Christianity – Page 3

From that most vertical of cities, NY, to one of the most horizontal, LA…

I know it conjures up images of celebrities and Hollywood to some, but to me LA is what the moon would look like if ever it were colonised. Something about the scrubby hills and the endless yet low-lying sprawl that’s sprouted despite the odds (desert, earthquakes, fires, etc), overlaid by a massive set of tentacles (freeways) that seem somehow wildly malevolent. A desolate place in other words, save for the thousands of impossibly tall palm trees (how do they not fall down?) that soften the landscape immeasurably and bring to mind Hawaii…

Anyway, LA.

To be honest, other US cities like Chicago, Memphis and Miami drew me far more. But I suspected they’d be easier pickings – oddly enough, considering my weariness at 10 months in, I was up for a challenge. LA was it.

Those other cities also didn’t have Fiona, a dear friend of mine as well as provider of accommodation, gratis – a not unimportant consideration given my rapidly shrinking budget (thanks Fi!).

Aside from that, I was interested in finding out a little more about Mexican culture before we hit the real thing; LA was once Mexican territory and still has an enormous Mexican population. Considering I know zilch about their world I thought by visiting LA I could avoid landing in Mexico City in a few months time completely clueless.

Hence my choice for week number one here – a very Mexican neighbourhood called Boyle Heights, just east of LA’s downtown.

Some facts: Like all of LA, the area was originally populated by Native American tribes before becoming part of the Spanish Empire in 1542, Mexico in 1821 and finally America in 1848. Named after an Irishman, Andrew Boyle, it’s had a number of different cultures pass through it since then (including Jewish and Japanese) but today the area is overwhelmingly working class Hispanic/Latino – Mexican Americans (Chicanos and Chicanas), Mexican immigrants, and Central American residents.

Seat belt on? Let’s cruise…

Part 1: Play it again Juan

While NY felt overwhelmingly black to me, LA’s population of almost four million (18 million in the Greater Los Angeles Area) is almost half Latino – and getting more so by the day.

A huge percentage of those live and work in Boyle Heights and East LA, including the musicians we met on the main drag, Cesar E Chevez Avenue.

They were the first thing that caught my eye on our first drive there last Monday – men in Stetsons sitting on a bench surrounded by accordions, guitars and woah, a double bass?

As soon as I could find a park we whipped back to see what the deal was. Tricky given that most of the guys didn’t speak much English (and I speak even less Spanish). But from what I could gather they were waiting for people to drive past and hire them for between $150-$200 an hour. Either that or they’d hit the local restaurants at lunch and dinner, playing for loose change from those enjoying their enchiladas.

They seemed like lovely guys (who doesn’t love a man who can play an instrument?) but I felt kind of sorry for them. When I asked them, do you like LA, they all said absolutely. But it can’t be easy; given the tough times, how many people are prepared to fork out for live music?

Juan on accordian and Ismael on Bajo Sexto guitar :: 1

Juan on accordian and Ismael on Bajo Sexto guitar :: 2

Cesar on tololoche, from El Salvador

“I decorated it myself”

may you and your tololoche be blessed with many open wallets

minimalist, not

Mexican waves

Part 2: Chicano power

It was a very different experience the next time we visited the neighbourhood, when we met a few American born and bred descendents of Mexican immigrants – called Chicano/Chicana. While they speak fluent English and sound like any other Angeleno, Chicanos are hugely proud of their Mexican heritage and aware of the struggles their families have been through and still face.

This was at Estrada Courts, a public housing estate in Boyle Heights that I’d heard had a handful of significant murals relating to the Chicano Movement in the 70s, when Mexican Americans united to end the discrimination against them and improve their political and economic rights.

Coco and I were checking out one of the murals when 18 months old Ashley tottered up to us. Her mum’s cousin, the delightful Omar, then took us and Ashley around the estate to look at his favourite murals.

yeah, what he said – Ashley and Omar in front of ‘We are NOT a minority’ Che Guevara mural

a fantasy of flight?

the next generation of Chicanas and Chicanos

Omar’s other favourite mural

watching Coco do cartwheels

By the time we’d seen them all, the strong LA light was starting to fade and it was time to hit the road. I don’t know how the subject came up but Omar told me that there were gangs in the area and that, yes, some of the members probably lived in Estrada Courts, and that, yes, they would’ve been watching me – but that if they were going to do something, it would’ve already happened.

Gangs in LA, okay, sure (this is after all the ‘gang capital’ of America with 450 of them scattered around the place). But gangs in the neighbourhood we were standing in? Cripes.

