I love you with all my heart mother earth in maya, words I have been singing as I bike or run allone through the wonderfuly beatiful jungle the people here call the Monte. These last few weeks have been incredible with many adventures and heartfelt moments that words from this deeply rooted culture better express my heart, for life has been HACH Málo (How wondefully good!). I have rooted myself in this small community full of good folk, and like a tree that has been rooted in time it bears fruit, and for me the fruits of this experience are only becoming sweeter. For the last weeks I live my days sharing life with the cute and joyful youth at the local school, helping and sharing life about my mountian town in the Sierra Nevadas and the Peace and wonderful people and place of santa cruz. The children are soo egar to speak with me, to play games, and to learn and share life that I often leave school exaugsted for the amount of energy they have. All of which giving me strength and joy to see how powerful and concious this next generation is. Sitting in class and hearing students reading about thier relationship with the enviornment and how humans can better live with our earth toches my heart greatly. I spent a wonderful night reading essays from a class that has formed thier own club to protect the environment and one students essay was titled "I am a hero of the Environment" and gave wonderful insight in how we humans can live as stweards with the animals and plants. Egar to learn english the students have made a deal with me to teach me maya and I teach them english for I tell them how beatiful maya is and how I can better express my heart in spanish than in english and the more maya I learn I realize how deeply rooted the words and the thoughts that the words create. For example how are you in english in spanish is como estas (how are you ) but more of the feeling you hold, and in maya Biix abeel is how are you doing but means how is the road of life you are walking? Wow a expression that is more close to heart how are you doing in life! Helping in different agricultural classes were the kids learn to plant black beans all laughing and just getting to know the earth has made me very content and happy, to know the power of education. I have been sooo foruntate to meet really good folk that are happy and egar to bestow all their magical secrets about amazing plants! I wrote to a friend early to day that I have learned more about plants that my mind can hold so I have been making a ethnobotanical (Human and plant relationship) book to better remeber these plants. I have record over 60 plants and have learn a ton more, but with all these plants we can heal all the diesease of the human body, which is sooo absolutly incredible. I have befriend a handful of herbiteros (maya traditional plant healers) that have taught me much about life and more about plants that are truly magical! They are teaching me how to prepare them, how to use them, and with great respect and gratitude heal. Monday I return to the sweetest woman´s house were I have lived many amazing days playing with her sweet grandchildren, adventruing with here to the Monte and her Solar (home garden system; basically a garden that surrounds the house that is more like a forest that flows like a river into the surrounding forest jungle of the Monte) There we will share more laughter and I will learn more about plants and keep writing in my plant book and colllectin plants for the garden soon to live at the school. I am in the process of healing the land to prepare a future enthnobotancial garden full of magical plants. Because many elders here know the traditional plants and how to heal with them but many of the youth do not know, so working with the community and the school I am soon to plant with the help of the students this garden that will hopefuly help the children to develop more relationships with amazing plants that heal. I am full of my deepest gratitudes to this life, and my heart is full of the love of wonderful people that have really opened up to me. Last night I was invited to dinner my a wonderful family and we laughed and shared srories, ate Chia (my favorite food) drank lemonade. And my friend taught me the begining of a new passion of mine, the Jarrana, the traditional dance, that is sooo fun. I was dressed in my fancyist clothes, a nice street that was gifted to me by the woman I love, a fly sombrero that was loaned to me by a friend for after this dinner celibration I traveld to the Aniversary Celibration of the local School and enjoy the celibration. With a friend dressed in similiar fancy attire we danced infront of the school and large part of the community to the music of Darrengueza, a dance that we have been practicing. I was quite tired that night from my day filled with running and bike, but was reguvinated after all the wonder was shared last night. Wow I feel glad that I have been keeping a journal and remember all my wonderful memories recorded in my heart to share later in this life, so I will share one more story before I go to the Carne Asado (The cooking of meat celibration) in a nearby town that I have been so kindly invited to. One of my favorite days of this life was.... Riding my bike to my friends house in a nearby little town traveling by a road that is cut through the jungle I befriend a man as well biking and we talked about life. We talked about how good life is and how important it is to have possitive thoughts and feelings of gratitude to help navigate through this life. Biking to the town of Acu we talked about the beauty that is the Yucatan, the pure life, great food, great