Tierra

"This coffee is going to the United States!¨ Francisco was glowing with pride. I spent the better part of five hours that morning picking coffee with Francisco on his farm. His entire family participated, which included his wife, Maritza, and his children: Jose 17, Jalitza 15, David 12, and Estefanie 4 - she wasn´t quite as helpful, but she was eager. The process was really beautiful especially when I was able to push aside the coffee-picking stories of spiders that give you huge welts or make you temporarily go blind or the snake bites that send you to the hospital or the catapillars that give you a mean sting. Such tales found little opportunity in my thoughts that morning, as my head filled with the constant Spanish conversation of the entire family and my hands raced to pick as fast as I could - I definately only had Estafanie beat in speed. The job seemed somewhat daunting as we raced through maybe one third of a hectare and the plants stretched across 5 hectares in total. Red is the color of ripe, but the season was early yet, so, like in most agriculture, we picked yellow to red. Some plants had to be thoroughly searched to find a few ripe beans, while others were dripping in red. When the rain began to fall at 11:30 I realized that we would never ´finish´this task. We walked to the house in a steady shower at 12; it was difficult to pass the large clusters of red. The family would return after lunch, but with the rains many of the ripe beans would fall, especially if not picked today - how could they pick everything?

A lot of things poured through my mind that morning with Francisco´s family. His son, Jose, loved working on the farm and was Francisco´s right hand man in every project. He went to school on the weekends and at night so that he could work in the field during the day. He would graduate in December and was planning on going to a university to study criminal justice. Although he hoped to find a job close to home afterwards and have a farm of his own, I wondered how altered Francisco´s life would be without him. I suppose David would step up to fill the gap, and then after that? Was it so different from American farm faimlies? Maritza worked in the field as well, which was different for Costa Rican households. I admired her for having such a large family and taking care of them and working hard outdoors. I wanted every person who says that women belong in the house taking care of their children and home to see her example. This ´house-bound´role for women is accepted here by men and women.

For large amounts of time Francisco talked to me about organic verse sustainable agriculture and how he produced very high quality products that on a rare occassion needed chemicals to prevent disease. He told me that there is no such thing as bad soil, only bad farmers. As he said that to me, I was struggling to keep my balance on the steep graded hill that his coffee was planted on. The ground was wet and incredibly slippery, since the soil here was mostly fine clay that had poor nutrient retaining qualities. His coffee plants did look healthy though and the row crops that he grew rested in rich, black soil that he had built up with compost over the years. He was a good farmer.

Markets drove the workers here like in the rest of the world. Farmers learned to diversify their crops after the coffee crisis that devastated a lot families. Francisco grows over 30 different crops on his land other than coffee and all of them can be sold at different times as the market changes, but they always provide his family with food. Currently, coffee sold to America is his largest income. The other farmer that I work with, William, is glad to be out of the coffee business and only grows and sells row crops. My project with him is helping him start hydroponic lettuce, which Francisco says is for people without soil.

The people in this place are hard workers and take pride in their work, but simultaneously work in a more relaxed state. The ´pura vida´attitude is engaging and I´m glad to get a taste of it. I wish that more people in America could put these faces behind the products they purchase. Every piece of food that is consumed was grown sustainably or insustainably by a farmer or a corporation. Coffee is the second largest commodity that is traded in the world and most people choose cheap coffee that is destroying the land and lining the pockets of incredibly wealthy corporate individuals, as the farmers that produce it can barely feed their families and do not have the diverse crops to supplement their needs. Every choice we make is supporting something and in America we have the choice thanks to consumerism to support something good. Products that are certified Fair Trade mean that the farmers who grew them receive a fair price, that´s how Francisco is able to make money off of his small sustainable farm and not be another victum of NAFTA´s ¨free¨ entirely injust trade.

Peeping

I went to brush my teeth in the designated ´tooth brushing room´. It was a mud room with a large tile sink and the washer and dryer machine. The dryer machines here were different; they just spun the clothes without heat and so they still had to be hung up afterwards. Before, it hadn´t really been significant to me that Aurora´s (my homestay mom´s) undergarments were hanging in this room from the ceiling on a circular devise, similar to a hanging basket, but just the rim with clothes pins on little chains. It was early that morning that the practice became very visible to me. The devise rested right at eye level and was placed just off-center of the tooth brushing sink. One would struggle to not at least notice its presence and if the underwear was bright colored, - as almost all of mine were that hung that morning - one may even be intrigued to look. As I stared at my own hanging undergarments, I thought of my father Jaukin and my older brother Yeisin. What did they think of my colorful underwear?

That night Yeison and I got back late from roller skating. Aurora and Jaukin were already in bed. The house was dark and I went to brush my teeth. Yeison had beaten me to it. I could not go in that small room with him and my underwear, so I went to my room to wait. Emerging with a clear coast, all of the lights were out and I had no idea where the switches were... I made it to the room and began brushing my teeth in the dark. Something was in there with me. The nose of movement on cardboard, something of reasonable size. A cat? A very large bug??? Where on earth is the light!? I quickly got out of the room (barely escaping alive) and retrieved my headlamp. There was a box on the floor, but inside was ...? Baby chicks.

Since that night, I´ve seen little peeping boxes everywhere. On the bus, at people´s houses, being carried down the street. Everyone here keeps chickens for meat and some for eggs. I´ll help my family slaughter theirs in November.

Extracurricular

Rain falls steadily from the sky. The sound is subtle and comforting, but the presence is strong. Where will I go with all of this rain pouring down... it entraps me. This is the beginning of October, the rainiest month here and my two-week anniversary. Life has picked up.

Mike arrived last Monday and another Gringo in the village has made life more exciting. Last week social events included dancing lessons, a river excursion to a beautiful waterfall, cruising the town, playing pool, roller skating to music in a gym, soccer practice, and a long hike to see a potentially incredible view, which was actually just a ton of fog. The town is quiet, but fun is here. I´m learning what young people around here do for fun, which brings me to my older brother: Yeison.

There had been a problem with the electricity I believe. That was why every single time that I arrived home they were all working on the car. Although it belonged to Yeison, his brother Octavio and sister-in-law Marisol spent long amounts of time on it. One day when I got home Mari was detailing with a tooth brush. The list of what this car doesn´t have would be easier to cover - a hot tub -, but to paint a clearer picture it is royal blue with impossible to see through tinted windows, very large built-in speakers, the extended bottom, a DVD player for the driver?, fancy blinker lights on the mirrors and crazy blue lights on the stick shift, tires with nice rims, and probably a bunch of other things that I don´t appreciate. Basically, this ride is pimped. So, when Yeison takes me out in his sweet ride, we drive a mile to Agua Buena, get a drink at the bar and then park on the side of the road (with all of the other very pimped rides) and sit on the curb of the sidewalk to hang out with everyone else. Such is the night life that I know in this town and the afore mentioned. As the rain begins to fall more frequently I wonder how motivated I will be to go out on foot.