Published by the Hispanic Institute of Social Issues in Phoenix, Arizona
The Sorrow of my People - The Story of Dr. John Molina
By Eduardo Barraza March 15, 2006
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Guadalupe, Arizona. A speed limit set at 25 miles per hour and plenty
of stop signs make Avenida del Yaqui a street of slow-moving traffic.
Avenida del Yaqui, or Yaqui Avenue, is the main street of the Town of
Guadalupe, one of the smallest communities in Arizona, and rich in
traditions and customs. The street signs seem to set more than the
pace of the traffic; they also set the beat of Guadalupe’s ancient
heart, a heart palpitating with contemporary rhythm.
Upon this town of less than six thousand inhabitants and
approximately one square-mile of land, a century of ethnic pride and
struggle rests. Founded around the beginning of the 20th Century by
Yaqui Indians from Sonora, Guadalupe retains many of their
attitudes, ceremonies and ways. Its name, though, symbolizes the
people’s rooted devotion to Catholicism, to which many Yaquis
converted centuries ago. Today, the cultural and demographic
blending spells out her defined and unique character, and shapes
her unassuming, yet strong sense of dignity and value. Surrounded
by much bigger and faster growing urban and suburban cities, the
town has preserved well her humble identity. Guadalupe is
decidedly herself.
Avenida del Yaqui is Guadalupe’s social and economic hub, and
where businesses and community centers open their doors to
residents and visitors. The streets’ names in Spanish make a
linguistic statement in a state of English-only advocates: Calle
Iglesia; Calle Maravilla; Calle San Angelo. Yet, most of Guadalupe’s
people are bilingual in English and Spanish, and some also speak
Yaqui. Here, most residents are related or know each other, so
visitors are spotted almost immediately. They are looked at with a
glance of distrust, but also with a mixture of friendliness and shyness.
West of Avenida del Yaqui, on Calle Iglesia, or Church Street, two
white temples stand next to each other. Their position in front of a
large dirt plaza, make the buildings resemble two white doves,
resting peacefully in the middle of the desert. They are the Yaqui
Temple and the Catholic Church. Their togetherness epitomize
Guadalupe’s religious believes, coexisting in fraternal proximity.
Just north of San Angelo street, a man sells oranges and tangerines
from the bed of his truck. The citric colors contrast with the
somewhat somber landscape of Guadalupe’s streets, where people
of all ages walk on this winter morning. Others gather in the front
yards of their homes; making semi-circles, they stand next to each
other chatting and laughing. Sitting on chairs, a father and his son
quietly enjoy a soft drink, and the warm sunlight of this Saturday
morning. A man driving a white car slows down on Avenida del
Yaqui’s center lane, and approaching the fruit vendor asks him for
the location of Las Fuentes Health Clinic. Courteously, the vendor
points out a small building south of San Angelo, but kindly warns the
visitor: “The clinic is closed on Saturdays!”
It is in this town, and on this avenue, where an admirable story of
compassion and service for people suffering emerges. In the very
core of this struggling community, a man responds to the calling of
his own heart, determined to heal the pain and illness of his own
people. His name: John Molina, Doctor John Molina, a Guadalupe
native, and founder of Las Fuentes. The son of a full-blooded Yaqui
man, and a Mexican-Apache woman, Dr. Molina is indisputably a
predestined individual. His work and contribution, aimed at bettering
the health of Guadalupe’s inhabitants have not only fulfilled its
purpose, but have created a paradigm of dedication, hard work, and
inspiration. Today, Las Fuentes Health Clinic of Guadalupe stands out
not only for its invaluable service to the community, but for the inner
and healing strength found in such a small building. The clinic is more
than a caring facility; it’s a source of compassionate force.
