Poco a Poco

Martin Gonzalez was suicidal.

Everything he had worked for since coming to the United States was slipping away.

In 2006, Gonzalez and his business partner had split — the partner taking the two Latin markets that they had started together and Gonzalez assuming sole ownership of restaurant and cultural hub La Milpa.

As the nation began digging out of its biggest financial crisis since the Depression, Gonzalez was buried in $100,000 of debt, his long-distance marriage was beyond strained, and he had a 10-year-old son whom he saw only twice a year.

“Everything was wrong,” he says, “Personal, business and spiritual.”

Part I. A New Life

Aztecs were master observers, especially when it came to their land. They created exceptional agricultural systems based on the combination of environmental factors and human creativity.

Gonzalez was born one of 14 children in Mexico City. To escape the chaos of his crime-ridden neighborhood, he often would ride the subway to a southern suburb called Xochimilco — an oasis of canals and chinampas, floating, man-made islands created by the Aztecs in the 1300s.

On those islands, filled with hummingbirds, residents grew vegetables and flowers, and from those islands, they fished in the canals.

Gonzalez would find solace in watching those tending the islands for hours, gravitating to the agriculture and nature as if an external force was guiding him.

“Even though I was from the city, I enjoyed the country, what you could learn,” he recalls.

Gonzalez left Mexico City in 1985 at the age of 18. He didn’t tell a soul. He knew that his mother, Margarita, would try to stop him, but he also knew that no opportunities existed there and his path — he had been in a neighborhood gang for four years — would’ve led to violence.

Gonzalez and three friends entered the U.S. illegally, driving 3,600 miles to Virginia. He had heard Richmond was affordable, central, not too big and not too small. He saw a future.

Good fortune came a year after his arrival. President Ronald Reagan signed the Immigration Reform and Control Act, which allowed Gonzalez to apply for legal status after paying $1,000 in fines.

At night, Gonzalez took classes to learn English at Crestview Elementary in Henrico. During the day, he worked construction and various restaurant jobs, washing dishes and waiting tables.

He eventually enrolled at J. Sargeant Reynolds Community College while working at Mexico Restaurant, where he became close with owner Raul Garcia and his cousin Fidel Villasenor.

Villasenor, 50, a longtime friend of Gonzalez and co-owner of Mexico Restaurant, came to Richmond in 1992 from Guadalajara, Mexico, and he says Gonzalez had a dream from the get-go.

“Ever since I met him, he always wanted to have his own business,”

Villasenor says. “Anything he puts his mind to, he does it, and when I met him, he said, ‘I want to bring Mexico to the U.S., so they know who we are.’ ”

Garcia and Gonzalez discussed starting a business that would connect the growing Latino community, and in 1994, they opened up Mexico Mini Market No. 1 in Henrico at 6904 Rigsby Road, a store with a small kitchen — Gonzalez’s first business.

“It was a big challenge,” Gonzalez says. “First of all, I’ve never owned one, and secondly I was dealing with two different markets — Latino and American. I was learning everything so fast.”

Three years later came Mexico Mini Market No. 2 on Jefferson Davis Highway in Chesterfield County. The Mini Market was a community-focused business in an area that was then mostly known for prostitution, drug dealing and vacant buildings.

That same year, 1997, Gonzalez traveled to Mexico for a month-long trip to see family and friends. While there, he met a woman, Irma Cervantes. They got married before he returned to the United States, and Gonzalez would return to Mexico nine months later for the birth of his son, Tonatiuh, or “sun god” in Aztec culture.

Irma and Gonzalez quickly realized that their hasty decision to marry was a poor one and found themselves arguing frequently. One thing they did agree on was the importance of their son growing up in Mexico, surrounded by family and Mexican culture, while Gonzalez focused on his businesses, a decision he says he doesn’t regret.

“Being born in Mexico is important,” Gonzalez says. “The family tradition, and everybody will take care of you and teach you. He needed to have his roots in Mexico first and then whatever he wants later.”

Gonzalez and his son would speak on the phone every week, and he traveled to Mexico once or twice a year.

In 2000, Gonzalez became a U.S. citizen, and he and Garcia opened their biggest venture, La Milpa restaurant and market in Chesterfield County.

