We were awoken this morning at 2am by a rooster who obviously can't tell time. I fell back asleep and then awoke later by the voices of people who were taking early showers. I fell back asleep against. At 6:10am, it just didn't seem worth it anymore, so I gave up and got up. Very strong but very good coffee (not like Starbucks, yuck!) was waiting for us, scrambled eggs, refried beans, and juice. We were all eager for the work day to begin.
The ONIL representative was meeting us at 8am to teach us how to assemble the stoves and water filters. Max assigned Katie and I to lead the two firebox teams. That meant we had the most complex but (I think) least physically demanding job. