Roberto Sifuentes, Presente!!!

One of my favorite professors died today after years of battling various maladies.

Sifue, as many would call him, came to CSUN in the early 90's. He was very debonair, he wore a suit and tie everyday.

He was from Mexico, but was a devout Chicano. He had a thick accent that made his reciting of poetry, from memory, or reading of passages from books enthralling. He was too cool.

He was always hanging out with the students in the Chicano Lobby, always dropping stories, jokes, dichos, one liners and up for a little party. He came over to a couple of bar b ques and hang outs that we would have in our apartments around campus. Never drank with us, health issues he claimed, just smoked his cigs and once played some dice with us. Maybe some cards.

I had him for several classes as an undergrad and grad student. My cohorts through BAs and MAs loved his passion and love for life and knowledge. He would always want to know what we were into and doing outside of school. Everything he did, or said, or asked was with passion. One of my co horts was so moved by his description of Guanajuanto while reading a Carlos Fuentes novel, she packed up and left for Guanajuato at the end of that week.

He was a tough and loving professor. If you didn't read or come prepared to speak up in class he would kick you out of the class. If the whole class was lagging, he would just walk out and say "Don't waste my time and yours." He was always available to us. Anyone who met him, was a new friend.

He never told us anything about jobs and the future, he wanted us to learn our stories, culture and to dream. He was a man in love with knowledge and loved getting his students turned on to learning and to love life.

He was a painter and poet. He helped students find these talents within themselves, walking along with them.

He had lived his life like baller. He told me about all the jobs he had in his life from glamorous to menial, but at each one, he had a great time. That is living.

One of my favorite Sifue moments was in La Paz, Baja Cal. Mex. A lot of us from the dept went there to present at a conference. Sifue was presenting a paper on his Chicano identity. All of his students, about 5 of us and other profs, rolled in with him. We knew what was about to happen and we needed to be there. See, the Mexican academics don't really 'get' Chicano. They are very Euro centric and parochial. When Sifue ended his presentation the Mexican academics threw a fit. "How can you be born in Mexico and now call yourself a, a, Chicano!" He simply said, "Didn't you pay attention to my presentation?" and laughed!!!! They were so pissed off. He let them stew for a couple minutes and then said "Chicanos are down to fight for the underdog, anywhere. I see myself and my revolutionary spirit in that attitude, that consciousness, so I am a Chicano. If you aren't down to fight for your people or people who are oppressed you can't be a Chicano. You almost can't be a human if you aren't down to fight oppression of humans." He said this in the most eloquent Spanish I had ever heard him speak. He left them silent. Like on cue all of us from CSUN began to stand up and applaud. He then walked towards us and said, "Let's get out of here."

They don't make men like him anymore.

He was our profe.
Un chingon de aquellos.
Suave, smart, hip, passionate, intelligent, and inspiring.

They don't make men like him anymore.

I'm so glad and honored I knew this man.

(Sifue, Frank Colon & Harry Gamboa Jr.)
*all photos taken from FB CSUN heads who have posted his pic. All rights reserved to each and all.

Days of the Dead

Two years ago on Day of the Dead I had been asked the day of to come and be the MC for the bands from sundown to the end. I had done stage managing in years past, so introducing each band would be no problem.

That morning I took my mother to the hospital because she was having trouble breathing. It was the beginning of her final fight with cancer.


My dad was out of town and she called me telling me she wasn't feeling well. I asked if she wanted to go to the doctor. She said "Yes." Leaving BH to pick her up was a long ride. My mind wandered to possibilities I wasn't ready for. At the hospital she checked out 'fine.' but they wanted to keep her overnight for observation. She told me to go and do what I had to do.
(all images from DoD 2010)
I will never forget the fear and loneliness I carried that beautiful Sunday afternoon. I had planned on resting most of the day then going to pick up my gf in the valley and back to the Eastside for my 5 p.m. call time at SGH. I told my gf I couldn't pick her up because of my mom.


