It's Winter Solstice . . . |
In the winter, the El Chaparro restaurant looks nondescript on the outside. |
Yesterday’s
winter solstice reminded me of El Chaparro’s Restaurant here in Lincoln,
Nebraska. I was at El Chaparro a
few years ago during solstice. El Chaparro’s is one of the few restaurants in
town that stays open until 2a.m.
On that shortest day of the year, we weren’t sleeping, we didn’t want to
stay home, so we went to El Chaparro.
About the time
we were being served their wonderful tacos and fajitas, I noticed a very large
passenger bus arriving. In a few
minutes, travelers filled up the restaurant quickly and transformed the sleepy,
quiet restaurant into a bustling, chatter and laughter filled space. There was
an air of lightness, of contentment from the travelers. A family of five were seated near our
table. The woman holding a baby
said hello and told us she loved the tacos here. “Where are you going?” I asked her. “Back home. To Mexico.”
I hadn’t really
noticed until she said, “back home . . . Mexico” that everyone looked to me
like familia, like mi tio Pepe, tio Armando, like tia Chala, prima Ana. Everyone was speaking in Spanish and I
suddenly felt like “home” was all around me in the broadest sense of the
word.
The woman kept
rocking the baby and seemed very comfortable talking with us, so I ventured a
more personal question: “Where
were you coming from?” At that point she informed us that the bus’s passengers
were migrants. They had finished
the fall harvesting in Illinois, and Wisconsin. Now they could go home until the spring. When spring comes, she explained, they
take the bus again coming up through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska—with a
stop again right here at El Chaparro.
“And the bus
driver knew to bring you here!” I said.
“Oh yes,” she
laughed. “This is a perfect place to
stop on the way home.”
A perfect place: El Chaparro in Lincoln, Nebraska. Here we are in the middle of the
country, eating at a restaurant owned by a family whose origins are also
Mexican. And the food here is
authentic. The tacos are small
palm-size corn tortillas. They
fill them with chicken, carne asada, chorizo, lengua (tongue), carnitas,
fish. Onion, cilantro, and limes
are also ingredients. When my
mother has come to visit, the first thing she asks for is a taco de lengua from
El Chaparro.
Tacos "Guerrero" style at El Chaparro |
I had come to
this restaurant not only for the food, but because it serves a very diverse
community, and that night, its guests had made the restaurant a rich immigrant
experience. Unlike the usual
restaurant experience where people keep to themselves, here people were holding
conversations between and among many tables. And it wasn’t because they had known each other before. Many had just met as fellow
travelers. One elderly man told me
that he continues to follow the migrant season because he has always loved the
work. Some told me they eventually wantted to stay in the U.S. while others
wanted to return to Mexico for good.
“It’s all about the economy:
what Mexico does, what Norte America does,” said another.
Sandra Sanchez
moved here with her family almost 15 years ago. They immediately set up El Chaparro restaurant after working
for someone else in the California area.
They’ve been very happy here and business is good. Sanchez is one of five sisters and ten brothers. One of those ten brothers, Ruben, led the way in starting the business. The Sanchez family are originally from Guerrero, Mexico—almost 2,000 miles away. And now they have made their home Nebraska. Yet, not all 15 siblings have stayed. Five of them have returned to Mexico. The rest, says Sandra—are very happy here in Lincoln, Nebraska.
Amelia M.L. Montes and Sandra Sanchez at "El Chaparro" restaurant |
They’ve been very happy here and business is good. Sanchez is one of five sisters and ten brothers. One of those ten brothers, Ruben, led the way in starting the business. The Sanchez family are originally from Guerrero, Mexico—almost 2,000 miles away. And now they have made their home Nebraska. Yet, not all 15 siblings have stayed. Five of them have returned to Mexico. The rest, says Sandra—are very happy here in Lincoln, Nebraska.
El Chaparro kitchen area |
“Caminante, no
hay puentes, se hace puentes al andar,” wrote Gloria Anzaldúa. Translation: “Voyager, there are no bridges, one builds them as one
walks.”
So on this
solstice weekend, I salute Sandra and her familia who continue to serve us El
Chaparro’s authentic Guerrero dishes.
And I wish safe travels to the migrants en route to Mexico as I write
these words, as you read them. Longer
days, more light is ahead. Saludos
to you all.
Cactus on side of El Chaparro building |
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