We got a letter from Aunt Marilyn. She was expressing their family's dismay at the crime and problems that have really affected the border close to them in Cuiadad Juarez and El Pazo. I know some of you have expressed your concern for our safety. So I'm sending part of the letter I sent in response to Marilyn, and thought you might appreciate it too:
"What a wonderful treat to get your e-mail. Our temple is also open all holidays with the exception of Christmas and New Years. In fact, we have some of our biggest sessions on holidays. Today, although not a holiday, we had so many youth doing baptisms we could hardly keep up with the clothes although we had three women washing, drying and folding as fast as they could. We used every folding chair in the temple, to pack as many patrons possible into our six sessions. We love Mexico and the sweet saints here!
I'm so sorry about the drug cartels and problems the country is experiencing. We have never felt in danger anywhere we've lived in Latin America. Maybe it is our naiveté We have people tell us to be careful, and we try not to do anything foolish, but the only time I was very concerned was once about four months into our time here.
I drove downtown by myself explore (I like to shop). I found a free parking place on the street a few streets from the main plaza down by the harbor. As I locked the car and started walking up a hill I realized I was definitely in the WRONG neighborhood. What began as a street turned quickly into more of an alley with provocatively dressed women- and men- slouched up against open door ways. With multiple eyes watching me, the further I walked the more worried I became, however, to turn around and return to the car also didn't seem like a good option. I didn't have a cell phone, I didn't even come prepared with the temple's phone number or our home's number, I did have too much cash, and I decided my best chance at not being kidnapped or murdered was just to walk fast with my head up and act confident. Within two blocks I was clear of the area. However, now how was I going to get back to the car? After exploring the plaza and local market, I decided to skirt around the "bad stuff" and keep to the big street that went down to the harbor. The problem of course was that I find directions by sight, not by street names. I hadn't even had the good sense to look at the name of the street I had parked on (of course, in my defense, few streets have posted names on the corners). After walking in circles (Tampico's streets are not laid out in squares, but follow the twisty shore line of the gulf, the Panuco River, and numerous lagoons) trying to make my way back to the car with multiple prayers, in desperation, I finally hailed a taxi. I explained I was trying to find my parked, small white car, and asked him to drive up and down the streets. He told me I was completely "loco" to have left my car in this neighborhood, and had me convinced that if I ever did find it, I would have a hard time recognizing it with its windows smashed and no tires. Oh the Lord was good to me! After about fifteen minutes into our search I spotted the car, still in one piece, just where I had left it. I paid the taxi, locked myself into my car uttering a stream of thankful prayers, and only got lost twice weaving my way back to the house.
We have driven twice to D.F. since living here (once the first Jan we were here during the temple closing and then for the dedication of the Mexico City temple), and have gone up and back to Matamoros (I flew out of the Brownville airport to save the international fare). I don't think the border is as dangerous here are further west (or is it just my Polyanna personality?) Matamoros is a beautiful city, much nicer than Brownville (at least from what we observed)."
Please don't worry about us. I now am more careful about where I park the car, and we feel as safe as we do in Salt Lake.
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Wendy W. Bentley
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