Merry Christmas

December 25, 2007

We realized that this is the first Christmas we have spent at home in a long time. Last year we were in Zimbabwe with Anna at a place called Jingle Bells Lodge. It was sparse and a little sad because we were all apart from anything that resembled home. The year before that we were on the beach in Senegal. It was a beautiful lodge with a tremendous dinner and a skinny little Santa handing out presents. Three years ago we were at my brother’s in Texas. That was great because we were surrounded by family.

The one thing they were all missing was home; each time we were traveling. This made presents limited and traditions guided by somebody else. Today we were in our house! We had a Christmas tree and lights and a big turkey for dinner. It was made doubly special by the fact that my mom, my sister, and my sister in law were here to help celebrate.

My sister and her spouse brought down a bicycle I had purchased over the internet. We stayed up last night and put it together. I got it to replace the cheap piece of shit I had bought for Z’s fifth birthday. The birthday bike looked great in the store, but when I got it home, the troubles began; the rims weren’t straight, the bolts weren’t tight, and the bearings fell apart the first time he rode it. I quit trying to fix it after a month and put it in the back room. This new bike is much better (although it too was made in China). It even has coaster brakes instead of hand brakes. This rocks as most kids his age don’t have the motor skills to work a hand brake. He had a ball riding it in the park.

We put the little guy to bed around ten and then set to work. Unfortunately, we had no idea that the real festivities were just beginning. The Venezolanos sure love their fireworks! Holy cow, there were booms and crashes and flashes and bangs until midnight and then the real show happened. We felt like the building might crash down around us. We finally stumbled off to bed, only to be awakened around two by an M80 that had been lit off somewhere next to my head. Every car alarm in a three block radius erupted, waking up every dog in the city. I thought I would never get back to sleep. It’s a good thing I knew it was fireworks…

The funny part is that everyone woke up before Zachary! We laid in bed and waited for him to get up and see his stuff. He sure was excited. It wasn’t just the bicycle, it was also that little plastic Matchbox toy I bought him yesterday on a whim. It’s funny, isn’t it? You put a ton of thought into something, making plans way ahead of time, and it’s some coincidental doohickey that they really end up liking. Oh well, so it goes.

Before Christmas we all spent some time at a couple of posadas near Valencia. It was great. We drove less than two hours and arrived in the foothills, surrounded by forest. We were treated like royalty while we ate tremendous meals and stared at beautiful birds. We even got to see a sloth! We watched him eat while he hung upside down in a tree. It was very comfortable and very relaxing. Now we know where there are some great spots just minutes from our door. I think we’ll be taking advantage of them in the future.

I’m still getting over the death of Reg. I just can’t believe the guy is dead. I stopped crying a week or so ago, but it still pains me to think that I will never see him again. I got in touch with his fiancé, a woman I have never met. I sent her a little note and she responded to say that they expected his body to arrive on the day he was slated to come home; December 22. Merry Christmas… It sure makes me appreciate having my family here with me now. Never take life for granted!

Anyway, it’s Christmas and I am wandering off into sad territory… we are making plans to go to the beach before everyone leaves this Sunday. Once they are gone, Carrie, Z, and I have one week together before school starts again. We’re not sure what we’ll do, but I’m sure it will be a new experience. It will be good to have some alone time before I have to go back to work.

MJR

In Memorium

December 9, 2007

Global warming be damned; the world just got a little colder today.

I knew a man named Reg.
He was the first person I really met in Sadiola. No sooner had I walked in the club the first time then he piped up with that gravelly baritone of his, complete with a wave and that smile.

He showed me around the place; the best swimming holes, the best braai spots, and the best bush bars. I spent many a night at the DeCastro homestead listening to music and shooting the shit late into the night. No matter how late it got, he would never throw me out. I tried to test him, staying well past a reasonable time to leave, but he never caved. He would lie down on his bed, his eye lids drooping, talking and nodding off at the same time. I think he would have done that all night, rather than tell me to get out.

That’s the way he was; a friend to anyone who would have him. To know Reg was to enjoy his company. I never ceased to be amazed at the number of people he knew. It seemed like every other week there was some new oke who would show up and Reg would say, “Hey it’s my pal from…” He was warm and gregarious and independent. You could try to tell him his idea might not be the best one, but he’d probably go and do it anyway. He’d even come back to you later to tell you how much fun he had doing that very thing you advised him against.

I loved his stories. He had the best tales about battles in distant lands or travels to the bar down the road. His stories would unfold before your eyes as if you had lived them yourself. Of course it got kind of old hearing the same story again and again, but there was no stopping him once he got started. The key I found was to pour him some more Red Heart, a drink he would never refuse, and wait until he mumbled so bad you couldn’t understand him anyway.

He had a good spirit and a great sense of humor. He could take shit as well as dish it out. When he drove his bike into the boom gate, he allowed us to call him Boom Gate DeCastro for quite a while. He always insisted he was Portuguese; one day I asked him how long he had actually lived in Portugal. He pretended to be mad, but he laughed at the joke with the rest of us.Without Rogerio DeCastro, my family’s life in Sadiola would have been very different. We were the teachers; the only Americans. We were strangers in a very strange place. He took us in and he took care of us.