Getting to SHG was a blur. I don't remember parking or most of the bands. I know I interviewed each of them before they went on to give out info. during their intro. I wanted to keep my head in the work and not back to mom. My gf showed up with her two friends and that was great, and hard. It was good that she was there to support me, but also hard cuz I just wanted to just break down on her. Keep it together, keep it together.

It was the Sunday night before the election of Obama and people were excited about voting and hope. I would mention the election, to make sure to vote, and the crowd would erupt. It got me excited and took my mind far from mom. I had this high before and it sucks cuz you can be on stage and all this great energy is there, but then you have to go home all alone and don't know what to do. I knew it was going to be a long night. My gf left with her friends after a long good bye, telling me that all would be ok. Fortunately she surprised me by getting dropped off at my place and she was there for me when I got home. The next day we were able to go to the hospital together to get my mom and learn about the upcoming battle.

Within that year Obama would become Prez and hope would be lost on him and my mom passed in August.

Day of the Dead 09 was the third month anniversary of her passing. I went to the site where I scattered her ashes before going to be the MC for that year's SHG event. I was still in deep mourning. I fluctuated between relief for her passing and end of suffering, crying, numbness, heartbreak, loss, fear, anger etc and so forth. It was a lot. My gf and I had broken up a month or two before my mom passed, so I was dealing with this all by myself. I kept busy with work, and being asked to co-host the DoD event with Lalo Alcaraz helped to keep my mind busy during the first day of the dead without mom.

It was the first year SHG did DoD at the East LA civic. It was an awesome show. Eight thousand people came. I rented a mariachi suit and had my face painted. People took my picture anytime I left the backstage area. It was a long evening. By the time I was done around 11:30 p.m. my feet were killing me. The boots I wore were super pointy. I came home showered and just knocked out from exhaustion. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling not alone. I felt my mom's presence and fell back to sleep.

I didn't do an altar for my mom that year, nor this year. Last year, it was just three months since she passed and I was told that she was going to be near me for about a year checking in and also checking out Mictlan, getting her bearings. I did feel her around me a lot. When I needed to make decisions I could hear her voice telling me what to do. When I would get scared or lonely I would hear a noise and snap out of it, knowing it was her. This year I didn't do an altar for her because she didn't believe or practice such things.

My mom's mom, my grandma, Nana, passed five years ago. She lived in the same house as my parents. I would often ask my mom if she felt her mom near, and she would say "Always. Sometimes I can even hear her upstairs walking around." Both of them, my mom and grandma, were hard core Catholics. Church every Sunday until they were too sick to go anymore. They didn't do altars in the house or the cemetery, and hardly went to visit graves. They did believe and I helped them bless their house by dipping yerba buena in holy water, praying and sprinkling the corners of each room, but this Day of the Dead thing was me, from what I learned at SHG and school.


So I felt a little weird about doing an altar for my mom when she didn't practice it. My gf mentioned building an altar for our loved ones, but we never got around to it. It was a small relief. As is, I have a place where I keep my sacreds. Power stones, sage, cedar, candles, etc. I didn't know if we were just going to add some pics to this or build something entirely new. She left out of the country just before DoD this year. I would be doing another DoD alone.

The first night she was gone, I heard a lot of different noises in the house. I walked around checking windows and doors. We had gone to see "Paranormal Activity 2" a couple days before she left, so that was in the back of mind somewhat. We saw it at the Highland Theater for $3 with a bunch of young rocker types who talked and laughed through most of the movie, making it seem like a pretty lame 'horror' movie. Nonetheless here I was alone at home during the time of the year when the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest. I poured out a shot of my good Cuban rum and put it where I keep my sacreds. The noises stopped and all was calm. A couple of days back I cooked for myself and made a taco that I placed next to the shot glass for any visitors. Maybe I'm on my way to making a proper altar.

This year SHG had Felipe Esparza, winner of the Last Comic Standing on NBC, a local BH homeboy that is getting his 15 minutes - to be the host of DoD. I was helping him and the bands backstage. It was another great show. I came home around midnight with that high. Sat down to calm my mind down, played some video game and before I knew it was 2 a.m. on a work night.