music. We also talked about the life with money and how money and technology offten create distractions with the goodness of life, and create a disconnection with the earth. I offered how buying a apple is very different than grabbing the apple with your hand from the tree that you know and is your friend. We laughed and shared other great stories, and when I arrived to Acu I was introduced to my friend´s brother in law and shared the day with him learning all about plants in his home garden system and we were sharing a glow of giddieness and glee. Biking along side him later in the day on a small dirt road that pierced into the jungle and the sun was creating such a soft light on us that everything was made soo clear, and I was gigling to myself soo happy and full of gratitude. We would stop and he would teach me about plants that heal everything, and he remarked at how luck I was to learn all of his secrets about magical plants he doesnt tell most people. I told him that I was honored, and laughed saying Dios Bootix, which is Gracias (Thank you) in maya and I believe it directly translates as God gives, and much of my life has been filled with too many connotations of what God means, but seeing many words painted on walls and cars saying "Dios es Amor" "God is love", I am indeed happy to shout this gratitude that love gives, for love is truly the most powerful thing in my life and so with these last words of this blog I leave for my next adventure,
I love you all very much,
David
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Hammer meets Body
I have been working on this giant worm box for the past couple of days and it was a lot more work than expected. Lining plastic in the bottom of the wooden box and then figuring out a method to secure it took us a solid three hours. And we still have to install a drainage system so that the worms dont drown. During this time we came across a scorpions exo-skeleton which can be viewed below and an actual scorpion which we fed to some Hormigas Locas. "Us" includes Merlin my surpervisor and her good friend Jimmy who runs the Beneficio (Coffee Processing Facility) next door. Jimmy has been the only handyman willing to lend his time to our endevour. All other help seems to think worm composting is a waste of time and resources. It is a waste of time when thinking about the immediate costs/benefit, but over the long haul the goal of the worm composting is to provide a teaching aid to school groups and provide farmers with a cheaper and richer source of fertilizer. Once the worms have multiplied to a desirable number the wooden composting box we have now will be torn down and a much
larger cement 
box compost will take its place. After lining the box we had to create a rain sheild around the box. We already had a plastic roof so walls were all we needed. All around the 
Beneficio grows these Canye Indio plants which could be described as really skinny palm trees. When the majority of the area in Copa Buena was clear cut for coffee farms, these Canye Indio plants took root quickly and now provide living fence lines for the farmers. Since their is such an abundance of this plant we could chop it down and use it to create our rain shield. We dug six holes, jammed the six support beams into the holes, filled the holes and then attached the support beams to the roof with two clavos (nails). Upon installing one of these beams I had to climb a ladder to short for the job and then drive the clavos throught the roof and into the support beam. Akward as hell and with a shakey balance I managed to drive the first clavo in, but not as staight as I would have liked. The second one I tried nail in with baby taps but there must have been a knot in the Kanye Indio because it wasnt going anywhere. Slightly frustrated I decided to wind up and drive the sucker in but as the hammer came down my footing slipped and I nailed my thumb instead. My thumb began to turn black and blue and I felt like an idiot but as I have learned very well that shit always happens and you just got get back up and try again, which I did. We finished installing the support beams and called it a day.Later that evening I was stoked to see the US and Costa Rica duke it out for World Cup standing. Costa Rica had previously lost to Honderous and beat the US in Costa Rica. In order to get World standing they would have to defeat the US. I´m not a huge fan of watching sports but I could not pass up the opportunity to shit talk (but in a nice way) with my host family becuase I knew they were dedicated fans. In the first half of the game Costa Rica was up 2 to 0 and the United States was playing horendous. For the moment I switched sides and told my family that I was rooting for Costa Rica all along until US scored their first goal with about 15 minutes to go in the game. At this point the US had stepped up their game and the ball was constantly on Costa Ricas side. In the remaining minute of the game the US brought the ball backl from their side and managed to get a corner kick. Now only 20 seconds remained in the game. The kick looked good was sent right into the quagmire of people in front of the cage. And it was Jonathan Bornstein, lucky number 13 who lended his head and a couple of brain cells to help tie the game, 2 - 2.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I screamed and jumped around the house. The shocked faces of my family were priceless and even my little sister Maria Jose began to cry and I´m not sure if it was due to my parading around or the loss in general. For the moment I was a little resentful of shananagins but the family realized that it was just a game in the end.
