Question

The small patch of tropics,[4] which were not shown on my mother’s
map but through which we had been traveling, soon thinned out as we
climbed into the desert mountains. We followed a big, backfiring
diesel,[5] which we couldn’t pass, and drowsing[6] in the back of the car,
in the heat and swaying,[7] I could tell from the backfires when the diesel
was leaving us behind as it raced downhill, until it began to labor uphill,
and we drew closer again. My father spoke enthusiastically about the
great city we were going to, Mexico City, high above everything,
ancient[8] and beautiful. Nothing ever changed there. My mother, so
practical, consulted guidebooks by the dozen and wrote itineraries.[9] I
remember mostly rain and traffic jams.
It was hot and growing dusky[10] when a village appeared below us.
Later we found it on the map: Tamazunchale,[11] which my mother
pronounced “Thomas and Charlie,” a few whitewashed houses in a
dusty bend with treetops shimmering in the last of the sun. Ahead of us
the diesel was plummeting[12] toward a one-lane bridge, and around the
curve on the other side of the village a small green pickup suddenly

appeared, flashing its headlights. But the diesel barreled[13] onto the
bridge at top speed, not trying to slow at all, so that the pickup, in order
to avoid disaster, was forced into a skid on the village side. It flipped and
rolled, and as the diesel shot past, the pickup slammed finally onto its
side in a wave of dust and gravel.
“God, oh God.” We followed slowly downhill in the Buick. When we
crossed the bridge, the dust swallowed us, then as it cleared on the
other side we saw the underside of the pickup. Some villagers had
already reached it. Others were still running, village women with their
skirts clutched[14] up, crying out. There was a strong smell of Pemex
gasoline and around one of the tires was a pale flame. One of the men,
wearing white campesino[15] pants but barechested, stretched down
into the skyward window, while others held his ankles, and fetched up a
howling[16] infant.
“We’ve got to stop,” my mother said.
Probably there was a farm family in the pickup, which had pink and
green tassels[17] and curtains painted on the inside of the windshield, a
decoration common to many Mexican trucks. We had slowed almost to a
stop, but not entirely. We were going on.
“They need help,” my mother said.
“They’ve got help,” my father said.
“We could take them to a hospital,” my mother said.
“They’ll call for help,” my father said.
I watched through the rear window, the villagers crowding around. There
were streaks of black in the dust cloud, but never an explosion—just the
billowing,[18] huge and serene.[19]
“But what if there’s no telephone?” my mother said. “How will they call
for help?”

The diesel must have continued up the mountain. It had not stopped to
render[20] aid. It was nowhere in sight.
“You don’t know what could happen,” my father said. “You don’t
understand, do you?”
My mother was not a hysterical[21] woman. If there were shouts and
tears I don’t remember them. If she had doubts, as she always did,
about everything in her life, she took refuge[22] in my father’s direction.
“They’ll think it’s our fault,” she said reasonably. “They’ll come after us.
They’ll throw us in jail.”
My father began to sing “On the Road to Mandalay.”
My mother’s map flapped furiously.[23] Later she gave him some water
from the cap of the big thermos she kept at her feet. When we traveled
nights, there were always the embers[24] of the cigarettes they passed
between them.
I watched all the way to the top of the mountain. In the evening light,
rising above the village, the dust was like a pink bomb blast: a great,
unfolding flower. I understood only that my mother and father were lost.


Tamazunchale Questions
1. In paragraph 2, what words tell us that the current time is far in the future and that the narrator is telling us of events that happened long ago?

2. What evidence is there that the boy’s father had changed, and what was the cause of this change?

3. The mother claims that the father “was sometimes a stranger.” How do we know that the boy misunderstood what his mother was saying?

4. Where is the family going to?

5. Describe the accident they witness.

6. What does the mother think they should do, and what reasons does she give?

7. From their decision not to stop, what do we learn about the father? Give evidence.

8. From their decision not to stop, what do we learn about the mother? Give evidence.

9. The mother is always consulting her map. Why is this ironic? (“Irony” has to do with opposites–as in, you would expect one result, but you get the opposite result.)

Answer 1

1. The phrase “I remember” and the past-tense verbs (“spoke,” “we were going,” etc.) show the narrator is looking back—telling about events that happened long ago from a later time.

2. Evidence of change: the father refuses to stop to help, brushes off the crash (“They’ve got help,” “They’ll call for help”), and even begins to sing while the wreckage smolders. Cause of the change: fear and self‑preservation — he is worried about being blamed or jailed and so withdraws from responsibility.

3. The mother meant the father could be emotionally unfamiliar or different at times. The boy misunderstood this as literal loss: the last line, “I understood only that my mother and father were lost,” shows he took “a stranger” to mean they themselves were lost rather than that the father had grown distant.

4. They are going to Mexico City.

5. A big, backfiring diesel truck raced onto a one‑lane bridge at top speed. A small green pickup coming from the other side skid, flipped and rolled, and landed on its side. Villagers ran to the scene; there was the smell of gasoline and a pale flame by a tire; people pulled a howling infant from the wreck. The diesel kept going and did not stop.

6. The mother thinks they should stop and help — even take the victims to a hospital — because “They need help” and “what if there’s no telephone? How will they call for help?” She is concerned about the victims’ immediate need for assistance.

7. The father is self‑protective, fearful of consequences, and unwilling to take responsibility. Evidence: he insists “They’ve got help” and “They’ll call for help,” worries “They’ll throw us in jail,” and sings instead of acting.

8. The mother is compassionate and conscientious (she wants to stop and offer help), but also anxious and deferential. Evidence: she urges “We’ve got to stop” and suggests taking them to a hospital, yet she is worried about being blamed and eventually yields to her husband’s decision, “took refuge in my father’s direction.”

9. It’s ironic because although the mother constantly consults maps to provide certainty and direction, that careful planning doesn’t help them in the moral/directional crisis they face: she is literally and emotionally “lost” despite her reliance on maps. The map’s promise of guidance is undermined by their failure to act and by their parents’ confusion.