Ramon
Ramon drinks. A lot. He's also closer to god than most people i know.
He calls me "gringi;" to the english speaker it sounds like GReeengy.
I'm standing outside. It's the middle of the day, in the middle of town, in the middle of life here. He walks by, slowing down as he sees me. and we talk.
He greets me: Gringe! How is the day treating you? Perfectly, i tell him. Really?Me too.
He's barefoot, and has clearly just come from a full day's work in the near-by fields. He's dirty, tired, and grinning.
As if directed by something greater, we both look towards the sun. and then towards each other. He tells me, there is no greater gift than the sun. but tell me this, gingi,where does it the sun go when it departs?
There is no greater cause for humility than being asked such a question.
Well, i don't really know for sure, i say. But, i think that we surround the sun, that we travel around her, though we're covered in darkness during the night.
He's surprised. He says, really?
Yes, i say. The earth travels around the sun. We are not the center, but a small thing, traveling around the light.
He's amazed. As am i.
Well, he says, are there really other worlds?
Again, i am humbled by my friend's confidence in me in his asking me such a question. there was once a time when Ramon was suspicious of me, and would not talk to me.
Back to the conversation, i say: other worlds? Yes, i think there are other worlds, other galaxies, filled with stars that spot the sky. But we cannot see them all.
We continue speaking, both of us with our arms folded, in a comfortable posture, enduring and enjoying our shared sun.
A few minutes later, we shake hands, and Ramon heads towards the shade, his shade, well deserved.
..........
Rosa Linda
Twelve minutes north of here, by bus, is a bustling town. on it's edge is a public, catholic school. on this morning, the school director, a nun, calls me.
Hello?
William? Yes! Might you come and speak with me for a few minutes??
I accept and, a few hours later, i an standing in the entry way of a beautiful refuge, a true solace. i am soon greeted by a short, purposeful woman.
She says: god bless you. thank you for coming. can we have a coffee?
I smile and, accept.
First, she has to make a call. So, i sit. and watch. the children are at recess, and i am swept up in that beautiful inclusiveness of the school yard. Laughter, delight, hope. only too soon does my hostess return, all too easily noticing my envy.
She says: they're my students. aren't they happy? yes, i say, they're beautiful.
she motions for me to follow her. helplessly, silently, i accept.
we walk through the school yard. one student, maybe 8 years old, forgets his crush for a moment, and looks at me with unbelieving eyes. i wink at him, and we share a moment of trust, a moment of recognition of spirit. the music of life stops. in that time, it's just the two of us, sharing a glance, and then the world's chorus comes crashing in, on cue, and life resumes.
recognition. acceptance. and we both move on, his attention towards some dark-eyed beauty, mine towards destiny's brevity.
the library. the chapel. the classrooms. we visit them all. i talk to different groups of students. to teachers.
and then, and urgent phone call. a secretary arrives to tell the director that another awaited visitor is here to see her. she considers me, and tells her friend that it can wait.
such honor. towards me. it feels undeserved.
finally, we arrive to the teacher's lounge. this, the hard part. i have to tell her: i am not an english teacher. and i belong to a different town.
her eyes well with tears. mine do too. she sheds any pride. please, she says, all i am asking is one day a week. you can come, assist the english teacher, talk to the students, play sports, and just, be. once a week, for the morning, this can be your home; i offer this to be your home.
i take her hands, and tell her: thank you. i accept.
........
more conversations soon, i promise.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
big dicks and hearing aids.
last night, i wrote about a good friend of mine, this mostly deaf/mute kid that i consider a good friend.
amazingly, i am anticipating his arrival tonight or tomorrow, so that he may hear what my voice sounds like.
i was in the mayor's office today, talking to a friend of mine, when she told me that the little boy was being given a small operation to implant hearing devices- an expensive procedure- to help his hearing. how cool is that?
what else??
i just had dinner with a few friends. we ate pupusas, drank a little rum, and talked shop. one friend with me there is a lawyer, and the other a good shit-talker, like myself, so the conversation was good. we talked politics, gossiped, and joked around. the joker and i have a running, inside joke. i don’t know how it developed, but he likes to call me "big dick." yes, i know, ridiculous. it makes my day every time i see him. he extends his right arm in greeting, and i return the gesture, a greeting within the brotherhood of bigdicks.
tonight, as i walked away, satisfied from the good company and food, i looked back before stepping into my house. i could barely see my friends down the road, but i could see the joker, and his extended right arm. i returned the signal, and could hear the good-hearted laughter, even from two blocks away.
