Sunday, June 29, 2008

Me encanto el campo

Yesterday I woke up and checked on the cow who is due to give birth either tonight or tomorrow. Then I revisited the tiny nest I found yesterday in the bushes with three little speckled eggs, two blue and one white. (No changes on either front by the way.) Then Claudia took me to the newly discovered nest outside their front door where we discovered yet another tiny baby hatchling had fallen to it’s death. Thus began the next project: finding a ladder to reach the nest, remove it (two hatchlings still intact) and reshape it a bit so that babies would no longer slip out unnoticed each time the mother flew in with food. It’s as if I am surrounded by the life-cycle this week, and for someone from Queens, (with self-admittedly minimal interest in nature-related activities) this is quite magical. I played with tiny baby rabbits the other day and we also
discovered the duck named Eddie after papa, is sitting on an egg! (Papi!) Sometimes I just sit by the window with a book and intermittently read and gaze out at all the animals, coexisting (and always always eating) and am amazed. Tiny birds flit back and forth building nests and I trace their paths with my eyes and discover more and more hidden nests tucked in among the thick wooden beams of this house. The mama and papa rabbit nibble grass beside the chicken with her tiny chick-a-dee racing after her and the two dogs, Zuca and Geronimo taunt and chase Manuel the slinky (and spoiled) black cat. Ducks are squawking, the rooster crows in the morning (I’m dead serious) and chickens are everywhere. I fall asleep to the moo’s of preggars (my nickname for the cow) and though I don’t think I could ever live like this, it’s like being transported into a Discovery channel program about farmers. Except C&G really aren’t farmers, they just live on modest farm which is tended by someone whose picture I will absolutely have to take and post, Don Enrique. Don Enrique is the kindest, gentlest and simplest man I have ever met. A campesino of few words, he dons the same adoreable (I think) one piece blue uniform every morning when he wakes at 4:30 a.m. and feeds the two horses, three cows, 5 or so chickens, 5 or so ducks and 2 dogs. Every Sunday, his day off, he walks two-hours (2 km) into town to do his shopping and what-not, as do all the campesino children every school day.

Later on yesterday, it was time to start building the “balancine” (see-saw) in the backyard from the pieces of wood we picked up in town. I watched (and maybe am guilty of taking a reading break) as Gonzalo and Don Enrique dug holes and made cement right there in the half-shell of an old barrel from stones, powder and water, using nothing but a shovel. To me, this is genius. There is no dishwasher, no internet at the moment and no heat. I am presently wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a sweatshirt, a windbreaker, a scarf, knee-high socks, jeans, sneakers and my gloves are on the table beside me, lest I pause typing for more than an instant and catch pneumonia – and I am at the dining room table. A bit extreme, perhaps, but I am finding myself to be much like my mother in this way, frequently freezing when others are not. “The cold gets in my bones,” I tell people.

I have done nothing but relax, read, write, eat and sleep since I’ve been here. I am taking full advantage of this cushy South American landing before I embark on my own in two days to explore Peru for three weeks solo. Still no word from my teaching program in Chile as to which city (or town) I will be teaching in and what grade I will be teaching. I’m becoming accustomed to the not-knowing, it’s all quite exciting actually. I am trying my best to take in the beautiful country of Colombia. To and from our three-day vacation in the wonderfully-warm villete I was mesmerized by what I saw outside my window. The views from the winding mountain roads are filled with “campesinos,” farmers and locals who live in the country with tiny homes thatched with whatever and garages covered with plastic, endless lines of laundry give these houses most of their color and character. Everything is different. Cars drive recklessly in between lanes without signal or yellow dotted line and children who look about eight walk miles ahead of men who seem 80. Motorbikes weave in and out of traffic and all the while, the beautiful mountains with the green country side filled with cows and small, road-side “tiendas” selling arequipa, meat and beer abound. Which reminds me -- passing through one of the small towns a tiny butcher’s shop had a full gutted pig hanging outside the door, snout, arms and legs intact… 30 minutes into our drive I turn away from the window and poke my head into the front seat of Gonzalo’s new Explorer-esque jeep and smiling, tell them, “Me encanto el campo,” (I love the country).

Last night around 10:30 p.m. I rushed into Claudia’s room wearing my normal pj garb of sweats, leggings, socks sweatshirt and scarf and looked out the window. “La vaca?” I asked nervously. Then in Spanglish I tried to explain to her that while reading in my room I had heard the cow moo twice in a row (whoop de doo) … maybe she was in labor? Claudia took a flashlight and shone it out her bathroom window onto the toffee-colored cow, ready to pop, but plopped down in the grass ambivalently mooing and looking around. No, she was not in labor. Later that night, once I began paying attention I realized that she had been mooing for hours up until then, and hadn’t stopped by the time I forced myself to shut off the light. In fact, I fell asleep at 3 a.m. and preggars was still mooing. I am an idiot. I seriously know nothing about animals. Yet, I was so anxious the whole night I could not fall asleep. It was as if I were waiting for the birth of a neice or nephew. I just keep thinking that Julie will be so jealous that I am most probably going to witness the birth of a cow, and then, most likely, be scarred for life.

1 comment:

edcayce said...

Dear Gervase, i was glad to hear of your experience in Bogota.
Keep on writting, I will write and tell you if there are any news. Hear everything fine, miss you a lot. Love, Papa