Chontasamen

5th June 2017

I admit that I didn't look for work today. Get dirty again? Go to the vivero again and tidy up a bit? Actually, I don't really feel like it. Join a minga? Very gladly. There's always something going on. It would also be much more interesting at the vivero if there were some people there. Like four of us, for example. We could easily work intensively for half a day, achieve good results, and then have fun bathing or sit together and chat over a beer about this or that. Maybe we can promote the volunteer idea a bit. Maybe it would be possible to interest a university in a student exchange program or more likely further education opportunities at the grassroots level?
Today I experienced that reforestation de la selva is hard work while collecting seeds. Tzama went with me, initially with Valeria too, but she had to go back to her son Camillo, while I searched for chontas around the house. That is a palm tree that I know from the minga. We cemented five chonta trunks into the ground there on the first Monday, which are the main supports of the stage. It's only now, three weeks later, that I've realized that these palms are damn tricky. Because in the planting stage, the needles grow all around the trunk. They are trees like elongated sea urchins. Spines several centimeters long, and they can also be found on the ground, which you quickly notice when picking up the red, green, half-rotten, moldy, and wormy fruits. You can remove the seeds from all these fruits, and you can even cook the nice, healthy fruits.
Why is it hard work?
1. Bugs fly around your head the whole time. They also sting occasionally, but I don't think the ones during the day are dangerous. But annoying.
2. You have to search for the fruits and sometimes really chip them out of rotten fruits or loosen them with a machete or pocket knife. A machete is advantageous because then you can also remove rough objects from your path or level out the prickly ground and ensure that you don't grab a tarantula. (Still haven't seen one. Don't need to either)
3. The damn spines easily pierce through the sole and sides of the boots. Several times I had to intervene and remove spines.
After about an hour, Tzama had to leave, and I continued searching, but as I mentioned at the beginning...
What I urgently wanted to do before lunch was to wash the shirt that I had worn several times and - pièce de résistance - the white undershirt that I've been wearing at night for at least two weeks. It was no longer white, but had a greasy collar and a few small blood stains. That's what you pick up in the night, consciously or unconsciously.
I won't say how long it took or how exactly I did it, but the thing is... white!
At home, I have no idea how to use the washing machine. But I could... whatever!
For lunch, Valeria cooked on Mura for Tzama, me, her son, and herself. Then I took a nap and didn't let Camillo distract me. Sometimes he can be annoying. Obviously, at his age. But, for example, I don't let him boss me around. If he calls out 'oyo' and 'mira', it doesn't work with me. He has to ask, and even then, I can tell him that I'm working, or sleeping now, or don't have time.
At four o'clock today, I went down to the village. I really felt like having a cola or something. Since the little one wasn't in my way while walking, I took him with me, and Valeria had some peace for a nap. Maria wasn't there at first, but she arrived just as I was about to leave. Dark clouds were ready. Anyway, I bought a Sprite, and right when I was about to pay, it started raining. But not too heavily. I gave Camillo the umbrella, and we set off. Unfortunately, a bit slowly, and as the rain increased and we headed towards the mountain path, I carried him on my back to go faster. Not yet in the middle of the ascent, the little lad urged me to go faster. Mas rapido, como mama! - Do you want to go faster? - Yes.

Then I put him down, stood him on the path, and said.

Go, but quickly.

He looked a bit bewildered but then started running. Mas rapido, from me, and he ran, and the poor guy climbed up, and it was never an issue that he didn't like it or anything. Almost at the top, he wanted to give up because it was damn tough for him. No, go! We're very close. And you're doing very well. I praised him some more, and he kept going, and everything was wonderful in the end. By the way, I only praised him and told him he was the fastest boy I know. He believed it, of course, and that's a good thing.

I can't help it, but it just rubs me the wrong way when children tell adults what to do. It shouldn't be like this, it's backwards. And yet I see it every day in Switzerland.
Not here, though. The children are allowed to do a lot, and they play by rivers and run around on balconies without railings, and they start using a machete as soon as they can walk. But to be disobedient to adults? To interrupt them?
Never seen.