A Canadian Plantation worker

My Mexican family that has adopted me live across the street from me and some other family members around me as well. 1 or 2 days a week they head out very early in the morning to spend the morning working on their plantation (farm) and I got invited one day, I was so excited. We left at 5:45 am, yup, that’s 5:45 am, just before sunrise. We rattled over the bumpy road, three of us stuffed in a little Ford Ranger, happy as can be we were. It was only about a 15 minute drive but because the road is crap it seems longer. We pulled into the cutest little plantation, Mrs Cardenas says it a ½ a hectare but Mr said it wasn’t, she rolled her eyes and said “he always says that, just because he doesn’t know how much it really is”. Whatever it is, it is full of life, lush green life, cocos, mangos, lemons, oranges, papaya, avocado and nopales. Of course it is still winter here and so the only fruit out there was the occasional lemon and a few oranges, and cocos, ,the mango trees are flowering now but the mango won’t be ready until late May, I of course never get to see mangos here. I would love to be here during mango season some time, I’ve been told that you can buy a whole wooden crate full of mangos for 10 pesos (that’s less than a dollar), I can’t imagine. With the amount of mango trees on this Island the ground, the road, the roof top of houses must just be covered with mangos, wow.

Our job today was to tend to the nopales and the young palms, Mr and Mrs have a son who either works at or owns a meat stand in Mazatlan and he sells their nopales there for them. They told me that the money the nopales bring in pays for the meat that they consume and for the gas to run their little truck, it’s a good little income they say. Every once in awhile they sell young little palm trees as well and in the summer a few buckets of limes and oranges, the mangos you pretty much have to give away as almost everyone has their own mangos to eat.

Mr set up a pump at the water well and Mrs and I rolled out the hoses and we started watering the nopales and the young palms, my job was to follow her and make sure the hose didn’t get kinked and to walk and lift it around and over little palms making sure it didn’t get dragged over top of the nopales. I was eying their whole watering system up and had already figured out how I would be able to improve this but I was there to help, not to tell them how to do something that they have been doing for 40 years. Soon as Mr had his end watered he started weeding with a hoe. After the watering was done I was handed a hoe too and I spent most of the rest of the morning hoeing weeds. As we were hoeing Mr suggested I call him “Tio” (uncle), he laughed and said to tell my friends at home that I have a crazy uncle in Mexico. After hoeing I was given the job of picking off the flower blossoms that were just starting to form on the nopales, it was a bit sad to pick them off because I know how beautiful they can be but I understand the need, if you leave the flower the plant doesn’t produce as many Mickey Mouse ears anymore.

Little house where Tio & Tia lived for 2 years in the plantation

Nopales and cocos

The big pocky

The bano...toilet

narly old cactus

look....I found my heart, I knew I left it here in Mexico 12 years ago and here it is

flower buds plucked off

pail of nopales

My pail of oranges and limes

hoe hoe hoe off to work I go every Monday

Another shot of my heart, I'm a geek so I took only about 10 shots

Stick an ear in the ground and it grows

My crazy Mexican Tio

Then we walked around and picked nopales ears, there is a technique to this so that you don’t get your fingers all pricked to shreds, I did really good at avoiding the big prickles but didn’t do so good at avoiding the tiny little hair like pricks, you can hardy see them on the nopale or on your hand but you can sure feel them. Nopale plants are so interesting, they grow these Mickey Mouse ears on them in all kinds of formations, and no two are alike. To propagate a plant you just pick an ear and put it in the ground and it starts to grows, it’s that easy.

Then we had a lunch break as about 10 am, I was starved by then and was so happy for my chicken sandwich and baggie of cut up fruit and vegetables. At lunch Tio said to me “now, you’ve worked for 4 hours and if you were a Mexican I would pay you 5 pesos”. I said “but Tio that shorts me 3 pesos for a ½ a kilo of tortillas”. If you go to the tortillaria here they are 7.50 a kilo but if you buy them off the guy that drives around on quad selling them they are 8 pesos. He laughs and says I am not done yet, after lunch I can pick some lemons and maybe a few oranges which I can take home to supplement my meagre supper of tortillas. We had such a great time at lunch chatting, Tio told me how adventurous he has been as a young 19 year old, going to Arizona to work on a construction crew, he said he had been so strong and full of energy then, and handsome...he laughed, oh how handsome he had been, Mrs hadn’t been able to resist him, she blushed and told him to stop telling foolish stories. He played with his parrot....oh yeah, their pet parrot come along too, he doesn’t like staying home alone...how funny. He showed me all his little funny tricks, it was so cute watching them interact with their little pet.