Part 3: Weird and wonderful

“Well, I call her a witch.”

34 year old Mexican American, Yisel, was telling me about Hortencia, the woman inside Botanica Sagrado Corazon, one of a handful of ‘spiritual shops’ along Boyle Heights’ main drag, Cesar E Chevez Avenue, that I stuck my head into on our last visit to the neighbourhood.

She was there with her wife – “wife, partner, friend, you know, depends who I’m talking to” – for a “cleansing”. “Yesterday I came here to see Hortencia for a tarot reading ‘cos someone busted my car window and I wanted to know who it was. Then Hortencia told me I needed a cleansing for bad energy that’s blocking me in my life. I had to rub my body with lemon, egg, a white candle and flowers, then wash with this nice smelling oil. Then you write your name and birth date on the egg, lemon and candle. Now I’m back for more.”

Witch? Cleansings? White candles? I didn’t have a clue what it all meant but I loved how this tough born and bred East LA Angeleno, tattooed to the hilt and proudly gay and Chicana, was so into what I assumed was ancient Mexican spirituality. We talked outside the shop while she waited her turn to see Hortencia – there’s always a queue to see Hortencia – about LA and her life. “My dream? To leave my job as a food production assistant at a school and get a well paid job so I can support my wife and her four daughters. Maybe at the jail – the pay is good. But I keep getting turned down. That’s why I’m here, to clear the blockages.”

Yesil, here for a 'cleansing' from Hortencia

Yesil, waiting to see the “witch”, Hortencia

“It’s pretty weird, you have to rub yourself with lemon, egg and a white candle”

inside Hortencia’s healing room

While Yesil was waiting, she explained what the various soaps in the shop were meant for. There were soaps to make people follow you or love you or whatever.

for example, to dominate a man like Louis, you need to use this soap

“I pray for the blockages in my life to be removed”

Speaking of blockages, I wondered if anyone ever came to Hortencia and asked to be saved from LA’s horrendous traffic. Probably not – I suspect the clogged freeways are above any sort of divine intervention.

not even she can save you from LA traffic

Before I left Hortencia’s shop I asked Yesil for her phone number so I could check back and see how her cleansing went – I’ll update you next week with any news.

“to me LA stands for unity, hope and beauty”

Part 4: Our Lady of Guadalupe and other passions

Our Lady of Guadalupe is Mexico’s ‘it’ girl – the Virgin Mary with streams of light radiating out behind her. She’s everywhere in Boyle Heights and East LA, from churches to shops and garage doors.

floral border

Our Lady of Guadalupe – she’s everywhere, from churches to garage doors

potential life changers

Aside from Our Lady of Guadalupe, there are loads of other painted images in Boyle Heights, ranging from the utilitarian to the political.

doing the shopping – for the practical vs the spiritual

that looks so good

bred from tough stuff – Eileen

And lastly, a few more images from around the neighbourhood, because I like them…

after dancing they always went to George’s

let’s go drivin’

Part 5: Random walls, fences and a freeway

fun and games

6pm, somewhere in East LA

no lawn but lots of palm trees

little Latino League

the calm before the storm

The Wrap

If Boyle Heights is anything to go by, I think I’m going to love Mexico City. The musicians, the pride, the Hortencias (yes, I did get a tarot reading myself – all good but Hortencia told me to watch out for a “Negro woman” and a “short, wide man”.)

And my ‘introduction to Mexico’ worked a treat. Above all I learned that I need to brush up on my Spanish and that really, I should steer clear of beans.

a Chicano, a Chicana and a Coco

On the ‘home front’

It was a wrench leaving NY I have to say (and while I’m at it, to our friends in NY who were incredibly generous with their hearts and homes – Chris, Mary K, Bill and their kids, as well as Craig, Anna and their small ones – many thanks!).

But LA is warm and spacious and Coco has kids to play with here too. We’re staying with my good friend Fiona and her family in Pasadena, right at the bottom of the San Gabriel Mountains. A lovely place to come back to after the hours we seem to spend on LA’s freeways, either getting lost or sitting in traffic.

We’ve both been sick with filthy head colds – first Coco, now me. But as soon as my head doesn’t feel like cotton wool we’ll be back on the roads, full of fight and ready to explore our second LA hood, wherever that may be. Until then, adiós!

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This suburb has been brought to you by Eugene

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See you next Monday-Tuesday.

Remember that Billy Joel song from 1980, ‘You may be right, I may be crazy’? To illustrate his being a “lunatic” he sang that he was so crazy he even “walked through Bedford Stuy alone”.

