A refuge. Tranquility. To think. Mano Chao is blasting in the background in muffled bass and song on the speakers downstairs as I tiredly open my eyes, my face resting comfortably on my arm and realize that I am looking out of my open bedroom door. I trace the reflected light that seems to bleach the already white tile farther and farther until my eyes reach the recently constructed terrace railing - wooden and almost raw - and to the the infinity that lies beyond that and surrounds me: the mountains.
Breathing deeply to gather some energy, on the exhale I cock my arm and lift my head supporting it with my hand. I am now looking out of the expansive north oriented windows by the headboard of the bed. It is the beginning of a sunny day and my bedroom feels almost like a tree house with me inside perched above the vegetation. This is augmented by the fact that I am on the second floor and the house is built on the side of a somewhat steep hill. There is a gentle breeze and I see the shimmer of a single spiderweb thread wisp undulating past my window. Gnat-like bugs in an organized conniption, swaying back and forth along their super highway: banana trees to coffee berries to the flowers and disappearing into the sun. A thought skips across my eyes: it is a lazy day. Does time really matter right now? No.
Everyone is awake except Santiago, a boy maybe 14 years old. He has been awoken many times but refuses to give in. Below, Ricardo washes his car, Gaston measures and cuts bamboo for the curtain rods he and I are installing around the house and the women are cleaning in preparation for the celebration we will have tonight: a celebration of the official farm opening.
I did not know what to expect on this trip. Gaston and Brisa had invited me to Colombia in passing and I thought "why not?" I'd never been, and I throughly enjoy traveling and learning about new cultures; I especially like getting a local perspective. And, that is what I got. When someone tells me that they live on a farm, I picture the farms I have seen in the USA; flat plains with tilled land and plants all in a row. I know I have seen pictures of different types of farms but maybe it had never registered until I got to La Vega and experienced it myself: a mountainous farm where they have banana, coffee beans, sugar cane and some other fruits, many chickens and 4 cows. Well... they had 4. Now they have 3. A farm that also processes the sugar cane into Panela: orange, hard, and formed into blocks which according to the Spanish dictionary is defined as brown sugar. On the farm they make it into a beverage by combining it with boiling water.
They started the process at 3:30 AM with the help of some other farmers. By the time I woke up, they were almost done.
There are 3 dogs and 3 cats at the farm and my favorite immediately and definitely is Hannah. She is the pack leader and has a blue eye and a brown eye. Her fur is tan, black and gray and she looks inquisitive and businesslike all the time. She is more slender and smaller than Zeus and is longer and taller than the other dog. Many times dogs from other farms come to visit or these dogs go visit other farms but Hannah always seems to be around. She also appears to be cleaner, though I don't know if that is true.
My Spanish has already come back to me very quickly as everyone in Colombia is speaking it to me. The first time I had really spoken Spanish in a long time was at the airport when Daisy drove us home. I understood everything but they were speaking differently... it wasn't the accent that bothered me: in fact, I like they way they speak. However, I was bemused because Brisa and Daisy had been friends since primary school and they were being so formal in addressing each other. When I was introduced to Brisa's brother and sister-in-law the formalness continued. When I got to the farm and met the rest of her extended family, it was still there.
In Spanish class, I had learned that there are two forms of the singular form of the word "you." If you know the person and/or they are around the same age as you, you = "tú," and if they are older or deem respect, you = "usted." Everyone here was using "usted;" even people older than me and people my age. In Mexico, if I did that they would look at me funny. I was told that it was almost like saying sir or madam. Brisa tried to explain to me that in this area of Colombia it isn't like that; it is just how they were raised and the people around them were raised. My tongue would contort a bit every time I spoke, but I managed.
Sunny and Daylin came the same day that I did. Sunny characteristically always wore something on her head; mostly it was a white hat but she also wore a bandanna. Once or twice I saw her hair if she would straighten it or was putting the finishing touches on her outfit for the day. She didn't like her hair cut. "It's too short," she would shrug.
She was always looking to help out around the farm and always teaching with an amazing attitude. Telling a story at dinner how she dealt with a misbehaving student, she ended up teaching everyone the song she used with him. She was frequently jokingly embarrassed but at the same time not. She could draw the line in a second. I love her manner of speaking as she would say what was on her mind and a second later apologize for cussing, "God, ya know, when you are out of school things just slip. I've got to watch myself." I would say she was a very disciplined person though for, somehow, she never let her guard down around the kids. However, I definitely enjoyed using adult code words to get a laugh out of her. It was even more funny when her 13 year old son Daylin was around because he is an inquisitive and curious boy and is still learning his filters. No matter the situation, he would ask for an explanation. Many times, Sunny could do nothing more but to avert her eyes and shake her head and be mad, "Daylin, not now."
The girls loved her - especially Khadija. Khadija was very much hoping Sunny would be her teacher. Thailand. Thailand is where Gaston and Brisa had worked with Sunny before moving to Curaçao. Sunny is now in Venezuela and Gaston and Brisa are in Curaçao and so Khadija's dream could not come to true. Khadija made up for it though by telling Sunny stories and her thoughts and memories. It must have been special for both of them this sharing of ideas.
Sunny has no regrets for her move and loves Venezuela. She did not hold back though and told us how it really is over there: we were told many stories of how Chavez continues to dictate. The one story that stuck though was that Chavez has personally launched a cheap phone called the "Dick." No, I'm not making this up. Check it out: http://www.wired.com/gadgetlab/2009/03/chavez-plans-14/.
Many times Chavez will tell certain companies not to sell their products or to sell them for a price where they cannot make any profit or will even loose money. Consequently, many companies and farms withhold their products until they can get a better price or they close and Chavez takes them over. Frequently, I would hear Daylin say, "Ohhhhh! They sell this here!?! You guys are so lucky! We can't get this in Venezuela." I had many conversations with Daylin about his favorite stores and foods from Canada.
Daylin is a sweet, nice boy and has really good intentions. He asks questions because he really wants to know the answers. He is only 13 and understands the need to be helpful. Like most 13 year old boys, he is in the awkward stage. Around the dinner table, I kept wondering how all these kids are going to look when they grow up. I also came to the realization that in the not-so-distant future I would be saying to them, "I remember when you were this small! Do you remember that?!" It makes me feel old but a good old.
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