Story by Danay Barrera, Summer 2020
When my mom was growing up in her small village in Mexico, she had no refrigerator or even electricity to run anything. What they did have were pigs, chickens, cows, and goats. Being that the area where she lived is called Tierra Caliente, or “Hot Land,” I asked her how they kept meat dishes, specifically my favorite, costillas en chile verde, from spoiling. She told me that whenever they killed one of their livestock animals, they would invite the whole community to eat. If someone couldn’t come, a plate of food would be taken to them.
My mom said that it was understood amongst the villagers that the next time someone in the village killed a pig, for example, everyone would be invited to eat. It was as if people took turns feeding the community. They also had a trade system for meat. One could ask to “borrow” meat on the day of the killing and then return meat from their animals on another day. There were some who did not own livestock, but they wouldn’t be left out of these events. Those who wouldn’t be able to pay back the food would contribute by helping prepare it, collecting firewood, or cleaning up afterwards.
As someone who grew up in the U.S with less of a community mindset and more of an individualistic one, I was surprised to hear about their practices. I was also pleased. The level of care and trust that has been building since the beginnings of her village allowed them to make such a system work. I hardly know the people who live on the same block as me, but everyone knew each other in my mom’s village. A tight-knit community is a wonderful concept to me.
I noticed that my mom still holds some of that community mindset. She makes bread to sell to conocidos, but she’ll throw in a few extra pieces for free every once in a while. I told her that I thought it was a bad business move, but she brushed my comment aside. She will also sometimes make a lot of food (enough to feed a village) and invite family and friends to eat.
She mentioned, though, that in the U.S, she feels like she can’t give food to the neighbors because they might not be used to our food. They might come from different regions of Mexico or different regions of the world. She worries that if she gives our food to strangers and it makes them sick, she could get in trouble for it. She also said that she doesn’t give away food to strangers if they don’t need it.
Despite her concerns about giving food to desconocidos, I recently witnessed her invite a paletera to a plate of enchiladas. My mom was making them outside, and while the paletera was showing my cousins which ice pops she had, my mom asked her if she wanted to sit and eat. The paletera tried to pay my mom for the meal, but my mom refused. I think my mom just wanted to give this old lady a chance to sit. After her meal, the paletera said “I really was hungry,” and it reminded me of how grateful I am for the way my mom was raised. Hopefully her desire to feed her community will continue to rub off on me, so I can feed others and influence them to do the same. With high wealth gaps and unequal access to healthcare, education, and housing, our community in Chicago could use a system of community members to care and look out for each other.