This year I didn't even have time to visit where I scattered my mom's ashes. I will go in the next couple of days. My dad has been out of town as well. Hopefully he can go with me when he gets back. Haven't heard from the gf since the morning of DoD; based on her fb she is having an amazing time. I feel my mom still pops in to check in on me, especially when I get scared and lonely. I know loss and death are something everyone goes through in their own way. My way, even as an only child is not unique by far. I did have a moment when a friend asked me if I meditated. I replied "As an only child, I think I have meditated my whole life. No one is there." I stopped myself, because there is always someone there. Or at least it makes me feel a little better to think that when I looked around and see no one is there, but I know someone is There.

Dia de los Muertos

Today, three months ago, almost to the minute, my mom took her last breaths in this plain of reality. I have been grieving in my own way. I feel her with me, helping me make decisions and pushing me sometimes to step out of my comfort zones. Her voice in a whisper tells me its ok to just go for it.
I've been told that in the Lakota tradition the dead stick around retracing their life path, figuring out their new reality, while still being able to see this one and their loved ones. After a year of going between the worlds of the living and of the dead they move on and stay in the next world.
I guess this has stuck me and I don't feel the need to build an altar or be all DoD about my mom. She is with me still. I don't have to invite her to visit me.
Last night a friend let me watch her set up her altar in her house for her loved ones. I went home and made a small one for all those I know who are beyond our realm of senses.
In the middle of the night there were quite a few noises in my house. Bumps, creaks, steps and claps. I didn't get scared. They are welcome. All who come to help me reach my highest potential are welcome in my house. Those who lost their way and are not working with the light know they cannot enter my house. I can destroy them. I let all of them know this: be with the light, bring it, share it or go back to where you came and find it within.
I miss my mom. I have a long ride back to LA today, I take that alone time to reflect. I will remember, to never forget.
To all our relations.

Flower

She was born on a kitchen table there
she cried and laughed for the first time there
was hurt and comforted
bled and healed
walked and ran
jumped and skipped
fought and loved
She lived her first 14 years there

She told many stories of living in La Loma
many visits with her and without her
but never to the exact spot
where her house once sat

Today we took her remains up the road
along the ridge
through some bends
and onto where the house once sat

I poured out some for my father
I poured some for my aunt
Then my daughter and I walked down
Where the house once sat
We saw some old stairs under brush
The earth was soft and giving

We began shaking ashes out onto the ground
in circle over where the living room was
the kitchen
the bedrooms, we think

The grass was dry
The only life was this single flower facing West
towards where the sun sets
where the spirits leap off to
we knew it was there for her and us


Driving off I thought of death as hopefully being able to visit and be at anytime, any place you want. Being able to re-live, seeing what you did. I could think of no other joy for my mother than for her to be able to run in that Loma barefoot and free as she once was and will always be.

To all our relations...

8/2/09 Thanks Mom, Goodbye

When I was a kid I would have dreams where I would come home and my parents were gone and new people lived in my house. I would be told that my parents had moved and forgot to tell me. Other times I would be told my mom had died and my dad was on one of his yearly trips to Mexico to take care of lands he holds there. I would wake up crying. A heaviness on my chest scared me because it would be sitting there making breathing n swallowing hard. I would get up and look for my mom.

Yesterday she barely spoke. The last thing I heard from her was telling my daughter "I love you too." We knew it would happen any day, but she had surprised us for so long. It would have been a week without eating on Monday. For an 80 yr old full of cancer that is impressive.

This morning I felt a shock in the middle of my chest. Seconds later my father called and said it was getting real bad. He hadn't slept all night, she was throwing up most of the night. She was losing her voice and sight. I jumped up and jumped in the shower. It's like a reflex to shower in the morning. Half asleep, sick, hungover, tired, I just end up in my shower. It heals me and readies me.

When I got out of the shower my father called and said she had left us. I went to tell Q who was still asleep. 13 yr olds need at least 12hrs of sleep and she really takes advantage of that when she stays with me ever since I told that little bit of science. I was dressed n ready to go. She decided to stay at my place, her great grandma and uncle live next door, she would be fine.