Hormigas Locas
Large callused hands with flat split thumb nails. I notice dirt from the mornings work packed tightly in the gaps between nail and skin as he reaches to shake my hand in greeting. My hand disapears in the mass that is his, but I find comfort in its gentle yet confident grasp. "Buenos días William, puedo ayudar hoy en la finca?" I returned. The past week I had been on the move with my supervisor Merlin, getting the lay of the land so I had not gotten the chance to help out my host family with their farm. My host father seemed uncertain about my ability to wield a machete but handed it to me anyway along with a guaba tree branch about the length of my arm. At the branchs end it naturally hooked. I guessed that I would be needing this tool in conjunction with the machete. Arriving to the place where many plants would surely meet the blade of my machete I noticed many large ant hills. Getting a closer look I found many red ants carrying small cuttings of leaves into their home. William pointed out another gi-mungus ant hill next to a small bush that had been completly stripped of its leaves. The red ants seemed to be some sort of carpenter ant that would set up shop right next to its food source, exploit it, and then move on to the next. "Muy muy mala para café," William said refering to the carpenter ants.
The hillside we had to clear was full of tall ones, short ones, wide ones and skinny ones. Plants of all colors and origins would soon be hooked by my guaba branch, slashed and then tossed downhill. I don´t know why but I felt like a kid again; like when I first came across my dads various knives he kept hidden from me. Maybe it was a mistake for William to give me that machete, we would soon find out. Spliting up, I began on one side of the hill and William the other. We worked the hillside systematically, meeting in the middle every twenty minutes and then moved farther up the hill to repeat the process. We hooked, slashed and tossed until we reached the top of the hill that was lined with a living fencline of trees. These were beneficial trees and could not be chopped. Before I could move quickly and hack without much percision and the job would get done. Here I had to manuver my machete in between trees which slowed me down. This one bush was giving me a lot of trouble, keeping my feet in the same spot for about thirty seconds... thirty seconds toooo long becuase when I looked down at my foot it was covered in thousands of pissed off black ants. I had been careful and looked for ant hills everywhere I stepped but these ants seemed to be living in an unmarked location. Their home was of finely cultivated soil with pinholes for entry/exit points. I called to William for help but he was too far to hear and what was he going to do anyway. It was up to me. I ran in circles and scraped my machete against my boot with no results. I had to drop my machete and use my hands since the ants had begun to travel up my sock. Luckily the ants didnt bite my hands but later that day I found one of them near my upper thigh that got a couple of good stings in before I crushed it.
Later that evening when I returned home I opened my door and flipped on the light switch to find 5 cookarochas perched upon the various items of my desk. My notebook, jar of peanut butter, the plastic spoon I use to eat my peanutbutter, reading material, etc. Their antenni were going haywire trying to gather information about the new presence in the room. Taking a step towards them all movement halted and that scene from Jurrasic Park began to play out in my head, but with cocaroaches in place of people and me in place of the T-Rex. Each cocaroach was speaking in distressed rico suave accents, similaiar to that of Antonio Banderes.
"I don´t know... what should we do man, that thing is huge!"
"Wait! Don´t move! It can´t see us if we don´t move."
"... its walking towards us... "
"Shit Run! It can see use!"
