Gustavo Rojo Dot Com

After I graduated from high school in 1995 I decided that I would go live in Mexico and enroll in medical school at the Universidad de Guadalajara. I was living with my grandparents in a small ejido called El Gobernador or how everyone calls it, “El Rancho.” The move wasn’t a difficult one because I knew most of the people of this small community because my parents accustomed traveling to Mexico about once a year. It was always good seeing familiar faces and catching up with my childhood friends. The strangeness of this trip was that I was staying with my maternal grandparents. It seemed like I knew them but I really didn’t. The first few weeks were great. I was never home. I was either working en las labores during the day or de parranda during the night. I never had the typical grandparent/grandchild relationship with my abuelos. I hardly even knew them. This trip helped me bridge the gap. My abuelo was always a respected figure in the community. He was also very strict with the family and very formal in the upbringing of my mom and her fourteen brothers and sisters. My mom would always tell us that when she was growing up my abuelo was very hard on her. It was normal for him to hit her with a belt or even a electric cord for the slightest thing. She tells us that she grew accustomed to the beatings. What she could not stand though, was when my abuelo hit my grandmother (abuelita). It seemed as though every time at lunch time my abuelita would tell me an interesting family story that would just blow me away. I came to realize that many of my aunts and uncles had their fair share of mischievous adventures. She told me that one day when my mom was about 10, she was told to call my uncle who was about 8 years old at the time, and tell him to go to lunch. My uncle E. was on a horse, and refused to budge unless my mom held on the horse’s reign and guided it home. My mom obliged but somehow her hair got tangled up in the horse’s headgear, which spooked the horse. My uncle E. was unable to do anything and the horse began to gallop and in the process dragged my mom by the hair for several yards. If it wasn’t for an adult that happened to be in the vicinity, who knows what might have happened. To this day my mom tells us that she was more scared of what my abuelo was going to say or do than the actual incident that had taken place.
Growing up in a large family created an interesting situation for the offspring. We happened to have many cousins that were of the same age. Consequently, my cousins tended to be my best friends. When I was younger I liked to spend the night at my cousin H’s house. We would always invent games on Friday nights and wake up extra early to watch Saturday morning cartoons. We usually laid on the living room floor watching TV until noon time. This day was different. My uncle E. (H’s dad) was arguing with my aunt. My older cousin M. must have noticed something and she told us to get up immediately and go to her room. As we walked to her room I noticed that los tios were going to their bedroom continuing their discussion. Before I entered M’s room I looked back and I saw my uncle hit my aunt in the face with his fist. I never told anyone nor did I ever stay over again.
To be continued.