Aztec life revolved around the milpa — “plot or cornfield” — an agricultural system in which “the three sisters,” corn, beans and squash, are grown together.

“I was really feeling like this is the American dream going on,” Gonzalez says.

His vision — a life spent sharing his culture with other people — was materializing.

La Milpa’s sky-blue building on Hull Street Road near the city line became a Latino oasis, a comforting place, a spot that bridged a gap between what many left behind and what they were starting here. Cactus plants went in outside the building, and images of artist Frida Khalo, singer Pedro Infante, comedian Cantinflas and Aztec pyramids were placed on the windows.

Flamboyantly colored traditional Aztec headdresses adorned the walls. In the background, the television would be tuned, sound down, to soccer while Mexican music played. Display cases housed religious memorabilia.

Customers also could find Mexican ingredients and authentic dishes — corn husks for tamales, prickly pear and dried peppers, and beef tongue and tripe tacos.

In 2001, La Milpa participated in the first Que Pasa Festival, a showcase of Richmond's Latino community that still occurs today along the Canal Walk.

La Milpa also hosted “Dia de Los Muertos,” or Day of the Dead, one of the most important Mexican traditions — a three-day celebration from Oct. 31 to Nov. 2 of those who have passed.

“I like that celebration because it puts everything in balance, and you can think of the stuff you’re doing and remember your teachers and your parents,” Gonzalez says.

Part II. The Crash

An Aztec legend says, “Continue your search after the rainy days have passed, follow the small rays of sunshine clad with tiny flower suckle lances.”

Although La Milpa was attracting customers, in 2006 business behind the scenes was starting to crumble.

The new wife of Gonzalez’s partner, Raul Garcia, wanted to be involved in the businesses, and Gonzalez disagreed. The two decided to split their businesses — Garcia took the two established mini markets, and Gonzalez bought Garcia out of La Milpa for $30,000.

Going into business by himself was the biggest risk of Gonzalez’s life. Then in 2008, the economy crashed — and so did he.

His bills were overwhelming. He owed thousands in back taxes, and he was being harassed by debt collectors daily, with every call intensifying his anxiety. He had to take out a second mortgage, but it wasn’t enough. He had no one to turn to. He was by himself with a family in Mexico.

“He was trying to do more than he could handle,” Villasenor says. “If he had another owner, it would’ve been better — you need a partner. He didn’t have the right people to help him.”

Gonzalez couldn’t escape the feeling of failure and found himself in a deep depression. A man who had always prided himself on having something to share felt like he had nothing to give.

At work he disguised his unhappiness, masking the truth about his failing business from his employees.

“I never talked about these kinds of issues,” Gonzalez says. “I didn’t have anybody dealing with this but me, so it was a big, big, big stress. I didn’t want it to show to anybody that I had these kinds of issues. I didn’t want people to get scared and run away and leave me alone.”

It didn’t work. Gonzalez lost employees; they went to other Latino businesses that were beginning to pop up.

He was also losing customers.

“People would come in, and I wouldn’t have things [meat, seasoning, drinks],” Gonzalez says. “I would have to act like it was OK and tell them to come back, but the food and restaurant were suffering. I didn’t know what to do.”

Instead of being involved in the kitchen and focusing his energy on quality cuisine, Gonzalez was merely trying to stay afloat.

The restaurant that local chefs such as Jimmy Sneed had frequented because of its authentic cuisine had taken a steep decline.

The community hub that linked Latinos to their culture was lacking the spirit that had created it.

“It was going to be devastating for my way of thinking if I let this business go,” Gonzalez says. “If I could keep this business going, I could keep going.”

Gonzalez suffered in silence for five years. Every day brought the same dilemmas. Not enough income, not enough customers, no one to turn to and an overwhelming sense of failure.

While his wife and his son, Tonatiuh, then 12, moved to Richmond from Mexico City in 2010, the relationship between Gonzalez and Irma was distant. Tonatiuh, now 20, doesn’t remember his mother and father ever spending time together alone.

“There was no end of the road, and knowing that from the beginning of the day was difficult,” Gonzalez says.

“I thought about taking my own life.”

Part III. Rebirth

Aztecs believed that fallen warriors, after traveling to the world of the dead, would be reincarnated as hummingbirds and accompany the Sun God.

