El Mirage

Woe unto you if you ever decide to set up a video camera in a room full of kids under 15-years-old. Even kids who you thought were serious, thoughtful, and otherwise no-nonsense will instantly become the biggest goofs you’ve ever laid eyes upon. That’s what happened when I decided to record two hours in the life of the Miguel family’s laptop computer. I thought it would be the laptop that was tortured into submission (and it was…..eventually it had to be shutdown due to overheating). But in the end you know who got slapped around the most? Me. “Get away from the camera!” I had to say about every 10 minutes. All the poking and prodding of the poor camcorder. I think someone even kissed the lens.

But when I sat down to edit the tape it wasn’t the typing and the myspacing and the clickey-clacketing that made this video what it is. It’s the the kids. The kids being the biggest goofs you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Thank god they didn’t listen to me.

Disfrutalo!

-Brad Horn

I asked each member of the Miguel family to choose the one item they couldn’t live without, and then I asked them why they chose what they chose. The ultimate format of this piece will change, but this is a preview.

-Brad Horn

If you were moving to the United States–to, say, Arizona–from a developing country–from, say, Mexico–what do you think you’d notice first about your new home? This has nothing to do with technology. It’s just interesting.

When 16-year-old Luis Ruiz moved here from Leon, Guanajuato, Mexico five years ago this is what he noticed: the carpeting and the escalators. And he noticed that cars actually stopped at stop signs. Oh, and he noticed the fire alarms in the classrooms at school. Because in his old school the fire alarm was a hammer and a bell and someone to bang the two together.

Luis Ruiz

Now, Luis has gone digital native. When I told him and his family about Skype–thinking I was being all Mr. Cutting Edge 21st Century Man–as a way to keep in touch with family in Mexico, Luis pulled out his Ipod Touch and typed in “s-k-y-p-e” so he could remember to download the program later.

And when I asked him about the differences between U.S. and Mexican consumer technology he started serving up video game system alphabet soup (all I know is there were a bunch of P’s and D’s and S’s strung together somehow) and said he sent all his old video game systems to family in Mexico. “Because they can’t even buy the newest games down there, anyway.”

Then the showoff started laughing with Letty, his 21-year-old sister, about their Aunt in Mexico who called and asked them to send down a cd player. “I don’t think we can even buy cd players here anymore, ” he said. “We told her to get an mp3 player and she didn’t know what an mp3 was.”

This reminds me of conversations I’ve had with my mother.

Letty Ruiz

Luis said technology was so much easier to acquire here in the United States. I protested. “I’ve been to Mexico–they have computers for sale in the snack shops!” “Yeah,” he said, “but no one can afford them. Computers cost the same here and there. But there, people make $1500 a year. Here, they make that in two weeks.”

So obvious. I was embarrassed by my ignorance.

The Ruiz patriarch, Carlos, said he had much to learn from his kids about how to use computers. Like how to download music, he said. “Por gratis?” I asked. “Por gratis,” he smiled.

At some point in our conversation, Martha, Carlos’s wife, summed up all of human evolution with incredible honesty and insight. I don’t think she even meant to do it. I had asked about whether or not technology was good or bad. Good, she said, because it helped people to be more lazy. And then she grinned from ear to ear.

We stood up to leave and did the usual “thank you so much for your time,” and the “I hope we could be helpful” routine. And then Luis looked at me and said “is it really free to call Mexico with Skype?” Luis, if you’re out there, my username is brad_horn. Our first chat is on me.

-Brad Horn

The Ruiz family. Left to right: Luis, Martha, Carlos, and Letty.

Here at the midway point of this youthful and technological undertaking I think all of us in the Syracuse crew could use a good, unrestrained fit of dancing.

Now, if this were my blog, I would post a clip of what’s considered the greatest Grateful Dead show of all time. Wait a minute, this is my blog! Well, I share it with Melissa. But I doubt she’d mind. And besides, I think it’s possible she’s never heard a Grateful Dead song before in her life.

So here’s to expanding horizons, and to a smokin’ Scarlet Begonias > Fire on the Mountain from a 1977 Upstate New York (Ithaca) show that–I’ve been told–saw snowfall in May. But most of all, here’s to the joy of dancing, brought to you by the band that’s brought more people to their feet than anyone else. Your shoes will not be needed for the next 25 minutes.

Melissa and I spent most of yesterday in and around the Grand Canyon. It was an international smorgasbord and we figured the splendid natural backdrop would be an interesting place to ask about human-made creations. And we think we were right.

It also made me very happy we’re doing our project on youth and technology here in the U.S. because Europeans….at least the ones we interviewed…..are not fond a technology.

So here are some interview snippets and portraits from the rim of the most spectacular of natural wonders……..

-Brad Horn

Number 1: TAKING A DAY OFF

Awesome idea. And awesome accent.

Number 2: THE SOURCE OF ALL THE WORLD’S PROBLEMS

???? from Belgium. Can you understand her name?

Number 3: IT’S THE PEOPLE, STUPID

Do they have John Deere tractors in Belgium?

Number 4: FINALLY, AN AMERICAN

A stoplight. Is that too much to ask?

Number 5: TECHNOLOGY DOWN UNDER

Andrew from Australia.

Number 6: WHAT HE SAID

Daniel's opinion was unduly influenced by his Aussie colleague.

I’m a Catholic school girl.

Yes, laugh all you want. Make all the jokes. I went to Catholic school for 12 years of my life.

But after coming to college, going to church every Sunday fell down my list of priorities. Instead, I’ve used Sundays to sleep in, or to do homework.

Until this past Sunday.

I woke up that day telling myself that sometimes numerous phone calls and messages of desperation just won’t cut it. So I dragged myself out of bed, and drove in our cube to meet with Karina’s mom, Gloria, face to face.

“Tengo algunas preguntas …” I trailed off to her after greeting each other. I was nervous as hell. Gloria’s mom speaks very minimal English. She doesn’t understand basic phrases at times.

M: Karina dice que van a ir a la iglesia esta noche. Puedo venir contigo? Porque no se ningunas inglesias en El Mirage.
Karina says that you are going to go to church tonight. Can I come with you? Because I don’t know any churches in El Mirage
G: Si, claro puedes ir con nosotros.
Yes, of course you can come with us.

She gave me directions to the church, which was the easiest part of our conversation. But then, she started to ask me why I had chosen to work with Karina. Why her daughter?

I panicked. I had to painstakingly try to explain to Gloria in Spanish what our project was about (which is difficult enough to do in English) and why Karina was a good example of what we were trying to find here in El Mirage: a young immigrant who uses technology to communicate with her family, friends, and husband all over the country and in Colombia. There is obviously more to it, but it was the most I could say in Spanish without making her cringe any more with my horrible attempt of the Spanish language. Thankfully, she understood (at least I think she did) and agreed to an interview on Wednesday. We ended by me apologizing profusely for my spanish (Lo siento, yo se que mi espanol no es muy bueno), and by her thanking me for actually trying.

That night, I walked into the church, already filled with loud music. There were few people there, and I sat in the contemporary, yet simplistic room twiddling my thumbs. The pastor and his wife introduced themselves to me willingly, but as 6:30 p.m. rolled around (the mass started at 6 p.m.) I began to panic when I still couldn’t find Karina or her mom. (Had they seriously ditched me? I didn’t think my spanish was THAT bad today!) But seconds later, I relaxed when Gloria greeted me with a hug and sat next to me, and Karina shortly followed after.

The mass ended up being an Evangelical service–obviously quite different from a Catholic mass. There is much more singing, and readings of direct verses from the Bible. Oh, and did I mention it was all conducted in Spanish? I understood bits and pieces, but emotionally, it was certainly a different experience. In Catholic masses, it’s very reverent. Quiet. Traditional.

