Hopeless, yet hopeful.

I know dogs. I have dogs. I GET dogs. I’m not selfish with dogs – if they want to eat, I feed them. Even if I don’t feel like it or I’m doing something else or have to make them an egg and rice mix because I’m out of dog food. I get cats, too. I have one. Lluvia is smart and sassy and never jumps on the table and lets me pet him for a few minutes before he bites me. I get it. I sort of get pigs….they’re easy to care for. Just keep them cool and fed and I have happy pigs. I don’t have to make special food – just give them whatever is going bad in the fridge, or some leftovers, pieces of stuff people don’t eat, even fruit off the ground and voila – they’re fed. I am not too fond of roosters – they’re loud and it is a farmyard lie that they only crow at sunrise. They crow all of the time – this glotteral, scratchy aargh-argh-a-ghhhhhhh that wakes me up and makes me want to make rooster soup. Chickens are OK, because baby chicks are yellow and chirpy and if I’m really fast I can pick one up and it doesn’t care. Horses…covered. I don’t know where they are 95% of the time, but when they’re around they eat mangoes out of my hand and run toward me when I call them. I get them. They get me. Parrots – don’t get me started. All the crap that comes out of his mouth came from me so we’re really one in the same.
I do not get pelibueys. They’re a mix between a goat and a sheep – a goat/sheep thing. They’re sweet, look a little like dogs, and can be very independent, like dogs. But they don’t need me. They eat anything and go anywhere. If I’m nice, they love me. They’ll follow me around, but not too close. They don’t understand English. They don’t understand Spanish. And if I wave my arms they run away (about 3 feet) and then come right back to finish whatever it was that they were doing before I waved. They’re smart and stupid and cute and ugly and not too great for anything. They destroy gardens, grass, trees, and whatever else is within mouth range because….they can eat it. They’ll eat cans, plastic, shoes, furniture, and seem to be especially partial to hammocks. But for whatever reason, I have an unspeakably deep need to be surrounded by animals – maybe it’s because I like them more than people most of the time. And I especially like little things - cute little puddles of fur and feathers with soft feet who don’t know that most people around here don’t care the least about them.
Being responsible for these little things is big. But also small, important and inconsequential. Because if I fuck up, they die and no one really cares. If I leave rat poison out and my cat eats it by accident, the cat dies…I get another one. If I forget to take care of a pelibuey and it gets wrapped around a tree and strangles itself…it dies. If a baby chick gets picked up by a chicken hawk…you get it. I can look at it as the “circle of life” – things live, things die. People live, people die. Animals live, and sometimes even cute little puddles of life that should live a whole helluva lot longer than a few weeks…..die.
Herein is the problem – I CARE. It breaks my heart. It makes me feel helpless and hopeless and unable to intervene and … well, SAVE them. I feel like I’m their Ambassador – their embassy of happiness and security and safety and the possibility of life better than what they would have had without me. Me, me, me. Starting to get the picture? I know I’m supposed to feel that good that at least I gave these little things a moment of care and compassion, but I’m starting to think this is really all about me. About caring and compassion in a land where death is shrugged away and then ignored and life “goes on.” That maybe I can set an example to someone that caring and compassion can cross over to everyone and anyone – even if they can’t talk or tell us what’s wrong or ask for a hug or some kind words over the telephone from an old friend.
So, I will cry. I will cry when I think about what a selfish person I am by surrounding myself with animals that I understand, and even with the ones that I don’t understand, and thinking that for one brief moment we were both happy at exactly the same time. Which is pretty good because they have me to mourn for them. I’m sure there’s a nice hammock out there just waiting for my little pelibuey MonaLisa to nibble on – and she’s just fine.
As for me, I’ll stay hopeful, and hopeless, and compassionate and clueless. And try again tomorrow to grow a tomato.

P-R-O-G-R-E-S-S

OK, all of you word geeks (I have never completed one crossword puzzle in my life, but I remember an Advanced Moment when my sister - a crossword pro - called me in a moment of panic and said, "You're an idiot, but what's a 6-letter word for the clue [opening word]." To which I said without pause, "Sesame" - prompting her not to talk to me for 6 months.) So, with that in mind, I wish to discuss a concept heretofore unknown to Mechapa.....Progress. I can use MicrosoftWord, so I thesaurused it (take it easy there, I am sure that I can use that as a verb) and came up with "the advance of human society: the general advance of human society and industry over time toward a state of greater civilation." Now, if you know me, you immediately realized that I am in a tizzy, an uncomfortable and tenuous state, a cold-sweat panic about the greater implications surrounding one particular thing that prompted my 10-second research into the word Progress....they're finishing the road to Potosi. Normally, I don't think that a road improvement would evoke this sort of reaction from anyone, but this is MECHAPA people! And, as if my worst karmic fears were being realized right before my eyes in the scariest and most efficient form EVER....I've had a couple of guests here who justify my fear of Progress (BTW, have you been watching Justified? It's a television show and they've mentioned Nicaragua 3 times that I'm aware of - fascinating...and it's not just that they've mentioned it in conjunction with a stick of dynamite and a bad guy and a coconut field, but just that they mention it. And the lead star is sort of hot. That too.)
It's not these are baaaaad peeps, but just a bubble off (Mike's old construction term, realizing its full potential in this sense). Just as disturbing is the fact that backpackers are showing up, too (mochilleros, as they are called here - which is sort of cute) in increasing numbers. It's not that I don't like Mochilleros, it's just that they smell sometimes and want to pay $6 a night and have a budget of $7 a day. That's just wrong. You're on vacation, in a foreign land, and you have a pocket-full of coins to support yourself?! Just wrong. Mike and I went on a one night vacation with a friend from New York last week and stayed in the Presidential Suite at a nice hotel down south. Total tab: the equivalent of 128.57 days for Mochilleros. That's the RIGHT way to do it. I don't remember much because 31 days budget was spent on triple vodka drinks, but I have pictures to prove I had fun.
So the road is being built and even though it stops 16 km from our entranceway (preserving my directions of "Go to the end of the road...and then keep going) I still had to hire a new employee for the "afternoon shift." Good Gawd! The Afternoon Shift! Isn't that called Siesta Time?
The big question? Is this road Progress, moving us toward greater civilization, or is it just interefering in a big way with my Sleepy Time? Do I really need greater civilization? What does that really mean, anyway?

You won't believe this, loyal readers, but 2 trucks just pulled up with 8 adults and 4 children (from Managua!) for 3 cabanas. I am here alone, so I am signing out! Progress.....bring it ON!!