Where blue abounds

High up in the Sierra Madre de Oaxaca mountains, Goy-yo’s family awaits his return.

The village of San Juan Juquila Vijanos clings precariously to the side of a mountain in the Sierra Madre de Oaxaca range, amid one of the most rugged and remote regions of Mexico. Lush pine and oak trees cloak the hillsides, providing shade cover to the vast coffee plantations below. A narrow paved road connects the village to the outside world, but most of the homes and businesses are connected by dirt tracks, steps and boardwalks that ascend the hillside. Footpaths snake out to the coffee plants growing nearby.

Gregorio Reyes Tomas picks coffee during the winter months of December to February. He also raises a few chickens and turkeys. But the village of 1,900 has few other earning opportunities. It is simply too remote, tucked into a landscape where a journey of 100 kilometres can take four hours. On a clear day.

So Goy-yo—few use his formal name— leaves behind his wife Angelica, and three children—Edson, 2, Jatziri, 6 and Evelyn, 11—each spring to work in the vineyards of Hillier to supplement his income. He has been coming to Canada for four years. He enjoys the work and the people at Stanners Vineyard.

Goy-yo looks much younger than his 35 years. It is an illusion aided by a near-constant mischievous giggle as his interviewer and translator struggle to discern his answers and accent. He is curious about the world outside the winery—but not overly so. He visits Wellington occasionally to send money home. But rarely ventures beyond the village.

Goy-yo works at Stanners Vineyard in Hillier for six months each year so that his family may enjoy a better life.

After he is done in the fields each day, he makes dinner and texts his family. He is in limbo. His body is in the County, but his mind and heart remain firmly rooted in the hillsides of the Sierra Madre de Oaxaca.

Goy-yo met Angelica while at school. She is a cousin to his friend Angel, who works nearby at Ramirez Vineyard Management in Hillier. But it would be six years after Goy-yo and Angelica left school before they would wed.

“We didn’t want to marry young,” explained Goy-yo

Family life is everything in San Juan Juquila Vijanos. There is work, and there is family, according to Goy-yo. There is little time, opportunity or seemingly interest in sport, recreation or other diversions.

Like Angel, the people of his village descend from Zapotec people. Community celebrations and ceremony feature Zapotecan traditions, dance, food, and music— much of it still symbolically seeking to repel Spaniard invaders.

There is no violence and little crime in San Juan Juquila Vijanos—everyone knows everyone. There is no inequality. Everyone is poor.

There is no tourism to speak of, as only the most intrepid trekkers venture this far into the mountains. Aside from the ubiquity of cell phones, it remains a land largely untouched.

It is a tranquil and stable community perched high amid the clouds. Goy-yo’s home is described in the indigenous language as living surrounded by an abundance of blue.

He is appreciative of the opportunity given to him and his family in Canada, but Goy-yo dreams of the smell of pine forests and rejoining his family.