My first afternoon back in Carorita

My time in Carorita was marked with frustration, for reasons I´m not yet able to describe, but the brief time I´ve been back has been great already in undoing some of that remembered frustration.

I left struggling greatly with the language and culture. Coming back, I´m much more competent in Spanish and that has opened up the community to me. It helps that I made it all the way from San Carlos to here on my own, and even was able to follow directions here and there. One humorous point deserves mention. The word ´bomba´is used a lot. Just about anything that has pressure or pumps is una bomba. From pumps and pressurized tanks to nebulizers and inhalers, bycicle pumps etc. A guy told me the bus I needed left from a place down this street, then you cross at the bomba, and go two blocks. I said thanks, and wondered what sort of bomba it could be. I was looking for a municipal water tank or something. I just walked a while and when I saw a lot of people and busses, started asking which ones went to La Puerta. Turns out the bomba was a gas station.

But anyway, it was amazing to come back to La Puerta and understand what all the people were saying, people who had been a frustrating mystery to me when I left. I was a little hungry when I got back to the house and so fried some plantains and had venezuelan style coffee, equal parts instant coffee and sugar. The plantains were topped with sugar and cream, the real kind that came from a cow I can see when I look out the window. Someone stopped by looking for some medicine, and while I couldn´t help them (Francisco accidentally took the key to the clinic with him to Maracaibo where he will be for a couple more days), I talked to them without any real problems.

When I left San Carlos I wasn´t particularly looking forward to coming back here; it was just the appropriate thing to do at this point in my schedule. But things are going well, and I feel like I don´t have enough time here to do everything I want to, which is a good thing I think. I hope to spend as much time as possible in the clinic in La Puerta, and spend some time in the surrounding communities, just looking around. I´m also going to be a tourist in Merida for a few days, and then it´s about time to head back to the US.

Right now I´m heading off on an adventure that my end my streak of successful cultural experiences. I´m going to try to work my way into the clinic here without Francisco here to connect me with the right people. I think I can probably start with the ambulance crew and work my way in from there. We´ll see. If it doesn´t work out, When Francisco gets back he can doubtless connect me with one of the doctors who will let me follow them around.

My last few days in San Carlos

I´m back in Carorita. The trip back was long, about 9 hours in busses, taxis, and boats, to go a maybe 250 miles. Venezuela is not a large country, but going anywhere takes a long time.

My last few days in San Carlos were organized around a visit from Toby´s family. They have a long history of helping there, and also wanted to see Toby on his birthday. We toured around some and they visited old friends. An aunt is a doctor, and she saw the regular patients as well as having a small clinic in Zapara. Sadly, the 20 year old diabetic with a terribly infected foot is probably going to lose it. One of the boils busted open and a toe is starting to go necrotic. FInally, she´s willing to go to El Mojan for treatment, which probably also means going to Maracaibo to have her foot amputated and for dialysis, because when I saw here Saturday she looked to be on the verge of renal failure.

But, it ws good to meet his family and talk to people in English. I was very sad to leave, but my time is winding down, and I had to leave sometime. I left enough money with the clinic to finance them for a while. With what Toby´s family brought, they have enough medicine for a while, but they need things like gauze and Bactine to take care of the people with injuries and chronic wounds. I´m going to try to send some down with a group in January. Right now all they have left is a roll of the stocking material used to cover a limb before it is splinted. It´s not ideal, but it works and they have a lot of it. For some reason, gauze is expensive here. At home I think it´s cheap, or we at least use it as if it is.

A few realizations

The first is something that seems stupid in retrospect, but I finally realized that Spanish is not merely a translation of English, but an entirely different language. I´m not sure why I didn´t view it this way until recently, and it´s been something of a stumbling block in my learning. There are similarities, but there comes a point when trying to understand it through English limits you. Right now it´s best for me to let it stand on its own. It´s hard to describe, but I think...was it Warf who theorized that your language shapes how to you view the world? I think I´m starting, just barely starting, to see how the world looks, how ideas are organized and how objects are grouped and related when viewed through Spanish. It´s different, and has reenergized my studies.

