The first time I met Serapio was about ten years ago. Having heard of the community of 'Punta Laguna' from the Maya of nearby Cobá as a place to view monkeys in the wild, I visited. Only Serapio was completely nonplused by my arrival. The presence of non-Maya or, even, Yucatecans, was still an awesome oddity for the people of Punta Laguna. Luckily Serapio, whose Spanish was as severely limited as mine, was a very understanding kind of man.
Aside from very basic clothes, the only manufactured items evident in the community were flashlights, candles, a few plastic bags and bicycle wheels -but no bicycles. Bicycle wheels were used as toys for children who would roll them with sticks while running. Plastic bags were used to conserve dried beans. Candles were necessary as offerings to their god of thunder, lightening and rain: 'Chaac', and flashlights partially relieved the community of their fear of treading on snakes if walking at night.
On one of my first visits, Serapio responded to a gift of a bottle of mustard with:
"I don't know what it is. How do you use it?"
"Well -that's easy, you just wipe it on some bread, and make a ham and cheese sandwich," I thought to myself.
As it immediately occurred to me, that, if Serapio didn't know what a bottle of mustard was, why should he know what a ham and cheese sandwich was? (After all this is 'tortilla' country, not bread country.) I explained instead:
"Paint a pig with it during the last fifteen minutes of barbecuing in place of the 'Tee-keen-cheek' (the Mayas' traditional sauce).
Serapio would later tell me he liked it and wanted more, and as insignificant as that incident seems, a friendship was formed that has enriched us both to this day.
Knowing that I know things that he does not (he did not know, for example, how to open a car door when first invited to enter one), Serapio asked me on a later occasion if I knew of anything that might relieve his family of mosquitoes in his home at night:
"Sure, I'll get you a spray-pump!"
"Gracias!"
Several weeks later, I returned to Punta Laguna with the spray pump. While presenting it to Serapio, it became obvious that Serapio had never seen one before. I carefully demonstrated its use while repeatedly warning that the liquid in its bottle was a flammable poison to be kept away from eyes, nose, mouth, food and, especially, fire -"Just any kind of fire or flame!" He nodded in understanding.
Several weeks later, I had difficulty locating Serapio's home. It seemed to have moved fifteen feet. Although attributing it to how the erratic growth of jungle can make appearances deceiving, it still looked kind of new, and I, eventually, had to ask:
"Serapio, did you move your house?"
"Hunh?"
"Why are you living over there?"
"Oh, I burned down the old house. This is a new one."
The vision of Serapio spraying a mosquito in the home's cooking fire stunned me. Quick to perceive, Serapio consoled me:
"Don't worry. It only took me two days to build another one."
(Although the houses, or rather 'palapas', are buildable in only a couple of days time, it, nevertheless, left me sore to imagine his possessions destroyed -despite being only some plastic bags, candles, and bicycle wheels.)
Many months later, however, I saw Serapio not only recovered, but, in fact, proudly riding a bicycle -the first wheeled transport of any kind in the community - replete with bountiful streamers and shiny reflectors. I asked Serapio why he bought it:
"To buy a beer."(Serapio had ridden some 40 miles to the first bar and bought himself his first 'store-bought' beer. Possibly the furthest Serapio had been from Punta Laguna in his life.)
Later the same day I espied a TV antenna on top of his relatively new hut. (Serapio must have seen a TV for the first time at the bar.) Pointing toward the antenna, I asked:
"Serapio! Why do you have a TV antenna?"
"Oh, I bought a TV."
Although knowing that Serapio didn't have any idea of what electricity was, I found myself exclaiming:
"But Serapio, you don't have any electricity!"
"Oh, but my friends told me all I have to do is 'touch' the TV to a car battery."
"Oh?"
"Yes, but 'Chaac' (the Rain God) is mad at me."
"Oh?"
"Yes! When I touched the TV to the car battery there was lightening, and there was lightening, and there was lightening! 'Chaac' (pronounced 'shock') does not want me to have a TV!"
"Well, does the TV work," I asked stupefied?
"No, he burned it."
Still gazing at the roof of his home, it was my turn to console him:
"Well, the antenna -the antenna makes a nice place for the birds to sit," I nodded.
"Yes," Serapio observed, "that is -that is why I leave it there: the birds! They like to sit there."
"Yes, my friend," I thought to myself, "it won't be me to tell you about adapters."