Reg wasn’t just my friend, he was more like my older brother. I always knew he would be there for me if I needed him. I also knew in my heart when I left Sadiola that I would see him again. There was no question that our paths would cross. He is family!

Words cannot express the pain that we feel today. We have lost a great man, a true friend, a brother. We will mourn his passing for a long time to come. My solace is in knowing that he died on his motorcycle, his one true passion. May we all be granted the dignity to pass doing something we love.

MJR

What a Night

December 3, 2007

Yesterday was the big vote. From the moment we woke up there were cars lined up around the block. As we looked around, we discovered that there were cars parked around every block. Since there are several schools in our area that are voting stations, there were people coming and going all day. Overall it was a very quiet day.

We spent the morning cleaning the house. The soot from last week’s protests is thick on our floors. No matter how much we scrub, our feet still turn black when we walk around the place. When we finished, we hiked to the top of a nearby hill and admired the view, then wandered back home to sit around some more. We have not worked since Wednesday of last week and we will not return until Wednesday of this week. We are all a little stir crazy. Zachary has had some play dates, but we have had nothing to do.

Sunday passed uneventfully. Z went to bed late and Carrie and I followed suit at 11:00. At 1:30 we were awakened by banging pots and explosions. There were people yelling, horns honking, and music playing. I was wide awake until the noise subsided at 5:00. We are still in awe over the fact that Chavez’s reforms did not pass. I am not sure what that will bring in the long term, but for today, business returned to normal. We managed to get out and get some things done including much needed grocery shopping.

It is very difficult to get a handle on the political situation here. The main problem is that neither of us understands enough Spanish to make sense of the news. We are stuck gleaning information from whoever will offer it. This information is always polarized. There is no middle ground here. Folks are either all for the president or completely against him. This provides some challenges in establishing what the truth really is. I do know that there are a lot of poor people. I have also observed that the police cannot be counted on to be of much help. Certainly they cannot be counted on to enforce the laws. While driving in an 80 kph zone, one can pass an officer at 170 kph and never even think twice about it.

There are check points along the roads. I have been stopped once. They asked everyone for ID, dug through our bags, looked through the car, and hassled the two folks who hadn’t brought their passports with them. It’s scary because they hold all the cards. If they choose to impound your vehicle, they will. It’s completely random and more than a little nerve racking. The trick is to be respectful and always carry cash.

MJR

Twas the night before voting...

December 1, 2007

…and all through the streets…

We worked only Wednesday this week. School was cancelled Thursday and Friday to secure the campus for the upcoming vote. We ran some errands on Thursday. Among other things we bought a Christmas Tree. It’s plastic and metal and adorned with lights and silver balls. Zachary was so excited he could hardly see straight.

Friday we loaded into the family wagon and headed off for Barquisimeto. We didn’t actually spend a whole lot of time in that particular city, opting instead for some smaller villages around it. There we found artisan markets and shopped for Christmas gifts and various items to make our place a little more homey. There were seven of us altogether. We wound through the hills, stopping in San Felipe for lunch. We ate sandwiches in Plaza Bolivar while we listened to Ahora Sí (Now Yes!) over and over and over again. Just as our heads began throbbing, we retreated to the car and headed out once more.

I should mention here that every city, town, and village in Venezuela has a Plaza Bolivar. It is usually in the middle of town and there is generally a church across the street. You will also, of course, find a statue of Simon Bolivar himself right in the middle of the square. Every plaza I have visited has been vibrant and alive with people. It is a place to sit and talk, or eat, or cuddle.

Barquisimeto is a big city (800,000). There were several No! rallies happening. While these rallies are peaceful, they always spill into the road and make driving even more difficult than normal. We threaded our way through town, landing at a small village about twenty miles past. There we found a hotel that was comfortable even if it was not idyllic. We sat in the bar and ate good food until Zman announced it was bed time. This morning found us in the swimming pool. We even got to have eggs for breakfast! It was quickly discovered by several members of our party that flour was available so we each bought two bags.

The artisan market was busy. There was lots of wood, pottery, and woven goods. There were also a few music shops selling cuatros and drums. We shopped for a while and then headed to another small puebla for more shopping before heading home. The road is a beautiful four lane highway through the hills. There were few people out and about as it is the day before the big vote. We were anxious to get home before dark.

Our anxieties were for naught. All is quiet here now; not a creature is stirring. Saturday nights are normally big nights out. People gather outside the liquor stores to drink or they head out to clubs to dance and carouse. However, it is illegal to buy alcohol in any form today and tomorrow as it is voting weekend (Ley Seca).

No one is quite sure what tomorrow will bring. One thing can be said for sure: every Venezolano I know is voting. Some will drive for several hours to get to the place where they are registered. Some will cut their beach trips short so they can get back in time to cast their ballot. Either way, they will vote. It should be an interesting day. Hopefully it won’t turn violent. We have no school Monday just in case things start to go southbound. I am optimistic.

MJR