Humors all mixed up

I’ve taken to giving little kids rides on the back of my bike and challenging others to a spontaneous race when I pass them on the road. I remember last time I was here being very (and in hindsight I’d say overly) self-conscious about the image I portrayed as an American. I’ve come to accept that we are all weird and especially weird to the rest of the world, so why not just have some fun. Yesterday when a 4 year old jumped off the back, I asked for money as if I were a taxi. He was too confused to respond and just ran off instead. It may take the kids a lifetime to get my humor. Oh well.

This morning I was on my bike at 5:45 and heading towards a village called Caiaia. There were no kids out to race so I met up with Pedro, who lives out in Caiaia but works nights in town as a guard (which honestly includes more sleep than you’d expect). Pedro is the president of a farmers’ association I’m working with. He makes the commute to town each afternoon and then back home each morning by bicycle. He showed me the shortcuts. Caiaia is only about 20min outside of town by car which translates to anywhere between 40 and 70 minutes by bike depending how many times your bike breaks down and if you choose to walk or bike up the hills, of which there is no shortage. I found the ride better than my morning cup of tea, which I had gone without, and certainly more awakening. Though there was some time on dirt roads most of the trip was done on a path sometimes no more than 3 feet wide and rarely flat. Also the path was carved and cut by streams of water that slice into it in the rainy season so it was also rarely level. Since most bikes here do not have gears the goal of going down a hill is to see how far up the next one you can make it before having to walk. This results in some pretty fantastic downhill riding over ruts and rocks and through the occasional stream, and then you just walk up the next hill.

By the time we got to Pedro’s house I was pretty excited, but for him it’s just his daily ride, no different than rush hour on the Dan Ryan Expressway for some. We sat in the shade for a bit because that’s where you sit. I had asked to work with him today, just to work with him. I acknowledge that coming here and trying to teach a village how to farm without understanding the daily work is foolish and ignorant. So I came to work. I had to remind him of that once 9 members of the farmers’ association showed up and walked off to the field. Being from World Vision and white, the normal expectation is that I’m here to manage and managing is usually done from a chair. I refused. They all laughed at me and started walking off to the field. I literally went in search of my own hoe (the save-all farming tool here) and followed behind. We set to work weeding a field, which will be the site of a demonstration plot. The field was about 1 acre and it took us about 2 hours to go over it all chopping out weeds and old stumps. At one point a lady arrived and asked to “borrow” my hoe. I saw right through her politeness, but handed it over regardless. I stood watching them and soon enough they insisted that I just sit in the shade. I told them I wanted to work but that lady stole my hoe at which they all burst out laughing. As soon as the next person sat down for a quick break I went over and “borrowed” hers. By about 10am it is too hot to work, so the group dispersed and after checking on some other fields I was on my way back to town. Pedro wouldn’t let me leave without 4 fresh eggs from his hens. I had brought all the sugar I had at home, knowing that was impossible to get in Caiaia. He was grateful and I thought it was a fair trade.