Vida

Gabriella Ortiz

1st Place Overall Youth Category

Childhood:

I was raised by three acequias.

One I haven’t seen,

One where my only purpose is to look and mix dirt in,

And finally, one that has brought nutrition to my body.

 

San Cristobal Creek.

I have never seen the acequia that belongs to my moms side of the family.

I have never seen a garden in my grandpa's backyard before.

My tia has raised sheep and geese though, some occasional chickens.

Being never close with my tia brought less visits with her animals, and more awkward interactions in my future with my loud entrance and her confusion on who I may be.

I haven’t discussed with my grandpa about the acequias much,

Though I have been trying to with every visit I take.

My brother would sometimes be gone if I went to visit, later I would find the reasoning to be that he was cleaning the acequia.

I have now been trying to find more about my grandfather's past though,

A veteran in the Cold War,

An important figure.

How has Jose Trujillo impacted this land?

How did his family survive off of the acequia in San Cristobal?

 

Acequia Camino Abajo

Dirt,

Leaves,

Mud,

A stained, cigarette burned white plastic table,

Foldable metal chairs,

Bugs,

Water,

Sisters.

This is the mix of how my life was when I was a child.

How my imagination flew.

My sister and I would play with mud

Obtaining the ingredients to fulfill our childish imaginations.

Obtaining the dirt and the mud, mixing in leaves, straw and sticks.

Making mud pies.

Scooping the Earth with our hands, pouring them on the cigarette burned white plastic table.

Picking the leaves from the tree above us.

Pulling the weeds from the ground.

Choosing small sticks, along with two larger ones to stir.

Then finally, fill the plastic cup with the water from our acequia.

Mixing the soil with the water,

Enough water to hold in one piece while still being slippery.

Then,

We would mix the straw,

Leaves and sticks in.

Making it larger,

More textural,

More sturdy.

Then forming it into whatever shapes we may choose.

After we would finish though,

We would forget about our mud and get distracted by the brightly colored chalk.

Leaving the mud to dry by the sun,

Hands multicolored,

My sister and I would color our adobe house.

The adobe house that was made by the hands of my ancestors.

 

Acequia Madre de Llano

My dad’s side has always been hard working to my knowledge.

A deep history of farming was engraved.

The soil rich,

And the food good,

My grandpa would ask his grandchildren to help plant the seeds into the earth,

Helping feed us with calabacitas, maiz, peas, and many more vegetables for another year.

“Bring clothes you don’t like.”

My grandparents would say,

“They will get dirty.”

My grandfather would create dents in the soil,

Asking us to repeat his actions,

Holes that needed to be filled.

Walking across the yard with bright red coffee containers,

His hands full of life which was staying still until water and soil mixed onto its surface,

He would ask whoever was finished with digging to reach in the container,

“Take three seeds.”

When the seeds were held in your hand,

My grandfather would fill the hole up halfway with the water from our acequia,

“Drop the seeds mi hija.”

The seeds would be dropped one at a time,

Three small splashes followed.

Near the middle of the day we would eat lunch.

Give our bodies a break.

Fill our bodies with turkey sandwiches and water,

Then after we finished,

We would be able to play for a small amount of time before we would be back in the garden,

Completing the unfinished work.

I would get tired and grouchy,

A memory I am not fond of now,

Yelling and throwing a tantrum,

I did not want to finish.

My grandfather calmed me down and we soonly finished.

My grandfather allowed my cousins and I to cool ourselves down with the hose.

Putting the mist on and watching the rainbow,

Our work was over for that year.

I never enjoyed these days when I was younger though.

It was just for me to work anyway.

Dirty and tired, hoping I wouldn’t have to redo this same process the next year.

Now wishing my thought process was different.

Now wishing for my grandfather to ask for help.

 

Present

I have obtained an interest in who I am and where I came from. I know the answer to both of these questions though. I am from history, from madre tierra, mi acequias, mi familia, New Mexican food, I am from my culture.

I am curious about many subjects, one of the largest ones being my history. How has my family lived? Who made a difference? What caused me to be so interested in this subject? These are some questions that have been so easily answered, though I ask for more.

My great grandfather has made one of the largest impacts in my life without knowing. He died in 2012, at the age of 102. I was four years old at the time of his death. I never had a large conversation with him.

According to others, he was a very simple, strict man. He took care of his family and he took care of his community as well. Feeding his family of 10 children led him to owning a farm for his family to eat. The food consisted of wheat, corn, calabasitas, apples, any fruit or vegetables that are commonly eaten here, they grew it. WIth the animals, there would be cattle, sheep, pigs and chicken.

With my great grandfather, led my grandfather to be who he is today. My grandfather is a very hard working, kind, smart, observant man. I admire him very much even if I do not share this fact with him often. He teaches me remedios, our land, our water and our culture. How to be kind and respectful. To not judge. To stay hard working while also taking care of yourself. My grandfather teaches me so much even if we do not conversate as much as the rest of our family.

I am very grateful to be related to Manuel Ortiz Sr, and Leonardo Ortiz Sr.

 

Future

I wish for my future to somehow revolve around my land. I wish for my acequias to feed my off-springs, and for our tradition to be passed down more to generations. I want to learn more about how to live off of water and seeds, and how to work with their soil. I want to thank Mother Earth more personally for her blessing she gives us with either food, water, or life. I want to continue with my wishes too.

My grandfather has stopped asking my cousins and I to help him with his gardening and I would like to learn from him next Summer. With this internship, they have provided me with seeds. I asked my grandfather to plant the pinto beans in his garden, and he said “Of course hita.”

He showed me how he plants and brought back memories in doing so. While pushing the dirt, I felt the memories flash by me. I would like to not only thank my grandfather for always being a role model in my life, someone I wish to be like, but for mis ancestros, madre tierra, Dios, gracias por el agua de las acequias, el sol y la luna, el fuego, el viento, la lluvia, gracias...

Canción de las Acequias
Click Here to listen to the song

Verse 1
Las acequias de Nuevo México son el alma del campo
Son la fuerza de tradición,
preservando la herencia de cada generación.

Chorus (first half down 1 octave)
El agua no se vende,
el agua se defiende.
Acequias de la tierra,
siempre valientes.

Verse 2
Las acequias nos permiten crecer maíz, chile y frijol.
Con esos bendiciones hacemos:
enchiladas,
calabacitas,
frijoles refritos
y llenamos la mesa de sabores infinitos.

Chorus
El agua no se vende,
el agua se defiende.
Acequias de la tierra,
siempre valientes.

Verse 3
El agua nos sostiene,
por eso defendemos con fuerza y corazón.