Tuesday, August 5, 2008

My not-so-triumphal Entry

5 August 2008

Last night we went to a program at the Belzaleel Mennonite school. 3 boys played a marimba together for several songs. They also played so the boys could sing. The girls didn't come to the assembly, but we did have fun with the boys. I introduced our group and told them that I teach middle school in the states. There are actually 4 teachers in our group. We also saw the classrooms (they had a whiteboard, but no markers) and the vocational training area.

Today we had to be up extremely early--ready to roll at 6:15!! Rob got out of a small vehicle that we joked might be the one, but it turned out the ACTUAL one wasn't that much bigger. Ty said, "So now we get to put a ton and a half of people and gear in a 1/2 ton truck." We tied most of our bags on the outside of the frame (just some extra protection from rolling:-) and then Rob asked Wendy and I if we wanted to sit in front with our driver-Eduardo. We actually drove past his house about 30 minutes down the bumpy and steep terrain. The ride felt a lot like the Indiana Jones Ride at Disneyland.

We got to the end of the road about 100 yards before we were planning on because of road construction. We all piled out and got out our gear. We put on insect repellant and sunscreen--is there a "correct" order for them?--and got ready to hike. I had my hiking pole and we took off. We were told we would hike for about 3 hours, stop for lunch, and then have about 3 more hours to the village. We crossed a little bridge and were hiking in mud within minutes. The problem with mud is NOT that it's wet, slimy, cold, grabs your shoes, or adds the equivalent of 5 pounds to each foot. (Though I must say that each of these had their own challenges!) The problem with mud is that I have NO BALANCE! I am as graceful as a horse on rollerskates after a couple beers. I also hate to fall which means that I slow down so I don't fall, which means I go slower, which means I sink more in the mud, which means my shoes are slipperier, which means I slip more, which means I slow down, which means... Well, you get the point. Within 2 hours I'm significantly behind the others and Ty and Wendy are hanging back with me. The porters have cut us walking sticks so now I have 2, but it's not really helping.

David has dropped back to help me and at one point when I'm hiking by Lisa, my foot goes into about 8 inches of mud and gets stuck. I can eventually get my foot out, but not my shoe. David is a SAINT and reaches down into the mud and pulls out my shoe. He goes up to a spring coming out of the mountain and rinses off my shoe and then helps me get going again. By 2pm, I'm exhausted and frustrated beyond my wildest dreams. Ty gives me some electrolytes for my water bottle. By 3:15 we finally stop for lunch. I'm so exhausted, I can't make any decisions about where to sit. It's suggested that I sit on a root/branch. I get over there, sit down, and immediately fall over the back into a mud puddle. I catch myself enough to just have a hand, a buttcheeck, and the bottom of my pack in the mud. Justin is gracious enough to haul me up and I decide the ground is safer because I can't fall off the ground. Someone lays down a poncho for me to sit on. I have another bottle of electrolytes and an apple. I take 2 bites of the tayuyu (tortilla stuffed with beans) and know that if I swallow, I'll throw up!! There is a discussion that ensues in which it is decided that the extra porter that we picked up from the road crew will run ahead to the village he is from and ask his wife to fix dinner for everyone. In addition, he will get the local mule to come pick me up so the group doesn't have to wait.

I feel slightly physically refreshed after lunch, but emotionally I feel defeated. I personally HATE both horses and people making decisions for me!!! I use my anger to hike as fast as I can. I figure the faster I go, the less time I'll have to be on the mule. In addition, I am dying from embarrassment with the idea that I'm going to need to be carried into the village. We start walking and it starts raining for the 3rd or 4th time that day. We cross a bridge and are officially in "mosquito country" and a cow pasture. We are actually moving along fairly well and I'm excited that either they can't find the mule (It might be working in the field.) or we'll get there before the mule leaves.

It's about 5pm when the mule arrives. The mule has a hard wood saddle that is covered with a red piece of plastic with the word “Colgate” written in white. I’m too upset that it is actually here to be fully amused by this. The saddle is not strapped under the belly of the blessed beast, but rather tied with a rope around its tail. The chance of me staying on this animal is slim to none. They won’t let me put my foot in the stirrup to pull my up (not that it would have worked anyway), but rather find a big rock to put the mule next to so I can stand on it, swing my leg over, and then put my feet in the stirrups. David (this is pronounced “Dah-veed”) helps me up and takes away my walking sticks so they won’t scare the mule. Once I am awkwardly placed on top, I am told to just “hang on.” I’m also instructed that, when the horse goes uphill, I should lean forward and, when the horse goes downhill, I should lean back as far as I can without letting go. We take off and I’m scared out of my mind. I ask David if the “moola” has a name and am told that they just call it “moola.” Great. I was hoping for some connection, but I get none. The moola doesn’t seem any happier that I’m on him than I am, but I’m trying not to project. One of the things I realize pretty quickly is that I have recently walked through a stream and washed off the insect repellent on my legs. In addition, the mosquitoes and fleas that are biting the mule are not able to distinguish between my legs and the mule. I can look down at any given moment and see between 3 and 5 mosquitoes on each leg. There is no way to brush them off without falling off, so I watch myself get eaten alive for the next hour. I am covered with about 100 mosquito and flea bites on each leg by the end.

I am thoroughly embarrassed about riding this mule and am working hard on the idea that, if Jesus rode an ass into Jerusalem for his “triumphal” entry, this should also be good enough for me. I can hear Rob telling the guide in Q’eqchi’, “Go into the next town and find a mule that no one has ridden. Throw your red plastic nylon over it for the entry into the city.” OK, I know he didn’t say that, but my mind was wandering around to try to escape the fear and embarrassment. As we come over the final hill and can look down into the village, I can already see the kids gathering to check out this crazy procession. As we get closer, more and more folks come out and I can count over 30 by the time we make our final approach. Jen and Gwen went ahead with the guides and they come out now to meet us. I am walked across to a field that has another big rock to dismount and by this time my legs are so stiff I can hardly get them under me or over the saddle. I limp over to where the group has gathered to get out directions for the night.

The 6 women end up staying at the house we eat dinner at. We change into dry/sleep clothes and eat the beans and tortillas for supper. The 1 room house gets slightly rearranged so Gwen can sleep on the table. I’m on the tops of the benches, which have now be lain on the floor, and the other 4 women are on the floor on top of our rain jackets. The family sleeps in the beds on the other side of the room. I am wakened by the rooster a 1am and I find myself wondering if he’s decided it’s time for the sun to be up or if he’s just an optimist. The chicken and chicks are in the corner of the house and I’m hoping they decide to stay there. The corn is being ground at 4am, which I initially find annoying until I wake up enough to realize that the woman of the house is doing it for us. Then I am grateful.

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