Many U.S. citizens who have lived in Mexico for an extended time have a repellent response regarding all things Donald Trump.
The result: a wide swath of foreigners who recognize admirable crowds of local neighbors – especially when compared with the Republican presidential candidate. And also certainly when compared with many of their own countrymen-and-women who use their families’ often well-known nepotism and contempt for the Republic’s middle and lower classes. Such unfortunate clusters are seen to be very much like Trump and his ill-gotten wealth. Just as, for many Mexicans, there is little difference between the ruling few and Trump and his loathsomeness. But dents in the present culture often tote too much greasily acquired riches, and poorly controlled contempt for their fellow, poorer Mexicans. Certainly there are a good number of gringos and Mexicans who appear as heroes when compared with the people who often govern them – and with the Trump-types who are their enemies.
Presently this mixed, often uncertain social reality prompts both groups to sharply – often ridiculously – compare the two extremes. Yet it also brings into active recognition of those whose behavior makes one proud that such “heroes” even exist, and exist so bravely, and at fitting times and places.
A stirring flourish of a gringo example of such a social revelation exists in the life-and-death bravery – and modesty – of a former Guadalajara consul general. The name of this “unflappable” career diplomat was Richard Morefield, and he was assigned here after maneuvering to help to keep the American staff of the U.S. Embassy in Tehran safe. He had been assigned there just four months before that diplomatic mission was seized by a mob of Iranians in 1979.
Morefield had been sent to Tehran because as a seasoned Foreign Service officer. He was experienced in working calmly in violent-torn countries such as Colombia and Uruguay. He was immediately faced with an explosive situation: Iran was seething with anti-American temper because the United States had given safe passage out of the country to the ailing and much hated – and U.S. backed – Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, whose dynasty ruled Iran.
The U.S. Embassy was stormed and occupied by forces of the “rebel” Aytollah Komenini November 4, 1979. Promptly after being taken prisoner, Morefield was taken to a basement holding area and blindfolded. He was forced to stay silent unless he was being interrogated. He was ordered to kneel and a pistol was place against his head. The weapon’s trigger was pulled. The pistol snapped. It was empty. This was to occur twice more during his imprisonment. He never know when that “exercise” would take place.
Otherwise during his captivity he was he was held in isolation in a cramped cell that received light only from window slits high above him.
The isolation, the waiting was a frightening experience. The uncertainty. Never knowing what might happen next.
“Following lessons” he had absorbed during training, he made no attempts to “befriend” his guards. Each day, Morefield determinedly did a set of exercises: Push-ups, sit-ups, assiduously pacing the small area of his cell. Trying to create crossword puzzle games in his head, recalling the most difficult math problems of his younger days. This helped offset the efforts of his captors to “play with his head.” He tried to anticipate such efforts, planning how to counter them, deal with them in “his way,” meaning ways that flexed his mind.
After 444 days, after the Algeria Accords were signed January 19, 1981, and the inauguration of President Ronald Reagan, Morefield and the other American captives were given medical examinations and released January 20. When they landed in Germany, he called his wife and told her “those people tried to break us,” but “we beat them.” He was soon reunited with his family at the Stewart International Airport in New York January 25. His wife, Dorothea, who had worked relentlessly with the family members of other hostages for the freedom of their kin, watched their children run to greet Morefield. “Until that moment, I really didn’t believe it was over. Then I ran, too. We didn’t say anything for several minutes.”
After a time of emotional and physical recovery at their home in San Diego, he returned to duty, taking another dangerous post, becoming consul general in Guadalajara, Jalisco.
(This is the first of a series.)