I first met Don Lupe Carrera when his daughter Saida brought me to their house, to introduce me to her family. She was a curious 9 year old girl, and had come down to where I was leading a group of volunteers from Austin building classrooms in the local primary school. The fact that most of the volunteers didn’t speak Spanish did not seem to deter her at all. After all, she did not speak English either. But she soon had made friends with a couple of the volunteer girls and women, and was doing her part working right beside them.

It was my habit to look around the worksites when I was running a project, and make a note of the local folks who were actually working with us. That did not include the ubiquitous groups of local boys who were gazing at the American teen age girl volunteers, hoping to find a way to impregnate them. The boys never worked, they just stared. And hoped. Having made note of the workers, I would make the effort to go and speak with them, and make sure that they knew they were invited to eat lunch and dinner with the rest of the volunteers. It was at lunch that day that I finally had the chance to talk to Saida. She was such a precocious girl, and before long, we were eating sandwiches and laughing. She had a lot to say, and in listening to her, I found myself wanting to have a good friendship with her. She had an ironic sense of humor, and I love irony. Even in Spanish. At the end of lunch, as she was getting back to work, she invited me to come to her house and meet her family after the work had stopped for the day.

About 4:30, I called a halt to the work, and as the volunteers went back to the cheap hotel we were staying in, and took showers to get ready for dinner, I walked along with her down the dirt road to her house. It was a house made of cement blocks, with the second floor under progress, and a plywood room sticking off the back of it. A handsome but tired looking man was just climbing down the ladder from the second floor, where he had been laying blocks for the walls. He looked startled to see his daughter walking in the front gate with an American man.

Saida: Papa, come over and meet Sam, the man who is building classrooms in the primary school.

Me: Hello senor. My name is Sam.

Lupe: Hi, my name is Lupe Carrera.

We shook hands, and he opened the front door, and invited me in. He went into the back room to wash the cement dust off, and left me standing with Saida in the living room. There was a mom, and three other girls sitting around the room. I walked over to the mom, and knelt down and introduced myself. I knelt, because in Africa I had learned that to show respect to someone new, you would always keep your eyes lower than the person that you were meeting.

Me: Hello senora, my name is Sam, and your daughter Saida has been working with my volunteers all day in the hot sun.

The mom: Hello, my name is Lupe.

Me: Lupe? You have the same name as your husband!

She smiled and nodded. I had never come across a married couple with the same name before. I turned to the three other girls with a smile.

Me: How many of you are also named Lupe?

They giggled.

Saida: None of them are named Lupe. This is Tania, and Nallely, and the baby Alicia.

I seriously shook hands with each of them, and said each time, So pleased to meet you Tania. Nice to meet you Nallely. Hello Alicia. They were kind of shy, but giggled as I shook their little hands with my big calloused one. I turned back to the mom, and told her about my volunteers and what we were doing, and how Saida had worked as hard as my volunteers, and how I was proud of her, and very happy to have her help. In those days, my Spanish was just awful. Even so, Lupe the mom seemed to understand me, and smiled and was very gracious.

I had to give them kudos. A complete stranger who didn’t speak very good Spanish, had just walked right into their house and chatted them up. They took it well. I had grown accustomed to doing exactly this many times as a teacher in Africa. It didn’t bother me to be the different one in a crowd. We chatted about this and that, how old the girls were, and in what grade in school. I could see from the expression on Lupe the moms face, that she was very curious about how her 9 year old daughter had come to know this stranger, and had decided to bring him right into their house. But she was a gracious woman, and would wait until I left to grill her daughter on the details. I had seen this many times in Africa as well.

The girls were each one more beautiful than the other. From the energy, it seemed that Lupe the mom was the person in charge of the family, The girls were affectionate and respectful with her. Watching how kids are with an adult, tells you a lot about the adult. I was liking Lupe the mom just fine.

Lupe the dad came back looking no less tired, but refreshed from his ablutions. By then, I was sitting with the girls on the sofa, two on one side, and ona on the other, and Saida was sitting on the arm of her mom’s armchair. Lupe the dad pulled a chair from the dining table, and sat down near me. We had been laughing from the jokes I was cracking in my awful Spanish.