The other is about Venezuela. There are so many amazing government programs. Say what you will about socialism, but in every town there is a store that sells basic foods (flour, sugar, salt, rice, powdered milk etc) nearly for free. Any town with more than a thousand or so people has a free clinic with the latest technology that provides free healthcare. Access to medicine is a problem, but I think it has more to do with supply than the governments willingness to give. There aren´t enough right now, but the government is building free universities as fast as they can. There are a lot of good things going on here.

I really wanted to view Venezuela as a model for poory developed nations like Honduras, but I just couldn´t make it work. I realized my error, again fairly obvious in retrospect. Simply because they are both Latin American nations, I had groupd them together but the difference is profound. Venezuela is rich with resources, mostly oil. In a recent study, they estimate there is more oil under Lake Maracaibo than in Saudi Arabia, previously thought to be the most oil rich nation. Honduras has no valuable resources that I know of.

Venezuela is a resource rich nation with many social problems that is using its resources to address those problems. Honduras is a resource poor nation with social problems that, even if they wanted to, would have a difficult time addressing the problems. So it´s not as simple as everyone else doing as Venezuela is doing. But, as Venezuela and Brazil, two resource rich nations, improve their infrastructure and the standard of lving for the average person, they increase the wealth and technology in the region, and are willing to share. This sharing is in its infancy, as are most developments here, but there is an explicit and believable willingness to help the nations around them, much to the dimsay of the IMF, World Bank, and US.

The start of the rainy season

I mentioned before that it hasn´t rained here in a month. That all changed three days ago. We were having a <> night and suddenly the power went out. We looked outside and there was a big storm about 5 miles out. It looked like it would pass us by, but the wind changed a little, and suddenly everyone was gone.

they don´t like lightening here, and there was a lot of it coming at us fairly quickly. It apparently kills several people annually. Quitita said that in an electrical storm you shouldn´t hold anything metal or stand up. This is a fairly flat island. The storm did hit around 11:30. I was trying to sleep but could still see the flashes with my eyes closed and the windows shut, and feel the thunder through my mattress. The rain followed, strong enough to push through the roof, under the walls and it seemed as if it was even seeping in through the block walls. Just about everything got wet, but apparently this is normal. In the morning, I woke to find all the low areas flooded, most of the streets right now have about a foot of water in them. And it´s rained every night since, though not as hard. And we´ve yet to have any of the strong winds I´ve heard about.

It´s usually cloudy, the well is full, and the ants have calmed down some, all things I appreciate. BUT, it´s about time for the large pools of water to start generating thousands of mosquitos. Already the gnats are pretty viscious. It could be that I´m leaving just in time. Monday I think I´m going back to Carorita.

I´ve really enjoyed my time here. The people are very open and friendly. I feel like there is a lot of work to be done here. I´ve helped Toby with a few things, but I´ve just started to see what is here and to get used to the culture. I´d like to come back for a while at some point, but that´s a difficult thing to do. We´ll see. I am looking forward to the relative luxury of Carorita, and to being able to talk to the people I met when I arrived. At that point I could mostly just say hello. Now I´m far from fluent, but I can at least hold some semblance of a conversation. I think the rest of my trip is going to fly by. Just a couple weeks in Carorita then back to the US.

Life on San Carlos

I feel like not much has happened. I´m settling into San Carlos. I´ve seen a handful of people in the clinic here, mostly giving prescribed breathing treatments and dealing with basic stuff like UTIs and infected foot injuries. The island is all sand, shells, and broken glass. People wear sandals or go barefoot and their feet are in terrible shape. Combine that with a good scattering of burro excrement, and it´s easy for a foot wound to get infected. I wear my sandals all the time and still managed to cut the bottom of my foot somehow. There is one patient we see at his house twice daily. He´s paralized from the waist down from a fishing accident ten years ago. He has a bad ulcer on his heel. We clean it twice daily. His achilles tendon finally tore, but I guess he doesn´t need it anymore and it was a great hiding place for infection. No one here really knows what to do with him other than keep it clean, but we are running out of stuff to clean it with. There is a doctor from the US coming in a few days though, and she´ll be bringing lots of medicines.