Gonzalez had to find answers, and he reached back to high school — to art class, to popotillo, an ancient art form made using stalks of dyed straw. His school had offered workshops, and back then he found himself drawn to creating something with his hands that was not only artistic, but cultural.

Gonzalez now would retreat for hours at the end of every day, sitting in silence and focusing his energy on art. It was an escape, a meditation. Over and over, he would delicately break the brightly colored straw into tiny pieces with his fingernail and press the pieces onto paper lined with a beeswax called campeche.

As he worked on forming his pieces, Gonzalez was able to organize his thoughts, clear his head.

“I was no longer thinking of running away and creating a bigger problem. You feel like an engineer when it’s done. You say, wow, you don’t remember doing that because you are in a trance.

“It gave me peace and saved my life.”

But there was a second savior — a financial guru — who came his way.

In 2013, Monica Chavez visited La Milpa on the recommendation of her Honduran real estate agent.

Chavez and her son, Pablo, and daughter, Danny, came to Richmond on tourist visas from Puebla, Mexico, after Chavez’s divorce.

When Danny entered the store, she exclaimed, “Mom, we can find the same brands here that we can in Mexico — it’s like being home.”

"I want to bring Mexico to the U.S." —Martin Gonzalez

The second time Chavez visited La Milpa, she was in search of walnuts to create chiles en nogada, a recipe from Puebla, Mexico, made in celebration of Mexican Independence Day. It features poblano peppers stuffed with meat and candied fruit and smothered in a walnut cream.

Gonzalez and Chavez struck up a conversation about pambazos, a popular Mexican street food with chorizo and potatoes; living in Richmond; and the experience of being a migrant in America.

“We made a connection,” Gonzalez says.

Two weeks later, Chavez brought the pepper dish to Gonzalez, and he revealed his business problems, mentioning the thought of applying for a loan. An accountant in Mexico, Chavez had a strong financial background from working for her own company, GI Consulting. After talking, they both realized she was far more qualified than he was when it came to the numbers side of business.

“I said to her, ‘I’m looking for a partnership,’ ” Gonzalez says. “I knew if I didn’t do that, I would lose everything. We really put my vision and her vision on the table. She was the rescuer.”

Chavez said yes and offered a $250,000 investment. In 2013, three months after the two met each other, Chavez became a business owner for the first time in America, and Gonzalez was able to hold on to his dream — they split the business down the middle. Chavez now resides in the U.S. on an investor visa, which she has to renew every two years. “He trusted me, and I trusted him,” she says.

They paid off the back taxes and La Milpa’s debt, including Gonzalez’s second mortgage. The duo then purchased four vans for catering events and a trailer with a food truck that would sell 100 pounds of carnitas, cooked by Gonzalez, every Saturday and Sunday.

While they first became business partners in December 2013, eventually the two fell in love. Gonzalez filed for divorce last year.

“I found a whole new life when I came here,” Chavez says. “He’s my partner in life. I love his passion and the joy he has for life, and he is so intelligent, and we have a lot of fun together. We are dreaming of the future, and he offered incredible support for me, so I support him always.”

After experiencing what popotillo did for him, Gonzalez realized he didn’t simply want to make art, he wanted to share it. He has already taken his work to Chesterfield, Petersburg and Henrico schools and demonstrated the technique to students.

By 2017, Gonzalez and Chavez began to make a profit again. That same year, they closed the doors of La Milpa for “A Day Without Immigrants,” along with a dozen other businesses in the area, in response to President Trump’s immigration agenda. It’s part of La Milpa’s mission to let the community know that immigrants are strong threads in the U.S. flag.

“When you show support, people appreciate it, and we showed that people have to talk about [immigration] and that everybody can play an important role in this country,” Gonzalez says. "The foundation of this country is immigrants; we cannot change history. It’s accepting people that are looking for a better chance of life, better opportunities. We deserve an opportunity to have a second chance in life, and most of the people coming here are Latinos. They leave the place they're born because their life is in danger.”

A new venture that is a direct flashback to Gonzalez’s fascination with Xochimilco’s farmers is an 8-acre garden he is planting less than a mile from La Milpa.

