Avanzando

Jan.15

I took a huge step forward with Chimulque today by getting formal permission to do a community diagnostic there. Interesting little process this was. I went there a few days ago to ask about who should be included as the signers of my permission slip and met for the first time the president of the community judicial system, Icidro Peña Cruz, the strong arm of the law if you will and someone really good to know and be friends with. The guy invited me to relax on the bench outside of his house and proceeded to talk my ear off for the next two hours. When I said I had to get home for dinner, before the rain fell, he served me a deep fried egg in a bowl of sango (Peru’s grits) with some hierba buena tea and kept me a half hour later. I didn’t mind this much because he was interesting, seemed to enjoy the company, and could get me all sorts of street credibility. Something about him makes me generally at ease and on point with Spanish, too. Maybe it’s that he resembles my dad a bit, by the cut of his jib I mean, and he’s clearly not an annoying borracho. Just a simple old farmer who lives without household water, electricity, or any sort of toilet, understands the importance of clean water and sanitation, and thinks composting latrines are the cat’s pajamas. Plus I somehow tricked him into thinking I’m really intelligent, a good feeling after so long of appearing dumb for my inability to communicate well. He nearly hugged me when I said was an environmental engineer, except that guys here don’t give hugs, just pats on the shoulder.

Anyway back to today. I hiked down to Icidro’s humble adobe abode with my little constancia de permiso, four lines reserved for the signatures of Chimulque’s head honchos—my buddy Mr. Icidro Justice Cruz, the municipal agent and karate master Mr. Miagi, the lieutenant (whatever that means) Mr. Cristover, and Mr. Teofilo, the president of the water and sanitation committee (the JASS). Icidro’s wife answered the door and said he was bringing their horse to graze but that she’d call him. She went out to the street and sent an impressive whistle into the hills and yelled up to Capt. Justice. He responded immediately and flew down the fields to greet me, grinning upon arrival the way my dad would and commenting on the beautiful weather, a grey sky that hadn’t rained yet. He read the short document aloud, taking his time and frequently skipping lines without noticing, then happily signed it with a shaky hand and offered to help me find the other guys.

Our first stop was close by, another house in the “Valle Hermosa” annex of Chimulque where Icidro lives, all of which lacks the basic service package. The municipal agent, real name Berturen, wasn’t around but was expected to arrive within the hour, so we sat on the bench in Bert’s backyard and talked water and culture differences while watching birds flutter round trees, dropping conversation every now and then to listen to their song through wind shifting leaves. Mr. Miagi finally showed up, greeted us kindly as he sauntered near, and commented on the nice weather this late in the day. He glanced over the document through thin slits in his eyelids (hence the nickname), nodded contently, and gave his seal of approval. Next was the lieutenant, the only one I’d never met. His house has electricity, so instead of waiting outside on a bench for him to return from work in the fields, we were invited inside to sit in a dark room that’s only light came from a TV showing WWF Smackdown, and then an old Eddy Murphy flick called Terror Profundo. I was a bit nervous as I waited, seeing as how I didn’t know the guy and here I was chilling in his living room watching the tube with his wife and kids. Luckily he was drunk when he arrived and all it took was a quick recognition of Icidro for him to trust my brief explanation of the document and sign it without second thought. The last stop was the JASS president, Teofilo, a smart and very capable guy with whom I’d done an inspection and disinfection of Chimulque’s water system a month earlier. He’s been all about Peace Corps and composting latrines thanks to the last volunteer, Matt. So finally I got the full go ahead to start the diagnostic, what’s more in a nearby casarío that’s been nothing but enthusiastic about working with me. Things are looking good, in Chimulque at least. I’ll find out soon enough what’s up with Portachuelo and Francisco Bolognesi. De todas maneras, I’m on my way.