Dearest Rachel –
I mentioned yesterday morning about how there was a threat of rain for the day that I would be on pila duty. The morning dawned grey and something beyond overcast, although as breakfast progressed, the sun slowly made its presence known, in defiance of the weather predictions. There was this brief thought that we might be able to beat the forecast.
Alas, it was not to be. The problem is that, while it was somewhat clear in the east, where the sun was rising, that’s not how weather travels, as you know. The fronts, the clouds and everything else courses over the planet from west to east. And in the west, it was as dark as the Wicked Witch’s domain could be expected to be.
But not right away. When we met to hop the transport to the Just One campus, it was bright sunny where we were. Some of us were even trying to find shade due to its intensity – another part of the forecast indicated that the area was dealing with a UV index of eight out of ten, which is borderline dangerous, even with the anticipated overcast. And granted, I understand that there are those reading this over your shoulder who only wish they could be bearing up under such solar malevolence, but I’m just explaining how things are down here.
The campus itself was cool and calm, and I took the moment to do a little picking up while waiting for those on pila duty to assemble. I’ve told you about how things look around here, and wonder if the ‘broken windows’ philosophy couldn’t be applied to the society; if you ignore the little messes, you get more of them until they become big messes, but if you take the effort to address those small issues, they’re prevented from becoming larger ones. At least that’s the theory, usually implemented by certain politicians of a “law and order” bent, often over the objections of slightly less than half the population (since it seems like half of any population refuses to agree with the other half on anything).
That aside, the organization’s campus, whether intentionally or not, already follows this model, as there wasn’t much ground clutter for me to pick up. And as for the area outside the campus, well… there’s a reason there’s a fence and guard station at the end of the property. One isn’t to venture off the premises on one’s own. That will come a few days from now, when we make our way around the neighborhood to deliver food and other necessities to certain homes; but at that point, we will be going out in groups. Even in broad daylight, it’s not advisable to strike out on one’s own.
Not that I really had all that much opportunity to even consider doing so. It was maybe some ten minutes of looking for and collecting trash before someone pointed out that whoever was on pila duty needed to report to the van that was to take us, first to the places where pilas had been installed the day before, and remove the steel forms into which the concrete had been poured, and then to the homes where today’s pilas were to be installed.
So I set my bag and grabber aside, and made for the van… only to discover that I was one of only two people heading out on pila detail today. This was going to be a long day.
As it turned out, the others were off on one of those cultural activities that allow the volunteers from the States to understand certain aspects of life down here, as well as perhaps get an indication of how Just One has touched someone’s life in the real world, outside of the confines of the organization’s campus. They would be joining us eventually, but not for another hour. In the meantime, Jason and I joined up with ten or so of the local youths at the places that had been visited the day before. Half of the young men were already beginning to dismantle the forms by one house, while Jason and the others went on to another house nearby to work there.
I did what I could, but between the language barrier and the fact that the young fellows knew what they were doing better than I (this may not have been my first crack at this, but it’s been nearly six months; meanwhile, they do this on an occasional basis throughout the year), I doubt I did my fair share of the work. Still, once we got the forms extracted and loaded on a nearby truck for transport to the next site, we made our way on foot to the third of yesterday’s builds, and beat Jason and his team there.
What we didn’t beat there was the rain. It never came down in torrents at any point during the morning (or even later on, when I returned to the campus after participating in the assembly of the first pila for our team once the group that had been assembling tamales finally joined us – Mauricio offered to drive those who wanted to go back, and I determined that the last of the three pilas could be handled by the tamale team, as I’d been part of tearing down the forms while they’d been away), but it was a off-and-on blend of spitting and misting that turned the ground (and the roads) into mud.
Now, I’ve claimed that I have no real objection to rain these days – especially in a place like this, where the sun can beat down pretty hard (and although Chicago has more than its share of such moments, they’re not year-round like here, as those reading this from there can attest) – as long as I can keep the rain off my glasses, I’m okay. But this rain was just that sort that couldn’t be warded off by a simple brimmed cap; the droplets were like an aerosol spray that no part of you could avoid as it enveloped you. Again, in other circumstances, it would be refreshing, but when you can’t see very well, it’s less pleasant than all that.
You might notice that the ground around the pila is as dark and damp – if not more so – as the concrete being poured into the mold. That was the effect of the rain, and it’s surprising how it takes the strength out of you, honey. Or maybe it’s just me, and I’m just getting old.
In which case, I suppose I should ask, as always, that you continue to keep an eye on me over the next few days, and wish me luck, as I’m going to continue to need it.
Letters to Rachel 