Postcard from El Mariachi

Date: March 20th, 2023

Time: 5:11 pm
Location: Amherst, Virginia

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
El Mariachi is a Mexican- themed restaurant located in Amherst, Virginia. The restaurant is
approximately eight minutes away from Sweet Briar college. Sweet Briar College is a gorgeous college
with an amazing community. However, it is indeed a predominantly white school. This was my first
year at Sweet Briar as a first year student studying Archaeology. It was my first time being away from
my loud Salvadoran family for the first time. El Mariachi became a sanctuary where I could go when I
felt desperately homesick. It wasn’t necessarily the same, it was a Mexican themed restaurant, not
Salvadoran. But the employees made the place shine with welcoming smiles and loud laughter. The
simple bustling of fast talking Spanish, and the familiar jokes was an enormous relief. My ears felt
fulfilled when I could hear my relatives in the language being spoken. I could finally feel like I was
allowed to breathe. I love my college, especially the friends I had made and my new found
independence. But I couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling at night that something was missing.
The year before, I had worked in a company in Maryland, where it was exclusive to talk in
constant Spanish. I had an incredible time working because it connected to my distant roots of my
background. I grew up Americanized, due to learning English for school. As a child, I never wanted the
black bean soup my mom made. Instead, my little heart always jumped for a Mcdonalds Happy Meal.
After the pandemic, I grew connected with my family by spending my majority of time with them. I
started to crave for the things I ran away from. Instead of the normal sandwich of Chick- fil- a, I ran for
the stinky Salvadoran cheese with tortilla. Throughout my senior year, I noticed my Spanish becoming
better and better by the day. I never stopped my determination to go to Sweet Briar, but I got nervous.
What if I felt disconnected from my heritage? What happens if I start ignoring it again? I put these
questions on the back of my brian until it would bubble to the surface. It would come up during the
second month of my first year of college. I would talk to my family on the phone, but I missed
interacting in-person with my hispanic culture. Everytime I went to Madison Heights Walmart, I was
met with older white couples staring at me. I never tried to make assumptions, but I would feel eyes
digging into my back. I decided to go on a drive when I started feeling homesick, I took the left to go
through Amherst. Then suddenly, I saw El Mariachi’s sign and decided to turn into the parking lot. I
started to get anxious because it was an actual restaurant. I was the only customer going in saying, “for
one please”.
But when I sat down, a small Guatemalan waitress, with thick black hair, walked towards me to
ask for my order. It was incredible the joy I felt seeing someone else that looked similar to me. Until this
moment, I had been around the same blond hair and blue eyes. The waitress' face simply gave me love
for my own features. Like the darkness of her hair emphasized the tone of her skin. Her height gave me
a giggle because she couldn’t have been taller than 4’8. It reminded me how my mom was short, but
looked sturdier than metal. The waitress was serious, but respect still remained in her eyes. She left with
my menu, and I stayed in my seat, simply observing. The restaurant had a big aura with bright colors,
and passionate loud football games playing on the tv. I was brought back into reality by a fraction of
orange light . I noticed a different behavior in myself in El Mariachi. I instantly felt a weight off.
When I first entered to sit down, it was like taking your backpack off from school. I felt like I was
home.
It suddenly caught my attention, the earrings on one of the waiters. It was an inspired Central
American earring I had seen back in El Salvador. The waitresses looked at me, and gave me a smile so
affectionate it made me smile automatically. After the first five visits to El Mariachi, she and I would
start talking, at first simple things. We would talk about our favorite foods, including fruit. My choice
was grapes, and her favorite was mangos, especially from her home country. I would learn throughout
the visits that her name was Karen. She was from Nicaragua, and she had only been in Lynchburg since
moving from there for three months.
I came to El Mariachi on a particular day, alone. Karen was working and she gave me a smile as
I walked in. It was close to their closing hours, so there was barely anyone there. This gave Karen the
opportunity to sit down for half an hour. We started talking about random topics, but mostly about
home. We talked about both of our journeys to coming to the United States. She said her main
motivator was her children. Karen smiled, and talked about her baby son and daughter. Her smile
dropped a little when she talked about her baby boy. The choice to leave him in Nicaragua was for the
best, especially for a small baby. She chose to bring her daughter because she was at a good age to learn
English. It was especially heartbreaking to see her mention her little boy. Karen would talk about silly
habits her son would do. She mentioned smiling , “ he always will start giggling when they change his
diaper”. Between our chat, she would get up to clean or start packing up. I started to leave, but she
insisted I stay for one more plate of fries. It felt like I was at my Aunt's house back home,her cooking
for family dinner.
We talked more about her son and how she felt like she had abandoned him. Karen said she
desperately missed him, but she could barely afford to live with her daughter here. I felt for her, I knew
the feeling of guilt of leaving someone back home. It still stings when I remember my mom crying
while dropping me off at college. She had me to help her with work and the kids. What would she do
without me? It really inspired me to keep going with my days. Karen had left her entire known system
and child for her opportunities. I had seen her get instantly panicked when someone said an English
word she didn't know. Karen knew English, but only a few restaurant phrases. It was impressive the
way she could use cues to understand what people wanted. After seeing Karen, I would be more
involved and have a fueled passion for my studies. How could I complain about school when Karen
had to wake up at five? How could I groan when Karen couldn’t see her own son giggling in the
morning. The most touching thing was when we started talking about the difference in South
America. We talked about the difference between the bright and sunny skies in our countries. Even the
subject that everyone in Central America was so noisy. We laughed how no one could leave their house
without greeting one person. It was nice to see recognition of aspects of my identity again. I started to
leave, but we deluged into a deeper discussion of our feelings.
I asked if she ever feels overwhelmed with her job, she smiled and smiled. Karen’s face would
never morph into a face of sarcasm. The best way to describe her expression was simply at peace. She
would respond while staring out the window, “I think I feel overwhelmed all the time,”. My response
was so struck by her answer. I had never expected that from someone who was so sweet and optimistic.
Her face always seemed the happiest, but she held such deep emotions. We said our goodbyes, and I
kept rewinding Karen's responses throughout the night. I couldn’t stop thinking about her courage to
come all the way here. She had to miss so much so she could gain more in the future. I started to call
my relatives to gain some perspective. I called my mom first, because she is obviously number one. I
asked her how she experienced coming here. My mom is a very special woman, not even because she's
my mom, but her work ethic. She came from the streets of El Salvador and created her own franchise of
delivery packaging. My mom actually gave me the opportunity to work in the company to gain
experience. When I asked about how she deals with her anxiety, she responded, “keep moving”. I
laughed, I knew she would say something to that kind of sentiment. I was giggling and asked what
happens when one gets tired. Her exact words were, “ HA! Sweetie baby, with that mentality you ain’t
getting nowhere”. I giggled but noticed how my mom and Karen were similar in the aspects of
determination. They felt their emotions so deeply, but were able to focus on their future.
In the beginning of the year, I had felt tremendously guilty. I had left my mom and my siblings
to fend for themselves in work and school. Yet, talking to these strong women motivated me to think
about it in a different way. I was a part of a lineage of strong women who were able to get their dreams
through work and patience. I was becoming the first college educated female for my family in central
Virginia. The amount of knowledge and experience I have gained would have never been possible if I
stayed. The feelings come and go, but actions always stay concrete. It motivated me to put my heart
and soul into finishing the work and going to class. After the interview , I would be accepted into a
study abroad program in Oxford, England . I was excited, but what if I failed? What if I missed my
family? It would be all white scholarly people telling me things I didn;t know. But, I was met with
memories of Karen's face at peace and my mom’s laughter. I most definitely needed to go. Was I still
tremendously scared and anxious? Yes. But the opportunity would lead to my dreams coming true.
Even in the smallest of places, the inspiration and courage still comes about from true heroes, like
Karen.