Introduction

Marge and I first met the “Umbrella Lady” at the Otay/ Mesa border crossing in the spring of 1996. We gave her that name because she always carried an umbrella. Later we learned the umbrella served two purposes; to shield herself from the elements and to hide her embarrassment as she was forced to beg for her livelihood. Every Saturday and Sunday she would sit in a wheelchair between the lines of cars together with several other disabled people, and wait for any donations from passing motorists. With her boys ever-present, she would spend eight to ten hours braving the harsh sun in summer and rain in winter. The exhaust fumes from the cars were always present.

As our friendship grew we found that she had no other choice. Stricken by polio as a baby she has spent her life imprisoned in heavy, iron, leg braces, using orthopedic crutches when forced to rise and walk a few steps. Her boys, Manuel, age eleven, and Javier, age nine, are ever-present.

Since hers are useless. they have become their mother’s legs. During the week she remains in a dark terribly depressing room while the boys are at school. What fine boys they are, personable, friendly, and full of love for their mother! We are amazed at how neat and clean they look in their school uniforms in spite of the fact that the room lacks running water and a toilet.

Dozens of times we passed her on our return from visiting friends Mariano and Matamoros always left a donation of money and at times a bag of clothing. Her smile and appreciation for any gift were quite sincere. Though her clothes were old and tattered, she was as neat and clean as her boys when they went off to school. Some of those who go to the border to beg are not clean. This 1

family, though desperately poor, was proud. On one of our trips, I gave her a note telling of our volunteer working in Mexico and hoped to assure her that we wanted to help her and the boys. There was no response. Perhaps she was afraid to become our friend, embarrassed by their living conditions. At least, we know now her name, MARIA. MARIE: the Umbrella Lady.

For the past several years at Christmastime, Marge and I have conducted a food collection for our many friends in the Jimmy Carter project in Mariano Matamoros. This was a perfect time to find out where Maria and the boys lived.” Maria, I want to bring you and the boys food and a turkey for Christmas. Please tell me where you live.” At last, she responded, “come to the linea tomorrow and the boys will bring you to our place”. The next day when I entered that terrible, dark room, Maria was sitting on an old mattress, washing dishes in a large galvanized tub. Her eightfoot by twelve-foot room has two mattresses, no tables or chairs, no running water, and no toilet. A make-shift extension cord to a neighborhood’s house serves as power for an old refrigerator, one light bulb, and an old donated TV. She cooks on a two-burner propane stove. Their water comes from another neighbor via a garden hose. That is it! That is Maria’s world! They live in this cement block storage shed as squatters risking eviction at any time by the government. Maria cried when we entered with the Christmas goods. She was overcome by the sight of so much food. I cried also as she dragged her twisted legs together and struggled to stand. It was the first time I had seen her upright.

On that first visit, we talked mostly about her life. Born into an incredibly poor family in Guadalajara, Maria was the last of ten sisters and three brothers. Their one-room home with adobe walls, thatched roof, and dirt floor, was built by her father. Because her legs were so deformed Maria had to crawl about the property like an animal. Several years later she was taken to a charity hospital 2

where she underwent many operations over a three-year period. During that time, though never visited by her family, Maria was befriended by the hospital nuns and taught to read.

Why did you come north, Maria? Her two-word answer cut to my heart, “to eat.” In that poor farming village, a crippled girl would have no opportunity to survive. For the most part, her family abandoned her after her affliction. Perhaps they felt guilty for having so many children. After her boys were born, Maria decided that she must leave. “I’ll not have my boys become “burros, by staying there”.

Weather and health permitting, Maria earns about $30 each weekend. During the holiday season, she sometimes earns $50 or more. Don’t ask how she manages with these meager earnings but she does and is able to provide the bare necessities for the three while keeping the boys in school. The two have not missed any schooling thus far. That is rare in a country where so many children do not attend or miss several years because of financial strain. To complete the first six years of grammar school is a major feat in Mexico.

This semi-literate Indian girl never went to school and can barely write her name, yet she understands how important an education is and what the future will hold for her boys without it. What sort of a person is this who could attract Marge and me and capture our love at that very first meeting? Who is this person who reads the bible to her boys each night and forsakes television except for a few minutes each day with the news? Who has maintained a solid faith in God these thirty- four years of such a sad life? What kind of a person who has almost nothing would share with a neighbor.

We had no answer yet, but surely they will come as we follow the life of this remarkable lady, Maria Martinez Gomez. “The Umbrella Lady”.

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Yesterday we went to the Maria’s house for lunch. It was a rainy day and, as a result, we arrived late. Maria was so worried that we were not coming. She felt perhaps we had better things to do. Then she became nervous about her meal. The rice was too hard, the pork was not tender enough, and on and on. Finally, we assured her that everything would be just fine. Maria had never entertained Americans before. The boys went next door to borrow two chairs. They have nothing to sit on except mattresses. Marge was so nervous watching Maria cook at her little propane stove. She is barely 5 feet tall, and her stove is at her eye level. The boys went out to a nearby store and bought fresh corn tortillas. As we were just sitting down she sent Manuel out again. This time he returned with napkins. Americans always use napkins. Maria served us first and protesting in vain, we ate while they watched. In Mexico, this is the custom. What a fine meal it was! A tasty pork dish with tomatoes and chiles; a wonderful white fish dipped in a batter; fried rice and chiles, and the tortillas. She continued to express doubts about the food. I told her that we have eaten in many homes in the Tijuana area and her cooking is among the best. And, it was! All this accomplished without being able to stand unassisted.

Maria was very interested in Marge; what nice legs she has, hers are terribly deformed. Her white skin, (a sign of status perhaps). Did she color her hair,[no]? Surely this was Maria’s first prolonged contact with an American lady. She asked about our children, where they lived, did we see them often, did we love them. Maria has no contact with any of her family. Meanwhile, Manuel and Javier were busy asking me all sorts of questions; “what is this word in English, what are the numbers in English”.They are bright boys. Fortunately, I brought a printout of the alphabet with me and so, we had a mini English lesson while their mother rested on the bed. Maria cannot stand for any length of time. We kept praising the boys and how proud she must be. With their Christmas money, 4

they each bought wristwatches. They can tell time. I doubt their mother can.

Maria feels so inferior that we must continually boast about her boys, her cooking, her ability to keep house, and her stamina to withstand that ordeal at the border every week. She neither eats nor drinks anything during those hours between the lines of cars. There are no facilities.

We visited for several hours. The conditions at her house are stark. It never really hit us until we returned home that day. As I have mentioned before, there is no water, chairs, tables, etc., and, no toilet, literally, no toilet! Marge and I talked about her situation later that evening. We both spent a restless night. To add to her problems, her roof leaks. “Only a little bit,” she adds.

“Will you visit me again?” Yes.”When?” Soon. On the next visit, Margarita will bring the meal. We had another argument about that. She is becoming more relaxed in our company. We will make another date to visit Maria. The next time Maria will be the honored guest and she will be served first.

January 30.

We received great news. The St.Vincent dePaul organization notified us that our request for aid for Maria was granted. The first step toward new braces has been taken. The next day I went down to her house to tell her the news. She was so happy that she began to cry. Maria had little hope of replacing her heavy, broken braces. I must explain that this was not the first step but rather the culmination of many phone calls by Marge to various organizations seeking help. The St.Vincent dePaul group will furnish all that is necessary to fit Maria with new braces. At that time she will be able to walk, albeit with canes, for several hours at a time. She says, in order to enter the U.S., Maria needs an I.D.card issued by 5

the Mexican Government. This, along with a letter to INS, will allow her to fulfill the necessary medical appointments. Monday, Maria will go to the local government office and apply for an ID. I hope the Mexican red tape does not rear its ugly head. She is very enthused and promised to do her part.

The boys were preparing for school. They go from 1-5 PM, each day. They each took their bath/shower out in the back with a bucket of water. When in uniform they looked like two scrubbed angels. In Mexico, grammar and high school students all wear uniforms. The boys, maroon trousers and white shirts; the girls, plaid skirts, white blouses, and knee-high colored socks. The color depicts their level in school. Off they went at exactly 12:55. Not one minute before or later. Maria was adamant about that. The boys moaned and groaned, and cried and begged. To no avail. School starts at 1:00, and the teacher does not want the kids there early. They want to go early to play football, (soccer). After they left we talked more about our lives. She dislikes going to the border, the humiliation, and perhaps, more importantly, the car fumes that she ingests for hours at a time. All those many times we met it never occurred to me that she was in such danger. I fear it will take its toll, unless. Unless somehow we can get her out of there and into some kind of humane work. More phone calls by Marge. More endless conversations with each other. Picking our brains, more prayers. Why not, she’s a great investment!

