware of how much those special folks were accepted by the rest of the crowd. There are no laws or regulations that can mandate that kind of response. It has to come from the heart, and it has to be given freely. It did, and it was. There were many more elaborate and beautiful costumes and many more talented individuals participating in that day’s events, but there was only one universally decided crowd favorite.

The same attitude prevails in Mexican society regarding older folks. Aged parents live with their families when they can no longer maintain their own homes. Young boys walk hand in hand with their Mothers, or with arms around their Fathers. Fathers proudly showcase their children. Girls are dressed in spotless frilly dresses and shiny black slippers. Tiny boys join in many of the activities, like the many who were propped up in saddles in front of Dad and riding the full parade route. The older ones are included in all the activities of the family. People are not warehoused just because they reach a certain age. It’s the kind of treatment many of us hope for but few of us are likely to receive.

Many of us who live down here speak of the warmth of the people and how we feel accepted. Some of this is wishful thinking or a romanticized version of how we want Mexico to be and some of it is the truth. Yet some foreigners fail to see the warmth, or never experience it. Many of our impressions, as well as the way we’re treated, are based upon our own natures and the way we treat others. Of course I’ve just crossed the line into pontificating and judging others. Thankfully that parade crowd, standing on the sidewalk in front of the cathedral on a sunny Guadalajara morning did neither. That’s merely one of the reasons I choose to stay in Mexico.

Author’s note: If you’re interested in the history of the music there’s an excellent related article at www.mexconnect.com/mex_/guadalajara/marhis.html. What is Mariachi? by Camille Collins offers a great deal of information. If you want to see some of the folklorico costumes of various states you can go to www.mariachiconnection.com.