We are working on a greenhouse. I cant´remember if I´ve mentioned it before or not. It´s actually to keep the plants shaded and cool. We are going to dig trenches and fill them with good soil for now, and later use compost. It´ll be about the only agriculture on the island and provide some nutrients to the vitamin-poor diet here.

Yesterday we cut down a palm tree that was leaning dangerously over a house. People here don´t know much about felling trees, but at least the palms have soft wood. And, if you get thirsty, there are plenty of coconuts to drink from. I didn´t know this, but in the top of the tree is something similar to an artichoke heart...except its in a palm tree and the size of a soft-ball. Absolutely delicious.

Water here is a problem. It hasn´t rained in a month, although the rainy season is about to start. There is a desalinization plant on a naerby island, and everynow and then a barge full of water comes to San Carlos...but it´s not on any particular schedule. It arrived a couple days ago for the first time in a long while. There was nearly a riot though because for some reason most of the water went to the bakery leaving everyone else no better off than they were. It´s got to be frustrating to watch the clouds blow over the island, then start dumping rain over the gulf a few miles out. We have a well that is the only one in our part of the neighborhood. It is getting dry, but we can pump out about 30 gallons at a time. It goes through a neat thing that you put salt into and connect to a car battery. The battery powers an cell that separates the sodium and chlorine in the salt. The well water passes through a venturi that pulls in some of the concentrated chlorine water. In the end, you have a lot of chlorinated water, a little bleach water, and a little lye (NaOH). We don´t use the bleachwater or lye, but we could. It´s a really neat system. We pump it into some tanks, two for the house that are connected to the plumbing, although we usually dip out drinking water because it comes out brown in the house, and a couple that people in the community dip buckets out of.

I actually met someone last who doesn´t like Chavez. The first since I´ve been in Venezuela. She´s a petroleum engineering student from Maracaibo. She said that Chavez has a great vision, but the people around him aren´t good at putting it into practice. I feel better know that there are people who disagree with him, because it´s just eery to never hear any dissent.

We pìcked up another patient a couple days ago. A 20 year old woman who takes insulin because a doctor recently told her she was diabetic. But she doesn´t understand the disease at all and doesn´t even have a glucometer. The cuts on her feet are extremely infected. In the US she would be hospitalized with IV antibiotics, and maybe some surgical intervention to clean out her wounds -- they are very small on the outside, so you can´t really clean well. We basically just go twice a day, milk as much puss out of her swollen feet as we can, clean things up and dress them, and have her taking antibiotics orally. Hopefully the antibiotics will help. She is basically homeless, currently living in an empty room in the school in the poor side of town.

Something interesting that I´ve noticed is that when I came to Carorita, I thought When the kids from Carorita came to San Carlos, they returned talking about how little the peopel in San Carlos have. Now, in San Carlos, the kids here go to some of the other communities and are astounded by the poverty. It´s all relative I guess. In San Carlos, most of the people are clean and appear to be reasonably well nourished. In the outlying communities though, most people have the look of being very malnourished and do not live in very sanitary conditions. The people in San Carlos have compassion for them, but don´t really have the means to do anything.

My treatise on Economics

I was thinking yesterday that, at least in this hemisphere, neo-liberal economic reform has been the worst thing for the poor since slavery (although AIDS is probably going to take the lead). I read a simple explanation of neoliberal economics - each country does what it does best and nothing more. Things like NAFTA that do away with protective tariffs are the way this is accomplished. Corn grows better in Nebraska than in Southern Mexico, and when you do away with the importation tarifs on corn into Mexico, they get cheaper Nebraska corn and the corn industry in South Mexico goes away.

People talk about <> and <> but generally it is considered to be the best thing for the global economy. And it may be, I don´t know enough to say, but it definitely seems to be terrible for most of the worlds people. I think the growing gap between rich and poor is probably a result of these policies.

