| BARRIOZONA |
Permission to reprint or copy this article or photo, other than personal use, must be obtained from BARRIOZONA,
Call 480-983-1445 or e-mail admin@barriozona.com with your request
Call 480-983-1445 or e-mail admin@barriozona.com with your request
A Hurting Community and a Man Determined to Heal it
By Eduardo Barraza
BARRIOZONA
March 15, 2006
BARRIOZONA
March 15, 2006
The Sorrow of my People - The Story of Dr. John Molina
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.”
Copyright © 2006 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
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.”
Copyright © 2006 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
| Grassroots Journalism www.barriozona.com |