Well, that was over 30 years ago so I assumed, as Coco and I set out to have our own walk around the Brooklyn neighbourhood of Bedford-Stuyvesant – or Bed-Stuy – that things had changed.

My assumption was correct. It’s no longer ‘do or die Bed-Stuy’, famous for crack and crime, but an ‘up and coming’ area attracting a middle class who like the strong community feel – and no doubt the fact that you can rent or buy a beautiful old brownstone here for way less than neighbouring Park Slope.

Before we wander, a quick history… Started out as the village of Bedford, meaning “place where the wise old men meet”. Expanded to include an area called Stuyvesant Heights and the two joined to become Bedford-Stuyvesant. In the 1900s African-Americans migrated here from the South followed by West African and Caribbean immigrants. Long been a centre of black culture – music, art and film (Spike Lee shot various flicks here, including ‘Do the Right Thing’) as well as being active in fighting for equal rights.

Let’s walk…

Part 1: Place of artists and where old men meet

Bed-Stuy may not be as dodgy as it once was but apparently it still isn’t all roses; a 2011 article I read proclaimed that the area still had a highish murder rate and a bad drug trafficking problem. “Best”, it said, “to avoid wandering aimlessly through the neighborhood.”

But aimlessly wander we did. Not down the street a kindly shop owner told us to “steer clear of” – the one with the temporary police tower on the side of the road. But everywhere else across the sprawling neighbourhood.

Didn’t set eyes on a single murderer or drug trafficker. Instead we met perhaps the friendliest community of people we’ve met so far in NY. From singers and wanabee singers to old men chewing the fat…

‘my name is Popula, I’m a rap artist’

soon Popula was so popular they came running to see him from all over the planet

singer Jon E Kash – “my religion? love”

in good company – visual artist, Jeyfree

wanabee artist, Princess – ‘I want to be a dancer, actress and singer’

‘place where the wise old men meet’

chewing the fat, kerbside – Eddie’s Oldsmobile

the cap brigade – Henry, Eddie, Jeff and friends

Part 2: Equal, sort of

On one of our visits to Bed-Stuy we stumbled on a family birthday party for nine year old Arkeen. While Coco busied herself in a game with some of the girls I got chatting to one of the mums, Sa’uda – and somehow we started talking about the issue of racism.

Her grand-mother, who was inside the house with the other family members, had come to the neighbourhood in 1963 as part of the ‘Great Migration’ from South Carolina to escape the segregation and racism down there.

So did racism still exist, almost 50 years later and in enlightened NYC, I asked Sa’uda?

Sa’uda, who works in mental health, told me about the recent case of a 12 year old African-American boy who was innocently mucking around in a junk yard when he was shoved against a wall, hand-cuffed and taken into custody. There were no charges but as a result of the trauma he ended up in a psych unit for a few weeks. He’s only just started to be able to go outside again and still he can’t look at a police officer without breaking into a sweat.

In the South, Sa’uda explained, the segregation is obvious. In NY, it’s not – but yes, it still exists. She told me that mums of black boys have to educate their sons at a fairly young age about the way things are – that they have to behave in a certain way to protect themselves against the racism as best they can.

The congregation from the Seventh Day Adventist Church we met when we explored Crown Heights had all said similar things. But still it shocked me – yes, in the South I’d expect it but in NYC in 2012?

But things were improving, Sa’uda said. Nowadays most of the kids have good self-esteem and question the way things are rather than just accept.

cousins – Arkeen’s birthday party

sadly for kids like Amir, 49 years later it's still a dream

sadly for kids like Khayr, 49 years later it’s still a dream

being black and white in Bed Stuy - activisim vs renovation

being black and white in Bed Stuy – activism vs renovation

there are unequl suspenstion rates in schools- 'racism still exists'

there are unequal suspension rates in schools- ‘racism still exists’

will he ever have true freedom?

Sa’uda struck me as hope personified. She grew up in hard-core East New York, not far from Bed-Stuy. But she took herself off to college on the Upper East Side, a place that many living in her neighbourhood at the time didn’t even know existed. Now she is passing on her positive attitudes to her own children as well as helping kids like the 12 year old – surely with every generation things will improve?

hope

Part 3: Cooking up a storm

Walking along Nostrand Avenue, one of the main streets in Bed-Stuy, we stumbled on a new cafe called Paris Dakar specialising in French crepes. Inside was Thierno, the owner and crepe chef. A quiet man, I only learned his story when his friendly assistant told us… Thierno arrived from Senegal 15 years ago speaking not one word of English. Just two months ago he opened his own cafe and it’s going gang-busters. He supports his immediate family who live here as well as his extended family back home – his mum, aunties etc. – and has done so ever since he arrived in NY. The American Dream come true?

