(From Jach): We are back in Santa Barbara. We arrived last night around 9:30 or 10:00. Today I am dealing with catch up as I sort through the stacks of mail on my desk. However my thoughts remain with Colombia and my 16 day journey. Thank you for your positive comments about my pondering of Doña Carlotta. I want to share one more pondering from my time in Colombia. My pondering . . . Nelson is 7 years old. His Americanized name reveals his lack of social class and his parents lack of formal education. He was born in the country where his father, Ignacio, farmed a small plot of land. Ignacio had little but he was a proud man, a hardworking honest man, who, though poor and with little education, lead a rich life with his wife, Gladys, and their son. Ignacio and Gladys had planned on more children — brothers and sisters for Nelson and to develop a Colombian treasure: family. But Nelson along with his father and mother, moved into Cali three years ago. It had been just too dangerous with the Guerrillas along with the Narco-traffickers battling with the paramilitary to stay with the land in the country. The country had offered a difficult life but a predictable one. Ignacio and Gladys, knew how to work the land, to communicate with the dirt. But in the city, how do you work concrete? They couldn’t communicate with it. How do you dig the concrete? How do you run your fingers through it and smell it, taste it? Life had become more than difficult; it had become impossible. Ignacio didn’t work. He couldn’t find work. Now he sat on the concrete. He drank. Gladys and Nelson worked the streets. Nelson’s day: He was up with the first light and he and Gladys made their way to La Quinta (15th Avenue) and Calle 87 (87th Street). On the way, she pulls our fifteen 1000 peso bills or coins, about $7.50, to purchase 15 chocolate bars, the big ones, the 20 ounce size. There’s no money for breakfast. If the day goes well, she and her son might have lunch. La Quinta and Calle 87 was a particularly busy intersection and the traffic light stayed red for 90 seconds on La Quinta — a full minute and a half for Gladys and Nelson to work. As the digital timer counted down 90, 89, 88, Gladys would move between the lanes of stopped vehicles. She would give the driver a chocolate bar if the driver’s window was down. She’d carefully place the bar on the side view mirror if the driver’s window was up. 68, 67,66 she moved quickly through the very long line of stopped cars, taxis, trucks. She skipped “las motos” (the motorcycles), and moved one. 63, 62, 61 with just thirty seconds left, Nelson began down the line that his mother had walked. He would collect either payment — 2000 pesos (about $1.00 USD) — or the candy bar that remained on the side view mirror or that the driver handed back. 8, 7, 6 Nelson steps out of the line of traffic just before the light turns green. Nelson and Gladys walk back to the intersection. In 4 minutes the routine begins again. We sat at the intersection and I watched Gladys and her son. I watched this 7 year old especially small boy and his daily routine. No school. No playmates. No running and playing and getting in trouble as small children ought to do. A 90 second walk collecting money or candy bars. I wondered if Nelson got to go to the park on Sunday. I wondered if he got to try to lift weights and be encouraged by an older kid who probably works a different intersection. The light turned green.
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 18:36:33 +0000
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