There was nothing traditional about this mass, except the fact that the church-goers brought their own bibles from home. It was full of something that I think sometimes lacks in certain religious services: emotion. There was a women sobbing in front, with friends and the pastor’s wife consoling her. A father knelt at the foot of the altar, head down, quietly crying as his daughter sat by him and patted his back.

It was a room full of hardships, heartache, joy, and love.

All my time in El Mirage I’ve felt like an outsider to an unknown place, with unknown people and languages. Even at this mass, I was the only person new to the church, and the only non-fluent Spanish speaking person. But as I sat through the three-hour mass, deciding to keep the cameras tucked inside my backpack instead, I realized that it’s sharing moments like this with people that make all the difference. The barriers of language are not barriers when you both believe in one person. That belief transcends all languages and differences.

While in the beginning of the week I could tell Karina felt nervous or skeptical about our work, by the middle of the service she was inviting me to her home to taste Colombian food. And by the end of the night, both she and her mother had grabbed my hands and told me in both languages, “You are part of our family now.”

Catholic, Evangelical, Filipino, Colombian, English, Spanish, American, Latino, whoever or whatever.

Eres un parte de nuestra familia ahora.

Paul Atkinson over at KJZZ (Phoenix NPR affiliate) aired a story on us this morning on Weekend Edition. We talked with him after an only an hour of being in Arizona. Our day went something like this: wake up at 5-something a.m……jump on plane……sleep……jump on another plane……sleep for a long time while continent passes underneath…….rent car…….get interviewed by NPR.

Melissa, c'mon, look more excited....it's NPR!

He finishes the story by paraphrasing something I said, which is that we weren’t sure what kind of technology use we’d find in El Mirage. Having been here a week I am starting to develop a rough idea of how technology is used, and it’s much, much different than in Los Alamos where Melissa and I just were.

I can sense the digital divide here. “Digital divide” is term that refers to the difference between those with easy access to technology and those without easy access to technology. Digital technology is a part of life here, but it’s not something that’s prioritized like in Los Alamos and some other places. Here, technology is a way to keep in touch with people and to make sure they are safe. Most people aren’t using the latest and greatest gizmos, but you don’t need those doo-dads to call a friend to make sure s/he’s OK.

In most of the country I think the dominant approach to technology is a “keeping up with the Jones’” mentality…..a “gotta-have-the-latest-handheld-this-or-that” obsession. Here, though, the community is far from affluent on the whole, and competitive attitudes about possessions seem refreshingly absent.

I will not glorify the struggle of poverty and the tough reality of “not-having.” There is much that is a challenge here in the old section of El Mirage that was founded by migrant workers in the early 1960’s. There are crimes and drugs and gangs. But there are also face-to-face conversations in front yards and desires to give back to the neighborhood. In short, there is a sense of community that is usually lacking in places where personal ambition dominates the mental landscape.

Agustin Espinoza was a man we spoke with who uses a form of digital technology that’s especially important to the immigrant community: international text messaging.

International texting guru Agustin Espinoza

Espinoza is from Chiapas, Mexico, a state with dangerous floods. He told us he uses his phone as a way of making sure his family there is safe. We’re not sure which of his cellphones is used for sending international texts and which is used for talking with his sweetie here in Arizona, but he has one phone for each pocket…….

-Brad Horn

Yes, two phones. One to talk with his girlfriend and one for everyone else. Muy suave, Agustin!

I know, I know.

It’s been a few days.  Like the rest of the teams scattered throughout the U.S., over here in El Mirage, we too have had to deal with dead ends, slow days, and false promises of returning a call.  Maybe it’s the sun that has sucked the energy out of me, or maybe I’m just homesick, but there have been many days here when I feel like I have no spark to get me going.