amazingly, i am anticipating his arrival tonight or tomorrow, so that he may hear what my voice sounds like.
i was in the mayor's office today, talking to a friend of mine, when she told me that the little boy was being given a small operation to implant hearing devices- an expensive procedure- to help his hearing. how cool is that?
what else??
i just had dinner with a few friends. we ate pupusas, drank a little rum, and talked shop. one friend with me there is a lawyer, and the other a good shit-talker, like myself, so the conversation was good. we talked politics, gossiped, and joked around. the joker and i have a running, inside joke. i don’t know how it developed, but he likes to call me "big dick." yes, i know, ridiculous. it makes my day every time i see him. he extends his right arm in greeting, and i return the gesture, a greeting within the brotherhood of bigdicks.
tonight, as i walked away, satisfied from the good company and food, i looked back before stepping into my house. i could barely see my friends down the road, but i could see the joker, and his extended right arm. i returned the signal, and could hear the good-hearted laughter, even from two blocks away.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
thanks, kid.
a knock at my door. a short list of people runs through my head. i open up, and there he is, though he wasn't on the list.
i forget his name. i'd ask him, but he wouldn't tell me, because he can't. he's mostly deaf, and mostly mute. but very smart. we have this running joke. he shows up at my door a few nights a week, on his way home from somewhere, and when i open the door, he makes the sound of, something, like an animal, and i look around in fear with a ridiculous look on my face. then, we both laugh. tonight, we didnt play. we just hung out for a few minutes, together taking in the town around us. such a good kid. i often see him running around town with one or two of his many friends. always smiling, always content. he's probably 7 or 8, less than half my height. black hair, big eyes, white teeth, and, clearly, a big heart. tonight, he, well, i was feeling sad and he, he smiled at me, telling me it would all be ok. so, i gave him some fruit, making his smile wider. the night lit up around us, and he waved and ran away.
i forget his name. i'd ask him, but he wouldn't tell me, because he can't. he's mostly deaf, and mostly mute. but very smart. we have this running joke. he shows up at my door a few nights a week, on his way home from somewhere, and when i open the door, he makes the sound of, something, like an animal, and i look around in fear with a ridiculous look on my face. then, we both laugh. tonight, we didnt play. we just hung out for a few minutes, together taking in the town around us. such a good kid. i often see him running around town with one or two of his many friends. always smiling, always content. he's probably 7 or 8, less than half my height. black hair, big eyes, white teeth, and, clearly, a big heart. tonight, he, well, i was feeling sad and he, he smiled at me, telling me it would all be ok. so, i gave him some fruit, making his smile wider. the night lit up around us, and he waved and ran away.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Election Day
i was sitting here when it happened, at my table. Doing something unimportant, something to occupy my time, i was half listening to the outside world. And then, it happened.
The election ended.
People shouting, a chorus of unmistakable joy. Those of us inside our houses drifted deliberately to our doorsteps. Such important news slows you down, like it might disappear if not handled delicately. Amazing. I watched the reaction of countless neighbors, their feelings so readily available on their faces as the winning party celebrated an upset victory. This was the mayoral election. And the left had won. I played the sympathetic friend, nodding my head solemnly, or shaking hands with a mild, celebratory firmness unseen.
Earlier in the day, i decided that i would not hide in my house any longer. No sir. i walked up to the local school, with the lowest possible profile, and witnessed the wonder that is Latin-American democracy.
Paper ballots. cardboard ballot boxes. neighbors, separated by plywood walls and political affiliations, greeting each other warmly. because that's what neighbors do. truthfully, i was amazed at how calm and collected everyone seemed. it was the right time of day to be there. there were other, more intense hours. but i was in no danger, and was greeted by most. i stood around. kept to myself mostly. and thanked god for democracy.
i wasn't expecting this. i thought i would be working with the incumbent mayor here for my remaining 15 months. i had hopes and expectations and plans. and now, well, now i will be working with an office full of new people. it begins on May first, my time with the new mayor and his people.
honestly, after thinking about it for 25 hours, im excited. a new beginning. are there many more precious things in life? in this line of work, you have to be an optimist.
in other news, i hung my new hammock in my house, and plan on watching our new President take an Oath to Country tomorrow.
and, like always, it's a beautiful night outside. "We were born in the night. In her, we live." M.C.
The election ended.
