The Mennonite Girl In Mexico — Part Three

Photo by Jezael Melgoza

Just before sunrise the next morning, I turned on the two-way radio in case Mac had gotten an early start. I then went back to bed and slept until a little after 8 am when the radio’s crackle woke me up.

Dear, God! What relief I felt.

Isabelle had awakened and yelped her excitement when we heard Mac’s scratchy voice. “Hey, you two. Can you hear me?” At least that was what it sounded like.

Before I could respond, he asked in a little clearer voice, “Where are you?”

I told him, and while I talked, I heard Houdini barking at my voice. It was an exciting moment.

After I told him we’d meet him at the restaurant near the highway as soon as we got dressed, I signed off and we packed up what little we had and hurried out. When we walked toward the eatery, we saw Mac walking Houdini while he waited for us. I hadn’t seen a more welcome sight in a long time, as we rushed toward him and our dog.

Houdini saw us first and ran toward us barking. Mac tried to keep up. When he reached us, he threw his arms around both of us for a tight hug and then gave me a bigger one. I didn’t want to let go.

I told him, “My worst fear was you having to dodge a donkey and going headfirst into the canyon, but I wouldn’t find out because no one knew we were even in the picture, let alone where to find us to break the news. We were in limbo here by ourselves and were worried and very scared for you, and us, not knowing if we’d see you again. But then I settled down because I began thinking of the Mennonite girl.”

Mac looked at me in astonishment and said, “I saw her but will tell you about it at breakfast.” Then he apologized for scaring us by not getting back last eve and said, “I wished I could have been able to reach you somehow to tell you the situation, but there was no way. All I could do was hope the two of you would figure out that I couldn’t find what I needed before dark and had no choice but to stay in Oaxaca.”

I nodded and told him, “We figured as much, but still…”

Before I could finish my sentence, I saw a grin form on his face. “What?” I inquired.

He said, “Before I tell you the interesting experience I had, first, the good news: I got the spring for the RV.”

“That’s a relief,” I told him. “All our angst then wasn’t for nothing.”

“I had to have the springs made special, which meant I couldn’t get them until late last night. In fact, the guys who made them stayed open just to get them finished, which is why I couldn’t get away earlier. Of course, we still need to take them to the shop in El Cameron where we left the RV and have them installed, but at least the hard part is done. Right now, though, let’s go have breakfast. I’m hungry.”

“Good idea. You can tell us your story while we eat.”

We each ordered a breakfast burrito and coffee, getting the coffee first. A good thing. I needed a shot of caffeine.

Photo by Andrew Seaman

“As I mentioned, I saw the young Mennonite woman while I was there,” Mac began but halted our questions with his hand so that he could continue. “Coincidentally, the machine place that cut the new spring and ground it to size was just down the street from a bus station, which also happened to be close to a motel, where I later stayed.

“It was just getting dark, and I was sitting with Houdini on a chair outside the shop waiting for the guys to finish with the springs. Since there was nothing else to do, I was watching people coming and going into the bus station and saw a blonde girl, who looked very pregnant, running past on the other side of the street toward the station.

“She also looked familiar, especially her dress and the bonnet she wore, and so I slipped Houdini’s leash onto a hook near the door and ran across the street to stop her.

“She was frightened of me at first, until I mentioned that I’d seen her at the dinner tent in El Cameron the night before, and the realization dawned on her who I was. I could see that she also realized how much help I might be to her because she gave me a hug as if we were long-lost friends.

“I pulled away from her hug that was uncomfortably long and asked where she was going and where the other members of her group were. She told me that she was leaving the group because she was miserable with those people, and afraid of them, including her husband. All he did was work and sleep, and when she complained that he wasn’t paying any attention to her after he’d return home, he would get really mad, she told me. She was afraid for the baby and afraid that she wouldn’t know how to take care of it by herself. Some of the other women were mean to her, although some were nice, but because they didn’t speak much English, it was difficult for her to know what they were talking about when they’d point at her. All she wanted to do was go home to be with her own family, she said.

“Since it seemed that she was heading for the bus station to possibly try and buy a bus ticket out of Mexico to go home, I wasn’t surprised at her next question but was stunned by what followed the question.

