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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Feb. 23, 1989)
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Returns From Will I Be Too eat for anyone itary and time )us, easy-going Icome respite ying. HUMIRA, Mexico (AP) — Pedro Martenz doesn’t think of himself as anoutcast; he says he is a pioneer. He sold his Mennonite horse iggy a year ago for 1 million pesos -about $400. He now owns a 7-ton truck. He has long since jbandoned his sect’s traditional denim overalls and straw hat for a of jeans and a baseball cap ad vertising Cargill tractors. And he lives alone, with his wife and two , on a tiny farm 100 miles south of the conservative German Menno- nitecolony where he was born. “It makes me sad that Mennonites so closed,” Martenz says, speak ing Spanish carefully over an eve- cup of tea in his adobe farm house. “They keep themselves in a very, very closed circle. ” Martenz expresses no regrets at leaving the traditional Old Colony Mennonite Church. Speaking softly over the Mexican pop tunes of his 15-year-old son Albuino’s cassette jlayer — a strict taboo in conserva- jve Mennonite households — he ays he can carry forward his faith in God without the social constraints of sect. He can proselytize among Tarahumara Indians who are his lew neighbors without being looked lown upon. The reclusive Tarahumaras — themselves a closed society — stop by the homestead of El Menonita Sun- to savor Old World delicacies ike Dutch shortbread and German hocolate cake. Tom between the generations-old brces of tradition and the demands if surviving in a fast-paced, industri- ilized society, Martenz and his fam- ly represent an archetype for grow- ng numbers of German Mennonite donists living in northern Mexico: younger generation of liberalized ect members who have broken the closed circle” of more than 400 ears of self-imposed isolation. Like the plainness of their tradi- ional dress, Mennonite philosophy painted in the subdued colors of implicity and humility. Founded in lolland during the religious refor- nation of the 16th century, the Mennonite faith is a pacifist tradi- ion that renounces all oaths to any raged} lliot Lovebergam unailed by damning evident erg’s death, ledda Gablerasi its an exquisite et Id that hides f her true persot ale in Rudder to ' student and se re $4, and genes 1 ?rt, neity ; released foural- ecords. uit release, Bln* sided two son? ‘ been highly it — “Cold Blood Kix recently sold ayed at Houston: ub, and are “quit' concert are si 17.50. begin at 7:30, concerts usual ands can perfott ending latent out that “thisalso et back home to ilaces -- and avel w/ALSG i May, Junei 3-5996 Old Mennonite culture comes to grips with modern customs man-made institutions. Its adherents have migrated en masse across Europe, Russia, Can ada, the United States and finally Latin America, fleeing military serv ice and tenaciously guarding their old European language and cus toms. Like the Pennsylvania Amish, reliance on modern technology — excluding tractors, which enhance work — is considered lazy and frivo lous. About half of the estimated 50,000 Mennonites in Mexico live in the state of Chihuahua. Mennonite “X I he power of the community to keep people integrated into the society is weakening. It’s going toward a nuclear family system, and the church is losing its ethical and moral sway over these people.” — Dr. Calvin Redecop, sociologist sources there say thousands have auctioned their farms in recent years. Some 200 families have moved to Argentina in the past year alone. Other destinations for emigration have included a small colony in Seminole, Texas, and the traditional “Old Country” of central Cana da. Mennonite church officials re port the Seminole community has grown from 650 in the mid-1970s to a current population of about 3,000. In Canada, experts estimate that as many as 10,000 Mennonites have emigrated from Mexico to the prov ince of Ontario in the past five years. “It’s a complicated movement,” says a prominent Mennonite from Cuauhtemoc, Chihuahua, who asked not to be named. “Yes, it’s true that the prolonged economic crisis here has impacted us. “ But there’s a certain amount of sieving going on; the more conserva tive who are worried about the dilut ion effects of modem technology are heading south to, say, Argentina. For many of the more liberalized (Mennonites), economics alone is the motive, and they’ll move north, to the United States or Canada. ” Some Mennonite experts say that the growing Mennonite mobility is inevitable as the sect’s younger gen erations become exposed to the out side world. “In 1987 a woman of Mennonite descent won the Miss Chihuahua state beauty contest,” says Dr. Den nis Bixler Marquez, a University of Texas at El Paso researcher