Husband long deceased, children emigrated away, she had gathered many, many years in her life but had lost her family. This elf-like woman lived alone in a tiny, run-down adobe house with dusty boxes, broken chairs, and a few chickens pecking around the front door. Everyone in the village knew her and helped her out in bits and ways, but mostly she took care of herself as best as she was able.
She had almost nothing.
She greeted the strangers who appeared at her house at dusk with a welcoming smile and made a place for them to sit. There was simple chit chat, given that we did not speak a word of Zapotec and she spoke only a few timid phrases of Spanish. Nevertheless, the kind of warmth that only a grandmother can exude flowed from her like spring water, and there was plenty to laugh about. As we traded words, she fanned the coals of her cooking fire, until it illuminated the gathering dark with its soft orange glow. From somewhere in the dark she pulled out a scoopful of peanuts in the shell and began to roast them on her clay griddle, stirring them around with a palm brush. She put a clay pot in the coals and heated sweet coffee. Then, with a gentle smile, she fed us, distant travelers but no longer strangers. When we finally left, warm hands, warm bellies, warm hearts, she filled our pockets with peanuts and thanked us for the visit.
In those brief moments and simple acts she showed me something I cannot be reminded enough about. True wealth is a human, not material, quality, and it is demonstrated through generosity, to humbly give of ourselves for the benefit of others.
Here, I knew, was a rich woman.
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This tale is an excerpt from Oaxaca Stories in Cloth. Thrums Press 2016. Eric Mindling
It is experiences like this that have inspired me to create and guide a new kind of tour experience in Oaxaca in January of 2025 called The Offering. Craft of Reciprocity.