St.Valentine’s Day we went down to Mariano to visit friends and talked to Don Nacho about his family. Ofelia and her family are staying in the Los Angeles area. That makes three of the girls up here now; Susana, Argelia, and Ofelia. Even though he still has two girls and one son in Mariano he misses them very much. He rented his house to a nice family and is living in Ofelia’s house. Prisciliana was home so we saw her also. Our invitation to visit us will have to wait because Pollo is being married next week. We are 6

invited to the party after the ceremony. Great! Mole Poblano and lots of good Mexican food.

On the way home, we stopped to see Maria. The boys were in school, so, she welcomed our visit. Thanks to Marge’s brother we were able to buy her two folding card chairs. We told her that they are an early birthday gift. Her real birthday is not until October (explain later). We’ll celebrate again then. She was very appreciative. She came close to tears again. “Please Maria, don’t cry.” A very emotional lady, Maria. When we arrived she was standing outside in the warm sunlight. Her little cement block room was still cold from the previous night. We talked and talked about various subjects. She just loves to visit and ask all kinds of questions. Her life has been so confined. It seems like a rusty door that is being pried open just those few inches and a rush of life has entered. Maria has already told us several times that our visits and friendship are more important to her than anything we bring to her home. How blessed we are to be her friend!

We were very excited about seeing her new ID card. She proudly brought it out. It seems the photos never look like the person. I joked with her about whose picture is this. As I studied the card two things jumped out at me. They, the local government office, had made two errors; her name was misspelled and the date of her birth was wrong. INS just thrives on mistakes like that!

Then Maria came out with her story about her trip to the DIF office. Maria is almost a non-person in Mexico. No job, no utility bills, no rent receipts, nothing. The secretary told her, sorry we cannot issue you any ID card. Then Maria told her story about the new braces and her need to come to San Diego several times. No card no entry. Then the tears came along with her pleading. The secretary melted and ran in to get her boss. The administrator likewise melted. Maria had her card that same day. The misspelled name was a minor error. They changed her birth date because a 7

person of her circumstances cannot receive an ID card if they are under 40 years of age. So, Maria is now 40 years old! Needless to say, she does not like that idea.”Maria, it’s only make-believe. Memorize your new birth date so INS will have no problems. “She is still not happy about this out come. She laughs, she is having fun with this also. As we talked I told her how effective the tears were. She nodded the idea was filed away for future use. Absent any schooling, this is a very smart lady. Survival!

Valentine’s Day is celebrated in Mexico; el Dia de los Enamorados, Lovers’ Day. Marge brought Maria a box of chocolates. To our very special Mexican Valentine!” Hide them from the boys, it is you treat.” For sure she will share them that very night.

It was time to leave. We, all three of us, were saddened by the thought. As our friendship has grown, language difficulies lessen. We have seen it before; many times. She so wishes that Marge could speak Spanish. She loves to talk with her. By now Maria knows that we will come again to visit. “Please, again, soon.” Yes.

March 7.

It seems our visits are more frequent. When a friend has hardly anything, we are continually looking for things to bring to Maria. What luck! Marge found a pair of shoes for Maria; of all places, at the Vincent dePaul thrift store. Together we found some plates, silverware, and a castiron skillet. Now, we had an excuse to travel south. We also had another reason to see Maria. That will come later. As I have mentioned before, Maria’s shoes are in tatters. Her feet are tiny. I tell her that she has “pies comouna muneca”, doll feet. It was no small task to find her shoes. She just loves those little “Mary Jane “shoes. Cradles them like a mother would her newborn baby.” I will try them on tonight when the braces are off. Tomorrow I will wear them to the border.” Have I mentioned

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how fastidious Maria is about her appearance at the border? She shines like the boys do when they are off to school. Hair washed, face made up (not overly), clean clothes, the whole bit. She tells us that she does not want to be seen looking dirty by anyone. Poverty does not suggest being dirty or lazy. Almost without exception, our friends are very poor. Yet, they stand tall in their sense of personal dignity.

Marge brought some knee-high nylons. These will be fine for the warm weather. We remarked about her heavy looking plaid stockings.”I made these from a sweater you brought me last year. “I did not remember. Clever lady; she had cut the sleeves from the sweater and was using them as stockings. It gets quite cold along the border in winter.

Even out of school the boys are very clean. They had new haircuts; guess who cut their hair? A nice neat job.

It was getting late and we still had one more piece of news for Maria.”Would you like new beds for you and the boys?” Silly question. Their beds are not much better than straw mats.