Dr. Molina’s departing point could be traced to 1974, when he joined
the Navy. “That was a good experience –says Dr. Molina– because it
got me outside of Guadalupe to see another world. Living in
Guadalupe is all you know, all you live, all you experience, good and
bad. The Navy widened my horizons, and allowed me to see other
worlds and cultures; it helped me to see my own culture from the
outside in. During this time, I became very interested in the helping
professions. When I looked back into Guadalupe, I saw that it was
struggling, not only economically, but with a lot of issues: drug
abuse, alcoholism, and a lot of poverty. In the Navy I got a chance to
breathe and learn on my own, but I also saw the needs in
Guadalupe. I decided to come back and help in any way I could.”
After that eye-opening experience, Dr. Molina became involved in
social work, and went on to pursue a degree from Arizona State
University. “When I was working on my Bachelor’s degree, I was also
a social worker in Guadalupe – he remembers. “In the late 70’s and
early 80’s, I would visit people to help them get their utilities, food,
and other needs. It was during this time that I saw a lot of them
literally dying in their homes. They would not see the doctor because
they did not have money, they were embarrassed and shy to go see
the doctor. The cultural differences were pretty obvious. People felt
uncomfortable to go outside of Guadalupe to see a white doctor;
they couldn’t understand. I saw people taking care of themselves at
home; they would take herbal remedies, go see a natural healer, but
they were still sick.”
The event that really made an impression on Dr. Molina was the time
when he visited an ill man. “I saw one of our people, this Mexican
that was treating his big toe with herbs and aloe vera. When he
showed it to me, the toe was rotten and decaying. I was really
impacted by what people were suffering, just because they felt
uncomfortable or did not have money to see the doctor. And those
who did see the doctor had the bottles of medication in their house,
but they were not taking it because they did not know how or why.
The doctor would explain everything to them, but being the proud
people that they are, and not to embarrass the doctor, they would
just shake their heads, say ‘okay,’ and walk away. But they really
had no idea what was going on with them, or why they needed to
take the pills. I was really troubled by this.”
This troubling experience and a friend impelled Dr. Molina to devote
himself to a deeper latitude of service. The friend was Doctor Lincoln
Westman, a white psychiatrist who was working with some of
Guadalupe’s residents. “When I told him how I felt about the people,
he challenged me by saying: ‘why don’t you become a doctor.’ I said:
‘how, me?’ I was in my early 30’s, married and had four young
children. I did not know how I was going to do it. I was working as a
social worker through a program with the Town, and finishing my
degree at ASU. Still, Dr. Westman said: ‘maybe you should be the
doctor.’ So I thought about it. With what the doctor said, and
encouragement from other friends, I decided to get in the medical
field. I completed my degree, and I took some pre-requisite classes.
I studied for the exam, applied, and I was accepted into the
University of Arizona College of Medicine in Tucson in 1986.”
Having been admitted into medical school represented the first step
for Dr. Molina to begin planning to open a clinic in Guadalupe. “I
thought that what this town needed was just a small clinic, where
people could feel comfortable, speak their language, and where they
did not have to worry about having to pay. A clinic that would
understand their culture and family, and would make them feel
welcome, and where they could just walk in.” After four years of
medical school, Dr. Molina graduated in 1990, and went through four
more years of specialty training in obstetrics, which he finished in
1994. He returned to Phoenix to work for a hospital.
“That was a perfect opportunity –he explains– because having a job,
I decided it was the time, so I started looking for a place for the
clinic. My family has always been a part of Guadalupe. In fact, most of
my family attends the Presbyterian Church of Guadalupe, and I’ve
been coming to this church since I was a little child. So when I
approached the church about maybe helping us open up the clinic,
they let me use a small little building to start up a volunteer clinic.”
In August of 1995, Dr. Molina and his mother, Maria Elena Garcia,
started coming out in the evenings, after work, and on Saturdays to
clean up the building, and get it ready for the clinic. “In the
beginning, we never asked for money or grants –reveals the doctor.
“We decided we would just come on weekends and in our free time,
and provide care for people. My first patient came to see me in
September of 1995. She was a young Yaqui girl with a skin infection.”
of stop signs make Avenida del Yaqui a street of slow-moving traffic.
