DON RAFAEL GALICIA
The break of dawn can be seen from the window of the apartment that Rafael bought some time ago in order to bring his late wife from Nayarit to live with him in Mexico City. It’s between 8 and 9 am, and Don Rafael, as usual, from Monday to Friday, starts a new day.
With a little effort he rises from bed, his hairdo destroyed by the pillow (and perhaps his moustache pointing in all directions). He gets out of his room and walks to the bathroom down the hall, whose walls are covered with some family photos (maybe he is going to turn on the water heater, or maybe not, depending on whether his granddaughter Diana, had or hadn’t already done it).
While Don Rafael takes his shower, the granddaughter prepares breakfast (juice, jelly, milk and/or fruit). In case she has to leave early, she will leave breakfast ready, for her grandpa to help himself. (The sound of the shower is combined with the refrigerator door that opens and closes, spleens of dishes, microwave oven and the sound of cars that comes in through the window).
Next he gets out of the bathroom and returns to his bedroom in order to get dressed. After trimming his white moustache in front of the mirror, he indulges himself with a bath lotion. He spends quite a while working on his appearance, before going to the kitchen so as to have the breakfast prepared by his granddaughter (due to his age, he eats awkwardly). Once breakfast is over, he goes back to his room one last time, and then leaves the flat, just after making sure that the door is securely closed. He goes down the stairs at a slow pace.
Once outside the building, he walks two blocks so as to take the bus that leads to the subway station La Raza. He then takes the subway and gets off at the station Viveros; back in the street, he takes another bus that leaves him in front of his work Los Cedros Hospital.
He never eats in the hospital because he does not like what they serve there. Therefore, he doesn’t eat until 6:30 pm, when he returns home. After dinner he gets into his room to rest and watch TV, and it isn’t before midnight, once the news are over, that he goes to the kitchen to have some bread and milk.
Rafael is 80 years old and turns 81 next Saturday. He is an introverted serious person that likes to read medical articles; he used to work as a doctor, but due to his age, he’s now in an administrative post in which he has to review records and files so as to make sure that they are complete. He does not listen well. He’s got a piece of land in Tlaxcala with pear trees. And maybe his family will hold a birthday party for him in Tlaxcala with more than 100 relatives as guests.
Luz Urbana (Urban Light)
Luz Alcázar Rodrìguez is a 62-year old composer, singer and actress. Mother of three children aged 37, 32 and 28 each. The first two are mentally and physically handicapped; one lives in Tijuana while the other lives in Mexico City. The youngest son lives in the building where Luz Urbana (pseudonym she has chosen) lives, but in different apartments. It is located near the Periodistas Ilustres’ park, where she currently coordinates a theatre workshop for high school students.
Luz Urbana’s day is simple in terms of action but rather complex in spirit. It starts at around 8:30 and 9:00 am, with brushing her teeth as her first action; she couldn’t skip it, since she always wakes up with an awful taste in her mouth due to a cavities that she doesn’t want to have filled until it really causes her significant trouble. Then she gets dressed and puts on some lipstick both, on her lips and cheeks, so as not to look pale.
Next she makes some coffee and goes out in order to find inspiration for her songs. She usually walks in the park, along with her love and companion, Patas de Olan; a one-eyed cocker spaniel to whom she has already composed a song. If the muse doesn’t decide to come, Luz returns home and begins to pray; she believes that God is the one who gives her the opportunity to be alive and help the others. He is also her main motivation to keep on creating beautiful jazz and blues tunes. For breakfast, she buys a juice near the park and, if she still has some money, buys some barbacoa tacos just around the corner.
She writes down her lyrics on a notebook covered in letters of different sizes; then she goes to a cybercafé to write them down. She wants to buy a computer soon, in order to avoid writing her songs twice. For lunch she buys something tasty in her neighbourhood; she prefers not to cook since her husband tried to kill her and her sons decided to live on their own.