She literally fell back on her bed when we told her that our friend would like to give her and the boys new beds. There was no stopping her tears this time. When Maria cries we all cry. After the tears, we explained that we would look for beds in the Tijuana area. Bringing beds from the US would be next to impossible for us. Government [Mexican] red tape. A twin bed for her and bunk beds for the boys. More space with the bunk beds. I showed her our friend’s photo.”This is the lady who wishes to give the beds.” Still speechless. We must leave now. It is getting late.” You came at 2:30 and it is only 4:00. Please, would you stay for a little while? Five minutes more, please?” How well do we remember those days when our kids said the same thing. “Ok, 5 minutes.” It’s always difficult for us to leave. We love you, Maria. Till Next time.

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After leaving that day we looked for beds in her area; but nothing of any quality. Later that week Marge called our dentist’s sister, Lupe. She said there was a good furniture store close by his office. Saturday we checked out their wares; huge store, good quality, good selection. With all the price info in hand, we rushed back to Rancho Bernardo. I wanted to call our friend fast. God bless her, she said ok; wrote out a check for the full amount. We can hardly wait to tell Maria this news. The beds will be delivered on Holy Thursday afternoon. We’ll be there along with an Easter ham that Marge is bringing for the family.

I happened to mention that we had 5 gallons of extra paint waiting for the trip south. Marge said, “how nice it would be if Maria had brightly painted walls. “To go with her new beds?” Holy Thursday is going to be a fun day. This week I must see Maria and make plans. More tears.

Stay tuned.

March 19.

I went down to the furniture store to give a deposit on the beds. They appeared a little nervous because we had not put any money down on such a large order. Afterward, everyone was happy. The owner came over and we had a nice talk. He has two other branches in Tijuana. An American at that!

I took a scenic route over to Maria’s, through town and several middle-class barrios. Past the airport and then to her little street. As usual, she was happy to have company. The boys were just finishing their lunch and preparing for school. The boys’ father, Jaime, was there, helping with the cleaning and washing clothes. Maria says that they have no interest in getting together; they fear total commitment and responsibility. He takes much interest in his boys and loves them very much. He works at a nearby plant 10

so is able to spend time with the boys during the days. Maria told me that since we have been visiting her he has shown more interest in the boys. Yet, they appear not to be interested in a solid relationship. He makes very little money at the plant, somewhere in the $35-$40 per week range. Wages are very low in these mostly foreign-owned plants.

While Jaime was busy washing, we talked about various things. Did we wash every day, our clothes are so clean. What type of washing machine do we have; hers no longer works. A clothes dryer was an almost unknown item to her. I explained to Maria that 100 years ago, everyone in the US washed by hand. Today, almost everyone in Mexico washes by hand. Nevertheless, hand washing and drying in the sun results in beautiful clothes.

I had given Manuel money to buy me a watch, like his Christmas gift. He was quite proud to hand me the watch he had bought all by himself.

My main reason for our visit was to tell Maria that her beds were ordered and will be delivered next Thursday, March 27. She is so happy about this event. She said that she has never owned anything of this size, new. This is going to be a huge emotional event for Maria. On top of that, I asked her if we could paint her room. She answered, yes, but Jaime can do the painting. Oh no, I paint and Jaime can help me. He readily assented. Then I brought in the paint and all the supplies we needed. I’ll make lunch then. No, Margarita is bringing all the food. You will be the “Jefa “, or boss that day. Ok, I’ll dress up and you can take my photo. Finally, a picture of Maria! Our friends are waiting to see what she looks like. She is beautiful! We ate roasted, salted peanuts and talked. These were another first in her life. It was then that Maria told me about her tragic encounter with polio. She was struck when just a baby, only a few months old. In the US, everyone had polio shots by the time Maria was born. Her legs were twisted and bent up behind. 11

Her family was horrified. The last of 13, and then this happens. Was this a punishment from God? Everyone abandoned her, literally! Somehow she ended up in a charitable hospital, similar to Shriners’. After several operations and three years in the hospital, Maria went back to her frightened, unloving family. Not once did anyone visit her during those three years! Then began many years of loneliness and imprisonment in braces and wheelchairs. I suppose when Jaime came along she was happy to come north, “to eat”, as she has said to me. Considering her life to this point, Maria has a wonderfully optimistic outlook and an ironclad faith in God. This comes forth in much of her conversation.

As our visit was concluding, she asked me to stay for “ just 10 minutes more”. That 10 stretched to 30. I left promising our return on Thursday. It should prove to be a fun day.

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