They told me how they had lived out here for 2 years, how cozy it must have been, so quiet and peaceful.....oh and the ocean, oh yeah, the ocean is ever present, have you ever weeded all afternoon with the sound of the ocean in the background, so soothing. I love that ocean.

After lunch Mr started rolling up his hoes, he hollers at me to go get my camera, he wanted me take his picture as he flips and uses the hose as a lasso like a cowboy. He says I have to show my friends my crazy cowboy uncle. He is such a ham, so funny. Mrs told him to stop with his “tonteria” (foolishness) before he hurts himself. Hilarious. 

Tio wanted to burn some brush (Mexicans love burning brush) but the wind was coming from the wrong direction and since we weren’t going to stay and watch it burn he didn’t want to risk it, so we just piled it and left it for next time.

We loaded all our hoes, the pump, the nopales, my bucket of lemons and oranges and off we were. At the entrance to the gate Mr got out to close the gate, Mrs laughed and said he always gets out to check the gate because he thinks she might not do it right so he always gets out of the truck and checks to make sure she has closed it properly, as he did this he grabbed her and tried to kiss her, she was so embarrassed and pulled away real quick, he almost ended up kissing the fence post....hillarious.

All the way home I picked prickles out of my hands, their turn to laugh at me. Next time I’m bringing gloves. It took me about three days to get all the prickles out.

I’ve agreed to help every Monday, apparently you only need to water about every 7 days or so, most likely more in the summer, it’s still winter here you know. 

Hanging curtain rods, some quad tires, and a BBQ

Wow, hanging stuff up in a brick house is sooooo complicated. I had a guy come to hang some curtain rods. I did think something not normal was going to take place when he showed up with a hammer drill (that I expected), a machete, and a stick, what the heck is he going to do with the machete? Here is the process, first you drill a big hole into the wall with the hammer drill which makes concrete dust fly everywhere, and of course curtain rods get hung right beside the window which is where the concrete stud is making it very difficult to drill even with a hammer drill. After the hole has been made he takes his stick and chisels a piece off of it with his machete and puts it in the hole as a plug and slams it with a rock a few times then you screw your screw into the plug....brilliant. After 2 holes his drill quit working. He said he would come back manana.....2 weeks later we proceeded to finish the project. That’s how we do things here. 5 curtain rods got hung, one mirror and a mosquito net. I am rethinking wanting shelves in my kitchen; I think it might be less complicated to get concrete shelves made but probably not less messy. I think I’ll think about this for a few mananas.  

Mean while I dream of making a BBQ like this, but first a brick pad. 

My new Spanish Colonial rocking chair

Mexican extension cord

Homemade plug ... genius 

Flower pots, quad tires turned inside out... genius 

I managed to capture the end of a sunset, which marks the beginning of a sultry Mexican evening.

This is taken while I am sitting on my back door step

watching curtain move

Casa Damasco

I have written about Una gota en el oceano in the past years, it is the homeless shelter that used to be called Casa Damasco. Today I went there for the first time this season with some friends. The Mexican Government only allows foreigners to do volunteer work for 5 weeks with a tourist visa (which is what I have), I left my volunteering for my last 5 weeks here thinking that my house would be all set up by then, little did I know that setting up a home from scratch takes a lot longer.  I am comfortable in it and don’t care if it doesn’t all get done this year. I will need something to do next year as well.

So off I went to Una gota en el oceano, some people from years past where still there, some had passed on, and there were some new people as well, as is the case each year. The house is staffed with a cook, and a couple that do all the daily work that needs doing and there is a nurse that visits once a week as well. Basically all they want from us volunteers now is just to love these people and help them to regain some dignity that has been lost from years of abuse of some kind, living on the street, being discarded by family because of illnesses or disability, living in poverty, being orphaned, so many scenarios as to why someone ends up homeless.