After lunch comes work, which means playing the guitar and singing her songs outside restaurants in neighbourhoods such as La Condesa, where –according to her- there are educated people, willing to pay for her job. She stays there from three to ten o’clock; then she goes back home and is warmly received by Patas de Olan. She gives herself time to reflect on her day and rest. Finally, she simply goes to bed.
AMADA AND VICTORIA
Amada and Victoria are two sisters that share, apart from the blood, a home and a story. Both were orphaned at a very young age, and grew beside uncles and cousins who gave them support.
Amada, mother of 6 children, never married, while Victoria, mother of three, got married when she was 17 years old. And even though their lives took different paths, in the year of 1964 they met again, thus beginning the story of a great team. Back then, Amada took care of the 9 children and cooked for everyone, while Victoria provided sustenance to the family. Since then, they learned to live and work for each other.
They currently live in a house in Iztapalapa in Mexico City, where they rent rooms to women in need. Amada is 83 years old and Victoria is 87. Both follow a very specific routine:
Victoria gets up first -at 6am- to fetch the milk; sometimes Gina, her tenant, accompanies her. When she is back at home, Toya -as her friends and relatives call her- goes back to bed in order to sleep some more. Amada’s day begins at 8 am. She wakes up and prepares some coffee and bread for herself and her sister, who at that time re-awakens. After resting a while, both return to the table to share brunch; their favorite dish is chilaquiles prepared by Amada.
Next, Victoria goes to the market to buy the things needed for lunch; they always look for fresh ingredients, not frozen ones. Amada is the one who chooses the menu and makes the list of what her sister will have to buy.
In the afternoon, Amada cooks again, but this time not only for her sister. She prepares meals in large quantities because it is a pleasure to share them with friends, neighbors, tenants and family. In this way, their home is constantly visited by a parade of people coming and going. There is a phrase among their relatives that says “… in the house of Amada and Mrs. Toya there’s always something to eat”.
After dinner, they relax and watch TV, eat dinner together or with a guest, and return to the living room so as to watch soap operas. Their favorite one is Mi pecado (My sin), which they enjoy from the comfort of their armchairs.
They sleep in separate rooms, the kitchen being the division among each other. At the end of the day, Victoria goes to bed at between 11 and 11:30 pm, and Amada stays in the room, letting herself be lulled by the television. She begins to fall asleep and nods off, something she also enjoys. She sleeps on the armchair until two in the morning; then, realizing that she is not on her bed, she retreats to her room and finally closes her eyes till the next day.
HOTEL KAMARÓN
In his room he’s got five mattresses -piled one on top of the other- and he only sleeps on one. In the other room he’s got his studio, in which he keeps his drums, a tiny keyboard, an amplifier, two pedals (one of his own, the other borrowed) and an electric bass pedal. There is still another room, a sort of office in which there are three desktop computers (those with a beige monitor) and on the wall, a stream of family portraits. Many papers lying everywhere.
The living room: three old sofas -those that were considered rather elegant in the 50’s- silver, gold, ornate… and a black leather armchair whose seats have already sunk. But he sat there.
Virtually no one eats in that house, the kitchen is only there as decoration… or is it still a “kitchen” if no longer used? What if its human usefulness is lost in the past? What if nobody needs nor seeks it? What if it is no longer functioning as a kitchen? And the dining room as a silent witness, completely forgotten about. That’s indeed the feeling caused by the entire house: the sensation that it’s just half-inhabited.
His material was piled up in the garage; his mother decided to put it there so as to have space for a family party that took place the previous weekend. He says that his designs are pop-surrealist. He studied film, but likes to draw, and devoted himself to drawing. He’s got a pile of movies in his room, all jumbled and scattered, but there they are. Also scattered throughout the house you can find some toys that belong to his nephew, who goes to play with him in the evenings, every now and then.
All his family used to live in this house, but some years ago they decided to buy a neighbour’s property, and that’s the place now inhabited by his mom, dad, aunt and nephew. Thus, his only companion is his brother. According to the neighbours, witchcraft practices and rituals with chickens took place in Hotel Kamarón’s house; they did have a chicken coop on the roof.
