Four Parts Of The Whole

Flora

Being in the tropics always provokes garden envy for us. We look at the gardens around us and daydream about what we'd grow if we lived here. We'd be sure to plant as many ornamental palms and flowering trees as we could. We're always a bit amazed, though, that many tropical gardens lack food crops. Why not base the entire garden around edibles? What on the Mother earth is more beautiful than a mango tree? Or a lemon tree? Or avocado and papaya trees?

This house is wonderful, but the garden lacks magic. When we were here two years ago we noticed a few baby palm trees that seemed so sad right at the front of our garden. Upon our return it was most shocking to see that those same baby trees had not grown much and looked pitiful. How could that even be possible that these trees had not grown? We decided to try to help these little trees by doing some guerilla gardening- saving our compostibles then layering them with grass clippings as mulch for these dear, neglected trees who are so obviously suffering from a serious nitrogen deficiency. I worry that if I were to stay in this town long enough I would follow the trash man who rides a horse around town in order to collect its manure for these trees. The locals would see me- some deranged foreign woman- slyly scooping horse shit into a plastic grocery bag with a stick. Luckily we're leaving soon so it won't get to that point.

Fauna

A few nights ago a rat crawled onto my arm, then onto my hair, then jumped behind my pillow onto the floor as I was sleeping. I could feel its little soft paws and the disgusting swish of its tail. I woke up, startled beyond words, and saw it disappear into the night. Somehow I went back to sleep after that, but I felt violated by the rat- and still do. The rat crossed a line of common decency and decorum that we cave dwellers must respect. Strangely, earlier that day, we'd been reliving our favorite scenes from Tom and Jerry from when we were kids. Was it serendipitous then that I had a rat encounter that night? Are rat encounters ever serendipitous?

We bought a sticky rat trap at the supermercado. We'd hoped to find the old fashioned wooden and metal kind that are time tested (and cartoonish), but the sticky ones are the only kind of trap they sell. We set the trap strategically in a corner with crackers as bait. Sometime during the night the rat came to the trap, ate the crackers, but did not get stuck onto the adhesive. We tried peanut butter on the trap the next night, but that didn't work either. We've positioned a garden rake next to the rat trap in anticipation of bludgeoning the rat to death once we catch it- a more humane death has yet to present itself to our imaginations. Lest you think I'm a blood hungry lunatic, once when we were traveling in India a rat came into our room and ate holes in all of my clothes. Being a backpacker, I didn't have many clothes to choose from so it was especially egregious. I mended what I could, but some were beyond repair and had to be retired after the trip. And once, at home, we had a rat eat a hole in the gas line of our truck. We could have easily gone down in a ball of flames that day, and the mechanic insisted someone was trying to sabotage and kill us. We later realized that the culprit was a rat. All of this to say that rats have earned their place at the top of my most wanted list.

I'm sleeping with one eye open, staying constantly vigilant, imagining worst case scenarios of going to the health clinic with a rat bite (does The Plauge still infect rats?), and then being stuck awake each night with adoption induced insomnia. And we still haven't caught the damn rat yet.

El Pasado

The other day Babba was walking with Dew Drop home from the village center when he came face to face with some serious ugliness. A mean old man along the way engaged Babba and asked who the little girl was. Babba said, "Mija." The man let loose a torrent of words telling Babba that he's living a lie. The language and accusations flowed forth so quickly that Babba became confused. Babba knew there were phrases such as "she's not your flesh and blood" mixed in to the cauldron of insults. No matter what the old man was saying it was pure hatred. It's upsetting to find yourself face to face with this kind of stupidity. Thankfully nothing like this has ever happened here to us before. Sure, we've had some intense stares from people who are trying to figure out our family dynamic- though that's just par for the course when you're a conspicuous family traveling abroad- but we've never had anything this blatant and rude said before. Dew Drop remains temporarily immune from understanding this level of despicable attitude, but not for much longer.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon discussing what it is that makes people feel so threatened by those who aren't like themselves, and why is anger the emotion that's stimulated rather than benign curiosity? How could this man feel so self righteous as to accost a father walking down the street with his young daughter? Isn't anything sacred? We tried to reassure ourselves that the kind of hatred this man carries in his heart is destined to become part of the past- that the future of humanity depends on us all opening our hearts- but we worry that it's not happening fast enough. Or not at all.

Futuro

One of our daily rituals is walking to the beach each day. We walk through the main village that is either bustling or either not bustling- depending on whether or not it's siesta time. We then wind our way down a red dirt road, and we pass the same houses and families each day. There's always a grandmother sitting underneath a shade tree. There's a bright blue house that always has its colorful laundry hung out to dry on their barbed wire fence. There are kids that used to only peek at us from behind trees but who now boldly present themselves to us. We see horses, goats, fighting cocks with their legs bound together with zip ties, mangy cats napping in the shade, a giant mango tree with a brown pig tied to its base, hens with baby chicks and many dogs who all look to be somehow related. The walk to the beach is one of the highlights of our day.

The other day the kids on this road had a tiny puppy with them. The little pup couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. The pup was chasing and nipping at the kids' heels as they ran. A teenage girl leaned on the fence post nearby pretending not to be amused. When we stopped the pup let out a series of desperate whimpers to be held. After a while we ambled on down the road with Dew Drop, and we commented on how little we're interpreting the language barrier for her these days. She understands almost everything said to her in Spanish. Dew Drop walked on with a poise and a confidence that says she understands this language, this place, this earth, and what this life is all about. Since the day with the little pup when we see this group of kids they treat Dew Drop like an old friend. They tell us to wait right there until they go fetch up more of their friends and relations to introduce her to -like she's a foreign dignitary traveling the country roads in order to exchange smiles with every kid within a 100 mile radius.