Venezuela is probably good at two things - cattle and oil. But, Argentina is probably better at cattle, so maybe it shouldn´t count. If oil is the only thing venezuela produces, that´s great for people in the oil industry (who are pretty well off to begin with) but terrible for everyone else. I think a humane government needs to understand that while it may be inefficient in an abstract economic sense, protecting national markets and production is critical to protecting the standard of living and well-being of all of the citizens of a country.

Gregoria

I think I misunderstood the geography of this place. They call it an island, and it is at high tide, but at low tide you can drive all the way to Mojan. We are towards one end, and there is a narrow strip going the other way that I hadn´t noticed.

The plan for the afternoon was to take advantage of the clouds and walk out to give some things to a woman named Gregoria and her family, then cut some palm branches to use for a wall in a garden project. Toby told me on the way that she is in an abusive relationship, and that Toby almost got in a fight with her husband the night before, and that Fernando had been in a fight with him before. That our second task of cutting palm branches involved a machete was probably no coincidence.

We trudged probably half a mile through soft sand. Along the way we ran into a few guys and told them what we were doing, and they looked at each other and one said he would come with us. He apparently lives about 2 hours walk from where we were and was on his way home. The people in the empty areas apparently raise livestock and that provides some measure of a living.

We arrived to find a fenced in area and a 12x12 shack with a stick frame and various pieces of rusted metal pinned to the side. No floor, gnats everywhere (there were chicken coops nearby). She has 5 kids. This to me was a classic example of how all the problems facing women in poor areas can come together. The kids showed us all the exciting things around their, baby goats, chickens, and a couple birds I´d never seen before. We were served coffee, rice, and some kind of fish. Two spoons, one plate. It struck me that a French press is not a particularly necessary coffee accesory. Here they just poor it through a towel.

Anyway, everything went well. I´m not sure if I´ve ever seen this sort of poverty before. We left them with a couple kilos of rice, flour, and dried milk. Also, some vitamins, kids aspirin, and a somewhat scary permethrin cream for various skin infestations. The husband showed up during the middle of all this and was pleasant. She apparently owns the house and land and in theory could kick him out, and she´s also been given he opportunity to move elsewhere by Francisco and others, but has refused. What can you do? The guy who walked with us said he was leaving and took off at a run, hurdling a fence along the way. He was probably 50 and apparently had about an hours run ahead of him. And by run, he was probably in the 7-8 minute mile range.

Onward, across a few dunes to a grove of palm trees. Our first priority was collecting a couple coconuts. Most of the trees were tall, so we found a technique where I would bend down and Toby would stand on my shoulders, then I would stand up. We got two coconuts and had a snack. The coconuts in the stores at home have very little in common with these. I´m not sure if it´s a different type, or if they can really dry out that much in transit.

Anyway, we cut several branches with the same technique. As I grew more tired, Toby grew more confident and started leaning, moving around, jumping a little to reach higher branches. I made it though. Dragging them back through the soft sand was the hard part, but I think this project will turn out well. There are few vegetables on San Carlos. We are going to start composting, mixing trash with manure and letting it sit for a while. Right now we are building a shaded area where we (or someone) will dig trenches and fill them with either straight compost or a compost/sand mix and plant corn, beans, and some kind of gourd. If it works, it could be somewhat revolutionary.

La Estrella

Saturday was a long day, but Toby mentioned that the local was open on Saturday nights. I thought but went anyway at the urging of some of the locals.

It was not at all what I had expected. It is in the patio of, I think, a restaurant that moves everythign out of the way and brings out some speakers. The first thing that struck me was that the lights were all on, and it appeared to be more of a family event. A lot of people from the island were there. At first the music was mostly merengue and other typically Venezuelan types. As time passed it moved to more club style stuff.

I guess I have such a negative opinion on clubs that this was a refreshing surprise. Fernando pointed out that it really is the only thing to do on the island, and so it´s a big deal on Saturday nights. I think it goes down as another good cultural experience. Something that also surprises me here (though I don´t know quite why) is that while people here don´t have much, they still manage to dress fairly well on certain occasions. A lot of the kids that are often trying to bash each other in the head with rocks while rolling around in the sand fighting managed to clean up well and be civil for a little while, which was nice to see.