Lupe the dad and I went through the things I had told his wife about who I was and why I was in Mexico. He was a very calm man, though his Spanish was rapid fire, and I had to scramble to be able to understand enough of his Spanish to give a response to show I was understanding him. I obviously failed a couple of times, because he would get a confused look on his face, and momentarily the conversation would stop. I glanced at the girls, and they looked confused too. I guess my Spanish was even more awful than I thought.

Nonetheless, Lupe the dad and I passed an hour getting to know each other. He worked at a local maquilla, the factories that the USA and other countries build in Mexico to take advantage of the cheap labor. He worked 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, and on sundays, spent his time building more on their house. The girls were very affectionate with their dad, and I came to respect him because of how the family dynamics were. It was a delightful hour, in spite of my gaffes, and when I got up to leave, so that I could get the volunteers ready and to the restaurant where we were eating, I reminded Saida that, with her dad’s permission, she was also invited to eat with us. She demurred, preferring to eat with her family, and I took my leave.

I did not see them again until 6 months later, at the next project down there. Saida was there again on the project, and we were building yet another classroom in the school. I talked to my partner in the project, Rob, and told him that I was ducking out on the dinner, and asked him to handle it without me.

I sent Saida home early, and asked her to tell her family that I was taking them all out to dinner at Los Arreglados, my favorite restaurant in Rio Bravo. Los Arreglados means “The Fixers”. They only sold two things. They had a plate that had 6 small corn tortilla tacos with carne asada, (roast beef), salsa and cilantro and half a lime, or you could get a baked potatoe. (Yes, I know it has no e, but since Dan Quail, I have always spelled it like that.) It was not just a baked potatoe, it was the most enormous baked potatoe you have ever seen. They would bake them, and then scoop the potatoe out of the skin, and mix it with butter, and whip it into a light fluffy potatoe mush, and put it back in the skin. Then you could get carne asada chopped on top. And sour cream. Chopped onions if you wanted. And the ubiquitous cilantro, and jalapenos chopped up if you were brave. Then they would shovel a mound of grated cheddar cheese over all. Best of all, they would serve a big bowl of Pico de Gallo on the table, so I could ladle spoonfuls of it on my potatoe and mix it in. It was hot, flavorful, and a terrific meal in a potatoe skin. Served with a cold coke, or an apple soda. Yummity yum yum! I tried to go there at least once whenever I was in town.

We seven arrived at Los Arreglados, and pushed three tables together and sat down. There was a small flat screen TV on the wall, and it had La Lucha playing. La Lucha is the Mexico version of Big Time Wrestling. It was comical to see the wrestlers doing their bragging thing in Spanish. We all ordered Papas Especiales (special potatoes) except Tania and Saida, who had the tacos. We talked and laughed, and ate potatoes and drank soft drinks, and made fun of the wrestlers for about two hours. I got up to pay the bill, (only about $30 for all seven of us), and I left a big tip.The owners had seen me with other Americans several times before, but after that night they would always call out, “Hola Samuel!” whenever I came in. It was a fun night, and the camaraderie that I felt when dropping them off at their house was great.

I always took time to visit with them whenever I was in Rio Bravo. I felt welcome in their home. A year or so later, I drew up a rough plan for some stairs to get up to the second story of their house, which was almost finished, and I went to Home Depot and bought the lumber, and took it down to Rio Bravo with me. I got there a couple days before the project started, and unloaded the lumber in their front yard, and got out my tools. I arrived about the time school got out, and soon was surrounded by Lupe the mom, and the 4 girls. It was difficult for Lupe the mom to climb the ladder to the second floor, and I was about to make her access easier. I measured and calculated, and as usual, math failed to provide an understandable solution, so I fell back on the SWAG method that I always use for carpentry. (Scientific Wild Ass Guess) It was scientific, so it never failed me like math. I laid out the boards, and made a plan to build stairs that would fit in the small space beside the house where the ladder was.

As I started cutting, Lupe the dad got home from work. He pitched right in, and before long, we had the rough stairs set up, and were screwing the boards together. I never asked permission to build the stairs. It was probably rude for me to just assume that they would be ok with my plan, but not a word was said, so we worked until dark, and had the stairs built and ready to erect. As the last light was fading, Lupe the dad and I grunted and heaved, and hoisted the heavy assembly into place. They were steep, but much better than the ladder. Then we all climbed the stairs and wandered around the second floor, which was two rooms with a common door. Even Lupe the mom was able to climb up without too much effort. And Tiana, the family chihuahua climbed up too. I think she was happier than anybody, having been unable to climb the ladder and having had to sit at ground level while her family was upstairs.