They had scattered before I could squash them with my book in hand. But at that moment I could really only laugh thinking about life from their perspective. When I turned off my light for bed I could hear them moving about like little plastic wind up toys, clicking a clacking across the floor and my desk. Thinking back to later that day I had remembered my host brother telling me that cocaroaches like to eat the dead skin and eyebrows off your face. Broma(Joke) or truth, I was not about to let my eye brows become some rare delicacy for those bastards. I grabbed my headlamp and ran into the kitchen to where a spray bottle of venino (posion) lay. Returning to my door I could hear them scampering around from outside. Flinging my door open like a drunk Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven I began shooting madley like they had just killed my best friend. I dont know why, but that day I was living vicariously through many different characters of my movie viewing past. There was no mercy. I tracked down every last cocaroach and sprayed them dead. Needless to say I slept well that night.
The hillside we had to clear was full of tall ones, short ones, wide ones and skinny ones. Plants of all colors and origins would soon be hooked by my guaba branch, slashed and then tossed downhill. I don´t know why but I felt like a kid again; like when I first came across my dads various knives he kept hidden from me. Maybe it was a mistake for William to give me that machete, we would soon find out. Spliting up, I began on one side of the hill and William the other. We worked the hillside systematically, meeting in the middle every twenty minutes and then moved farther up the hill to repeat the process. We hooked, slashed and tossed until we reached the top of the hill that was lined with a living fencline of trees. These were beneficial trees and could not be chopped. Before I could move quickly and hack without much percision and the job would get done. Here I had to manuver my machete in between trees which slowed me down. This one bush was giving me a lot of trouble, keeping my feet in the same spot for about thirty seconds... thirty seconds toooo long becuase when I looked down at my foot it was covered in thousands of pissed off black ants. I had been careful and looked for ant hills everywhere I stepped but these ants seemed to be living in an unmarked location. Their home was of finely cultivated soil with pinholes for entry/exit points. I called to William for help but he was too far to hear and what was he going to do anyway. It was up to me. I ran in circles and scraped my machete against my boot with no results. I had to drop my machete and use my hands since the ants had begun to travel up my sock. Luckily the ants didnt bite my hands but later that day I found one of them near my upper thigh that got a couple of good stings in before I crushed it.
Later that evening when I returned home I opened my door and flipped on the light switch to find 5 cookarochas perched upon the various items of my desk. My notebook, jar of peanut butter, the plastic spoon I use to eat my peanutbutter, reading material, etc. Their antenni were going haywire trying to gather information about the new presence in the room. Taking a step towards them all movement halted and that scene from Jurrasic Park began to play out in my head, but with cocaroaches in place of people and me in place of the T-Rex. Each cocaroach was speaking in distressed rico suave accents, similaiar to that of Antonio Banderes.
"I don´t know... what should we do man, that thing is huge!"
"Wait! Don´t move! It can´t see us if we don´t move."
"... its walking towards us... "
"Shit Run! It can see use!"
They had scattered before I could squash them with my book in hand. But at that moment I could really only laugh thinking about life from their perspective. When I turned off my light for bed I could hear them moving about like little plastic wind up toys, clicking a clacking across the floor and my desk. Thinking back to later that day I had remembered my host brother telling me that cocaroaches like to eat the dead skin and eyebrows off your face. Broma(Joke) or truth, I was not about to let my eye brows become some rare delicacy for those bastards. I grabbed my headlamp and ran into the kitchen to where a spray bottle of venino (posion) lay. Returning to my door I could hear them scampering around from outside. Flinging my door open like a drunk Clint Eastwood in Unforgiven I began shooting madley like they had just killed my best friend. I dont know why, but that day I was living vicariously through many different characters of my movie viewing past. There was no mercy. I tracked down every last cocaroach and sprayed them dead. Needless to say I slept well that night.