San Carlos

I can´t remember what I said in the last entry, but I left Maracaibo for San Carlos. San Carlos is part of a string of islands that, I think, separate the gulf of Mexico from the Gulf of Maracaibo. You get there by taking a 20-30 minute boat ride from Mojan. The boats are little wooden motor boats that seat about 10. It can get somewhat adventurous; today there were some three foot waves out in the open water, which is pretty big for a small boat loaded down with people. They say that in the winter it´s worse.

There are about 2000 San Carlenos, mostly very poor. On the weekends several hundred people from Maracaibo come over to sun bathe and then leave. Mostly it´s just fishermen. The climate is hot. Extemely hot. People generally stay inside between noon and five. At night though the strong breeze keeps things manageable. Last night there was enough wind blowing through the house that it would almost blow the rice off your spoon. Hammocks are the way to go. It´s cool and comfortable. I don´t have one, but if I were going to stay much longer I would get one. Houses during the day are ovens. Even with the wind blowing through, in the evenings the tin roofs still radiate enormous amounts of heat. Most people have a little one or two room block house with a tin or tar roof, and a stick-and-palmleaf shelter. They spend most of their time in the shelter.

There only non-human life you see are burros, ants (which bite), birds, and dogs. The rainy season is coming, and for the last two days it has been cloudy, which is wonderful. The down-side is that one of the neighbors asked me last night if I´d ever experience . Apparently, the average almost daily storm during the rainy season leaves him and his family huddled together in a doorway in their house. The methodist compound (church, gazebo, house, clinic) just lost the roof of the clinic to a tornado. Well, the roof and the top two courses of block.

I really like it here though. i think this is more the type of experience I was looking for. I´m going to expand what I thought would be a three day trip into two weeks. It´s more challenging here, but I like that I´m living in a larger community, not just up in the mountains. The only healthcare on the island is in the methodist clinic, which just has two women from here who have learned from American groups that pass through. There aren´t many patients, but one is a paraplegic with ulcers on his feet, one goes well into the tendon. They say that when they started, it was very infected. Now it is very clean and there is a lot of healthy looking tissue. The tendon is still there and a problem because it´s hard to clean around, but they are doing well. Especially considering the lack of just about everything. I wish I was able to give more advice to them, but in EMS, wound care is very simple - keep it clean and cover it, but not so well that the doctors curse you when they hvae to take it off.

I´m going to spend the next two weeks here, then have about two weeks back in Carorita. My Spanish is coming along very well, and hopefully by then I´ll be proficient enough to be useful in the clinic in La Puerta, and I can follow the doctors around there some. The people here are more gregarious, and that´s helping me learn. Toby is here until December. He´s from Kentucky and I can speak in English when I need to, but am finding more and more that I don´t have to. It´s slower and much less eloquent in Spanish, but getting better.

Random thoughts on poverty

I´ve thought and struggled a lot over the last few years with issues of poverty and distribution of stuff. I´ve learned a few things since I´ve been here. The focus here is more about oppression. Poverty can be a cause of it or an effect, or both, but oppression is the key concept.

I was comparing people´s situations here to those of poor at home. There are people here who have very little, but live with more dignity than some people at home. At work I visit houses that are filthy and the people are unpleasant and bitter and all sorts of things. But those people would be wealthy here. The difference is in their attitude, and that is where you have to focus. Why aren´t they motivated to live somewhere clean, and take care of what they have?

I was reading a book on liberation theology, and something struck me. To acknowledge the existance of god does very little. The author pointed out that Satan would agree as well. You have to do something more to differentiate yourself.

I´ve also thought that despite spending two months out of this year doing something hopefully of value in developing countries, my biggest impact on the situation of the poor in those countries is in what I buy. I think that the solution is actually to try to buy american made stuff, because at least then I know it´s made by people with some semblance of rights and decent pay. That´s becoming harder and harder, but there are still some US companies that make things in the country.

I have often stumbled on the question of "what can I do about poverty in Brazil," or any other very poor country. I decided that if nothing else, convincing someone else in the US to struggle with the same question is at least a step in the right direction. Our influence in the world is not what I think it should be.