Saida was in middle school, her last year, and wanted to go to high school in the coming year. She and I were talking about it, and she was doubtful that her dad could squeeze out the money for her tuition. I asked her why she wanted to go to high school, and she replied that she wanted to have a good enough education that she could go out and get a decent job afterwards. That was all it took, and I offered to pay for her tuition, if she would work hard, and get good grades. She agreed, and we shook hands, and the next year, I started giving her the money for her tuition and books. And bought her uniform and knee socks and school shoes. Again, I never asked permission. I am an autonomous guy, and frankly it never occured to me that it would be a problem. And it wasn’t.

She was doing well in school, and the following year, the next youngest sister, Tania, came of age to enter high school. I asked what her plans were, and she said, “I want to be a nurse.” Cool. A girl who actually thought ahead to what she wanted to do.So I made the same promise with her as I had made with Saida, that as long as she wanted to study, and got good grades, I would pay for it.

I got in the habit of bringing my little propane grill to Mexico with me, and I would buy Chicken breasts marinated with teriyaki, from my local grocery store, HEB, the greatest grocery store in the United States. And one of the nights that I was running the project, I would go by the Carreras, and cook chicken, and they would cook up some beans, and tortillas, and we would sit and have pleasant repasts together.

I don’t remember when it happened, but sometime in Tanias first year in high school, the Lupes started calling me compadre. Which means, co-parent. And I truly was. I had complete freedom with their girls.I would sit and talk to them every time I came to Rio Bravo, and ask about their classes, and look at their report cards. It was a rare position I was in, and I treasured it. I would get there in the afternoon, and after hearing what the girls had to say about school, I would sit with them, and Lupe the mom, and tell stories of my life. Lupe the dad would get home, and after dinner we would sit and talk about life.

I felt like I was really a part of their family. I would just walk right in, like it was my house. They always welcomed me, and the girls would run out when my truck pulled up, and hug me as I got out. The Lupes never mentioned anything about my actions with their girls. They often would sit and listen to me talking with the girls, and smile. I usually sat on the couch, and each girl would come and sit by me, and answer my questions about school, and tell me their opinions about things. Nothing was ever said about the money I was giving them for tuition.

In return, since he didn’t have to pay their tuition, Lupe the dad worked hard and used his spare money on building a nice house for them. He bought cabinets and made a nice kitchen. He plumbed in a bathroom and shower. They were the least dysfunctional family I had ever been a part of. Lupe the dad was so different from the other Mexican men that I knew. He didn’t buy beer with his money, at the expense of food for the family and the electric bill, like most of the other colonia dads did. There was always food for them to eat. And clothes when they needed them. He really treasured his family. My respect for him grew and grew. He was like the brother that I never had.

Saida ran off and got married after high school, and moved to the states and had some kids. Tania studied very hard, and became a nurse. 

I remember one night when I was with Alicia, the youngest, then in high school, and I had gone to the hotel to get a room for the night, and she got a text from Tania, who was doing an internship in the Hospital near the hotel. I told her to have Tania walk to the hotel, and we would order dinner from the restaurant in front of the hotel, and they would send it to my room. Tania arrived, and then the food arrived, and I asked Tania how her internship was going. She was very excited, and told us how she had learned that day how to put a catheter in. You grab the… um… you know, and you lube up the catheter, and then slide it right in. Well, she put it in more detail. I glanced at Alicia, and she was green, and looking queasy. I had to laugh. Tania was so excited with everything she was learning. Alicia had not thought about such a thing before.

When Tania graduated from Nursing School, I was there with my pink shirt and Sam-I-am-Green-Eggs-and-Ham necktie, and Lupe the dad put his arm around me.

Lupe the dad: Compadre, look what we have done.

Me: Yes, Compadre, it is a wonderful thing to see a girl realize her dreams.

I realized that I had made a friend for life. A truly good man in a world where there are not a lot of them. And I was thankful to have him as my friend.

Don Lupe Carrera.  

If a man is known by the company he keeps, I am happy to be known as Lupe Carreras compadre.