Friday, October 9, 2009
heres some more foto
just to throw something else in the mix other than that rant... heres some fotos of the work weve been doing and some other stuff for everyone to enjoy. peace!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
although i am happy to read David's account of Cepeda, filled with joy and magic, I feel like bursting, or at least balancing, the bubble a little bit with an account from Tzucacab. My host familiy is not unusual. The father works construction in the urban centers of Progreso and Merida. For the past three years he has been dedicated to drinking alcohol and now wanders the streets sleeping whereever he collapses. Doña Berta, the mother of his children is a big, strong woman. She says she doesnt let him inside anymore. Along with her young son of two years, Jesùs, she also cares for her brother's children, whose mother died. Both her brother and her younger sister work in Playa del Carmen, Quintana Roo. Family disintegration is rampant due to alcohol, drugs and migration. Neighboring Peto has 8,000!! of its natives living in the United States, the majority in San Rafael, California. The youth suffer for lack of guidance, often living with grandparents, they take to television, video games and motorcycles at best. six were recently caught with drugs at a local school.
speaking of DRUGS, last year a band of narcotraficantes was almost apprehended here in yown. seven were caught, and three got away. now the townspeople are edgyu and suspicious of strangers because the narcos threaten to kidnap their children. into this enters bearded, long haired, red gold and green shirted I. talking to the kids about what they want to plant, they say MOTA, lets make some money. walking out to cut wood, they threaten to cut my throat with machetes. scenes of the Guerra de Castas flash through my mind, of which hardly anyone has even heard.
The school's attendent explains to me why they dont use k'aanches. he said, "our fathers looked at the k'aanches and decided that they werent very good. a strong wind comes and they fall. and then you have to do all the work over again. we prefer to use wire, it lasts forever and the chickens cant jump up onto it" Gorda, Doña Berta's 16 year old charge asks me, "why do students always come here to study the things we dont like to do?" The reality of people leaving the campo culture for modernity and city values has a staggering affect. Literally between one generation and the next knowledge of local trees and traditions are lost in favor of "emo vs. skate" "OH MY GOD!" girls shout at me imitating a popular song. When i say to Gorda "baax kawaliik?" she replies "i dont speak maya!"
I wonder about the people's interest and investment in the projec, and what would they suggest be changed if they were asked.
Both the top down structure of PROTROPICO and the authoritarian school teachers leave me in the role of taskmaster, the youths frustrated and bored, and the community members ranging from slightly involved to disinterested and fearful. There is very little communication between PROTROPICO and community members. what is discussed is readily misunderstood. I am afraid that all it comes down to for local members of the community is that students pay rent and they are desperate for money.
I am reminded of the phone conference regarding the Sping Break Tzucacab project where everything that was discussed was focused on the students: their experiance, what will they do, where will they live, will there be adequate photo ops, etc. I just want to express now what i didnt then: Why is the experiance of the community not being discussed? Why is no one from Tzucacab being asked what they want a band of 10 gringos to do in town for a week? or if they want them at all= I know were all excited and Dr Jimenez has 10 years working in the community but in reality he isnt from this town and there are serious communication and cultural gaps between Tzucacab and Merida, not to mention Santa Cruz. So let's take a deep breathe before we send in the invasion force and consider: who do we know in Tzucacab? with whom are we communicating? and if the answer is NO ONE then why are planning socalled "participatory" projects without input from the local community?
speaking of DRUGS, last year a band of narcotraficantes was almost apprehended here in yown. seven were caught, and three got away. now the townspeople are edgyu and suspicious of strangers because the narcos threaten to kidnap their children. into this enters bearded, long haired, red gold and green shirted I. talking to the kids about what they want to plant, they say MOTA, lets make some money. walking out to cut wood, they threaten to cut my throat with machetes. scenes of the Guerra de Castas flash through my mind, of which hardly anyone has even heard.
The school's attendent explains to me why they dont use k'aanches. he said, "our fathers looked at the k'aanches and decided that they werent very good. a strong wind comes and they fall. and then you have to do all the work over again. we prefer to use wire, it lasts forever and the chickens cant jump up onto it" Gorda, Doña Berta's 16 year old charge asks me, "why do students always come here to study the things we dont like to do?" The reality of people leaving the campo culture for modernity and city values has a staggering affect. Literally between one generation and the next knowledge of local trees and traditions are lost in favor of "emo vs. skate" "OH MY GOD!" girls shout at me imitating a popular song. When i say to Gorda "baax kawaliik?" she replies "i dont speak maya!"
I wonder about the people's interest and investment in the projec, and what would they suggest be changed if they were asked.
