Andy Griffith wasn’t the bombshell…?

October 6
I just got back yesterday from doing a topo study in that town I was supposed to visit a couple of weeks ago but couldn’t because heavy rains had ruined the path. Two men came to my home on Monday morning with one horse between them and we set out for their village (~200 people) soon afterward. It turned out to be a solid three hour trek over very unforgiving terrain, much like I had been warned about. Devotees will remember I was advised against making this particular journey last month because of how difficult it would be…I thought at the very least they were exaggerating. Not so. First off, the three hour trek is exactly that—we left shortly before noon and arrived around quarter past 3pm. Secondly, while the journey itself is a bit less than 10km one way, you are climbing a solid 800 meters in elevation from my town to theirs. Finally, and most unfortunately, the path itself is not nice…nightmare is too strong a word, I think, but difficult doesn’t quite do it justice.

It was raining when we left which did not make things any easier because the first rough patch upon leaving my town is a steep and winding climb on solid rock. This is not gravel but stones the size of your foot and slightly bigger surrounding chunks of exposed boulders. You can imagine how annoying this can be, especially on a steady climb—in wet weather you want to avoid the boulders because they are slick as ice but in dry the smaller stones are anything but a stable place to put your foot. I was on horseback (they brought it for me because they thought I was bringing a whole host of heavy equipment which I was not and because they understand that gringo = hiking burden due to a lack of basic outdoors competency…that’s fair) and they were on foot, the two men accompanying me, which made me feel like a princess. But they were not carrying anything and I had a rather full backpack of clothes, notebooks, some equipment and was not about to refuse their offer of the horse. The horse did not much like the stone climb but was pretty confident and we made our way up without incident. The only other part of the journey worth mentioning came toward the end, deep in a forest where the light of the sun rarely penetrates. There we encountered the part I was most nervous about, the part where the men from two weeks ago said is so nasty even horses fall over. What it amounts to is a twenty minute climb and descent, both fairly steep, over nothing but mud; clay-like at parts and marsh-like at others. The horse did well, especially considering one of the men was walking behind us occasionally whipping him with a small branch over this section—the last thing I wanted the horse to be worried about going over this mud-covered forest was being whipped from behind, but he managed well. There was definitely a spot or two where the depth of the mud surprised even the horse and we stumbled a bit, splashing mud and water everywhere, but overall no issues.

And then we arrived at the village. My decision to not bring a camera was an unfortunate one, both because from atop the village I suspect you can capture the entire 25 houses, school, and church that encompass it AND because this village opens up onto a valley on the other side and the surrounding mountainous areas as well. It is a very impressive view to say the least. I won’t go through a day by day list of what all we did but will run briefly through some of the highlights. Shortly after we arrived there was a small town meeting where I mentioned what I would be doing and what I needed from them and the town discussed other organizational items among themselves. After we had everything concerning the work covered, one of the ladies in charge put out this question to the assembled group—“Ok, so who is going to feed him?” And there was silence. A prolonged silence. It was, for nearly a minute, one of the most awkward situations I think I have been in. No one said anything, everyone kind of absently looked around the room, waiting for someone else to say something. After awhile I started to suddenly not feel so awkward as I realized that sooner or later they would figure it out. That I was in fact there to help them AND that they had known I was coming for several weeks at least. At no point was I worried that the lady in charge would walk over to me and say, “I’m sorry. We can’t find anyone who will feed you. We’ll take you home now.” Then someone brought up tortillas and they were talking about that for a bit and I absent-mindedly kept one ear to the conversation as I chuckled to myself about the uniqueness of the situation. Then the lady in charge got my attention and asked me, “How many tortillas do you eat in a day?” I was stunned with the question; I was sure it was a joke even as part of me knew that it was not a joke at all. I unconsciously made a weird face, I’m sure, as I tried to rack my brain to find an appropriate answer, and there were clearly others in the room who appreciated the awkwardness of the scene because no sooner did I hesitantly offer a number than several people began laughing hysterically. I couldn’t help but laugh as well and soon everyone in the room was laughing.

In the end I did not lack for food at all; on the contrary they were over-generous and gave me much more than I asked for. Another one of the funny things I noticed as the week progressed was just how the meals the family that was feeding me grew in complexity. Tuesday, the first day of the topo study, a group of ten or so men from the village and I make our way deep into the forest to find the water source and get things going. We are working for several hours, one group just hacking away at the vegetation with their machetes, making a path so the other group of us could slowly mark our way and plot the changes in elevation. One can imagine this being a very masculine, even savage type of work—we’re in the middle of the wilderness, after all, blazing our own trail, making the forest bend to our demands at the end of a machete. And then around noon who appears almost out of nowhere but the wife of one of the men helping me, with her two little girls, holding lunch for me and her husband. How long they had been there before I noticed them or exactly how they made it out to where we were I have no idea. All I know is that my illusions of us being Lewis and Clark type adventurers was dashed as I watched the little girls with pig-tails walking hand in hand with mom, calmly making their way back to the community after leaving us our lunch.