Don’t get me wrong–we’ve met some wonderful, helpful people.  People like Jim Heinrich, a teacher at Dysart High School who has guided Brad and I pretty much everyday, and was the first person to help get our foot in the door.  Or Tom Campanella, the executive director of the community center who years ago moved to Arizona to escape the hustle and bustle of the east.  And finally, Susie Ortiz, the education coordinator of the community center, who has a constant smile on her face and has helped us meet numerous people, constantly making calls and establishing connections.

Susie put us in contact with Karina, a 23-year-old Colombian immigrant who runs a business with her mom here in El Mirage.  Along with running the Colombian Express, Karina works two other jobs: one at a grocery store and one at UPS.  Why? To save up money in hopes to go to grad school for interior design or architecture. Brad and I stepped into her small business on Thursday, and had a conversation with her in both English and Spanish and were able to learn more about her.

Karina left her home in Colombia three years ago to be with her mother and grandmother here in Arizona.  Leaving Colombia meant leaving most of her close relationships behind: with her father, her friends–and her husband.  Karina married her husband just this past February 14 in Las Vegas, and has not seen him since then.  “It’s hard,” she says. “Every time we talk it’s like ‘I just want to be with you’ and we keep saying, ‘We just have to wait a little bit more.’”

Why wait?

Karina’s husband is in the Colombian Navy.  “He lives on a boat,” she says with a laugh.  So how do they keep in touch?

They talk everyday, Karina says, whether it’s by telephone or through MSN instant messaging and a webcam.

She’s still not exactly sure the next time she’ll be with him.

Karina represents many of the immigrants here in El Mirage.  Although, most of the immigrants are Mexican, not Colombian, and many of them haven’t seen their families for years. Karina’s business allows these people to come in and use the computers for up to an hour, and most of them use the internet (only $2.50) to communicate with their families back home.

While it sounds like Karina is in the same boat, technically she’s not.  Karina is educated; she has a degree in interior design from when she studied at university in Colombia.  Many people here have not had the chance pursue that far of an education. Even though she’s been in the U.S. for three years, she claims that it’s still been hard for her to make friends.  She has very little here; most of her good friends are still in Colombia or scattered throughout the country.  So not only is there a separation between Karina and the El Mirage community, but she’s also separated from the people she is closest to.

Makes me think twice about being homesick.

For day three Brad and I spent most of our time at the El Mirage Community Center, where we shot some interviews with young kids, asking them the simple, yet complicated question: How would you use technology to change the world?

Some understood it, others definitely did not. It’s clear that at the tender age of 11 or younger, people simply aren’t at the stage to think anything but concretely and literally when it comes to answering open-ended questions like that. Nevertheless, Victoria, a 10-year-old, knew exactly what she would change in our world.

Unfortunately, the sun is so ridiculously strong here that it was hard to find a place to set up. Water, though rare and much conserved here, is NECESSARY! I almost passed out from lack of water and standing out in the sun for hours filming. This is what Syracuse weather has done to me. Funny thing is, 95 degree weather is apparently a “chilly day” for Arizonians. No, really. I pray that I’ll survive!

Greetings El Mirage!

Brad and I safely arrived in Arizona today, although Brad’s baggage did get lost somewhere along our travels.  We didn’t waste any time once we rented our little cube of a rental car.  No, literally.  It’s shaped like a cube.  There’s also a mysterious, fuzzy mat on the dashboard whose purpose we still haven’t quite figured out yet.

We were interviewed by Paul Atkinson of NPR’s KJZZ 91.5 AM station in Phoenix around 3:30 p.m.  The actual interview will air sometime midweek, but here is a short teaser, including footage from our flipcam. In this clip Brad and Paul talk about what we expect to find here in El Mirage.

After the interview Paul took us to Chuy’s, a great restaurant with a fun atmosphere, to give us our first taste of Arizona’s food.  I’m thankful that this time our hotel has a fitness room–I’m surely going to need it.