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"May we exist in muddy water with purity like a lotus, thus we bow to Buddha."
 

 
LUPITA   (1/11)

     Lupita is 'la dueña' (the owner) of the 'posada' (inn) where I am staying in Melaque, a seaside village in the state of Jalisco, Mexico. I rented a room here yesterday from a young señorita, Gina, following an all-night bus ride from Zihuatanejo. I just met Lupita this morning. She's a smaller-sized woman with light brown hair. Her not unattractive face is deeply lined from a lifetime in the fierce Mexican sun. She showed me where I could cook on a patio and offered to do my laundry for a reasonable price.

     From my room, I had heard Lupita talking earlier and sensed a unique quality in her voice. It was a strong earth energy or unadorned personality, something unusually grounded. In actually meeting her, I observe that Lupita delivers every utterance with deadpan seriousness. There's no anger, just an affect as flat as the finest billiards table. I talk to Lupita about my stay in Mexico and what I like about Melaque, mostly the beach. Lupita says the water is too cold for swimming, but I assure her that I stepped in the water the previous day and found it to be perfect. She leads me to a large room and says I can have it for the same price as the smaller one I now inhabit. I thank her for that offer. We step out into the hall and out of the blue, Lupita volunteers that she has produced ten babies, and that Gina, the young woman from the day before, is her daughter.

     "I still look pretty good, eh?"

     "Uh, yes." I stand there, fidgeting with a plastic bag of three warm tamales, my breakfast.

     "I'm fifty-eight years old," she offers.

     "Really? I'm fifty-seven years old," I respond. "We're a year apart."

     "Fifty-eight years old," she says again, oblivious to my comment.

     Lupita lifts up her shirt to expose the midsection that has accommodated ten offspring.

     "Ni flaca, ni gorda (Not skinny, not fat)." she says.

     I don't know what to say.

     "So...how long since your last baby?"

     She ponders for a moment.

     "Sixteen years. Sixteen and a half years."

     I stand there, looking at her.

     "Usted es muy bonita (You're very pretty)," is all I can come up with.

     "Sí," she answers, deadpan.

     Our conversatiuon is at an end. I thank her, say goodbye, and return to my room to write the vignette.