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Does Santa deliver live animals?
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I recently came back from a small town on the Mexican side of the border over Thanksgiving vacation. It has been a few years since my last visit, and the only thing that ever changes is me. I get a little older, and the activities I enjoy there have morphed from the Girls Gone Wild, margarita marathon, discoteca dance-off, tequila-shooting… well you get the idea… adventure to "Oh my, look at those clay chimneys, aren’t those lovely?" I did stock up on the usual inexpensive items while there, liquor, prescription drugs (inhalers for my friend), and I went to lunch in a touristy villa near the open-air markets. As I was walking along, it felt good to be among the Mexican people, not one tried to sell me Chiclets or yelled out "Cheaper than K-Mart!", they were simply given to the day’s chores and errands. The markets close at 5 p.m. everyday there, and at the borders, there is always a mass-exodus of white people. Mexican border towns at night are the stuff urban legends are made of.
It was closing in on five o’clock, when my cousin and his boyfriend stopped at a little market to buy some handmade Mexican puppets. As I was browsing, I looked down at my feet to find a little baby, not older than two, crawling and googly-eyed on the ground. I bent down near him, and he peered up at me with the most beautiful, big brown eyes. I shook his little hand and he smiled at me, my heart always starts to race when a baby smiles at me, I figure they must be magic. The baby put his head down and seemed to be looking intently at something. He picked up a small rubber band off the cobblestone street and slid it around his little finger where there were about 20 more just like it. I looked around and saw tiny rubber bands everywhere, and it occurred to me, that this was his job. I saw his mother sitting just a few feet away wrestling with some bags of wares, she also smiled at me and then turned to chat with her friend. I knew it was not right, but I had a pang in my heart for that little baby.
Yes, everyone has a job in Mexico, even babies, but I wanted to bring him home with me that evening. I could wrap him up and settle him into my bag and sneak him across the border, past the indifferent border guards, and onto the plane with me. I would give him a pretentious American name like Troy or Casey and read him Dr. Suess every night before bed. We could watch cartoons on Saturday mornings, and feed the ducks together. When he got older, I would drive him to soccer practice and debate competitions. My thoughts about that baby, were truly selfish that day. Then, like many people who have felt similar pangs, I decided to help in a more organized fashion. I found a charity.
There are many projects out there designed to help feed hungry children and struggling families. This holiday season, my donation is going to Heifer International. Heifer International was formed in 1944, and delivers actual animals to families in need. These animals provide income or simply food. I like this effort because you can see the tangible item that you are gifting to people across the world. At www.heifer.org, there is a list of animals to choose from and a list of countries where those animals are needed. The organization teaches families techniques in sustainability along with feeding them, they infuse ecological principles and strive to protect the earth. With four projects currently underway in Mexico, I like the idea of giving a whole sheep to a Mexican family for Christmas. Heifer International operates on almost every continent bringing livestock to the impoverished millions.
In some cases the animals are slaughtered for food, and though this may not be a desirous charity for PETA folks or others, canned food drives, quilt-knitting projects, and clothing donations are alternatives through other organizations.
There is enough money and food in the world right now to knock out poverty and hunger forever. I know you have probably heard this all before, but what will you do to make that happen?
Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, happy Kwanzaa, happy Three Kings Day, and happy Rhamadan.
Aubrey Salazar
Columnist