My co-worker and I climbed up and down Villa Nueva. It rained last night, as it does less frequently these days, so the ground was slippery. I almost fell down on the pavement, which was laid by the association where I work. The unpaved goat paths were even more slippery.
The first home we visited is on the back side of the mountain. Security dropped us off at the top. There was a pick up truck stuck on the "road" (I use that term loosely) up. The men in the back (because here there are frequently men in the back of pickups) were jumping up and down, trying to catch some traction. Our driver shifted into 4-wheel-drive and up we went. We saw the other people arrive at the top about five minutes later. I was glad we weren't going back down in the truck. It's barely a road when it's dry. It was a mess today.
The ladies at the first home were busy making tortillas. I asked their permission to take a photo. Their oven was an oil drum with the top cut off. They said they make 200 tortillas/day to sell. They made it look easy. It's not.
The green bucket at the far end holds the masa, or dough. They know how to take exactly the right amount to make the perfect sized tortilla every time. They roll that amount into a ball, set it between two pieces of plastic grocery bag, and press down with all of their body weight using a piece of wood. Then they throw the flat tortilla onto the oil drum lid to cook.
A second lady is the cooker. The cooker has to flip the tortilla at just the right time. If you flip it too early it sticks to the oil drum and rips. If you flip it too late it over cooks. After the first flip she lets it cook for a moment, then she pokes it with three fingers and it magically puffs up like a pita pocket. That's how she knows it's ready. The three fingered poke is hard to do too. She takes it off the stove with her bare hands and tosses it into the pink bucket.
The pink bucket will be covered with a kitchen towel or a thin cloth and carried on one of their heads down the mountain to sell. I hope they are better at walking downhill then I! Most women wake up at 2 or 3 a.m. to sell tortillas every morning. I would rather be with these ladies. I imagine they sell to customers who want fresh tortillas for dinner.
I got to visit a house that I've been to once before. The grandma remembered me and gave me an extra big hug. She is so sweet! She is caring for several grandchildren and an older girl who has special needs. The older girl came out to talk with us and announced she was drunk, which surprised me, not only because it was 9 a.m. but because drinking alcohol is so strongly frowned upon here. The grandma quickly clarified that the doctor changed the girl's medication and her new medicine makes her very dizzy. Ah - that made more sense.
I noticed again how friendly the people of Villa Nueva are. People greet each other in passing. Little kids all say hi. One little boy walked past and said hello. I was the only one who said hello back, so he raised his voice louder and said, "Hello all!" We laughed and everyone said hello. Then he said, "Good bye all!" and we all yelled good bye. He was a self assured little guy of about seven years old. What a cutie!
We finished early and called another co-worker to show us which homes she serves so we could visit some of her kids too. Her kids lived on the other side of the highway and up the mountain. That was a tough climb. The regular path was washed out from rains and I had already slipped enough that I was nervous. It was steep with spots that you could only dig the tip of your toe into the mountain. I need to get back into the gym!
The homes on the other side of the mountain are more like the homes of Los Pinos, small and made of random boards or whatever materials the people can find. People on that side of the mountain didn't say hello. In fact, a little boy of about four was standing outside his house. As we approached he called inside to his father, "Daddy get the pistol!" I must admit I was nervous. But the Daddy never came out with a pistol, although I did hear him talking inside. My co-worker told me that while I was sitting on a rock outside a home, conducting an interview, a man from the house above us asked her, "Give me something." She told him she had nothing to give and stuck close to me. Probably more for my protection than her own because she could have gone inside.
When we had seen all of the kids we could see the and there was nothing more we could do, we were a little stuck. Security wasn't scheduled to pick us up for three hours. I tried to call my regular cab driver, but he was busy. After my co-workers discussed which buses are safer, we hopped on a rapidito. Rapiditos used to be more safe, but lately I've been told they are less safe than the big yellow school buses which are used for public transportation here. My co-worker was supposed to get off at the stop before me, so we said good-bye and she went to sit down at the front of the bus. Then I waited and watched, but she didn't get off. When we got to my stop I saw her getting up to exit, so I waited outside the bus for her. She said she didn't want to leave me, she wanted to get me as close to home as possible before she let me out of her hands. She said she didn't want it to be her fault if something happened to me. I appreciate that my co-workers take good care of me, but I also don't want to be a burden to them.
I told her if she wanted to walk me home I would give her a ride to the office so she could turn in the reports. She said sure! So we walked to my house from the bus stop together. I was so ashamed at how messy I left my house. I never, ever have guests. But my house is usually much cleaner than it was today. "Me dio pena." It pained me. You can bet I got right to work cleaning as soon as I dropped her off.
Tomorrow I can't work because they are visiting homes all day. I have an appointment for my wrist in the afternoon. There is no safe way for me to leave the neighborhood where they are serving and get back to my house by myself. I'm disappointed because I love getting out, seeing homes, and meeting people. Plus the co-worker they are going with tomorrow is a funny lady. She is the one who sings the ranchero songs. But my boss told me I have to put my wrist first, and the orthopedic doctor wants to see me tomorrow, so...