Gonzalez’s soft brown eyes are full of light and brightened by a royal-blue button-up embroidered with La Milpa’s logo as he discusses plans for his garden, which he hopes will yield produce for the restaurant, for the store and eventually, he hopes, for struggling Latino neighborhoods in the community.

“Paso a paso, poco a poco — step by step, little by little,” Gonzalez says.

When Gonzalez and others finish planting the garden, there will be nearly 5,000 plants, including cilantro, Roma tomatoes, jalapenos, serrano peppers, corn, zucchini, squash and onions. He will plant two to three times a year and build greenhouses for the winter. Down the road, he hopes to create small ponds for tilapia, just like he saw in the water at Xochimilco. He wants the community to get the best from the field and from the market.

“I want to make something that starts in the beginning … selling and providing food and learning how everything starts in nature and through the earth,” Gonzalez says.

Last year, Gonzalez and Chavez contacted Virginia State University’s Small Farm Outreach Program, which is led by Leonel Castillo.

Castillo, 69, is from Chiquita, Mexico, and he worked 45 years for Dole and Chiquita before coming to the U.S. last year. Castillo connected Gonzalez with Rosa Nunez, who took over managing Dodd’s Acres Farm in Mechanicsville after the passing of Robert Dodd last year. Nunez and her husband, Carlos, who now manage the farm as Rosa’s Garden, serve as Gonzalez’s agricultural mentors.

In late April, Nunez gives a tour of her garden to Gonzalez and Leticia Austria, a longtime La Milpa customer.

Gonzalez plans to plant his garden on nearby land owned by Austria.

Gonzalez and Austria ask questions, take notes and laugh as Gonzalez takes pictures. He is one step closer to cultivating his garden, which he named Colibri, the Spanish word for “hummingbird,” a good luck charm in the Aztec culture.

Although the garden will not supply all the produce for La Milpa, it could yield about 75 percent.

This means the freshest ingredients for his restaurant, incorporating healthier options, eliminating some fried Americanized items and getting back in touch with cooking roots that he had long neglected.

Gonzalez will introduce esquites, toasted corn with onions, fresh herbs, chilies and lime juice topped with mayo or sour cream, and verdolagas, an edible green also known as purslane, stewed with pork in a tomatillo sauce.

Gonzalez envisions cooking demonstrations that will feature his produce. Gonzalez and Chavez also want to sell La Milpa’s 10 different salsas at farmers markets.

The couple started a live music program called La Casa del Artista in which musicians play on their renovated patio, which opened on Cinco De Mayo, and they plan to collaborate with chefs from throughout the Richmond region, while keeping their loyal customers happy.

Since 2000, when La Milpa opened, the Latino population in Chesterfield County has increased 234 percent.

“It’s difficult to understand the Latino community because we are very different in culture and the way we think is different,” Chavez says. “We believe we should honor our culture and explain to people that we are not drug dealers, we are not gang members, we have other values and delicious cuisine, and an ancient culture, and good music, and nice places to visit in our country, and that for Martin and I is so important — for you to know us like that.”

“This is a time for things to change forever,” Gonzalez says. “I want to cook the right way, like Mom used to cook.”

Gonzalez’s mother, Margarita, passed away two years ago in Mexico, but she passed down her cooking skills to Gonzalez. La Milpa's empanadas are made from scratch; the Mexican sausage and steak is butchered in house; the pork rinds take two days to achieve their traditional flavor and crunch; tortillas are made on site from Maseca; and the 200 gallons of salsa made weekly are from his mother’s recipes.

And tacos will always be a staple at La Milpa — steak, al pastor, beef tongue and tripe.

“I don’t even like tripe,” says chef Jimmy Sneed, a longtime fan of La Milpa’s cuisine. “But at La Milpa, man, they do them right.”

Doing things right is what Gonzalez wants to focus on. At the end of the day, all he wants is to leave behind a piece of himself by which to be remembered.

“We have been here since the beginning, participating in developing community here,” Gonzalez says.

“If I know I’ve been changing people’s thoughts and life for good, that’s what I like to work for.”

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Aztec information sources: whc.unesco.org/en/list/412, en.mxcity.mx/2015/06/hummingbirds-in-mexico-city/, britannica.com/topic/Huitzilopochtli