Avenida del Yaqui, or Yaqui Avenue, is the main street of the Town of
Guadalupe, one of the smallest communities in Arizona, and rich in
traditions and customs. The street signs seem to set more than the
pace of the traffic; they also set the beat of Guadalupe’s ancient
heart, a heart palpitating with contemporary rhythm.
Upon this town of less than six thousand inhabitants and
approximately one square-mile of land, a century of ethnic pride and
struggle rests. Founded around the beginning of the 20th Century by
Yaqui Indians from Sonora, Guadalupe retains many of their
attitudes, ceremonies and ways. Its name, though, symbolizes the
people’s rooted devotion to Catholicism, to which many Yaquis
converted centuries ago. Today, the cultural and demographic
blending spells out her defined and unique character, and shapes
her unassuming, yet strong sense of dignity and value. Surrounded
by much bigger and faster growing urban and suburban cities, the
town has preserved well her humble identity. Guadalupe is
decidedly herself.
Avenida del Yaqui is Guadalupe’s social and economic hub, and
where businesses and community centers open their doors to
residents and visitors. The streets’ names in Spanish make a
linguistic statement in a state of English-only advocates: Calle
Iglesia; Calle Maravilla; Calle San Angelo. Yet, most of Guadalupe’s
people are bilingual in English and Spanish, and some also speak
Yaqui. Here, most residents are related or know each other, so
visitors are spotted almost immediately. They are looked at with a
glance of distrust, but also with a mixture of friendliness and shyness.
West of Avenida del Yaqui, on Calle Iglesia, or Church Street, two
white temples stand next to each other. Their position in front of a
large dirt plaza, make the buildings resemble two white doves,
resting peacefully in the middle of the desert. They are the Yaqui
Temple and the Catholic Church. Their togetherness epitomize
Guadalupe’s religious believes, coexisting in fraternal proximity.
Just north of San Angelo street, a man sells oranges and tangerines
from the bed of his truck. The citric colors contrast with the
somewhat somber landscape of Guadalupe’s streets, where people
of all ages walk on this winter morning. Others gather in the front
yards of their homes; making semi-circles, they stand next to each
other chatting and laughing. Sitting on chairs, a father and his son
quietly enjoy a soft drink, and the warm sunlight of this Saturday
morning. A man driving a white car slows down on Avenida del
Yaqui’s center lane, and approaching the fruit vendor asks him for
the location of Las Fuentes Health Clinic. Courteously, the vendor
points out a small building south of San Angelo, but kindly warns the
visitor: “The clinic is closed on Saturdays!”
It is in this town, and on this avenue, where an admirable story of
compassion and service for people suffering emerges. In the very
core of this struggling community, a man responds to the calling of
his own heart, determined to heal the pain and illness of his own
people. His name: John Molina, Doctor John Molina, a Guadalupe
native, and founder of Las Fuentes. The son of a full-blooded Yaqui
man, and a Mexican-Apache woman, Dr. Molina is indisputably a
predestined individual. His work and contribution, aimed at bettering
the health of Guadalupe’s inhabitants have not only fulfilled its
purpose, but have created a paradigm of dedication, hard work, and
inspiration. Today, Las Fuentes Health Clinic of Guadalupe stands out
not only for its invaluable service to the community, but for the inner
and healing strength found in such a small building. The clinic is more
than a caring facility; it’s a source of compassionate force.
Dr. Molina’s departing point could be traced to 1974, when he joined
the Navy. “That was a good experience –says Dr. Molina– because it
got me outside of Guadalupe to see another world. Living in
Guadalupe is all you know, all you live, all you experience, good and
bad. The Navy widened my horizons, and allowed me to see other
worlds and cultures; it helped me to see my own culture from the
outside in. During this time, I became very interested in the helping
professions. When I looked back into Guadalupe, I saw that it was
struggling, not only economically, but with a lot of issues: drug
abuse, alcoholism, and a lot of poverty. In the Navy I got a chance to
breathe and learn on my own, but I also saw the needs in
Guadalupe. I decided to come back and help in any way I could.”