He begins his day at 8:30 am. He has breakfast at his parents’ house (cereal most of the times). Hence, he parts with his dad and brother to work. By car, they get to the garage in 15 minutes; they repair, sell and build parts of radiators. A family business that has been operating for many years now. In the living room there are photos of a trip taken by his parents to Rome; his dad likes to take photos, he practices it and does it well, with all the rigor of the technique. According to Hotel Kamarón, this is due to the fact that he is a chemical engineer; but apart from that, the trip was a dream that his father managed to fulfill.
By the way, we should ask to ourselves who we are interviewing. Is it Emilio Orestes having cereal in Hotel Kamarón? When I first heard Hotel Kamarón, I imagined a kind of seedy hotel with a tropical touch: fresh, small, narrow, famous, popular, busy, friendly, where you can have a good time, spend the night or the day or the time. But something is for sure: where they make incredible shrimp cocktails… or maybe not, and that’s another story.
At 2 o’clock he has an hour for lunch. Sometimes walking, sometimes by car, depending on where he goes to, but normally he walks. Maybe he chooses the market, where he has some gut and suadero tacos (a combination he made up), or a cheap restaurant, where he can have a complete menu. There are also occasions in which the workload does not give him time to go out to eat, and he prefers to send an employee to buy some burgers that he and his brother highly recommended. The latter also spent some time at home the day of our brief encounter, but we hardly had the chance to talk with him. The same way of looking, the same face at the end of a sentence… a gesture so as not taking the matter very seriously, satirical, but subtle.
To keep a long story short, let’s state that at two, he does not only eat, for he takes the concept of break seriously. Thus, he says he likes a “train” before eating -a nice touch in the park- and once he’s back, he feels as if anything. And if he goes to the flea market, he looks for a fellow who sells movies at 12 pesos. Or he might chat with the taco vendor. And then he leaves. Back to work. And about 6, he finishes his shift and goes home. And from then on, time is devoted to cultivate the conceptual artist living within him: Whether practicing with the electronic drums, writing or drawing.
He’s got an experimental rock band called Fukk the Beetles: his brother is the lead singer, his cousin plays the guitar and he plays the drums. Like Sonic Youth and Primus. He has also done performances: once he walked among strangers, wearing nothing but a diaper, asking people to write or paint on his skin.
He believes it is important to have an alternative name because it serves as protection, since there are people capable of casting
MARGARITA CRUZ
Margarita Cruz is 61 years old. She was born in Chile but has lived in Mexico for forty years; her ex-husband -Anthar- is Mexican, as well as her three children: Marucia, Tahína and Sayil. Her subjectivity is constructed along two axes: firstly, being a mother; secondly, being an artist who expresses herself by means of the music and the work with seeds. Her two daughters live in Spain; one of them is about to give birth to her second child. Her son, a guitar professor and musician, lives with his girlfriend. Margarita shares her house with her dog, Sonja; she entirely owns her time, since she has rejected several administrative works because they don’t satisfy her creative appetite. On stage, singing Lucha Reyes or Violeta Parra’s songs, she gives herself over to the audience. But she hardly lets anyone, apart form her family, break into her home. However, she opened the doors and allowed us to record her morning: waking up, combing her hair, having tomato -her favourite vegetable- for breakfast and watching old soap operas. Then, she chooses between working on one of the unfinished necklaces made of seeds or carrying on with the composition of her latest song, Vampiro medieval. She claims that, at her age, she is no longer ashamed of being true to herself, without any kind of mask. She gave examples of how this applied in the case of food: she always warns her hosts that she cuts spaghetti with a knife and fork, and then eats it with a spoon. She also states that we shouldn’t give up or remain quiet, that we must raise our voices against injustice. Margarita has some suicidal ideas, since she doesn’t want to end up hospitalised or being a burden for her children. She loves nature and the countryside; the peasant spirit was acquired from her mother, while the taste for art was her father’s legacy.
