Speak Mexican

I moved to Mexico when I was 3 years old. I was dropped off by my parents with my oldest brother to stay with my grandmother. Abuelita Pancha we called her. I don't call her that any more when I see her. I just kind of smile nervously and wave hello and say 'Si" a lot. People say you can remember things quite early if you experience a tragic or significant event. I remember my Dads red truck driving away as I cried hysterically for my mother and father to come back.  I lived in a small town called Juchipila. My grandmother was short and strong. She would kill chickens with her bare hands and sometimes glare at me as she was killing them. It would definitely instill the fear I am sure she was trying to invoke.  I was told I was quite the celebrity in Juchipila. I would tell inappropriate jokes and run around practically nude if the option was given. I remember one of the jokes involving a girl going up a ladder with no underwear. My grandmother would make and sale bread and I would often distribute it to neighbors for free. I would get the beat down with the rope when this happened. I can't really remember the rope but I get these vague glimpses from time to time with a large rope coming over me. I recall a local store where I drank bottled cokes. I even attended school for a brief moment. A little boy often came to school with no shoes on his feet and instead of the teachers buying him shoes he would get a beating in front of the class (That should teach him for being poor). I sometimes smell certain smells and taste certain dishes that bring me back to my time in Juchipila. After 2 years of living with Abuelita Pancha my dad came to pick up my brother and I. I remember coming in to the living room and seeing this strange man who I didn't know anymore. I remembered I had a family but had forgotten about them. I left that week back "home" with my father and brother. When I arrived I had 3 other brothers waiting for me and one I hadn't even met. I was pretty angry and excited all at once, angry for being left and excited to see a family I barely knew anymore.  It was chaos in the household, trying to communicate was a feat since I didn't speak English and my brothers didn't speak Spanish. The reunion did not last too long. My parents left us with my other grandma, Granny about 3 months later. I was later enrolled in the local elementary school who had an ESL teacher from China who spoke no Spanish and some South East Asian kids who were as clueless as I was. We pretty much stared at each other throughout the classes. I went to a pretty segregated school district, you either went to an all Latino or Black school. My school was mostly Blacks and some Asians.I would often get picked on and by the 2nd grade I lost the Spanish.  I was the only Mexican kid at school.  All the other kids would still call me white since I guess they couldn't tell the difference. I would quickly correct them and explain that I was Mexican. They would usually challenge me and ask to prove myself and demand I speak the language, "Then Speak it, speak Mexican"  I realized I had no real proof and had forgotten my Spanish and was unable to provide my authenticity as a Mexican. All my memories of donkey riding, stealing bread to give to the neighbors and eating homemade tortillas in Juchipila meant nothing if I couldn't at least speak "Mexican". The kids continued to pick on me throughout elementary and I kept trying to prove my 'Mexicanness'. I am still struggling to speak Spanish fluently and I still get the smug looks from fluent Spanish speakers and others who expect me to speak the language. I just smile politely to avoid confrontation and answer, "Si".