People shouting, a chorus of unmistakable joy. Those of us inside our houses drifted deliberately to our doorsteps. Such important news slows you down, like it might disappear if not handled delicately. Amazing. I watched the reaction of countless neighbors, their feelings so readily available on their faces as the winning party celebrated an upset victory. This was the mayoral election. And the left had won. I played the sympathetic friend, nodding my head solemnly, or shaking hands with a mild, celebratory firmness unseen.
Earlier in the day, i decided that i would not hide in my house any longer. No sir. i walked up to the local school, with the lowest possible profile, and witnessed the wonder that is Latin-American democracy.
Paper ballots. cardboard ballot boxes. neighbors, separated by plywood walls and political affiliations, greeting each other warmly. because that's what neighbors do. truthfully, i was amazed at how calm and collected everyone seemed. it was the right time of day to be there. there were other, more intense hours. but i was in no danger, and was greeted by most. i stood around. kept to myself mostly. and thanked god for democracy.
i wasn't expecting this. i thought i would be working with the incumbent mayor here for my remaining 15 months. i had hopes and expectations and plans. and now, well, now i will be working with an office full of new people. it begins on May first, my time with the new mayor and his people.
honestly, after thinking about it for 25 hours, im excited. a new beginning. are there many more precious things in life? in this line of work, you have to be an optimist.
in other news, i hung my new hammock in my house, and plan on watching our new President take an Oath to Country tomorrow.
and, like always, it's a beautiful night outside. "We were born in the night. In her, we live." M.C.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
"El dia de los adultos mayores."
note: looking at this posting, i messed up the pictures a little bit but, hey, it was my first attempt at posting pictures. more to come...
Satisfying.
The elderly here in Tecapan are frequently ignored. Not today. At our communal house or "casa de cultura," i helped host a "day of older adults." The woman that runs the casa de cultura produced a hundred or so hand-written invitations and delivered them to the residences of the town's elderly. I was asked to help with the event, and happily agreed. It was, i don't know, FUN. In the above picture, a woman is presented with a gift. I don't think the actual gift inside will matter to her much. It's really the presense of other people and the laughing and eating and being happy that was gifted to anyone who showed up, old or young.
There. That’s the casa de cultura. I showed up there at about 9:30 this morning. After drinking coffee, laughing, and setting up for the event with the women that work there, I stood in that doorway and greeted people as they arrived. Some of these people I had never seen before. And they had never seen me, or many white people, much less talked to one. But talk we did. It was an experience. Some were clearly surprised that I could speak Spanish. One woman hugged me. So I hugged her back. She cried. She’s doesn’t get out much. And was happy to be greeted by a grinning young man. Others just kind of stood there, smiling, and, well, we just kind of hung out for a minute before they took some unseen cue to advance into the building. The best part of this, for me, is the authentic way these old people interact with me. There’s no shame or impressing or, anything. Like a child. It makes me, in turn, forget myself for just a moment. My head empties and my heart fills and im left speechless. The old man or woman walks away and im left wanting, more.
It was a really full event. I mean, we were there for a while and did a lot of things. There was the music: a pair of brothers, one blind. They walk in, one leading the other, and set up their guitars with a deliberateness. And then they play beautiful music. I was a little shocked. A few people went up to the microphone and told jokes. I didn’t understand them, but could not help but laugh at the site of other people laughing, people that probably have not laughed in a long time. We served a nice lunch of rice and chicken. A young woman sang. And me. I ran around and talked to many people and smiled, or bowed my head solemnly, only to smile again. I played with a few kids, grandsons and daughters. And I said goodbye to 100 new friends.
Yes, a good day.
Satisfying.
The elderly here in Tecapan are frequently ignored. Not today. At our communal house or "casa de cultura," i helped host a "day of older adults." The woman that runs the casa de cultura produced a hundred or so hand-written invitations and delivered them to the residences of the town's elderly. I was asked to help with the event, and happily agreed. It was, i don't know, FUN. In the above picture, a woman is presented with a gift. I don't think the actual gift inside will matter to her much. It's really the presense of other people and the laughing and eating and being happy that was gifted to anyone who showed up, old or young.
There. That’s the casa de cultura. I showed up there at about 9:30 this morning. After drinking coffee, laughing, and setting up for the event with the women that work there, I stood in that doorway and greeted people as they arrived. Some of these people I had never seen before. And they had never seen me, or many white people, much less talked to one. But talk we did. It was an experience. Some were clearly surprised that I could speak Spanish. One woman hugged me. So I hugged her back. She cried. She’s doesn’t get out much. And was happy to be greeted by a grinning young man. Others just kind of stood there, smiling, and, well, we just kind of hung out for a minute before they took some unseen cue to advance into the building. The best part of this, for me, is the authentic way these old people interact with me. There’s no shame or impressing or, anything. Like a child. It makes me, in turn, forget myself for just a moment. My head empties and my heart fills and im left speechless. The old man or woman walks away and im left wanting, more.