I have made the drive from the Eastside to my parents house thousands of times in every possible state of mind and sometimes out of my mind. It's very easy, the far right lane on that 5 to the 10 west takes me straight off the freeway at Los Angeles street. Two lights, left onto Main, to 28th and I'm home. This time the tears were like none before. I remembered those dreams of my childhood. This time I knew my mom wouldn't be there but my dad would and we would be starting a new way of life. He as a widower me as a son without a living mom. Is there a term for people like me?

I burned the sage I had rubbed on her the day before. The smoke filled the room and rose up as her soul did just minutes earlier. I imagined my grandma, her mom, was here to help her in the end. The smoke followed them up, or over, or on to wherever they are now, which is definitely better than here where they had both had rough final days.

We called hospice care, a funeral home and my cousin Lucy who had cared for mom like she was her mom. She is like my distant sister. My father called the comadre and people started arriving. I texted work and friends who had helped me. Told work I needed at least a day. Haven't taken any calls.

Everyone is gone now. They picked up her body. My dad is finally getting some sleep. He says he maybe got an hour in last night. I gotta wake him in two hours. He doesn't want to sleep more, he wants to sleep at night. Lucy is here, we are listening to the Platters that my mom would play for me when I was a kid.

The comadre wants to host a rosario at her house. Mom didn't want anything. No one to see her, no funeral, no services. Others have said services are for the living. I see that, but at the same time why pray for someone you know was good and went to a good place? I can see if the dead were jerks and needed people to pray/put in a good word to get them to a good place.

I'm writing to process. I tell my students if u can't say it, u can't write it. For me if I can't write it, I can't handle it. I've been told all week to stay strong. Can I be weak now?

Of course there is some relief in knowing my mom is no longer hating life. Good memories hurt to remember. Pictures bring those memories. The music playing reminds me of dancing with her. I couldn't dance with her no more in the end.

My dad's first words to me when I got here were "Ahora estamos solitos." He has ten brothers n sisters. I have none.
This is my life. I'm grateful for it. For the parents I had/have. Gracias por la vida y las vidas que crusan la mia. Ojala que tenemos mucho mas a~os. Healthy n happy.

Tomorrow my father and I will go to a sweat ceremony together for the first time. New life.

Passing

She will be passing any day now.
Since April she has refused anymore treatments.
Signed off on not resuscitating.
This is the fourth day she has not eaten any food.
She says she doesn't feel like eating.
Her stomach doesn't want food.
She is skin and bones and big bloated stomach.
On the plus side she is not in any pain or discomfort, just weak.

It started last November, she was having trouble breathing.
She had fluid in one lung.
A form of breast cancer.
They would stick a long needle in to drain out fluid.
Eventually fluid would accumulate also in her stomach.
This was repeated.
Pulling several liters each time.

Chemo A, failed
Chemo B, failed
Back in hospital in March because she would throw everything up
Now was too weak to drain fluid.
No food for a week and she bounced back.
Fluid left and was able to eat.
Then they offered another chemo and she said "No more."
It would now be a countdown.



She is the strongest woman I know.
Her mom, my grandma, lived to 98.
I remember seeing my grandma pick up one of those old bathtubs alone.
My mom has that strength too.
When I see her I try to maintain my composure. When I think I'm going to break
I get near her and its not so bad. Like her strength carries me.
She shouts orders to my dad all day.
My poor dad has really stepped up and serves her every wish,
following her overly detailed requests.
If she hadn't moved the bed into the living room, and laid around all day,
you wouldn't know she was dieing.
Even today her voice is still strong.
She told me that some people would always think she was mad because of her strong tone.

Most of my days I am sad and in tears.
I have seen this coming.
Have made peace with it, to some degree.
She didn't want my alternative medicines, ever.
I know I need to respect her wishes.
But its still hard.
If I get out at night, I can be normal.
Its like a routine among my peeps and beats.
When I go to work, I should get an Academy Award for the acting I do in there.
The mornings are the hardest.
I don't know if my father is going to call me and tell me...
I don't know if I'm going to call and hear...
So driving to work is rough til I make that call and even then its hard to hear, its another day of waiting.
I don't know if I will get that call during class and wonder if I will just walk out.
What would I say? Who would I tell?
I've been driving up instead of taking the train because if I need to leave I don't want ask anyone for a ride.



