Sareda's toughing it out 
By Lou Christine (June 2, 2006)

Sareda Milosz is dying. It's no secret. Sareda knows it. I know it. Her family and friends are coming to grips with it. She's aware of this impending article. She's well into the late rounds in an uphill battle, but she's hanging in there. The effects from procedures and therapies, along with the illness itself, have taken their toll.

Sareda's weak and emaciated. Sareda has no choice but to go the distance while coming to terms with the inevitable. Despite the dreary prognosis she holds fast to a glint of "hope springs eternal."

The malignant melanoma was diagnosed back in 1998. Surgery, chemo, radiation and every other "-ation" connected to medical science haven't been able to turn the tide. She's been treated on both sides of the border, often commuting back and forth from here to Nevada for treatment and to be near family. 

She's now here in San Miguel, and it's for good. There will be no more probing, no more procedures nor the dread of going back under the knife. Sareda says, "Thank goodness that part is over."

Pragmatically, she says sees this moment as a pocket of time and space, to reflect and savor what she can. Long ago she sold the car. If her strength is up, and it's not too hot, Sareda enjoys a stroll through Centro. 

These days, those pleasant interludes are fewer and fewer. "Seventy-five percent of the time I feel lousy … I'm often nauseous. The pain's mostly in my abdomen. It's the toughest part. It's more frequent …, " she says while catching her breath in between the painful rounds. During the most challenging moments she prefers to go it alone, riding it out and holding on until the next breather.

Admired for her upfront honesty, Sareda has overtly addressed her plight: "When I was first diagnosed I never felt more alive. I was willing to fight. The first few years weren't so bad." Still, she has no regrets. She's proud how she's chosen her own life path, like when she threw caution to the wind, passed on financial security and embarked into the unknown. Perhaps such reflection tempers the many medicines' bilious aftertaste. She's satisfied with the ride, what she's seen and with the essence of her existence. Those aspects within the bouquet of life leave a better taste in her mouth.

She brays some, too. Why not? Her aspirations to write lie dormant. Says she's lost desire. "If healthy I'd love to be involved in local media.… Even this, I'd even write about my fix, since it's something you don't hear much about, I'd write what it's like dealing with cancer, but unfortunately I haven't the strength."

A portrait of Sareda during healthier times is one of an independent, friendly lady with energy, enthusiasm, talent and moxie. She's known for having quick wit and possessing a delicious, warped sense of humor. She's always rooted for the underdog and stood up for the little guy. She's as tough as a tow truck driver if challenged and as tender as a pediatrician when called for. She's always been hands-on and a welcomed collaborator among peers. 

Sareda Milosz was part of the flamboyant wave of colorful nomads who trail-blazed into San Miguel during the late '70s and early '80s. Sareda escaped the trappings of the rat race north of the border and serendipitously discovered Mexico. 

Right away she embraced Mexico's language and culture and involved herself in journalism and theater. She became a tireless volunteer. Born Sareda Goux Ludwig on June 19, 1946, in San Francisco, California, her father was Jewish, from Russian extraction, and her mother's Swedish-American. 

She and her younger brother, Richie, were extremely close, and they shared a love of the theater and a joint scatological sense of humor that continues to this day. 

The family was basically not religiously observant but otherwise was extremely strict. They lived in upscale Woodside, a suburb on the Bay Area's peninsula. Strict family discipline erased any sense of privilege. No potato chips or candies or sodas-(M)these were addictions. The family had a swimming pool mostly off limits to her and Richie.

In high school, Sareda developed the two lifelong loves: journalism and theater. She acted and edited the school paper, attended U.C. Berkeley and earned a B.A. in journalism. Always a prolific and diverse writer, she even contributed to Catholic periodicals.

After graduating, in the tumultuous sixties, she married Tony, the bad-boy son of a Polish émigré poet. Later on, in 1980, her father-in-law, Czeslaw Milosz, was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature. Tony and Sareda lived an alternative lifestyle where heavy partying was part of the makeup. After seven years it finally sunk in that the party was over; they amicably divorced yet are on friendly terms.

Surprising in one so talented and educated, Sareda opted to work at the US Post Office. During the time, having to eat and pay bills out-paced flower power. Busted-out hippies found employment within San Francisco's postal system. Sareda found the job perfect. Despite the divorce her party mode was still intact, providing her a lifestyle of burning the candle at both ends.

She socialized into the wee hours, then shook it off and showed up at 5am to sort and deliver mail. 

Sareda speaks fondly about her postal career. She discovered something invigorating and social. The job was mostly outdoors and offered good exercise. The money was considered good, and she was building up a pension. She saved money and bought and sold several houses, which enabled her eventually to move to Mexico while in her mid-30s. 