It was a really full event. I mean, we were there for a while and did a lot of things. There was the music: a pair of brothers, one blind. They walk in, one leading the other, and set up their guitars with a deliberateness. And then they play beautiful music. I was a little shocked. A few people went up to the microphone and told jokes. I didn’t understand them, but could not help but laugh at the site of other people laughing, people that probably have not laughed in a long time. We served a nice lunch of rice and chicken. A young woman sang. And me. I ran around and talked to many people and smiled, or bowed my head solemnly, only to smile again. I played with a few kids, grandsons and daughters. And I said goodbye to 100 new friends.
Yes, a good day.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
picture that moment when dorothy opens the door to Oz, and life is in color for the first time.
It's not that this is Oz, or that i feel like my life is really beginning or any of that shit, it's just that life itself here is so vibrant that to live in it is to live it.
i went to a burial today. a good friend of mine, his sister died. she was very sick. as he stood by me today, i told him that he should honor his sister by continuing to live himself. asi es la vida he told me.
today, i met with a coworker in the mayor's office, and we talked more about managing our newly formed civic environmental group. she was bummed becuase people do not seem interested. i told her i was in, 100 percent, and we prepared a plan of action to present to the mayor. i have great faith in this woman, and she is excited to have my help. i am encouraged by this type of work. this is the type of thing i want to be involved in- helping people help themselves, even one at a time. im glad to have something to invest myself it in this, the beginning of the year.
it's after 8 pm here, and im sitting with my shirt off at the computer; my door is wide open. what a night.
paz y amor,
Mi.
It's not that this is Oz, or that i feel like my life is really beginning or any of that shit, it's just that life itself here is so vibrant that to live in it is to live it.
i went to a burial today. a good friend of mine, his sister died. she was very sick. as he stood by me today, i told him that he should honor his sister by continuing to live himself. asi es la vida he told me.
today, i met with a coworker in the mayor's office, and we talked more about managing our newly formed civic environmental group. she was bummed becuase people do not seem interested. i told her i was in, 100 percent, and we prepared a plan of action to present to the mayor. i have great faith in this woman, and she is excited to have my help. i am encouraged by this type of work. this is the type of thing i want to be involved in- helping people help themselves, even one at a time. im glad to have something to invest myself it in this, the beginning of the year.
it's after 8 pm here, and im sitting with my shirt off at the computer; my door is wide open. what a night.
paz y amor,
Mi.
Friday, January 2, 2009
homecoming
the last thing i did in denver this morning was watch the sun come up. sitting on the cold runway, fighting tears, i watched the beautiful dawn occur.
beauty.
i flew for two hours, sleeping on and off. i spent six hours dicking around in Houston, and then got on the plane for el salvador. sitting on the plane, i suddenly felt excited to be going, well, home. The flight attendants must have sensed something, because four of them stopped in my row to flirt with me before we took off. not even kidding.
after arriving in el sal, i breezed through customs and waited not five minutes outside before a pickup comes pulling up, it's occupants smiling and waiving. then, the absolute best part of the day: sitting in the back of the truck, thundering down a dark highway, i tilt my head back into the wind, and gaze into the star-filled sky. AMAZING. The heat and humidity and laughter and wind and beauty are more fulfilling than anything i can think of.
and here i am. back in my house. crickets. dogs. heat. the breeze. life. here we are. and here we go. 2009.
beauty.
i flew for two hours, sleeping on and off. i spent six hours dicking around in Houston, and then got on the plane for el salvador. sitting on the plane, i suddenly felt excited to be going, well, home. The flight attendants must have sensed something, because four of them stopped in my row to flirt with me before we took off. not even kidding.
after arriving in el sal, i breezed through customs and waited not five minutes outside before a pickup comes pulling up, it's occupants smiling and waiving. then, the absolute best part of the day: sitting in the back of the truck, thundering down a dark highway, i tilt my head back into the wind, and gaze into the star-filled sky. AMAZING. The heat and humidity and laughter and wind and beauty are more fulfilling than anything i can think of.
and here i am. back in my house. crickets. dogs. heat. the breeze. life. here we are. and here we go. 2009.
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