Ok, so lunch on that particular day was in a tupperware type deal with beans, rice, and corn tortillas—a good, solid meal and pretty standard fare, you just use the tortillas to scoop up the beans and rice. The second day for lunch the mother did the same, made her way out to our location around noon with her girls to bring lunch, emasculating us all. My meal was similar to the first day only this time it came on a dinner plate with silverware, all wrapped tightly in one bag and in another a plastic bottle of a kool-aid type drink with a glass cup to drink it with! Meanwhile her husband is eating his lunch out of a plastic bag, no plates or silverware or anything. By day three we were doing our work in the community itself, so there was no hike involved in bringing us our meals. But on this day when the mother arrived at where we were working, she asked if I was ready to eat, I responded that I was, and she proceeded to withdraw a dinner plate with rice, beans, cheese, and flour tortillas. Then she whipped out a tupperware dish, pulled two drumsticks out and placed them on the rice, and then poured some of the marinating juices onto the rice…and only then was my lunch ready for me to eat. What is that banana dessert dish where the waiter lights it on fire just before serving it? It was like that. I was impressed by what she was doing and a little embarrassed she had gone to so much trouble for me. Yes, all of the meals were excellent and if anything, despite all the hiking that I was doing, I think I left that village a bit heavier than when I arrived.

The work of the study itself was good, nothing exceptional about it. This village was much smaller than the first one I did, only twenty five houses as opposed to over a hundred, so it was nice to be able to complete everything in less than a full week. I was put up in their church, which amounts to little more than a barn-looking structure with a dirt floor and a few benches inside. The family taking care of me was extremely kind and generous with everything and hung a hammock up in there so I could sleep and gave me a fantastic thick blanket to use at night so I wouldn’t freeze. Overall the conditions in this village were more spartan than the in the first village. There is absolutely no electricity in this one whereas in the first there were a series of houses linked to some sort of solar battery which provided light until about 8pm or so. This village has no roads that cars or buses can travel over to get to it while the first has a bus that comes through twice a day. Really and truly, the only way the people in this village interact with the mayors office or sell the crops they grow to the city stores is to make the three hour hike into town. They do it often and within an hour or two they turn around and head back home.

One of the best parts of the entire week was every night at around 7 or 8 when I would prop a little chair outside the church where I was sleeping and just sit. The only lights outside of the stars, which absolutely cover the entire sky, are those of a small town across the valley and at the top of a nearby mountain. It is probably a good couple dozen kilometers to the town but it looks so close because of the lights. The church sits on a hillside overlooking the little soccer field they have 30 meters below and the field itself overlooks the valley some 500 meters below that. The nights were cloudless when I was there and with all the stars and moon it was easy to make out the shadows of the outlying mountains and descent to the valley. It was so incredibly peaceful to just sit there, staring out at the landscape, taking in the stars and the lights of that town across another mountaintop. It is not altogether different from the peace one might get by looking into a burning candle in the middle of a darkened room, for example, but even in the town I live in I can not find a view—nothing close to it—like the one in this tiny village of 25 houses. Extremely peaceful.

We finished up on Thursday afternoon and then on Friday morning I headed back home. There was a family headed back to my town intent on selling several large bags of frijoles they had grown in the village, so they loaded up two horses, the owner was on a third horse and his wife and her sister and I followed on foot. I was aprehensive about being on foot because of the condition of the path, but I actually did not want to be on a horse because I had a vision of a nasty fall over the tricky mud part. I figured I could go as slowly as I needed to on foot and, after all, I was walking in boots I bought here that handle mud better than anything one can find at REI or any sporting good store Stateside. On top of all that I was only carrying my own weight because the man on horseback offered to wear my backpack, while the women were switching off carrying an infant and their purses and were only wearing flimsy shower sandals. How in the hell can they make this journey in those things? I thought to myself as we started out. I would soon discover that they barely walked at all—over the treacherous mudslide section they seemed to float effortlessly from tiny exposed rocks or roots. I looked at nothing else for entire sections besides the back of their sandal-clad feet and tried to mimick their foot placement as they danced over any and every nasty surface the path offered. It did not matter if they had a child in hand or not—as I struggled to steady myself by grabbing at everything I could, they would just nimbly hop from point to point. The women’s ability to navigate the terrain was dumbfounding and truly humbling and made me think maybe I did belong on horseback after all, with a placard hanging around my neck proclaiming, “Princess.”