Baby on Assignment: Our First Reporting to Trip to Puebla with Miya
After Miya was born, Matt and I decided to lay low for a while as we learned how to become parents and adjust to this next life stage. For some time, the routine felt structured and repetitive: change her diapers, feed her, play with her, put her down for naps, and take her for walks.
We both experienced this simultaneous feeling of long days intermixed with moments where we felt like time flew by too quickly. Like the snap of a finger, Miya said goodbye to certain routines and behaviours. She became bigger, started to babble, and learned to smile.
As parents, we read that you’re always anticipating the next thing – how is she growing, and what is she learning?
For me, I never felt prepared when a behaviour would go away. I sometimes felt all-consuming grief when she would change ever so slightly, and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to “what she used to do.”
Over time, she wanted the bottle more. Snuggles felt shorter. I felt myself – and still do -- racing against time to lock in all my memories of her. Our cameras can only do so much. I can’t smell, touch, or feel her the same way I did today, like yesterday. Time always felt like it was slipping away.
But I knew this would happen. So, every day we learned to cherish our moments with her – and build little memories even in the city.
From the get-go, we did not isolate ourselves. There was no confinement period. We took her to restaurants with outdoor patios and learned how to change her diaper swiftly in parks and toilet stalls. We visited with friends and embraced visits from family on both sides.
We soaked in morning and afternoon walks around our beautiful neighbourhood of Condesa and the gorgeous Mexico City weather.
Miya learned to love the outside and thrived in her own curiosity of looking at tree-lined boulevards and people streaming past her. If we kept her inside for too long, she would become frustrated.
Despite feeling slightly anxious about our first project after her birth, we were excited. We couldn’t wait to bring her “on assignment.” Before her delivery, Matt and I published a few stories for Al Jazeera and VICE. We even published one final story days before she entered the world.
At the time, I wasn’t so sure when I would be able to report next. But, at the end of September, we pitched and received an assignment from Washington Post to write on Día de Muertos, specifically about indigenous traditions. So, in October, Matt and I started planning our first project with Miya at just two months old.
With the help of a fixer, we found some families willing to speak to us from San Miguel Canoa, a Nahua town located 40 minutes away from Puebla. The window for meeting them was short. They only wanted to meet with us during the celebration days – October 29th to November 2nd, as it “was best to see the traditions in person.”
With Miya, we didn’t want to just go back and forth over a few days for the assignment. So, we decided to stay in Puebla for the week. We would take her to see a different city, eat some good food and relax a little before our assignment.
Matt and I visited Puebla once in 2020 and loved the area for its bustling character. The city’s historic centre is vividly colourful with ornate baroque-style buildings.
Puebla is also a culinary city known for its mole and another seasonal dish, chiles en nogada. This was our second visit to Puebla. Just two hours away, it’s not particularly far from Mexico City.
The day we left Condesa, I felt slightly nervous. We had built such a routine with that home that I feared the trip might shock Miya. But she adjusted wonderfully. Aside from the odd cry, she mostly slept in the car. When she woke up, she fussed a bit in my lap, only to insist that she be able to look out the window. She would stare endlessly at the cars going by or the movement of the sky above.
Our little girl cooed and joyfully babbled when we got to our temporary home for the week. The unit had high ceilings with bricks, and she would shout for joy just staring at the bricks. It was the most sentimental, curious sight to see. I never felt so grateful to have a daughter that was so spirited and full of life.
For the assignment, Matt rented a rental car so we could travel back and forth ourselves between San Miguel Canoa and Puebla. We figured this would be the easiest with Miya’s car seat, changing diapers and taking breaks. We travelled between both places three times for interviews and for Matt to capture photos of a “morning illumination.”
The drive was not difficult for the most part. As with any driving in Mexico, navigating out of the city traffic was the most challenging part. Once we got out of the heart of Puebla, it was one straight road up to San Miguel Canoa. The drive took about 40 minutes, short given Miya’s long ride from Mexico City to Puebla.
On our first day, we discovered it was a market day. The village was hectic and full of cars and people lining the streets everywhere. Most families were shopping for flowers, candles, food and other gifts to build their Día De Muertos altars -- ofrendas. It was almost impossible to find parking. We circled the centre of the town twice before we were able to find a spot.
Even though the village sits under three dramatic volcanoes – Malinche, Popocatépetl and Iztaccihuatl -- and its hectic market buzzed with character – I wouldn’t say that it was the most attractive town. It was definitely not a pueblo magico.
We saw more than one creepy town drunk stumbling around, and many buildings were dilapidated. But we weren’t there to document a pueblo magico. We wanted to experience Día De Muertos with traditionalist families, and San Miguel Canoa was the perfect place.
Our contact in the village was a man named Raúl Pérez. He was the town’s ex-mayor, and everyone knew who he was. It was a bit of a hunt to find him, though, since we only had his phone number. He only answered his phone occasionally, and the line was muffled when he did. We would later find out that he was using an old brick phone.
On that first day, we were supposed to meet him at the town square, but when we arrived, we couldn’t find anyone in the chaos. Raúl did not pick up when we called. We decided to wait inside the main church because it was sunny outside, and I wanted to keep Miya in the shade. I was also a bit frustrated and worried that we were trying to find a needle in a haystack.