In the late '70s Sareda took an unexpected vacation in Puerto Vallarta. The trip left an immediate impact, wiping away any previous perceptions about Mexico. For Sareda, Mexico's atmosphere and mannerisms meshed with her own lust for life. It was an eye-opener. Sareda marveled that someone could actually go into a farmacia and buy just one band aid, or one aspirin or just one cigarette. The simplicity of everyday Mexican life she found refreshing, way more so than the super-sizing taking place back in her society. Returning to Oakland, she sold her house, tidied up affairs, and moved to Puerto Vallarta. 

Immediately she tackled Spanish, not just the formal version but the offbeat puns, and slang, mostly lipped on esquinas, during street talk. Although modest about her bilingual talents, during healthier times many tapped her for translation.
Later on, Sareda visited San Miguel and instantly fell in love with this old town. Puerto Vallarta was great, but San Miguel presented an additional appeal: a sense of community, a trait lacking in transient beach towns such as PV. 

Sareda immersed herself in Playreaders and the Player's Workshop and contributed articles and proofread for Atención. Countless hours were spent working at Don Bosco's and Betsy Schell's orphanages. A true sucker for street animals, she's unable to ignore a sickly or deserted dog or cat. She'd whisk them home, fatten them up, and then find them caring homes. Even today, despite her illness, Sareda has her four dogs and two cats. 

Sareda has had two runs at the editorship at Atención. Past contributors attest that she's been a terrific editor. She employed her special knack while remaining on the same page as authors; with a keen sense, she supported the writers, figuring out their slant and what they were trying to convey even though their angle may not have been apparent in original drafts. Sareda worked her magic by inserting more appropriate word choices, tinkered some with phrasing and, most of all, did so without the authors losing their original voice. 

Sareda quit Atención the first time. She did so in a huff, culminating a dispute with the Biblioteca's board. She had gone to bat, or should we say gone to war, by peppering the Biblioteca's board with the logic that a long-time employee deserved a proper raise. Her replacement didn't work out. She was asked back. Nevertheless, her earlier stance substantiated an eagerness to perpetuate justice and reward loyalty. Her second stint showed a Sareda less likely to bite her tongue. Familiar disagreements persisted. She was terminated after little more than a year.

Her beef with the board had little effect on the surface and didn't dampen her spirits when it came to community service. She served as the local president of PEN, a worldwide organization supporting writers who have been censored or imprisoned. Good causes, human rights and activities involving the healthy state of children and animals remained high on Sareda's dance card. Her face and voice added flavor to local theater. Directors counted on her uncanny talent to mimic. She delighted audiences by imitating accents in an over-exaggerated manner, or by going kinetic, comically copy-catting a character's supposed body language. 

Sareda also reentered the world of local publishing and founded El Independiente, a biweekly San Miguel bilingual newspaper focusing on cultural events. Issues concerning both the Mexican and expatriate community were front and center. The paper enjoyed a strong local readership, but financially a biweekly wasn't feasible. She and her team didn't want to take on the heavier workload to produce a weekly. The paper self-terminated after two years, in 2000.

Sareda went on to write for magazines and moonlighted as San Miguel's correspondent for Universal. 

Until recently, Sareda remained committed to theater as both an actor and proficient producer. She remains on the board of directors of the Player's Workshop.

Her yeoman's work at orphanages hasn't gone unnoticed. She visited frequently, socialized with kids and staff, contributed clothes and food (often that favorite, pizza) and kicked in any extra money that came her way. 

All those times and events are behind her now. How much time Sareda has left is anybody's guess. She's slugging it out. She no longer possesses a knock-out punch to beat this thing. Those she's helped and those who love Sareda would cherish the chance to jump into the ring with her and help her fight the fight, but that's out of the question; she's in this alone. Other than the Almighty, no referee will mercifully step in to stop this bout. She's prepared. Everything's in order. The 24-Hour Society has her last wishes. She still smiles, still laughs and can talk up a storm when she has the strength. She loves life and loves people and her animals. There are no more time-outs, and she can't be saved by the bell-yet Sareda fights on.

Lou Christine is a local writer and long-time contributor to Atención. Special thanks to Sareda's good friend, Melanie Nance, for contributing to this article.



Evo Morales: Andean populist reformer, or Bolivian autocrat in the making?
By John Barham 

The move to nationalize his country's gas fields in early May this year by Bolivia's newly elected president Evo Morales caused some to compare his actions to those of Mexican president Lazaro Cardenas in the 1930s.