Well, this previously empty and fast cafe just filled up and slowed down considerably. Hopefully, more on Monday.

Barrio Bolivar Revisited

I´m currently staying in San Carlos, an island that separates the Gulf of Mexico from the Gulf of Maracaibo, I think. Fransisco had to bring a patient to Maracaibo for treatment for a mitral valve stenosis. She will end up going to Cuba for a couple weeks. I hitched a ride and then went on to San Carlos where they have a mission.

But we passed through Adonis´ house again in Barrio Bolivar. The church actually has a lot going on there that wasn´t visible at night. There is a dental clinic and a dorm-like building that houses mission groups or whoever. I got to roam around the neighborhood with Adonis some. It was early though and he said the people that cause trouble were still asleep. Not the sort of place you would want to be out at night. I noticed a house for sale, I think it cost about 300 US. It looks really ghetto, but there are stores and useful things tucked in here and there.

I left from there for Mojan, where you get a boat for San Carlos. I managed to find an ATM that would take my card, as long as I used it as a credit card. It´s good because the 30,000 bolivar that would have lasted me a little while in Carorita was a cab fare in Maracaibo. So, thankfully, I know have money. In the taxi to Mojan, a Spanish version of...I can´t remember the exact title. The chorus is "I will survive, as long as I know how to love...." I told the taxi driver that originally it was in English. He asked if the original was a Salsa or Bolero. I wasn´t quite sure hot to answer. How do you explain R&B or whatever sort of music it is? It was pretty funny.

Cuban Doctors Retraction

I don´t feel too bad for misunderstanding, because so did the Cubans. The address was just to make it clear to the world that the offer had been made. The US rejected it the next day saying that if the Cuban government wanted to do something to help, they could free the Cuban people.

All the Cubans I´ve met here like Cuba...but of course the few Cubans I´ve met in the US don´t like Castro. My impression of the US desire to is that we would like them free to buy American goods and therefore be profitable to us.

One thing I´ve noticed about Venezuela is that just about everything is made here, except for high tech stuff which is generally from another South American country. Chavez and Lula, with crazy ideas like keeping production in jobs in their own countries, have been the cornerstone around which the successful (I think) fight against the FTAA has been built. I think that´s a good thing.

Los Medicos Cubanos

I was looking forward to a relaxing Sunday after a long week. I went to mass in the morning. Francisco then asked if I wanted to go to Valera with him to visit some friends. I need to start remembering what this means. I figured he would pay for it, and I wanted to see Valera, so I said I would go with.

We were visiting some Cuban doctors living in Valera. Cuba supplies medical personel to many countries, especially in Central and South America. We got there about 11. Lots of fast Spanish in accents I struggle with (Francisco´s Maracucho and their Cuban). They did have a television though that stayed on in the background throughout, with the volume down. WHen I was exhausted from trying to keep up with the conversation, I just watched some movie with Brad Pitt and Angelina Jo...how is that spelled? Anyway, the volume was down but I could read the Spanish subtitles well enough. That kept me busy until around 8:00.

I have been growing very tired of the criticism of the US. I think there are many valid criticisms to be leveled at the government and people, but the way people here do it is very frustrating. They can have a one dimensional view of the country and criticise it. I don´t have that luxury. They seemed to assume that becuase I don´t agree with much of what goes on, I agree will agree with their criticism. Usually, they say "isn´t that right?" and I have to say "actually, no, because of these laws and these cultural norms...." I understand their side of it well enough I think, but it´s tiring, and there came a point where I was definitely ready to return to Carorita.