At first I just walked around and shook hands and greeted everyone, lunch was served and I walked around and wiped faces and hands, some of the people can still feed them selves but it can get a little messy sometimes. One man was covered in food after he was done and as I wiped his face and his hands my heart just went out to him, I am not sure why but his one hand was all curled up and it seemed his legs were semi paralyzed, possibly MS. As I wiped his hands with a damp cloth I started to gently massaging them and he seemed to like that so I decided he was going to get a pedicure. We had come prepared to give foot massages and pedicures but since we didn’t have time to do everyone we were going to determine who needed it most and who would be open to that, I decided I had found my candidate. A basin of water was found, some soap and clean towels, some hydrogen peroxide and some Iodine and I went to work. I have a hard time putting into words how surreal it was to feel a grow man basically surrender himself to me, he was in a wheel chair so he couldn’t escape, not that he wanted too, I felt he totally enjoyed the interaction, the attention, I did communicate with him in Spanish (I can finally do that now) but I felt that he was so vulnerable because he couldn’t run away, his body was weak, he couldn’t sit upright or hold his head up, I felt so honoured that he allowed me into his space. I didn’t feel worthy to be there. It was as if that kind of intimacy and trust needed to be earned and I didn’t feel I had earned that having just met him to day. I washed and massaged his feet, and his hands, cleaned and clipped his toe and finger nails. I just kept thinking “what if he was my grandpa or my father” I fell in love with him. My time with him was over too soon. 

I used to feel so helpless when going there but I don’t anymore because I have finally come to realize that all that is needed is love and God will do the rest and if you feel that you don’t have enough love to give there, God will supply that as well if you ask. I went back and read some of my stories that I wrote in 2008 and I now shake my head at myself, I didn’t get it then, I was too focused on the lack of clean dish cloths. I finally got it through my head that you can’t change the way the people do things here, they don’t use dish cloths, a cloth is a rag to them and will be used as a rag, so when you go there don’t wash the dishes with their rags and complain it’s dirty, and go to the store to buy new “rags” only to find them used as “rags” the next week. lol, I laugh at this now. I don’t even use a dish cloth in my house here anymore. I’m getting it, slowly.

A mystery man

Normally before I write about someone I ask them if they mind being mentioned on my blog but I am making a exception with this story. It’s for this reason that I have been reluctant to tell this story but I think it is a story that needs telling. I am hoping something positive will come out of this and I hope that this doesn’t sound like I am exploiting this  poor man, that is the last thing that I want to do. Sometimes when we try to help someone it can, if not thought out properly actually do more harm than good so I have thought long and hard and am still not entirely sure but here goes;

Every once in a while last year I would see a very needy, poor and destitute looking man walking on the streets here on the Island, and I assumed he lived way in the back of the Colonina, which is where the poorer people live. It is fairly common here in Mexico that the poorest people live on the edge of town, usually squatting there. Well, I assumed wrong, as is usually the case when one is assuming. I also assumed that he had some mentally disabilities that kept him from finding employment, I assumed wrong on that one too.

When I first got here I was house sitting for some friends of mine and was this mans neighbour (kind of). Turned out he lives (lived) under a tree at the edge of the village in a shelter that he had built of bits and pieces of garbage, a piece of card board here and a few palm fonds, it was a very crude shelter. I have since been told that he has lived here for 5 years, maybe not always under that particular tree. He originally lived under a tree at the airport for about 10 years, one lady told me 10 years, another said 11, what the actual number is I do not know, let’s just call it a long long time. They finally evicted him for reasons I do not know and he wandered his way over here and has been here ever since. He does not speak, and does not interact with anyone, he comes into the village just far enough to scrounge for food and then he heads backs to his hut. His tree was right at the corner of the new development in the plantations and for a while the construction crew would work around him but finally they took it upon themselves to build him a new hut further up the road (away from the village), they built him a beautiful little hut, a very sturdy and well built hut. It looks like a work of love, they didn’t have to do that, they could have just ploughed down his garbage and let him rebuild somewhere else but they didn’t, and God will bless them for that, I just know. He has a house now that will keep him dry during the rainy reason and warm at nights during the cold season (warmer anyway). They even built the floor up off the ground so it wouldn’t be cold. They attached a basket to the outside wall so that people could drop off food for him. You can tell the way it was built that it wasn’t built out of duty; you can see it was built out of love and someone took great pride in building it. An act of love like this does not go unnoticed by God.