“She asked if I could help her get a ticket on a bus to Texas. I looked at her questioningly, because I didn’t know if she meant to help her buy it by translating or help her pay for it.”

He stopped and took a sip of coffee then said in a low voice, “She must have misread my uncertainty because she told me that she’d give me a blow job if I’d help her buy it.”

Both Isabelle’s and my mouths dropped open in shock. Mac chuckled at our reactions then said, “I did buy her a ticket, or at least, I helped her buy one…no blow job needed. She did have some money, just not enough. So, I purchased the bus pass for her, in case the men came to ask the salespeople about seeing a Mennonite girl trying to buy a ticket.

“I saw her leave on the bus. In fact, the bus that she needed to be on had already boarded and was ready to head out shortly after she’d gotten on, which was very good timing. Right after I walked across the street to Houdini at the machine shop and sat back down in my chair, I saw two dark blue vans pull up to the bus station. A bunch of men as well as a few women swarmed out the doors and rushed inside the building. I figured they were some of the same people we’d seen in El Cameron, by their Mennonite clothes and the vans that looked to be the same as the ones we saw the group get into there. Some had slightly familiar faces, but I could only assume. They stayed parked a long time, and I’d imagined that they’d inquired inside about a pregnant girl buying a ticket. But when they received head shakes, I guessed they thought she’d likely show up sooner or later, so they waited.

“The vans were still there after I decided to go to the motel to get a room. I was exhausted after the guys had gotten my leaf spring finished, so there was no reason to hang around.”

He sighed and said, “After thinking about it, a little too late, I wished I’d given her my information to have her let me know she got back home okay, but I didn’t because I didn’t want her to feel she needed to repay me for what she owed me since it wasn’t enough to bother with.”

I nodded in acceptance. After all, it was the act of kindness that had been the important factor with the girl.

“Well,” I said. “I can’t imagine being in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people and customs, especially at her age, and I want to assume she’ll make it home okay and will be happy. It would be too upsetting to think otherwise.”

“I thought she’d adapt,” Isabelle interjected. “I guess she didn’t want to try. Thanks for the story. That was quite an experience.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what had her so frightened, though. She seemed scared in the food tent the night before and told Mac she was afraid of the people. I couldn’t imagine what she was afraid of, but I wasn’t the one living with a bunch of strangers, either, who didn’t speak my language.

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A week later we had gotten to Vera Cruz after spending some time in the lovely city of Oaxaca and seeing the amazing ruins of Monte Alban. Isabelle was pleased about her trip and wished she didn’t have to go home. But she knew there was always next year to fly down to meet us someplace, travel with us again, and then fly home from yet another city. It was quite a life we had that she could embark upon with us.

Photo by Jorge Zapata

In Vera Cruz City, we had just toured the ruins of the old fort on the Gulf Coast in a windstorm from hell. We thought we were going to be blown away, having to hang onto whatever was available to keep ourselves grounded. After we finally got into a safer port — a restaurant nearby that served a delicious margarita — we were able to relax and talk about the events from the last couple of weeks. Isabelle was to fly home the next day.

At one point, I was returning from a trip to the baño and passed a newsstand I hadn’t noticed going the other way.

I only noticed this time because of the newspaper’s glaring headline that was staring me in the face:

* Menonitas sospechosos de narcotráfico y tráfico de niños *

I picked up the paper and saw a picture of a group of Mennonites near their vans being searched. It was a black-and-white photo, so it was hard to tell the color, but the vans certainly looked the same as the vans we saw in the town of El Cameron.

Oh, my God! I thought. What if it’s the same group our Mennonite girl was with and that was what she feared? She knew they were into drug and child trafficking. Could that be? My heart was pounding at the prospect. But then I realized that I’d never know because Mac didn’t get her address before she left for home on the bus. But I felt very relieved that she had gone home. Regardless of who she had been with she was now at a safer and more comfortable place.

Now, whenever I see a lively blue-eyed blonde, I think of the Mennonite girl and wonder how she and her baby are, and hope they are happy.

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I hope you enjoyed this series. If you missed Part One or Part Two, click one of the highlighted links to read it!