who has studied Mennonite migratory pat terns. “This is about as far out as you can get. It’s kind of bizarre. ” “(The Mennonites) are going through an internal decay,” says Dr. Calvin Redecop, a sociologist and Mennonite expert at Conrad Grebel College in Waterloo, Canada. “The power of the community to keep people integrated into the so ciety is weakening,” he says. “It’s going toward a nuclear family sys tem, and the church is losing its ethi cal and moral sway over these peo ple.” Redecop, the author of a scholarly book on the Mexican Mennonites, adds that economic pressures — mainly the parceling of Mennonite lands through the generations — has contributed to the transformation of Mennonite society. “Economics aside, I’m sorry to say that the Mennonites’ honeymoon in Mexico is over,” Redecop says. “Their pacifist traits are irritating the Mexicans, and their desire to maintain their own language and be separate citizens also is a continuing source of abrasion.” In Chihuahua, where the first German-speaking Mennonites ar rived from Canada in 1922, some of the more conservative colonists still use horse-drawn carts and shun elec tricity. But change has swept in like a steady breeze over the well-tended fields and immaculate dairies. At the train station in Cuauhtemoc, ruddy faced Mennonite men in stylish Western wear and blond women with calm, trans-Atlantic stares un load their produce from late-model pickup trucks.Some of the younger male Mennonites — the Martenzes’ 28-year-old son, Benjamin, among them —have even waded the Rio Grande into the United States to visit family or search for jobs. “Almost all of them have changed from buggies to trucks now,” a Mexi can resident of Cuauhtemoc notes. “Some of them even smoke and drink and take the ladies out danc ing. Hell, they’re just like us Mexi cans.” On the night of his 55th birthday, Martenz is worried, but he tries not to show it. While passing logging trucks cast their beams over his small cow pen and a yardful of farm ma chinery, he cajoles his wife, Helena, into strumming some German melo dies on her autoharp. But the celebration is shadowed by an uncertain future. They both will be traveling to the United States soon to find work — a further break from tradition that will keep their in dependent farm in operation. The rustic homestead tucked among Indian communities in the Sierra Madre Occidental is a far cry from the tidy Mennonite farms that the Martenzes left for good a year ago. Still, the whitewashed adobe house has its unmistakable Menno nite touches: calendars in German, an old piano stored in the common sleeping room, tin kettles whose graceful spouts echo European still life paintings. The physical accents of change, like a gasoline-powered washing ma chine, are in plain evidence, too. More subtle are the complex under currents of hope and caution that run through conversations in the Martenz household. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’m sure God’s with us,” Martenz says of his prospects at a liberal Mennonite community in Seminole. “Maybe I’ll work in a diesel mechanics shop. Whatever’s easiest to come back and work at the farm here.” Indian makes Jiving building Restaurant owner recalls days bark shelters of diner’s heyday 31 years ago HENDERSON, Ky. (AP) — Valdjawan Deer sloshes through murky Florida swamplands, brav ing alligators and wild hogs, to carry on a family tradition. The swamps provide Deer, a Choctaw Indian and former alli- r wrestler, with the trees and palm leaves he needs for his busi ness of building Indian “che- kees,”or huts. Deer and his assistant, Carlos Souto, recently completed their first chekee in Kentucky, at the homeofT.C. Clement. The hut rises from water at the ge of a lake on Clement’s prop erty, providing a touch of the tropics on a chilly winter day. “These things give you a sense of being in a far-off place in your own back yard,” Deer says, “and it’s cheaper than going to Tahiti.” That’s the closest Deer will come to discussing price. Deer and Souto spent about four days on Clement’s chekee, using a machete to strip away bark from cypress logs — a proc ess that keeps the hut’s structure from rotting. Then, using their hands, they meticulously wove the chekee’s roof from nearly 1,800 palm leaves — an art passed down from Deer’s great-great-grandfa ther. It’s a bit like putting shingles on the side of a house, ” Deer says. “You start at the bottom and go to the top.” The business, based in the small panhandle town of Destin, allows Deer to support his wife and three children. He also has three full-time employees and hires some part-time help. Clement hired Deer to build a chekee in Henderson after seeing some of Deer’s work during an earlier trip to Florida. Deer has built huts as far away as California and