Mexico Culture: Mañana....

In the course of exchanging emails to confirm an upcoming date to get together, our Canadian friend Mary mentioned that she still hasn’t learned how to say “looking forward to it” in Spanish even though, “I lose track of how many times a day we [husband and I] both use the expression 'looking forward to it'; still, we have asked every teacher of Spanish that we have ever had and all we get is a literal translation accompanied by a puzzled look.”

Reed’s Spanish teacher offered the translation—Lo esperamos—"we await you." That makes sense because the verb esperar is used to express both to wait and to hope.

This morning I asked my Spanish teacher about the Mexican equivalent of "we're looking forward to it." He became seriously thoughtful, before replying slowly, "It isn't necessary here—just express your agradecimiento (gratitude) when you arrive, or when you leave."

Sigh—yet another cultural puzzle.

The Mexican notion of time is a very difficult concept for us gringos to get our heads around, principally because the Mexican people don't appear to have the same sense of 'future’—with its Siamese twin ‘progress’—that we US-ians have and, I suspect, that as descendants of Northern Europeans, the Canadians also have.

Mexicans rarely use the future tense. Listen for it in daily conversation and whole days—even weeks!—can go by without hearing the future tense used even once.

We have been surprised to learn that as a group, our Mexican friends and acquaintances tend to have low expectations about what the future will bring. These low expectations might explain why my teacher would suggest that "looking forward to it” isn’t necessary here since the notion of “looking forward” is alien to Mexican culture.

The tasks of daily life, reminded me yesterday—yet again!—that the Spanish word mañana doesn’t necessarily mean “in twenty-four hours” as it does to us gabachos (gringos). Instead, mañana means that the event is on the list of things to happen in a somewhat indeterminate future—that is, mañana.

In response to my order of BP meds, the pharmacist told me that they would arrive mañana, and so they did. That is, they arrived much to my consternation mañana three days later, not mañana 'next-day'.

When our taxi drivers want to confirm that something is to happen in twenty-four hours, they’ll say mañana followed by the name of the day—so, if today is lunes (Monday), they’ll confirm by asking ¿mañana martes? (Tuesday).

In a similar vein, we are struck by events surrounding the recent release, government ban and subsequent judicial lifting of the ban regarding screening the award-winning Mexican documentary “Presumed Guilty” in Mexican theaters—to, I might add, long lines and packed houses. PBS has shown this documentary (with English subtitles) recently.  Reed has posted a number of articles regarding this potentially citizenship-building event on the http://americasmexico.blogspot.com/search/label/justice.

The freed defendant has received offers as a motivational speaker and to record his rap music (played under the film's screen credits), but he has more mundane concerns: get a high school degree and support his family. His intent to “support his family” is apparently not currently supported by any plan to take advantage of the offers, or for any other plan for his own future: “I don’t have a fixed plan,” he said. “They say that when you design a plan, it doesn’t turn out how you expect.”

His response is perhaps more understandable in light of the incredible equanimity that Mexicans exhibit toward life's unexpected surprises. They take life as life presents itself to them on life's own terms.

In a recent email, our friend Canadian friend Mary captured the essence of this equanimity:

This winter in Ajijic we attended a number of the TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) Ideas Worth Spreading online lectures. One talk was given by a woman who had suffered a stroke. A brain specialist and physician, she was able to describe her experience—once she had learned how to speak again—of losing the use of the entire left side of her brain, which allowed her the bliss of NOW—neither looking forward nor back, but simply being in that nirvana that SOME of us sought in the 60's with psychedelics. 

Following the talk was a wonderful conversation about living in the moment. I talked about our Mexican friends, acquaintances and neighbors and how much they seem to be able to 'be here now'—dealing with things as they come and not always planning and fussing and worrying and stressing wayyyyy ahead of the fact like we gringos do.

It strikes me that Mary’s thoughts about the present moment are precisely "en blanco" (on target—the "white" of the bull's eye)—an insightful reflection on the precious Mexican sense of now—neither yesterday’s now, nor tomorrow’s now, but this very now.

I'm reminded of Luis's reflection on this theme that I posted earlier:

Yesterday has already gone, and perhaps tomorrow might not arrive. For just this reason, I will be very happy today.