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powder. I almost said, “Look at the snow.” But I recovered my senses. We were on a
white, dusty road. It was pure calcium carbonate, and the dust kicked up by vehicles had
powdered the pine branches. It was a beautiful sight until the white road changed to brown.
I got off at Junction and said good-bye to Carmen, Einar, Heidi and Amber. They were
returning north to Creel. I was headed south to Guachochi.
There was a roadside home and business at Junction. I had a two-hour wait for the Camion
Rojo (Red Bus) to Guachochi. A window to the house-refreshment stand was open. I
called, “Hola” (hello). I heard the shuffing of a chair, and a woman came to the window. I
ordered coffee; she invited me into her home. She brought me a cup of hot water, a table-
spoon, a jar of Nescafé and a paper napkin.
The room had a cement floor, pink walls, with blue trim. It was a dining room, children's
playroom, and storage for oil and transmission fluid. There was a three-week-old news-
paper and parking for a child's bike. The walls were decorated with five calendars, each
with a different picture and a black velvet painting of three roses and a verse from First
Timothy 2:5: “For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man
Christ Jesus.”
Personal treasures, knickknacks, figurines and religious items were housed in a cupboard.
There was a four-foot half-wall that divided the kitchen from this all-purpose room. I could
see the glow of the wood-burning, cast-iron kitchen stove. Three children scurried between
the kitchen and bedroom, peeking at me as they rushed around. It was a home with joy and
love.
I finished my coffee, paid my bill and walked outdoors to wait for the Red Bus.
The Red Bus picked me up at the Junction at 10 a.m. We arrived in Guachochi at 1:30 p.m.
Guachochi was a frontier town, dusty streets, a log cabin restaurant, cowboys and Indians.
It reminded me of Gallup, New Mexico, 1974. There was a western flavor and a Tarahu-
mara presence.
I entered the Tarahumara Artesania (arts and crafts) shop. Cipriano showed me three
rooms filled with handcrafts. He said that Guachochi was the center for Tarahumara crafts.
He picked up a drum, narrow in width but two feet in diameter, and took it outside. He
called to a young Tarahumara man and encouraged him to play the drum. The man smiled,
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