There's a Cow in the Kitchen.....

There’s a cow in the kitchen — a milking cow. She shits and pisses ten feet away from where I am making tortillas. And I’m really not bothered by this. Here………it seems perfectly natural. But I smile to imagine this cow in any of your kitchens……tied up and mooing, making mud. Meanwhile, gorgeous little Merli just dropped her drawers and urinated all over her feet on the concrete porch. As I ponder the small spreading yellowish pool she strolls up to me and wants a hug…………………

Well……we are back. We said we would come back and here we are. After a 5 week studious and self-indulgent hiatus in San Cristobal, Mexico we are ready to commit our time, energy, and passion to la comunidad La Florida in Guatemala. This means living without lots of things that we are accustomed to living with…..and living with lots of things that we are not accustomed to. It is beautiful challenge.

I woke this morning just before 6 — which is the usual. The sun is coming up and the dawn sky fires are a deep rose. Got up…..stretched…..headed for breakfast with la familia de Miriam. Had my machete, coffee picking basket, and raincoat. We have spent the last couple weeks working in the coffee — pruning and picking. Working in the jungle is growing on me. I am slowly developing a new relationship with nature — with plants, insects, spiders, snakes, heat. I’m living more within it……moving within it. Climbing up the dense green sun sweaty hillsides, hacking through green life. Every step I take causes a thousand pieces of life to move, jump, slither, fly, dive, crawl, flit, run — a constant buzzing in the still air that surrounds me. I hardly bother to swat the bugs away anymore. As I move through the thigh deep tangle I accept the sticky webs that grab at my pants and eyelashes. When I reach into the coffee bush to pick the red-ripe berries I accept the insects dangling around my head, arms, shoulders and the branches that scratch at my face. Standing under the bush, gently pulling the branches, quietly pulling off the red fruit. One by one, or in small bunches…….my basket slowly fills. And it’s precarious pushing up the hillsides toward the next tree. I can’t see where my feet are landing. It’s wet, and hot, and slippery in places. I’m pulling the webs off my face. Lugging a basket of berries. Peaceful and exciting work.

I still can’t wrap my mind around their reality. It feels a bit like a movie set or some other fabricated reality constructed to entertain travelers like us. But they are here.…. and they aren’t going anywhere. And this life: of working in the fields, of collecting wood daily, of cooking over open fires, of having access to minimal education, of washing all clothing and linens by hand, of living without electricity and appliances, of having lots of kids, of having little medical care, of having little food variety and little money, is very real to them regardless of how it feels to me.

The hardest thing for me is that this is what we came here to do…….to live in community……to work in community. But sometimes it’s just so damn hard to make myself stay here. Knowing that I can leave. Knowing…..as I sweat and itch and eat the same food day in and day out that I can slink back to the coffee houses, foreign films, restaurants, and hot showers of San Cristobal. We could stay there — work with an organization — do good things — be comfortable. But here I am. I am here. There is no doubt about that. And in infinite ways I love it here……..and need to be here. But every last fiber of my cultural conditioning is being challenged. And sometimes I want to run—way way—very far away.

One week is nothing. A romanticized glace at the campesino(peasant farmer) life. A peaceful retreat. Two weeks is something. You’ve survived the heat and the bug bites, the midnight rats and cockroaches, the never ending supply of tortillas, the hard work, the rain, and the confused communication culture clash. You’ve come to love the ever distracting chaos of children. We are in week 3, and even Ryan is inventing ways to temporarily escape. There is no electricity(the ancient hydroelectric system finally died), which isn’t that critical for us. Actually, I hardly notice the absence of light in this life but I do feel the biting nerves of a life w/o music, w/o internet, w/o hot water, w/o cooking, or washing machines, w/o films or coconut curry, cheddar cheese, and dark hot coffee in the morning with a splash of milk and honey.

YES. Every fiber of my being is being challenged. And then I feel like……..what the hell are we doing here??? .............besides challenging ourselves. We are four more hands for working but what does that mean within this enormous agricultural undertaking. We have yet to start any projects because we want community input and participation……..and real democracy is like a snail slipping across the universe. It is sluggish and time consuming. And the life rhythm Guatemalteco flows on a different wave……a less hurried one. Patience. Slow………….down. Look out over the dense landscape singing greens and realize how fresh it is to be here. How fortunate am I? I almost feel like crying…………but not for sadness at all. For the extraordinary beauty and magik that I am so utterly fortunate to experience……..to taste…..to hear…..to see…..to touch…..to smell. To feel.


By the way........there are new pictures of our journey from late July through Aug……friends, day to day life on the finca, the work, the kids, the people, the place.
-mary