Mexico. Al though Clement’s chekee was built in less than a week. Deer has worked on jobs that took months to complete. Some people, like Clement, want a hut for leisure purposes. Others seek Deer’s expertise to build a bar or restaurant. Souto, Deer’s assistant, says the hardest part of the job is wading into the swamps, chopping down trees and carrying them out one by one. The workers have to re main alert for alligators, snakes and other creatures in the swamplands. Deer is teaching his children how to build chekees in the hope that the art will live on. “You can put us out in the swamp with a machete,” Deer says, “and we can make a living.” ALICE (AP) — Dena Dominique started her restaurant business in 1958 when plate lunches cost 85 cents and soda pops sold six for a dollar. The name of the establishment was Dena’s Diner, and it was a bee hive of activity. Like small restaurant owners of the time, Dominique served as cook, waitress and manager on a tight, “shoestring” budget. “I’ve always felt customers value people who go out of their way to please them,” Dominique said. “I guess I just like people and enjoy my work,” she added. She recalls workers from Halli burton, Heldt Bros, and other oil field companies who would frequent the restaurant in search of a warm meal, a cup of coffee or just conver sation. “They’d come in night and day,” Dominique says. “That has changed, of course.” She says many of her old custom ers still come to the restaurant to partake of her chicken and dump lings, Mexican cuisine, cinnamon rolls and coconut pies. The restaurant was rated No. 9 statewide by the Houston Chronicle in an article published Feb. 23, 1986. The article hangs on the dining room wall at the eatery. It is also home to the “table of knowledge,” a group of 10 to 14 re tired citizens who gather daily to dis cuss news events and to reflect on days gone by. “They’re just the greatest bunch of guys you ever saw,” Dominique said with a smile. “I know I’m at home when I hear them whisper . . . ‘There’s old Dena!’ I guess they feel at home here too,” she said of the group. A similar table, located in the res taurant’s dining area, also hosts 10 to 12 daily. Dominique says the restaurant originally employed a staff of about 15. She later leased a building in Al ice and operated the business there for several years. In a bolder move, the former Harlingen native purchased the res taurant’s current location, tore down the tourist cabins, and built a new restaurant-cafeteria. In 1986, she sold the business when her husband Tony, a native of Raine, La., decided to retire after 35 years with Texaco. Although the decision was a diffi cult one, Dominique has no regrets. “We sold the business to Charles Harless,” she said. “When he was ap pointed sheriff, he asked me to man age the business and I accepted. ” She credits the restaurant’s suc cess to the employees. Most of them have been at the restaurant for more than 18 years. “Alice has a wonderful group of people,” she said. “Our employees are no different. The majority will do anything for one in need of help. I’ve seen it happen many times.” Her friend and co-worker for more than 20 years, Mrs. Albert Ho- lub, says the restaurant offers a cafe teria-style meal from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. daily. Dominique says two girls who came to the restaurant recently were excited after having heard a record which mentions the restaurant’s name in its lyrics. She says she feels certain that the restaurant will continue to do well with the community’s support. “Sometimes I’ll find myself com ing back to work at night to do a ban quet or just to get away from it all,” she said. Dominique, who has two children and two grandchildren, said she also plans to spend time with her family. Asked how long she intends to re main as manager of Dena’s Restau rant, Dominique replied, “I don’t know, but I love it! I really do.” UNT houses fashion costume collection DENTON (AP) — A treasure house of fashion lies hidden away in the Language Building at the University of North Texas. Myra Walker wants to bring it out into the open. Walker is the new director of the Texas Fashion Collection, a hoard of clothing and accessories dating from the mid-1800s to the present. She has big plans for the 10,000-piece collection. All she needs is staff and funding. At the moment, she has no staff — only student workers — and very little funding. Neverthe less, she is involved with several projects. The largest of these — an ex hibit of costumes and fashions by Dallas designer Winn Morton — will open March 31 in Dallas’ Tra mmel Crow Center. Coordinating and staging it has been an almost overwhelming challenge. “If I ever take a new job, I’m not going to plan anything for the first year,” she said. “I’m just going to sit and watch.” On a smaller scale, she is orga nizing a display of hats by Benja min Greenfield, who designed in California. She has a student doing research on Greenfield to provide information for the dis play in the UNT Union. She is sending a number of pieces which originally came from Neiman-Marcus to the Nei- man’s stores in California for an exhibit. And, the Texas Collection will provide the feature exhibit for the 1990 Delta Delta Delta An tique Show and Sale in Dallas. All these public showings are only part of the picture. Almost for the first time since it came to UNT in 1973, the collection is be ing used as an educational tool for students and teachers. “That has been a goal of mine, to inte grate the collection with the tea ching process,” she said. For example, in her history of costume course, Walker brings in period examples of various styles so the students can see them in three-dimension rather that just in drawings. “We don’t really have any ex amples of actual garments from very early times. But, I still take quite a few garments in . . . If we’re talking about a tunic or a Renaissance-type dress I take 20th century garments in and show them how people from the 20th century have used historic things.” With the collection’s garments, touching and feeling isn’t possi ble. In fact, you must slip on a pair of white cotton gloves before handling any of the old clothes. However, Walker is using some things for textile labs. “Things that are already torn up ... things that haven’t been properly cared for and restored can be used for touching. T hey can’t be shown. Some are even too fragile to be put on a hanger. But you can say, ‘Here, touch it. This is what it feels like, and our fabrics today don’t feel like this.’” This new attitude is increasing students’ interest in the collec tion. Carol Mitchell, administrative assistant of the Center for Mar keting and Design, noted, “An in creasing number of students are requesting internships in the col lection — mostly unpaid — tie- cause they’re becoming aware of the knowledge to be gained from working there.” Walker’s background is in art. She received her master’s degree from Southern Illinois University in Carbondale. Her interest in J ust U If we’re talking about a tunic or a Renaissance- type dress I take 20th century garments in and show them how people from the 20th century have used historic things.” director, Texas Fashion Collection fashion and costume stems from an internship at the Metropolitan Museum in New York. She worked in the costume museum under Stella Blum, whom she calls her mentor. After the internship, she moved back into the art world, working in a Dallas gallery. She applied to UNI’ for a gal lery director’s job, but after one look at her credentials, university officials steered her to the fashion collection. She also is on the fac ulty, teaching a design course as well as history of costume. “One of my goals is to have permanent exhibition space,” Walker says. “It’s got to be a part of the future. We would like to be sort of the F.I.T. of the South,” she said, referring to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. It is one of the leading fashion schools in the country and has a large fashion museum. Despite the frustrations, and Occasional setbacks. Walker says she is enjoying the work. “This is not a job with no place to go. It has all kinds of potential.” Schoolchildren learn mining with muffins CONCORD, Ky. (AP) — How do you teach fourth-graders the differ ence between strip-mining and tun nel mining? You let them mine for blueberries in a blueberry muffin, of course. “It really gave them an under standing of the subject when they saw that if they took too much off their muffin, it was harder to re claim or put their muffin back to gether,” says Concord Elementary teacher Pam Estes. Natalie Cougil, 9, who built a model of a strip mine for extra credit, enjoyed mining for blueber ries. “And the muffins were good, too,” she says. Concord was one of 15 schools in Kentucky to receive grants from the state Department of Education and the Kentucky Energy Cabinet to de velop curricula on energy and how it affects our lives. The project is con sidered a unit of science for grades three through six. To receive the grant, which paid for resource materials, each school had to have an industry sponsor. Martin Marietta sponsored Con cord. Becky Massey, a third-grade tea cher and the project coordinator, says students have to realize that their comfort today depends on en- ergy. “We hope by the time they leave this elementary school they have a better overall knowledge of energy and how important it is,” she says. Students say that goal has already been met. Folklorist seeks records of state’s early heritage Radios link