My culture is not about following religious or traditional rituals. My culture is about enduring life lessons and enjoying the little aspects of life. My object is an orange. I’ve craved an orange many times before. Back in Puebla, my grandmother taught me the skill of harvesting your own vegetables and fruits; it was incredible to note how the small trees endured the harsh hail storms and then bloomed in spring to give their fruits. However, I populated a rural town where the only fruits available were peaches and apples; eating oranges would be a rare event, only if you could afford a 5 hour bus ride to the closest market. Anyway, oranges were the symbol for my fight against the desert. Everytime my canteen ran out of water, I would imagine slicing an orange into two pieces. Bite after bite I would extract the juice trapped between the miniature walls. The thought of having that which I could barely afford before or attain then strengthened the little steps I took as a seven year old. I was not the only one with such illusions, my mother also craved oranges during her journey. Just like her, I persevered through the desert to be able to savour the freshness in a drop of orange juice. There are many others just like my mother and me who use the thought of an orange to fight against the thirst of the desert. Oranges are a symbol of my family’s perseverance and gratefulness. This is why my fruit platter always contains oranges.

– Vivian Cid Dector

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child