But, something very interesting came one the news. I should mention that they got a couple Cuban TV stations by satelite. Apparently, Castro offered Bush around 1100 medical professionals and Bush accepted. The news halted television in Cuba for two hours. I couldn´t find mention of Bush accepting it on CNN online today. There was a special on the damage from the hurricane, and then a long address by Castro to a theatre of the doctors, backpacks and all, before they boarded the planes.
\r\n \r\nEveryone with me was very excited. I´m not quite sure why. It might have been partly a vidictive justification, but I think mostly it was just excitement at the acknowledgement of their country. They were also excited because they knew many of the people in the audience, about to leavfe for Texas. I also see why you don´t seem much of Castro in US television. He´s a very likeable guy. I actually understood most of his address with just a few words filled in. \r\n\r\n \r\nI´m not entirely as optimistic about this as they were. It wouldn´t surprise me if they aren´t appreciated as much as they think they should be, or aren´t welcomed. BUt many the need is great enough that they will be. It could be a very important first step. \r\n\r\n \r\nRegardless, I think I had a very unique way or experiencing that small bit of this whole, large situation.\r\n\r\n",0]
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Everyone with me was very excited. I´m not quite sure why. It might have been partly a vidictive justification, but I think mostly it was just excitement at the acknowledgement of their country. They were also excited because they knew many of the people in the audience, about to leavfe for Texas. I also see why you don´t seem much of Castro in US television. He´s a very likeable guy. I actually understood most of his address with just a few words filled in.

I´m not entirely as optimistic about this as they were. It wouldn´t surprise me if they aren´t appreciated as much as they think they should be, or aren´t welcomed. BUt many the need is great enough that they will be. It could be a very important first step.

Regardless, I think I had a very unique way or experiencing that small bit of this whole, large situation.

The Wedding Party

The origin of this experience is kind of humorous. As the group left on Sunday, Francisco, Toby and I were going to ride with them to La Puerta. I´m not sure why, but they jump at the chance for a free ride into town, although it only costs about forty cents to go by jeep. If anyone told me about this plan, it was in Spanish and I didn´t understand it. We were all standing outside the bus saying out goodbyes, and it started to roll off. Francisco and Toby jumped on, and by the time I realized what had happened, they were down the road. I was left standing there with some neighbors. I mentioned it to them, and they said not to worry, they were going to a wedding party "ahora." Ahora means now in most places, but they came by to get me in about four hours.

The wedding had happened the day before and there had been a party in the grooms town. On Sunday the party was in Carorita, the bride´s town. IT was at Alicias house, a stick frame with mud splattered inside and out forming the substance of the walls. The view from here is the most spectacular I´ve seen yet. ´The house is on a point overlooking the valley and all of La Puerta. It´s as if throwing a rock off the porch would endanger someone in La Puerta, if it weren´t for the strong winds blowing up the mountain walls that would probably bring the rock back to you. The altitude difference is probably a thousand feet, not directly down, but close enough.

As I sat waiting for Consuela and Ricardo, I saw people heading that way with tables and chairs on their backs. Everyone put on the sunday best and hiked about a miles down a muddy road to get to the house, and didn´t seem to care in the least. Probably 40 adults, and half again that many kids. The bride and groom arrived in an old, lifted 4runner that managed to make it through the path to the house. Their dress was like something straight out of an old movie set in Spain. From what I saw, the clothes were probably substantially more than anything else there, possibly even the house.
\r\n \r\nThey sat in the house at the end of a sort of recieving line. I was automatically sent straight to them. I said hello and included as many formalities as I knew how to. They didn´t really say anything in return, but the groom looked at his wife and said "un gringo," and that was about it. I was confused about this, so I asked Francisco if he could make any sense of it. Turns out, his mission has done a lot to help this guy in particular, and he associates that help with los gringos. So his statement was explaining to his new wife that I am one of the people who has helped...except that I haven´t. Apparently all us gringos are the same. It was funny though. I definitely felt like an oddity (which I guess I am here), but it didn´t bother me too much.\r\n\r\n \r\nThe meal needs description. Well, at least the logistics of it. I think there were two tables, six chairs, about twelve bowls and probably ten spoons. The meal was soup, about 30 gallons of it, cooked in a cauldron over a fire outside. We ate in shifts, with the wedding party first and then generally by a sort of priority. Soon after the wedding party finished, I heard "el gringo" shouted a few times. It´s useless to even try to fight the preference I always get here. So I went. I didn´t, however, rank high enough to get a chair. several of us stood around a table, bowls in hand, eating and talking. When I finished the soup part of it, I set the bowl down and picked up the bit of steak, bone and gristle that was left. It´s customary to save that till last and eat it with your hands. As I did this, my spoon was whisked away, dipped briefly back into the still boiling soup, shaken off, put in another bowl of soup, and served to someone else. My bowl probably found the same fate shortly after. I don´t think the cups got even the cursory sterilization.\r\n\r\n \r\nAll in all, it was a good experience, and I´m glad that I missed the bus.\r\n\r\n",0]
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They sat in the house at the end of a sort of recieving line. I was automatically sent straight to them. I said hello and included as many formalities as I knew how to. They didn´t really say anything in return, but the groom looked at his wife and said "un gringo," and that was about it. I was confused about this, so I asked Francisco if he could make any sense of it. Turns out, his mission has done a lot to help this guy in particular, and he associates that help with los gringos. So his statement was explaining to his new wife that I am one of the people who has helped...except that I haven´t. Apparently all us gringos are the same. It was funny though. I definitely felt like an oddity (which I guess I am here), but it didn´t bother me too much.