missionaries, families LEXINGTON, Ky. (AP) — Whether it’s in Appalachia or Bluegrass Country, Robert Gates be lieves there are stories to be found. And as Kentucky’s first official folklorist, he’s going to spend a good bit of his time listening for them. “I’ll try to encourage the research, conservation and interpretation of folklife in the state,” says Gates, 38. “We won’t try to change it, just document it.” Gates, who has a master’s degree in folk studies from Western Ken tucky, is working with the blessings of the Kentucky Humanities Coun cil, Kentucky Arts Council and Be rea College. “They all felt so much work is be ing done in folk studies that it was time to get some programs and pro jects going,” Gates says. Gates will set up his headquarters at Berea College. He plans to coordinate efforts and offer technical assistance to individ uals and groups studying and pro moting folklife. Gates says it is a misconception that folklife relates only to rural areas. “Folklorists are anthropologists or historians of common people who study the traditional culture of a group,” he says. “Anything that’s passed down by word of mouth by a group is folklore.” One of his first tasks in Kentucky will be the“Always a River” project sponsored by the humanities coun cils of Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Penn sylvania, West Virginia and Ken tucky. Gates will help with folklife sur veys in counties along the Ohio River. He plans to set up folklife festivals in various communities. Gates says he hopes the festivals will create an awareness in the com munities and “people can go to these things and see other cultures and how these people have their own lives.” He also will be working with schools, introducing people wno can discuss topics relating to folklife. “We want to unoerstand groups and their history,” Gates says. MIDLAND (AP) — An amateur radio organization. Blessings for Obedience, may be the only link among some missionaries and their families in the states. “It is a support ministry for Chris tian missionaries to get in contact with their families or support min istries for supplies and needs,” said Kelly Coleman of the group of Mid land and Odessa ham radio opera tors. Communication with families is done through phone patches. Some one is reached on a ham radio and asked to make a phone call in his area. Then radio and phone are con nected and the call is made. Coleman, a Midland oil investor, said the ultimate goal of Blessings for Obedience is to give missionaries easy access to stateside communica tions. The network, which meets from 3 to 5 p.m. CST on Sundays and 8 to 9 p.m. Tuesdays, has an average of 50 listeners who check in. Listeners are from Honduras, Mexico, Canada, Venezuela, Ger many and many states. Coleman of fers listeners the opportunity to voice their prayers and ask for sup port or get in touch with their fami lies in the states. “It’s like having church around the world in a radio shack, ” Coleman said. Coleman began the ham radio group with five members about three years ago when he met Don Matthews, who was interested in missionary work. Coleman went with Matthews to Jamaica in 1985 on a Youth With a Mission trip. While in Jamaica, he tried to find a way to contact his fam ily in the states. He found a ham ra dio but had some problems placing a call. “Sometimes you could get through to the states, sometimes you couldn’t,” he said. That started their dream for Christian missionary radio in West Texas. But the two knew nothing about ham radio and its capability of reaching all areas of the world. Once the equipment was donated and pur chased and their licenses in hand, the radio network began. Coleman said some local ham ra dio listeners wanted to know how they could get involved, so the ham radio school evolved. Now, before the Tuesday radio shows, students hit the theory and rule books and the Morse code keys to study for their ham operator li censes. Steve Buckley joined the radio class because he works with Comuni- dad Alabare, a Spanish mission in Midland. Buckley said he was at tracted to ham radio because of his need to contact Mexico for the peo ple he helps. Brad Cox, a school teacher, helps Coleman teach the class. He’s been on a ham radio since he was 13 and had wanted to get involved in the ham radio ministry. When Hurricane Gilbert hit Ja maica in October 1988, Blessings for Obedience brought the first relief, 80 tons of goods that the Permian Basin donated, Coleman said. Cox was sent to Jamaica with the supplies, including a radio to trans mit to the states. Blessings for Obedience would like to continue that kind of work, Coleman said. Help with radio equipment and supplies is needed. Coleman recently received a call from a man in Russia requesting a Russian Bible, which the ministry sent.