COW LEGS AND
CULTURE SHOCK
Or
"Why you probably shouldn't trust me with your children...."


I survived my month of teaching in the Anthropology Lab, had a few blessed days off with Carol (who made a scenic detour on the Road to Rev via Puebla, Veracruz, and Mexico City with me), and then plunged into a new hell. In a moment of weakness and, to be perfectly honest, greed, I agreed to teach for an American program (which shall remain nameless to protect the marginally innocent) that was bringing 180 gifted adolescents to Mexico (for the program's first time). Enter the Culture Shock (cow legs follow shortly...).

I realize that, as an American, I shouldn't experience culture shock when faced with Americans. But I did. Oh and how I did! The program descended, with 180 students and 40-some staff members and brought with it a tidal wave of American culture. And it wasn't the usual American culture you encounter at Mexican universities, the sort that comes with a sort of unwashed backpacker, laid back, take the experience as it comes flavor. Rather, it was more the panicked "The meeting began at 9:00 and it is 9:03, where is everybody!?!?!?!?!?!?!" kind, with a strong seasoning of ice-breakers, role-playing and team-building.

Shudder... I'd forgotten what that can be like here in Mexico!

The first full day of the program was the first of three days of "staff orientation" leading up to the arrival of our students. We spent that first day, eight hours of it, locked in a room "building team spirit" while being lectured on sexual harassment and cultural sensitivity. About 15 of the employees were Mexicans, and the saving grace of the day was the (empathetic) entertainment of watching these poor young Mexicans trying to understand what was going on. At one point, we got a thirty minute lecture (for the benefit of the Mexicans, I imagine) on not using the word "gringo" because it can be offensive.

At the end of this thirty minutes, we were invited to ask questions. One of the Mexicans raised his hand and said, "I don't understand why you have to be offended by everything! I mean, sometimes when somebody says "gringo" they mean it as an insult, but most of the time, we just say it descriptively. All it means is "American." Why can't you just assume we mean it kindly because most of the time we do!"

I sympathized with the young man, but this question got us a 45 minute review of the cultural sensitivity policy followed by another hour of examples of just how hurtful words can be....

At the end of this first day, I came home, crawled into bed, and lay awake all night wondering if it was too late to quit... I decided I couldn't bring myself to walk out on them at this point (and probably I had signed something that wouldn't allow me to do so anyway....). So I stuck it out.

On the second day, we went back for a "nuts and bolts" day of figuring out how things were actually going to run. It was at this point that we were informed that none of us were going to have textbooks for our students. There was mass panic among the instructors. Everybody had planned their classes around having their textbooks and here they were, the day before the students arrived, finding out that the textbooks hadn't arrived and nobody knew when they were going to show up.

I, however, was feeling secretly and insufferably (I'm sure) smug about the entire thing. I wasn't in the least bit surprised the textbooks hadn't shown up, and had planned my class so I could go ahead without them. You see, while I was in the "hiring process," somebody had mentioned to me that they were mailing all the textbooks to Mexico.

Appalled, I said, "You're doing what?"

They explained that they were mailing all the textbooks (about $8000 worth as near as I can calculate) via DHL and, "it'll be fine because DHL is reliable."

I suggested gently that this might not be the most reliable mode of transport for such a vital aspect of the program and explained that, while there is no tax on books imported for personal use, when the large boxes with the high monetary value appeared in customs, somebody there would surely hold onto them and refuse to allow them to pass on. I told them that it was likely that the only way they would actually get the textbooks is if somebody drove to Mexico City with a whole lot of money for bribes.

In horror struck tones, they told me that I was being "overly-judgemental" and "unrealistic" about life in Mexico. After all, how could I possibly know! I just dropped it.

But just amongst us friends and family, I have to say that really, I find it much more culturally offensive to pick up and go off to a foreign country and just assume that everything will run EXACTLY as it does at home. Which brings me back to our first day of orientation. The intriguing thing about our "cultural sensitivity" training was that it was directed entirely at how the Mexicans should make the Americans feel more at home. Nobody, for example, mentioned that it might be polite and prudent for the Americans to dress conservatively when visiting the churches of Puebla. I guess being sensitive to other cultures doesn't extend outside US borders and is, perhaps, less about diversity and more about assimilation.

So, the news about the textbooks made me smile. Petty as it was, I enjoyed the moment.

The textbooks, incidentally, were released from customs on the final day of the program...

