Priscilla and the Sonoran Desert

The theme song of the  musical Priscilla, Queen of the Desert is unforgivably cringy.  I couldn’t help bringing it up, perhaps to humor the memory of Priscilla who died more than seven years ago. Priscilla, was never a discontented mother nor a regimented wife. Neither had she anything to do with drag queens or a dilapidated pink bus stuck in the middle of nowhere in some Australian desert.  But inspired by the musical, I thought of Priscilla as I drove into the heart of the Sonoran Desert just  north of the US-Mexico border.

“Hey lady, you lady, cursin’ at your life

You’re a discontented  mother and a regimented wife 

I’ve no doubt you dream about the things you never do

But I wish someone had to talk to me like I wanna talk to you.”

It was Priscilla who first told me about saguaro and  organ pipe cacti as we walked around the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix.  She  considered the desert  her sanctuary, or  more like her place of spiritual retreat. She talked about Ajo where she stayed on a designated trailer for days on end to manage the care of Albert’s elderly  parent.  A former college instructor at a prestigious private university in Manila (DLSU), it looked like Priscilla really took pleasure in going to Ajo as her place of spiritual retreat while doing some labor of love, on the side.

“Ooh I’ve been to Georgia and California oh anywhere  I could run

Took the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun

But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free

I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me.”

The song followed me into the  town of Ajo like a fly following some shit. I could have swatted the fly dead but the thought that dragged into drag queens  lip syncing the song entertained me and dispelled my fears of being stopped by undocumented immigrants blocking the road and hijacking the Lincoln for their getaway vehicle. 

“Please  lady, please, lady

Don’t just walk away

‘Cause I have this need to tell you why I’m all alone today 

I can see so much of me still living in your eyes, won’t you share a part of your weary heart that has lived a million times.”

As I drove into Ajo along Arizona highway 85, I made up reasons why Priscilla would drive  into miles and miles of lush desert wilderness. The saguaros must have been calling her and she must go. I couldn’t tell which could be cornier: John Muir being called by the mountains or drag queens lip syncing in the Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. 

“ Hey you know what a paradise is? It is a lie, a fantasy we create about people and places we’d like them to be...” 

The word paradise stuck with me and more then seven years after Priscilla’s  death, I finally get to visit Ajo and the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. I expected to see more organ pipe cactus than saguaros  but I didn’t see them until I drove around the campground area near the Kris Eggle visitor center. There were occasional organ pipe cactus that stood alongside the taller saguaros surrounded by  palo verde trees and ocotillos near the visitor center.  The national monument may not be as dense as the Saguaro National Park but the cactus varieties seemed to be more diverse. 

The Ajo  Border Patrol inspection station sits near gateway sign of the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument at the northbound side of the Arizona state highway 85.   I am glad I stopped for the customary “been there, done that” photo  by the gateway sign before proceeding to the Kris Eggle Visitor Center, the  National Park Service visitor center named after a  US park ranger who was slain while protecting visitors of the national monument and biosphere reserve in this southwestern portion of the Sonoran Desert.

Why, Arizona is a town in the intersection of highways 85 and 86. Why comes from Y. Just north of Why is the first border inspection to ask me questions on my way back to Gila Bend. 

“Tienes documentos?”

I spontaneously replied “si” and handed my driver license to the well-mannered Caucasian Border Patrol agent. 

“Tienes pasaporte?”

I fished for my passport card which I hid in a secret zippered compartment  of my neck  pouch.  

“No tienes?”

“I have it, I brought it just in case.” 

“El motivo de tu visita?”

“Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.”

“ Ohh..I thought you said ‘hola’ a while ago. Is this your vehicle? Do you mind if I look inside the trunk?”

I confidently opened the trunk  of the car that happens to be made in Hermosillo, 270 miles south of the US Mexico Border Lukeville-Sonoyta Port of Entry which is  about 20 miles away. 

“Thank you. Have a nice day.”

For a brown-skinned person who could pass for a member of the Yaqui tribe, the indigenous people in the Mexican state of Sonora, I was pleasantly surprised of the very friendly demeanor of the Caucasian Border Patrol agent.

"I spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that cost too much to be free,
But I, I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me."
No apologies to Charlene who immortalized Priscilla, Queen of  the Desert, the musical.