The meal needs description. Well, at least the logistics of it. I think there were two tables, six chairs, about twelve bowls and probably ten spoons. The meal was soup, about 30 gallons of it, cooked in a cauldron over a fire outside. We ate in shifts, with the wedding party first and then generally by a sort of priority. Soon after the wedding party finished, I heard "el gringo" shouted a few times. It´s useless to even try to fight the preference I always get here. So I went. I didn´t, however, rank high enough to get a chair. several of us stood around a table, bowls in hand, eating and talking. When I finished the soup part of it, I set the bowl down and picked up the bit of steak, bone and gristle that was left. It´s customary to save that till last and eat it with your hands. As I did this, my spoon was whisked away, dipped briefly back into the still boiling soup, shaken off, put in another bowl of soup, and served to someone else. My bowl probably found the same fate shortly after. I don´t think the cups got even the cursory sterilization.

All in all, it was a good experience, and I´m glad that I missed the bus.

Barrio Bolivar

Well, I´ve nearly given up on connecting to the web log for now. The internet cafes in La Puerta are basically 6-10 computers networked and, so far as I can tell, connected to a single dial'up line. The site to create new entries just doesn´t load. So, I´m going to write into an email then if I ever get it to load (or get to Valera, the big city) I´ll just paste them in.

This is a bit about my first experience in Venezuela. I didn´t really understand at the time, but now I know more. I arrived in Maracaibo and just outside of baggage claim a young guy asked me what my name was. I should have gone with my instict and asked what he thought my name was. I told him and he said he was from the methodist church and Francisco and I was to go with him. I´m probably a little too paranoid, but I wasn´t entirely sure of this situation. But I went with it.

He introduced someone else as Francisco´s son, and I was starting to feel better about it all. We drove north into Maracaibo and made a few turns. We eventually turned off the pavement and onto a dirt path that wove between fairly run down houses. There were people milling about and lots of dogs just passed out in the road. It was dark, and of course everything looks worse after dark. We pulled up to a gate, opened it, and went through...to another gate, opened it and entered a small courtyard typical of houses in this part of the world. Half was my driver´s residence, and half was an apartment. It looked like lots of people had passed through without necessarily taking all of their stuff with them. There was a chameleon of some sort in one of the cabinets, and it was obvious that at least as many rodents passed through as people. I wasn´t terribly excited about all this, but the bedroom at least had an air conditioner that took the edge off the 88 degree Maracaibo night.

I found out a few things later that brought it all together. There have been a couple of migrations of the homeless in Venezuela into empty land where they established shanty towns that gained a degree of permanence over time. This was the first, Barrio Bolivar, in honor of a revered son of the country and liberator of nothern South America. It was probably established 20 years ago. Francisco set up shop here when it was first established and did what he could to organize the people and work on improving their standard of life. He was there for about ten years I think. The place now has water, sewer, and electricity. It could probably be paved, but the original shanty-town layout doesn´t really lend to it. The area I stayed in was where Francisco began with a hovel and slowly, like everyone else, improved his dwelling. I think now there are three main barrios of similar origin in Maracaibo.