After that eye-opening experience, Dr. Molina became involved in
social work, and went on to pursue a degree from Arizona State
University. “When I was working on my Bachelor’s degree, I was also
a social worker in Guadalupe – he remembers. “In the late 70’s and
early 80’s, I would visit people to help them get their utilities, food,
and other needs. It was during this time that I saw a lot of them
literally dying in their homes. They would not see the doctor because
they did not have money, they were embarrassed and shy to go see
the doctor. The cultural differences were pretty obvious. People felt
uncomfortable to go outside of Guadalupe to see a white doctor;
they couldn’t understand. I saw people taking care of themselves at
home; they would take herbal remedies, go see a natural healer, but
they were still sick.”
The event that really made an impression on Dr. Molina was the time
when he visited an ill man. “I saw one of our people, this Mexican
that was treating his big toe with herbs and aloe vera. When he
showed it to me, the toe was rotten and decaying. I was really
impacted by what people were suffering, just because they felt
uncomfortable or did not have money to see the doctor. And those
who did see the doctor had the bottles of medication in their house,
but they were not taking it because they did not know how or why.
The doctor would explain everything to them, but being the proud
people that they are, and not to embarrass the doctor, they would
just shake their heads, say ‘okay,’ and walk away. But they really
had no idea what was going on with them, or why they needed to
take the pills. I was really troubled by this.”
This troubling experience and a friend impelled Dr. Molina to devote
himself to a deeper latitude of service. The friend was Doctor Lincoln
Westman, a white psychiatrist who was working with some of
Guadalupe’s residents. “When I told him how I felt about the people,
he challenged me by saying: ‘why don’t you become a doctor.’ I said:
‘how, me?’ I was in my early 30’s, married and had four young
children. I did not know how I was going to do it. I was working as a
social worker through a program with the Town, and finishing my
degree at ASU. Still, Dr. Westman said: ‘maybe you should be the
doctor.’ So I thought about it. With what the doctor said, and
encouragement from other friends, I decided to get in the medical
field. I completed my degree, and I took some pre-requisite classes.
I studied for the exam, applied, and I was accepted into the
University of Arizona College of Medicine in Tucson in 1986.”
Having been admitted into medical school represented the first step
for Dr. Molina to begin planning to open a clinic in Guadalupe. “I
thought that what this town needed was just a small clinic, where
people could feel comfortable, speak their language, and where they
did not have to worry about having to pay. A clinic that would
understand their culture and family, and would make them feel
welcome, and where they could just walk in.” After four years of
medical school, Dr. Molina graduated in 1990, and went through four
more years of specialty training in obstetrics, which he finished in
1994. He returned to Phoenix to work for a hospital.
“That was a perfect opportunity –he explains– because having a job,
I decided it was the time, so I started looking for a place for the
clinic. My family has always been a part of Guadalupe. In fact, most of
my family attends the Presbyterian Church of Guadalupe, and I’ve
been coming to this church since I was a little child. So when I
approached the church about maybe helping us open up the clinic,
they let me use a small little building to start up a volunteer clinic.”
In August of 1995, Dr. Molina and his mother, Maria Elena Garcia,
started coming out in the evenings, after work, and on Saturdays to
clean up the building, and get it ready for the clinic. “In the
beginning, we never asked for money or grants –reveals the doctor.
“We decided we would just come on weekends and in our free time,
and provide care for people. My first patient came to see me in
September of 1995. She was a young Yaqui girl with a skin infection.”
Dr. John Molina, in front of the
health clinic he established in the
Town of Guadalupe. His work and
dedication represents an
enormous contribution of service,
sacrifice, and compassion for the
people.
Photo by Eduardo Barraza | Barriozona
health clinic he established in the
Town of Guadalupe. His work and
dedication represents an
enormous contribution of service,
sacrifice, and compassion for the
people.
Photo by Eduardo Barraza | Barriozona
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Eduardo Barraza is a journalist and writer,
Barriozona Magazine's editor, and director of
the Hispanic Insitute of Social Issues.
E-mail: editor@barriozona.com
Barriozona Magazine's editor, and director of
the Hispanic Insitute of Social Issues.
E-mail: editor@barriozona.com