Leaving the program aside, the kids were fabulous, and I had a great time working with them. We had a crazy intense schedule of 12-14 hour days in the classroom and on field trips, so we got to spend a lot of time together. Happily, they were a great, enthusiastic group. And even more happily, archaeology lends itself to all sorts of weird, hands on, time consuming activities.

Enter the cow legs! (as well as the part about maybe not wanting to trust me with your children...)

Just before the program started, I was talking to the department chair in Anthropology about it all, and giving her a run down on what the program was about. I told her about the schedule and she said, "Oh, so you need activities that take lots of time!"

And I said, "Yep! Sure do! Any suggestions you have on that front would be most welcome!"

She sat back and thought for a moment. "Well.... I used to do this one activity with the students... For their homework, they'd need to go out and find some broken glass and some river cobbles and a cow leg. Then, they'd come to class, and I'd give them an hour to skin the cow leg with the glass and extract the marrow with the river cobble.... You know, to give them a feel for how hard such things are with primitive tools...."

I was delighted. I loved the idea. Like really LOVED it! My mind started running through the plans I had. We were doing stone tool making in week two... So maybe I'd have the kids make stone tools and then use them to butcher the cow legs?

I ran with it. Much to the horror of the program administration.

Luckily, my cleaning lady's brother works at a slaughter house. So the week before I needed the cow legs, I came home to find my cleaning lady and said, "Uhm, I have a somewhat odd request."

She looked at me expectantly, wondering what the crazy gringa was going to do now!

I explained I needed 6 cow legs.

And she looked relieved and said, "Oh yeah, sure, the plastic ones, right?"

I said, "What? Plastic ones? No, I need cow legs!"

Plastic Cow legs? I was envisioning some strange new lawn ornament in the tradition of the pink flamingo, but weirder....

"Yes, yes," she said patiently, "The plastic ones, the buckets, do you want a red one?"

To this day, I have no idea what we were talking about...

"No, no!" I insisted, "I need the legs of a cow!!! Six of them! Not six cows, but six legs."

"Wait," she said, "You want cow's legs?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, relieved that communication was reestablished.

She looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. She pantomimed a cow walking "So like the cow walks in, moo moo, and then" she pantomimes cutting her own legs off, "they cut. And you want this part?" pointing to her feet.

"Yes!" I exclaim happily. "That is exactly what I need!"

She laughed, harder, I think, than I've ever seen her laugh before and, shaking her head, said, "O.K."

And she came through! The following week, the cow legs were delivered to my house the night before I needed them.

So the next day, I loaded them into the back of my pickup (thanking the heavens that I don't drive something little, sporty, and enclosed--cow legs stink!) and drove to the campus. They sat in the back of the truck all morning in the sun getting good and smelly, and after lunch, I took the kids out to the parking lot and let them choose their cow legs out of a bag.

As you can imagine, with 12 kids between the ages of 14 and 16, there was much screaming, squirming, horror, drama, etc. My teaching assistant and I were laughing so hard, we were doubled over with tears running down our faces. The kids, working in groups of two, took their cow legs over to a grassy area and set to work. Once they discovered just how hard a task this was, overachievers that they all are, they stopped the drama and settled in with serious concentration. They got completely into it and, I think, actually enjoyed the challenge! By the end of their allotted hour, they were joking about how they now understood the attraction of the cult of Xipe Totec (for those not up on Aztec Iconography, he's "Our Lord the Flayed One" and his priests spent their time flaying humans for rituals).

I sent the students back to the classroom, walking across campus with the TA, and drove my truck, the bed of which was full of cow gore, to the nearest dumpster, and then headed back to meet them myself. As I walked up to the classroom, I ran into the academic dean (my boss), who looked at me nervously and said, "All done with the cow legs?"

"Yep!" I said, "They are in the dumpster! Nothing to worry about!"

She smiled and shook her head. I laughed and said, "Really, I'm just trying to make sure you never offer me a job again."

She laughed, hard.

Just then, the kids arrived. Very hyped up. One of them ran up to the dean and I and, vibrating with enthusiasm, said, "Elizabeth! That was the coolest lab EVER!" And went racing into the classroom.

The dean grinned at me and said, "You might want to consider changing your strategy...."

So that was my July. Or most of it anyway. At the end of the month, I waved the kids off with much sadness and waved the program off with feelings of relief and joy! The next day, I hopped on a plane and made a whirlwind tour of the Northeast US. I'm now back in Mexico preparing to teach my fall course (which begins tomorrow). I should get back to my syllabus, but I'll write more soon! (ha!)