Today she asked me to call the priests for her last rites.
They came within the hour. Nice guys.
She cracked a little bit and we both shared a moment.
I asked if she wants to see her brothers and sister and she said NO.
According to her they are in almost as bad shape as she is.
One is fighting a losing battle sliding into Alzheimer's. Another can't stand for too long because his legs and shoulders hurt from carrying his now deceased wife up and down several flights of stairs of their hillside El Sereno home. She died of a bad case of diabetes. Her other brother is just tired, he lost his wife 4 months ago.
She doesn't want anything.
She wants to be cremated and that is all.
No memorial, nada.
I don't think it's fair, but I need to grant her final wishes, even after her passing.
I will most likely take her ashes to where she was most happy, her childhood home in Chavez Ravine. Well the home is not there anymore, but the hills are still there.


I want to thank my friends who have knowingly or not been good distractions for me.
My students who keep my mind flying to places to take them and show them how many paths this life can offer. My co-workers who are understanding about my mood swings, care for me, entertain me, feed me and are just great people. My inipe brothers and sisters, Wolf and Lisa thank you for praying with me and having that space for all our relations.

This is all passing.
We are all just passing.
See you on the other side, someday.
I love you mommy.

(love and blessings to the Rodriguez family who is also saying bye to their Papachus, lo siento mucho)

20 years!?!?!?

This past Wednesday morning I thought I woke up to a nightmare. My clock radio is tuned to KPFK 90.7FM so Amy Goodman's voice brings me out of my sleep at 6:15 am on my work days. I heard a man's voice saying, "This notion that we’ll have water forever is wrong. California is running out. It’s got twenty-some years of water. New Mexico has got ten, although they’re building golf courses as fast as they can, so maybe they can whittle that down to five." I said "WHAT!?!? 20 years of water and then that's it!" Soon another voice came on, "Scientists, through decades of study and millions and millions of pieces of data, now recognize the fact that we’re on the brink of the sixth great mass extinction ever to be experienced on the face of the earth. The fifth mass extinction was the dinosaur age."

DANG!

Extinction.

The big kiss good bye.

I remembered how 5 years ago I heard Rigoberta Menchu speak about how the oil wars were nothing compared to the upcoming water wars. She described how in Latin America companies were already privatizing water.

Back on "Democracy Now with Amy Goodman" and guests, the discussion went to how General Electric and other corporations are developing water reuse and recyling technology which is a very bad thing: "It’s the fastest-growing part of the water industry. And this is the cleanup of dirty water.
And my concern—and the more research I did on this, the more concerned I got—was that this government, in particular, the United States, but many governments, are putting all their water eggs in the basket of cleaning up dirty water, instead of conservation, instead of protecting water at its source. What they’re coming at—the way they’re coming at it now is to clean up water after it’s been polluted. And there’s huge amounts of money to be made. And my concern is, who’s going to control that? Who’s going to own the water itself? If Coca-Cola can own the water it sells you, why wouldn’t General Electric or Suez be able to say, “Well, we own the water that we cleaned up, and we will decide how much money we make, and we will decide how much—who gets it and who’s not going to get it”?"

To me the root of this is the profit motivator: Capitalism. As long as we allow natural resources to be put on the market we will always be at war with someone, somewhere.

The show ended on a good note, "Well, we’re pushing here in the United States for a trust fund for infrastructure. The sewage disposal system in the United States, as in many countries, is in a mess. We’re pushing—we have a “Think Outside the Bottle” or “Take Back the Tap” campaign for bottled water. We’re getting restaurants to agree not to serve bottled water. And we’re fighting the desalination plants, particularly in California, because it’s a bad technology, it’s an admission of failure. And we can do much more with conservation and caring for source water."

For the sake of fighting extinction, learn about this, start here: Blue Planet Project.