Mari

I met Mari ten years ago, on a hot, muggy, November day in Bucerias, Mexico. Neto and I were alone, sitting on a blanket, watching the waves, waiting for the sunset. Far off in the distance, we saw a woman trudging through the sand. She was the only seller still walking along the beach that late afternoon. A tiny woman with a long black braid, she wore a heavy woolen skirt and a bright silk blouse, Her shoulders were weighed down with heavy woven purses for sale. 

I like talking to the beach sellers and so does Neto. He was a seller, himself, when he was ten, selling peanuts to tourists along the beach. He began learning English as he repeated over and over, “Peanuts! Warm peanuts! I have peanuts for you!”

Mari struggled as she walked toward us. We smiled and invited her to show us what she had to sell. Her work was so lovely, it is hard for me to describe. Hand-woven purses of all kinds, with intricate embroidery on every one. My favorites were the travel bags embroidered with a globe surrounded by children, their arms outstretched as if they were holding hands. I bought three of them in different colors, to give as Christmas gifts. I wanted more but that was all the money I had with me. I made an appointment to meet Mari later, in the town square, to buy more.

That was the beginning of our friendship, Mari is among the indigenous Maya people, whose first language is Tzotzil. Her Spanish was not very good at the time and mine was terrible but Neto was, as always, a great interpreter. 

I learned that Mari was twenty-one years old, the youngest of eleven children from Chamula, Chiapas. Her father died young, leaving her mother to raise eleven children alone. Mari came to Bucerias as a seller to help support her family. She volunteered to travel because, as she explained, “I am determined and feisty, like my mother.” 

The people of Chiapas are used to working hard. Seventy-five percent of them live in poverty. The average family income is $300/year. (That is not a typo!) They seldom smile. The women wear their warm native clothing, no matter where they go.

When I showed Mari’s purses to my friends in Denver, they encouraged me to buy more and bring them back to the U.S. I found Mari again when I returned to Bucerias in January. This time I bought more bags, table runners and handmade whimsical animals. I told Mari I would be back in the fall.

When I returned, Mari’s Spanish was good and she was learning English. She spent the previous summer in Chamula, working in the corn fields. Mari told me that she was married over the summer and she was not happy about it. A young man, Vincente, from nearby San Cristóbel asked Mari’s mother if he could marry Mari. Mamí said yes, ignoring the fact that Mari didn’t want to be married. “I am an independent woman,” she confided. “And I don’t even know this person.”

I liked Vincente right away. He is a kind, gentle man who is very much in love with Mari. He travels with her every year as her helpmate. He carries her heavy load of merchandise and does his best to help sell along the beach.

Years have gone by since I first met Mari. Sometimes Neto and I travel to places other than Bucerias and I lose track of her. But, lucky for me, whenever we’re back in the Bay of Banderas she pops up in my life again. 

Last year, Neto was riding a bus to Punta Burro when Mari boarded the bus with a big bag of handmade animals to sell. She was headed for Punta Mita, a town known for movie stars on vacation. 

Neto grabbed her wrist as she walked past. He commanded her to sit in the empty seat next to him. Poor Mari was terrified until she realized it was Ernesto. She broke into a happy grin and asked about me. When Neto said I was in Bucerias and would love to see her, Mari reached into her bag and pulled out a gift for me ~ a lovely, charming, embroidered cloth peacock.

I look forward to my next encounter with Mari when I return to Bucerias again. I hope that Mari will still be there. She will always be my friend.