Thierno, an angel to his family

working his way towards the American Dream, one crepe at a time

On another visit we came across a very different scenario, but one that still involved food and commerce. Khem, originally from Jamaica, was smoking out half of Bed-Stuy with his jerk chicken that he sells for $15 a pop. But his neighbours didn’t mind one bit – because Khem’s jerk chicken is worth being smoked out for. I say this with certainty because he gave us a taste of his famous chook – damn fine.

The secret? The Pimento wood he uses to smoke the chicken that comes all the way from Jamaica, and of course his special, secret, magical ‘rub’ – the marinade.

just follow your nose to Khem’s place

working his magic - Khem, the king of jerk chicken

working his magic – Khem and his cauldron of delight

‘the secret ingredient is my rub not the beer’ :: 1

‘the secret ingredient is my rub not the beer’ :: 2

From what I could gather Khem cooks sporadically. But he doesn’t need to tell his neighbours when his chickens are available – the smells wafting over the airwaves do that just fine. They come a-runnin’.

‘my kids love Khem’s chicken’- longtime fan and neighbour, Sandy

the hand of god

BBQs are clearly the go in Bed-Stuy. On another visit we met fellow BBQ-er, Kevin, whipping up some fish for he and his wife, Georgette, who was due home from work any time. There was so much fish on the grill I thought perhaps he was also running a side business like Khem, but no, they were just for he and his wife – “She’s a big eater”.

‘that’s a lot of fish for two people’ – ‘it’s my wife, she eats a lot’

smokin’

Georgette turned up while Kevin and I were chatting. Another incredibly friendly, warm Bed-Stuyer.

‘So Georgette, what’s the secret to happiness?’ – ‘think positive’

Part 4: Sunday in Bed-Stuy

Which means one thing – church.

We stuck our heads into the loudest one going – Mount Sinai Cathedral, a Pentecostal church of God in Christ. AKA, loud and lively. I wasn’t allowed to photograph inside but the place was jumping with a full blown band going all out and people dancing behind their pews. I loved the atmosphere but Coco could only stand it for a minute – “Mum, I’m going outside, it’s a bit too loud and crazy for me.”

When I came back out I noticed one of the ushers, who help people to their seats, looking through the main doors. It was Flossie, a dedicated church member who first visited the church at 25 and is still there 50 years later. When I asked her, does her faith ever waiver, she replied, “Well, when I was younger it did but not anymore. Men don’t always treat you right but the Lord does, always.”

Flossie

‘men will let you down but the Lord will look after you, always’

Flossie outside her beloved church

We left Flossie to her faith and wandered around to see who else we could find.

the Americanisation of Africans as told by hats – from traditional to westernised

and I pray that those women don’t fall off their shoes

The Wrap

To be honest I was keen to explore Bed-Stuy because I’d heard that it had a lovely stock of beautiful brownstones in the section called the Stuyvesant Heights Historic District. But instead of just finding some nice old buildings I found the most amazing community. I swear everyone we walked past – black, white, young, old, professional, working class – they all said hi and smiled. If I had questions, they happily stopped to answer them.

Life may still not be perfect in Bed-Stuy, maybe far from it, but whatever happens they’re all in it together.

two 9 year old Cancerians who both love to dance – Coco and Princess

On the ‘home front’

My head has been swirling this week. I realised as much as I love NY, it’s not going to last us until the end of the project, which is another 18 installments (18!). But where to go? It does depend on budget but I’m thinking a few more North American cities (Chicago, Memphis, Miami) and maybe somewhere in South America (Mexico City or Buenos Aires). I’ve even put Tokyo or Osaka back on the table, having moved on a little from my former worries about the radiation threat.

Anything jump out at you? I was also thinking Hawaii – because all most people know about the place is that it has nice beaches. But then maybe that is all it has…

Anyway, at the same time as all that travelling around the place in my head, Coco and I have had to up sticks a few times this week, leaving our West Village apartment to stay with our lovely friend Chris on the Upper West Side via his gorgeous family in Brooklyn. We need to rest our heads in one place for at least a fortnight before we shuffle off again.

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This suburb has been brought to you by Nicole Lenord and Derek Leddie

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See you next week.

Boyle Heights

Bedford-Stuyvesant

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