"CCC" Part II

Day Two

I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn, because I had heard a rumor that the milk truck makes a stop in San Antonio during its morning route. However, once I reached the street I discovered I was too late. 

"Oh mi hija, the truck left over an hour ago," a local told me while giggling a bit. My notion of -ass-crack of dawn translated to sleeping-in for most of the parish. 

I sat in the village square with my book until the telephone port opened up. I figured Ned would be reachable now. But, as farmer's a rarely attached to their phones, I soon realized I'd have to hitch another ride to nowhere land. 

I searched for some caloric energy, but all I could find was a corner tienda with Ritz crackers and water bottles, so I settled. Luckily, the fresh-faced store clerk was extremely helpful.

"There'll be a truck leaving with the school kids in the afternoon," he said, "Around one o' clock. He could tell I was a bit hesitant, I had about 70 found worth of luggage with me, but I didn't want to take it off my back.

"This isn't the city," he laughed. "There are no robbers here, you are safe." I was still a bit wary, but the clerk watched my things, and even convinced his brother to help me load them onto the truck. 

At the hour, I hopped onto the truck, the students screaming "Gringa! Gringa! What's your name?" With each stop through the mountainside the children all filed out, some hanging off the rear of the truck until we reached their parish. "San Antonio is the last stop!" They'd yell. "Be patient!" Once I was the only one left in the back of the truck, we reached my stop. 

"You'll have to walk about 30-60 minutes up this path," my driver said. A girl in the front seat had told me minutes ago that she was going to San Antonio as well. 

"Will she come with me?" I slyly pointed in her direction. 

The girl hopped out from the passenger side, and motioned me to walk with her. 

"Great," I thought. "I'm pretty much putting my life in the hands of an 11-year-old girl." Turns out, though, that this girl has probably put in more hours of work in her life than I have. So she assisted me the whole way, repeatedly asking me if I needed to rest, but I never admitted to that need, even when I wanted to. In the meantime, she told me her name was Carla. 

Before we reached her house, Carla told me I could wait with her while we called Ned/Eduardo together. "Eduardo es my vecino," she said. I'd learn soon enough that in this place, everyone is a neighbor. 

But Ned didn't answer. I sat outside wondering what the hell I was doing, how I could put this girl in such a situation, when she came outside and told me to come sit in the kitchen. She wanted to make me food. I hesitatingly sat down, asking if she needed help, but she wouldn't let me stand up. "You need rest," she said. Within minutes, she served me a heaping bowl of white-rice and french fries, as well as one for herself. 

"Do you get lunch at school?" I asked her. 

"No, we don't have lunch. I eat in the morning and when I get home," she said. 

My appetite began to wilt, and I struggled to swallow each bite. Once I had finally finished, she smiled at me, grabbed my hand and led me into her parents' room where her little sister was watching television through a fuzzy signal. 

"Where are your parents? I asked. 

"Oh. They are working in the fields," she replied. "They'll be home in a couple of hours."

"And they won't mind that I'm here, in their bed?" I had heard about the good nature of the people in this area, but this situation had gotten me a little concerned.

"Not at all!" She said through a smile. So I tried to relax, but instead stared blankly at the T.V. until the parents showed home.

Her father's head popped in, and his face began to glow as soon as he caught sight of me. 

"Tara is going to be a volunteer here!" Carla jumped with excitement. 

"Hello! Hello! Welcome!" He said. The mother's face mimicked the father's. 

While the parents were cooking dinner, I asked Carla if I could take a nap, and she led me to her bedroom. I needed a second to collect myself, though instead, once I was able to distance myself from the others, I tucked my head into my knees and began to cry. I quickly forced myself to regain composure. "Just make it through the night, Tara, everything will be sorted out in the morning," I wrapped my arms around myself in hopes of comfort. Just then, the phone rang. Eduardo called in the nick-of-time. 

Carla came into her room. "Tara, Eduardo wants to know if you want him to come get you, or if you want to wait for morning." Her sister came in, and collectively they kneeled on the bedside floor, as if they were about to pray, and pleaded to me with their eyes; ones I couldn't say no to. 

Relieved that he at least called, I gave them what felt like a puzzled look and said, "I'll stay." The girls began jumping up and down, and ran and told their parents, who were delighted at the news. I shook my head in utter confusion. Me, an anonymous foreigner who randomly landed at their house one day, was seen as a blessing. I walked into the main house, and gave them my full attention. 

While sitting on the bed, one-by-one, the mother and the two girls laid down notebooks, and asked me to open them. English lessons. "Will you help us with pronunciation?" 

"Of course," I said. I felt it was the least I could do to repay this family. So we sat for an hour or so, sifting through pages of vocabulary, playing flash card games and editing homework. 

"When you come work in the fields," Samuel (the father) mentioned, you can teach me the English words for all the tools. 

I had no idea where I'd be stationed, but didn't want to address those logistics, so instead I just nodded and smiled. 

"Let's. Eat. Dinner!" the mother said in her slightly improved English. 

Over our dinner of soup and steaming cherry juice, each family member was disrupting the other in telling me stories about their lives. "It's better we have electricity now. Life was hard five years ago. Now we have T.V." My heart sunk a bit. "AND we have all the running water in the world. We can leave every faucet on for the entire night and nothing would happen! Our other volunteer had a computer, and we could play computer games, he even left it for us when he went out of town!" I just sat motionless and soaked it all in like a sponge. 

"Please let me do the dishes," I firmly stated. The girls sat by the sink and watched the cold water hit my hands while I cleaned. During this time, their mother began to tidy up the room I'd be sleeping in. After I laid the last dish to dry, the girls grabbed my arms and led my into my temporary room. 

I began preparing for bed, but the girls lingered. 

"...Do you have a computer? With movies?" Carla questioned. 

I didn't feel comfortable flaunting my electronics, but reluctantly I told them yes, I had one movie with me. Unfortunately, there were no Spanish subtitles. 

The girls, showing no sign of caring, immediately climbed into bed, one on each side, and cuddled up to me until their bed time. 

How I felt that night, going to sleep in the foreign bed of a strange family in an unknown place, could be an entire post on its own. But I'll leave that to the imagination.