Awoken by the sounds of roosters crowing and school children singing, it was quickly clear to me where I was. After breakfast we made our way to the Hospicio, a place for elders of the community to reside. The language barrier for the most astute and well-tuned ears is a challenge at best, making communicating with these men and women nearly impossible. Intimidated by this obstacle, I stepped on to the patio of rocking chairs uncertain of what to do. Men and women were scattered on every side, and a woman with few teeth but many wrinkles caught my eye with hers. Drawn to her, she reached out her hand and I took it in my own. That is when I learned that the people here did not all want to talk, they just wanted company in the form of smiles and hugs. They were being taken care of fantastically by an ultra-attentive nurse, catering to every move or utterance of all there. Our time there passed quickly, and we soon headed back to our villa to pack for our trip into the mountains.
Armed with duffle bags and backpacks, our group of eleven piled into the back of an ADESJO pick-up truck. Our destination this time is a more permanent stay; a village in the mountain that will be our home for the next five days. The truck winds its way around hairpin turns and up the steep sides of hills, the air cooling with the climb in altitude. The dirt road is primitive and at any given point one side of it disappears entirely into the side of a cliff. Our driver is careful, and we pass through many small villages on our way through the mountain range. The houses are humble and made primarily of wood and tin. Livestock roams everywhere and we pass many goats, pigs, and cows as our truck bumbles through. As far as the eye can see in every direction, there is nothing but rolling hills and greenery. It is incredible to think that nestled within these mountains are several small villages. After a quick hour of travel we arrive at our home in Los Palmaritos. A typical cement home, our house is being generously lent to us for our time by a member of the community. Inside there are four rooms, five sets of bunk beds, and (upon our arrival) eleven people. There are lights but often no electricity, and no running water. Our bathroom is the shell of a port-o-potty above a hole in the ground with the most beautiful view. The kitchen resembles a lean to, attached to the house and providing primarily more counter space. There we meet a woman who will cook for us, named Louisa. She is soft spoken and has kind eyes that twinkle with decades of wisdom. Set upon a small hill, the field next to our house climbs steeply into the mountains.
We walk down the heavily trodden dirt road and see the site or our work for the rest of the week. As we descend upon the field being used for a local baseball tournament, I see crowds of people intent upon the game. A few of us walk toward the eager audience and as I am seated upon the ground, the crowd erupts and swarms upon the field. A team has won, and its members are lifted and carried up the street where their prize (a goat) awaits. After a whole-hearted but lacking attempt at our own baseball game, our group and some curious community members find the way back to our home. It is decided that we would like to climb the mountain behind our home and see what lies at the top of the hill. Clearly, word spread quickly, and by the time we made our first uphill steps each of our hands was held by at least one member of the community. Our cozy group of thirty or more men, women, and children, hike the luscious green hills behind our home. Following nothing but goat paths and promises that our destination was “Just over that next hill…” our very innocent walk had swiftly turned into a hiking expedition. Eased by conversations with community members and the joy of the children with us, after a couple hours, our trek culminates in a tomato field. Led by the fearless (and sometimes shameless) Eris, owner of said tomato field, we take a shortcut back to our home through a field of pea pods.
Louisa prepared a delectable meal for us, and we take time afterwards to discuss and reflect our experiences thus far with each other. Already it strikes me that our group is unusually comfortable and open with each other, and our discussion thrives because of it. I wonder how we are being received by the community that surrounds us. Are they confident in the work we will do? Do they care about where we come from? Are they unsure of our motives? What are their expectations of us? Our group is an incredible hybrid of insight, validation, and opinions. Together, we discuss our emotions and conclude the night in a group hug. I could not imagine ten better people to be here with.
We peruse the open air dance hall up the street and are spun around the floor by some enthusiastic locals. With my mosquito net hung, I climb into my bed and sleep soundly, excited for our first day at the work site tomorrow.
-Meredith
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