It seems like a bridge must span much further to cover the differences between downtown El Paso's high rises and the colorful buildings amid rubble of Juarez. The music, brightly colored cowboy boots, and fresh fruit stands welcome me to Mexico.
I met Ana, my guide, and after getting to her house immediately wondered why I didn't spend more time in Juarez before. The houses on her streets were yellow, green, red and pink. The grafitti didn't seem too obtrusive since it was compteting with so many other colors. Neighbors were talking on the streets. Children were playing soccer. With such close proximity and interaction, each street was more like a commune.
Ana's mother works as a medical assistant. When I ask if she's always worked Ana mater-of-factly explained that most women have to work for the family to survive. Her mother bears no resemblence of finishing a day of work as she prepares food. She offers me frijoles, then carne avada, then chili, then sweet bread, and tortilla after tortilla.
After dinner, Ana takes me back to the streets of downtown Juarez. Several thin women in high heels are positioned on the streets, not too close together. A big white sedan pulls up, flashes lights, and backs out. One woman follows the sedan and jumps in. We get out and talk to a tiny girl wearing glitter on her eyes and chest. She is nineteen. Five years ago she began "checking out the business" and for three years has been making money. She and a friend tell us that their clientel is "everything": American, Mexican, men from the city and men from the country. Through Ana I asked her, "Where would you go if you thought you had a disease?" She replied, "I feel healthy." But when I asked her where she would go for tests, she said she there is a government clinic that she goes to on Sundays and pays for testing.
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