I guess we can't really call him homeless anymore. 

He still wanders in to the village about 3 times a day to look for food. Now that I have moved into my house I am across the street from 2 ladies that leave food out for him on top of a brick fence and he knows it is for him and comes in to get it. A few times I would watch him come in to check the fence for food and finding nothing he started rummaging through the garbage, as I was watching this I decided this is not necessary, and vowed that he would not have to do that anymore. The two ladies that are feeding him do not have a lot to give and are giving as much as they can spare which is what has kept him alive. God will also bless them for that. It’s easy to give when you have lots to give but when you don’t have much it is a sacrifice to give and that is what they have been doing. By the looks of him he has been getting just enough food to stay alive but certainly not enough to be healthy or comfortable.

I’ve been told that the man has never spoken, no one knows his name or where he came from. He is not Mexican, or Latino, he looks to be Caucasian. Apparently he has a suitcase that he has always had with him, because he ended up at the airport I am guessing he came here by plane at some point, something happened to keep him from leaving. There are many scenarios here, we can assume many things. I am guessing that he is not mute; I think he can talk but has chosen not to as a defence; it is his form of protection from people. If you don’t respond people eventually stop bugging you and just start ignoring you, something happened to him to make him feel he needed to protect himself and now that it has been so long he most likely has forgotten how to talk even if he wanted too. Think about not interacting with humans for 15 years, think of what it would do to your mind even if you were of sound mind to begin with. He has been living like a dog, competing for scrapes of food in the trash, no water, no toilet, no family, no books, no TV, no friends, no money, no social interaction what so ever for 15 years (or so). This man has an amazing story. Imagine.

Here is the thought that breaks my heart, what if there is a mother looking for him? He looks to be in his 30s or early 40s, hard to tell though, which would mean he came here as a young man of 20 or so, he must have a mother somewhere. A mother would never stop looking or hoping. It is heartbreaking to think that there may be a family somewhere looking for a brother, a son or father even. Imagine.

As I was talking this through with a few friends someone said that maybe he doesn’t want to be found, maybe he is hiding. If that were true I doubt he would have hung out at the airport for 10 years, airports have security and police, and Federales coming and going all the time, not a good hiding spot. When he came to the Island he built his shelter right on the edge of the road in plain view when he could have walked a few yards into the jungle and have been completely out of sight. I don’t think he is hiding, although I am sure his passport had expired as has his visitor visa.

I have been trying to get a good face shot of him but he is so quick to grab food and head back up the road. I have a few shots but I am still hoping for a good head shot. Maybe maybe someone will recognize him if we pass this picture on. With the help of the internet it is possible to get his picture around the world. When I look at his face I think he may be European, I also see German features in him, his eyes are light but his hair is dark, he has high cheek bones and a prominent nose, I would put him at about 5’11. Please copy this picture and pass it around.

Matthew 25:35-46

I have been told that there is a lady on the Island here that cuts his hair once in awhile. I haven’t found her yet (I don’t have a name). I do want to speak to her and see if she has ever been able to communicate with him at all.

I am now helping the ladies on my street feed him, I have the means to do this (it really doesn’t take much) and certainly have the time. I just cook for 2 now, which is kind of nice and when I buy fruit and vegetables I now buy for 2. I pack him a lunch every night and put it out for him early in the morning. I try to make it a healthy meal, a carb, a protein, a fruit and a vegetable, sometimes a treat from the dessert truck and sometimes a bag of Cheetos. Between the two of them the other 2 ladies leave something for him around supper time most days. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do for when I leave, do I leave money with someone to feed him? Who? I’ll have to think about this.

I haven’t seen him dig through the garbage since I’ve started contributing, there should be no need for anyone to eat out of the garbage, if only the people that had to spare would share. I believe there is enough food to go around, there are just too many people hoarding it and not sharing. I just keep thinking, “What if this was my son, or my father or my brother” how would I want other people to treat him. Imagine.

Matthew 25:35-46

I’ve been told this man has never harmed anyone here, he has never been a nuisance, and he has never stolen anything, he has never stepped foot into anyone’s yard except to reach into the garbage. He is just looking to survive. I was also told that if you hand him something he won’t take it but he did take a bag of food from me one day.