"It tells me there's a big problem there and I want to be a part of the solution." I couldn't convince him that I knew I'd be safe, but the same patriotism that ran deep in my veins ran through his also, so I knew he understood.

"Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country!" The words of John F. Kennedy reverberated in my head with each step I took toward my new home.

When I jumped lightly from the steps of the baronesa (a truck with wooden benches in the back) at the end of the clay road, the driver laughed when he read the name that was written on the small piece of paper that I showed him. "Oh, si! Becerra. San Francisco de Becerra! Alla!" He pointed off high to the left, and departed in his antique truck, still laughing. I laughed too at what he must be thinking of this gringa so far from home, lost and unable to speak the language of his people.

He left me standing on the edge of the road with my bag and box of books. The clay road ended, but off to the left a wide path began that looked like maybe wagons of some type traveled there. I trudged off happily, singing a Girl Scout song. So happy, in fact, that the weight of the box of books didn't bother me in the least.

I couldn't even say "San Francisco de Becerra" well, and I had to try and find it! As I walked, I thought how lucky I was to be here, not feeling any fear or anxiety in the least. I had no idea how I was to talk to people when or if I ran into any!

With no other human around and no evidence that a human had been down this path lately, it was littered, not with trash, but with cow dung. I walked and walked some more, practicing all five of the words I knew in Spanish: la cucaracha, cervaza, gracias, adios, and Dios. It didn't matter; when I met someone I knew I'd find a way to communicate.
 

Then when I least expected it, the sound of laughter filtered through the trees up ahead! I know I smiled and my heart sped up. Walking toward the laughter, I saw that the path dropped down into a clear creek where a bunch of women were in knee-deep water, washing clothes on the big rocks lying beside the stream. Children played carefree close by. Their donkeys, tied to the trees at the water's edge, balked as I approached, and all the women turned to face me.

"Okay, Doris. Do the right thing-- whatever it is," I said to myself. I made a big grin and slowly reached in my bag and pulled out one of the shirts I bought just before I left. I took off my shoes, and with the price tags still dangling from the shirt's cuff, I waded out into the cool water to an empty rock. The children ran to their mother, like biddies to the hen in times of danger. They all began talking to each other and pointing at me, and I couldn't understand a word they said as badly as I wanted to. I began scrubbing my new shirt on the rock as they had done, making sure the smile never left my face. I shook my head "yes" a couple of times in my eagerness to communicate.

"Como se llama?" They kept asking me, and finally started laughing. I laughed, too. "Hey, this is fun!" I thought. I just kept scrubbing my new shirt, the tags eventually falling off, drifting away in the current. The children began swimming again. My shirt was almost scrubbed to shreds, so I laid it up on a rock and began swimming with the children. I am sure the smile didn't leave my face even under the water!

When I came to the surface, the women were laughing so hard, I couldn't help but laugh along with them. I was happily surprised when most of the women put their laundry down and began swimming also.

"Mire! Mire!", they shouted at me, wanting me to see what they were doing. They showed me the best places along the bank to dive. We swam together a while and laughed some more until we were all exhausted and they began to gather their children and their laundry and readied themselves to leave.

I left the water and put my shoes back on, still smiling, I am sure. I saw a nice tree there and quickly thought that would be where I would camp that night.

"Adonde vas a dormir?" They asked me many questions at once. I could only wave "bye" and smile. I backed up from the donkeys and kept waving, but the biggest of the male children came over and picked up my box and bag and began securing them on one of the donkey's back. I let him! One of the women came and tugged on my shirt sleeve for me to follow them. So, I did!

It was strange, now that I think about it. I followed them to their casas de adobe just like I was going to visit with friends. I didn't let anything I saw shock me and was careful not to stare at anything around their little houses.

Everything they did, I did it with them. We shucked corn, made tortillas, and tended hungry babies. Then dark came on the first day. The husband had come home earlier and was as polite to me as the woman and children.

There were still coals from the cooking fire outside so I planned in my head to sleep outside, but they came tugging on my sleeve and made me come inside. The woman spread some sacks on the dirt floor and motioned that was where I was to sleep. So, I did!

I was exhausted from that first day's events and fell asleep quickly, comfortable on the sacks laid on the smooth dirt floor. When I woke up the next morning beautiful rays of sunlight streamed through the fronds of palms on the roof. I noticed that I was the only person left inside; everyone else was already busy outside. But, I was frightened to my bones when I noticed several hairy spiders the size of my hand stretched across the wall. I was trapped inside with these monsters! I have always had an intense fear of spiders, and although I figured I would see spiders here, I did not expect them to be this big and not this horrible looking! They were not afraid of me; they didn't make any attempt to leave as I moved around the room. Making my escape, running quickly through the open door to outside, I tripped on a little pig and fell on my face in the dirt. I scrambled up as fast as I could, thinking maybe the spiders were after me. That act set the family to laughing again, and I couldn't help but laugh with them.

I attempted to cover my fear with humor but those hairy spiders made me want to leave immediately. The woman brought me a cup of delicious smelling coffee, and I sat down and pondered the situation. I felt like I couldn't just leave these kind people without them understanding the reason I wanted to leave--the monsters inside the house. Really, I couldn't leave and let them think that they hadn't made me feel welcome. So, I had to learn to live with the spiders at least temporarily.

By the time dark came the next day, I had a plan to make the spiders keep away from me. I gathered up a little stack of wood next to my sleeping place and at intervals throughout the night, I'd light one to let the spiders know that I was aware of them and to warn them of the danger they would be in if they approached.

One day led into another, then another. I stayed in and around that village for eleven years. During that time, the people there taught me their language and allowed me to peer into their fascinating culture. As time passed, they saw how much I respected them and their culture, and they accepted the ideas I shared with them to decrease infant mortality and improve their health. And it all began with a smile on a creek bank. If John F. Kennedy only knew. . .