Matt called Raúl several times, though, and he eventually picked up.
He told us to find him at his store, located away from the main square. The streets in the village were tight and narrow for our car, so we decided to walk. Despite some resistance from Miya, we wrapped her in a blanket and navigated her down a series of steep, hilly roads.
I didn’t feel so prepared wearing Toms for what Matt referred to as a “village hike.” We had her carrier, but it fit too loosely on me to create enough neck support for such a small baby. Matt was also lugging all his camera gear, so it was easier to swaddle her.
At the same time, I was trying to protect Miya from the sun under the blanket. It was becoming a sweltering day, so I was worried about her overheating. I made a mental note to get her a sun hat for the future.
Feeling dehydrated, I made a second mental note to pack more water in my backpack as we had left our water in the car. I had no idea that I would have to trek her across town.
Nevertheless, we mustered forward. We ended up finding Raúl halfway across town. He was a laid-back older gentleman dressed in denim and a ranchero hat. The ex-mayor took us around the village in a beat-up car and chatted energetically about the community. He himself had an interesting story – apparently, he was in jail for some time as a political prisoner.
While we met with some families, Miya slept. On this first day, we kept the meetings short. We were exhausted trying to find Raúl in the first place. He also said that most of the families were just shopping that day.
The significant traditions – ofrenda building, cooking, and visiting the cemeteries would occur over the next few days. Normally for cultural stories, Matt and I would soak in long meetings with families. This time, admittedly, I felt tired. I just wanted to finish the interviews and head back.
I also decided the day was done after meeting the town baker. While interviewing her in her kitchen, some loose ash flakes from the open bread oven fell on Miya. One flake fell near her eye, and she started freaking out. Nothing got into her eye, but I decided it was enough. It was hot and sunny, and we were all tired. We packed up and drove back to Puebla. We would continue the next day.
Raúl brought us to meet a few families the following day. Building the ofrendas was a long, intricate process. Families would wake up at 4 am to start cooking and spend the whole day assembling.
One day in the Día de Muertos celebrations is entirely dedicated to lost children – Day of the Little Angels or Día de Los Angelitos. We met one family – Eduardo and Nancy Sanchez who lost their six-month son earlier that year. They had covered him in too many blankets in cold weather, and he died of overheating.
I felt distraught standing there watching his mother mourn. She was timid and smiled at us at first. But when we asked about the altar and what happened, tears quietly streamed down her face. She told us she had no words for what happened.
I felt guilty as I carried Miya in front of them and almost felt too ashamed to continue with the interview. I could never imagine losing a child or being able to process the guilt that came with knowing her death was because of a decision I had made.
His parents, especially his father, were open about celebrating his memory. They bought his favourite toys and candies and sprinkled their altar with everything he loved to ensure he felt their love.
Eduardo explained that they would ask their other lost loved ones to look after him in the underworld. The gifts of the altar would then be donated to other children in his family or the less fortunate. It was such a tragic yet mesmerizing scene to process.
After a few more interviews, I felt confident we had enough to work with. All that was left was photography– Matt’s domain. We would wake up and return to the village the following day before sunset for the cemetery illumination.
We arrived at around 4 am the following morning – this time with our friends TK and Brandon, who wanted to see the celebrations. It was cold, so we huddled in the car as groups of families filtered into the cemetery grounds with marigold flowers— cempusuchil— candles and parts of their altars.
I didn’t realize it would be this cold. I only dressed in a sweater, but it was jacket weather. Luckily Miya was in layers, and I bundled her in a blanket. The memory of the story we heard the previous day haunted and freaked me out slightly as I snuggled her close.
Matt, TK and Brandon went to check out the altars while I stayed in the car with Miya. Aside from describing the scenery, my role in the story was finished. I had spent most evenings typing up a draft while Miya took naps.
As dawn approached, Matt told me to bring Miya out for a glance. The cemetery was spectacular – vividly colourful beyond imagination. Amid a magnificent morning sky of glowing pink and orange hues, thousands of families were congregated around each tombstone, quietly praying. Candles lit up a still, slightly dark atmosphere, and around each tombstone were scatterings of cempusuchil and pine needles.
Matt caught everything on a drone, and it was even more dramatic to see the whole scene from the entire sky. The whole area was lit up, and all you could see were rows of colours.
I had never seen anything like this before. It put a whole new meaning to celebrating the dead. There was nothing eerie or sad about this as it was a celebration of lives lived. Though Miya could never understand or remember what she was seeing, I’m still glad she got to see it. I watched her eyes follow some lights, which was enough of a memory for me.
I thought to myself -- what a special moment for our little family.
I realized this trip that what we do regularly is difficult just with the two of us – constantly travelling, finding and waiting for sources, and hoping and praying the story turns into something.
Having Miya with us, and operating on little to no sleep, the days became even longer and more complex. We had to worry whether she was okay while trying to maintain focus on conversations and capturing everything we would need for a story. It was not easy. I lost focus many times and needed Matt to step in to capture and remember details.
But this first assignment following her birth was extraordinary for so many reasons. There was something so special about the ability to bring our daughter along for a project. She would never remember this, but we would always know that this story involved her. She was our little “baby on assignment” – and now part of our team.
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