After a 1937 strike for better wages and working conditions in Mexico's oil fields, Cardenas ordered that oil company bank accounts be scrutinized and concluded that wage hikes and programs designed to promote Mexican employees were in order. Eventually agreeing to increases in wages, the oil companies balked at other demands, paving the way for governmental action in March of 1938, which led to expropriation of oil properties, nationalization of a rich natural resource and creation of Petroleos Mexicanos, or PEMEX. However, other than the act of expropriation, there would seem to be little else in common between the Mexican president of the 1930s and the Andean leader of 2006.

The 46-year-old Morales, an Aymara Indian and first indigenous president of Bolivia, had been a llama herdsman, trumpet player and coca farmer in his earlier years. Eventually, Morales ventured into politics and founded the Party Movement toward Socialism, which now bases its ideology on antiglobalization and anti-free-trade sentiments. Along the way, he liberally castigated the United States and its leaders for their failure to assist in ending centuries of oppression for the indigenous Bolivian population. And, during the campaign leading to Morales's accession to Bolivia's top job on January 22, Morales fired the ardor of his supporters with campaign slogans such as "Long live coca and death to the Yankees!" 
In the few weeks after Morales's inauguration, there was some speculation that deep Brazilian investments in natural gas and in other economic sectors would serve to moderate Morales's brand of populism and that his socialism would turn out to be a restrained variety on the order of that practiced by Inacio Lula de Silva in Brasilia. However, recent developments have shown no indication of any movement toward moderation.

Looking toward July elections for Bolivia's Constituent Assembly, Morales has crafted a bill that would give any group or party with a majority barely surpassing 50% all the seats in its district's representation in the Assembly. If approved, Morales, who won the presidency on the strength of 53% of the total vote, would likely emerge as a dictator with little or no opposition in the Constituent Assembly.

Morales's selection of cabinet ministers from the ranks of activists and union leaders has inspired little confidence in the international community. Morales's appointee as foreign minister is on record as advocating the replacement of government efforts to increase the milk consumption of Bolivian children by adding coca to their diets. Coca, according to David Chocqehuanca, would enhance childhood diets, because of "its greater concentrations of calcium and phosphorus."

Long a cash crop and a mainstay of rural Bolivia, coca has for centuries been used as a tonic and stimulant in the Andes. Taking advantage of rural indigenous resentment of a US-backed program to replace the cultivation of coca in Bolivian agriculture with alternative crops, Morales in his campaign for the presidency was strident in condemning what he labeled a hypocritical attitude on the part of the US. Despite the fact that 80% of the coca grown in Bolivia is processed into cocaine, none of the processing, according to Morales, is done in Bolivia. If the US has a drug problem, says Morales, then it should deal with that problem at home, rather than intrude in culturally based practices in a foreign land.

If the US coca eradication program is dropped, that could mean the loss of approximately 80 million dollars annually in US aid. Conjecture would suggest that Morales is planning to replace those funds through the largesse of his ideological soulmate, Hugo Chavez of Venezuela.

Only a few days before the gas fields were nationalized, Morales signed a trade pact-"Bolivarian Alternative for the Americas"-with Chavez and Cuba's Fidel Castro. The agreement calls for coordination of trade and mutual economic support between the three countries and is seen as a blow to the US-backed Free Trade Area of the Americas. Chavez also agreed that the export of Venezuelan petroleum would be dramatically increased to Bolivia.

On the heels of the signing of the Bolivarian agreement came news on May 1 of the nationalization of the Bolivian gas fields. PETROBAS, the Bolivian gas company, is owned in part by the government of Brazil, and Brazil and Argentina are the biggest customers for Bolivian natural gas. Other countries with a considerable stake in the natural gas fields are the United Kingdom, Spain and France.

The initial reaction on the international scene came with words of warning from economists and international financiers that nationalization could create an unfavorable environment for foreign investors and, in the long run, jeopardize Morales's pledges to promote education, improve infrastructure and boost the standard of living for average Bolivians, many of whom exist on two dollars or less per day.

The impression from this quarter is that Morales may be in over his head. With widespread poverty and illiteracy and a per capita gross domestic product of less than US $900, Bolivia is in serious need of stable leadership. To nationalize gas fields and snuggle up to Hugo Chavez, as Chavez talks up the construction of a 5,000-mile pipeline to circulate Venezuelan natural gas throughout South America, does not appear to be wise.

And, as for any parallels drawn with Mexico during the Cardenas presidency, Mexico made giant strides toward economic and political stability under Cardenas. At this juncture, the actions of Evo Morales suggest neither economic nor political stability. 


John Barham, who has been visiting San Miguel de Allende for more than 18 years, has had a long career in higher education as an instructor and an administrator in colleges and universities.