Both the top down structure of PROTROPICO and the authoritarian school teachers leave me in the role of taskmaster, the youths frustrated and bored, and the community members ranging from slightly involved to disinterested and fearful. There is very little communication between PROTROPICO and community members. what is discussed is readily misunderstood. I am afraid that all it comes down to for local members of the community is that students pay rent and they are desperate for money.
I am reminded of the phone conference regarding the Sping Break Tzucacab project where everything that was discussed was focused on the students: their experiance, what will they do, where will they live, will there be adequate photo ops, etc. I just want to express now what i didnt then: Why is the experiance of the community not being discussed? Why is no one from Tzucacab being asked what they want a band of 10 gringos to do in town for a week? or if they want them at all= I know were all excited and Dr Jimenez has 10 years working in the community but in reality he isnt from this town and there are serious communication and cultural gaps between Tzucacab and Merida, not to mention Santa Cruz. So let's take a deep breathe before we send in the invasion force and consider: who do we know in Tzucacab? with whom are we communicating? and if the answer is NO ONE then why are planning socalled "participatory" projects without input from the local community?
Monday, October 5, 2009
Extracurricular
Rain falls steadily from the sky. The sound is subtle and comforting, but the presence is strong. Where will I go with all of this rain pouring down... it entraps me. This is the beginning of October, the rainiest month here and my two-week anniversary. Life has picked up.
Mike arrived last Monday and another Gringo in the village has made life more exciting. Last week social events included dancing lessons, a river excursion to a beautiful waterfall, cruising the town, playing pool, roller skating to music in a gym, soccer practice, and a long hike to see a potentially incredible view, which was actually just a ton of fog. The town is quiet, but fun is here. I´m learning what young people around here do for fun, which brings me to my older brother: Yeison.
There had been a problem with the electricity I believe. That was why every single time that I arrived home they were all working on the car. Although it belonged to Yeison, his brother Octavio and sister-in-law Marisol spent long amounts of time on it. One day when I got home Mari was detailing with a tooth brush. The list of what this car doesn´t have would be easier to cover - a hot tub -, but to paint a clearer picture it is royal blue with impossible to see through tinted windows, very large built-in speakers, the extended bottom, a DVD player for the driver?, fancy blinker lights on the mirrors and crazy blue lights on the stick shift, tires with nice rims, and probably a bunch of other things that I don´t appreciate. Basically, this ride is pimped. So, when Yeison takes me out in his sweet ride, we drive a mile to Agua Buena, get a drink at the bar and then park on the side of the road (with all of the other very pimped rides) and sit on the curb of the sidewalk to hang out with everyone else. Such is the night life that I know in this town and the afore mentioned. As the rain begins to fall more frequently I wonder how motivated I will be to go out on foot.
Mike arrived last Monday and another Gringo in the village has made life more exciting. Last week social events included dancing lessons, a river excursion to a beautiful waterfall, cruising the town, playing pool, roller skating to music in a gym, soccer practice, and a long hike to see a potentially incredible view, which was actually just a ton of fog. The town is quiet, but fun is here. I´m learning what young people around here do for fun, which brings me to my older brother: Yeison.
There had been a problem with the electricity I believe. That was why every single time that I arrived home they were all working on the car. Although it belonged to Yeison, his brother Octavio and sister-in-law Marisol spent long amounts of time on it. One day when I got home Mari was detailing with a tooth brush. The list of what this car doesn´t have would be easier to cover - a hot tub -, but to paint a clearer picture it is royal blue with impossible to see through tinted windows, very large built-in speakers, the extended bottom, a DVD player for the driver?, fancy blinker lights on the mirrors and crazy blue lights on the stick shift, tires with nice rims, and probably a bunch of other things that I don´t appreciate. Basically, this ride is pimped. So, when Yeison takes me out in his sweet ride, we drive a mile to Agua Buena, get a drink at the bar and then park on the side of the road (with all of the other very pimped rides) and sit on the curb of the sidewalk to hang out with everyone else. Such is the night life that I know in this town and the afore mentioned. As the rain begins to fall more frequently I wonder how motivated I will be to go out on foot.
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