We traveled to El Zapota today, the site of a community across the estuary channel. There is a very well organized school, which Jason worked in for much of the past year and a half. First was the standard hitch a ride on a truck. This one was full of coconuts so we got to ride in the cab! As we approached the ferry crossing the strong youthful pilot had just left poling across the channel. A very enthusiastic elderly gent rolled up his pant legs and waded into fetch was looked like a stray piece of driftwood. I was surprised that the bottom was dry (although seemed to me more epoxy patching than wood. A couple strokes out Jason asked if he could give it a go. The man happily sat down repeating “hallelujah” every minute or so he was getting a ride across in his boat and still earning both our quarters. Jason zig zagged us back and fourth and we finally landed at the opposite end. The man promised to wait two hours for us and to sweeten the deal he’d throw in some coconuts from his yard.
If you’ve ever been a gringo guest entering a rural Central American school you’ll know the attention you attract as you stroll into an otherwise normal day. Jason was a regular, but hadn’t been there in awhile. When I pulled out the video camera curiosity peaked. Jason got a few of the kids to remember a few English lessons they had had. I asked ¿Queren bilar? (do you want to dance). The kids screamed and scattered. Then a few brave boys pulled out a few break dance moves but laid them down and ran away fast enough so I couldn’t get them on tape.
On the trip back I tried my stroke at the ferry boat. Think Venice gondola without the scrolly bow and stern, black paint, dapper uniformed Italian capitan, singing (other than an occasional hallelujah), wine, cheese, padded seats. Perhaps think miraculously floating plank with a very determined captain – me. The tide was now going out and the current and wind were strong. We immediately strayed toward sea. The boat did a few circles as I tried not to pitch over as I pushed with my knees or loose our stick, leaving us stranded. Let’s just say, it’s harder than it looks. As we strayed under the power lines our elderly captain warned repeatedly that if I thurst the pole too high we’d all get zapped.
Jason took the pole again and cracked and after a few more lunges toward the open Pacific, cracked the secrete of gondolaeering. Do you know how the gondola captain sort of pauses lazily after the push stroke sort of dragging the pole? We’ll that’s not laziness or just suave Italian gravitas. It’s nearly impossible to steer a boat when pushing on a poll, the drag is actually steering the boat as a rudder. This myth is busted!
Literary side bar: I’m reading Three Cups of Tea while I’m here. It’s the story of an American Himalayan mountain climber determined to build a school in the Pakistani high lands. It’s a great story to compare to the situation in Barra de Santiago. I find myself saying, “Greg (the climber) at least you had a chief in your village. There’s no such leader in the Barra.” When he describes the glacier ice I couldn’t be more envious on a 103 degree day. I think the two biggest things to take from Three Cups of Tea are: ask the local leaders what THEY need and be patient. I highly recommend the book. Greg Mortenson has done more for American foreign policy and “fighting terrorism” by education Pakistani Muslim children, boys AND girls in the highest parts of the world that he’s truly an inspiration for anyone who has hopes and dreams for this world.
Health side bar: Feeling almost normal today. I even had papusas for dinner. We’ll see if that was wise. Time to sleep.
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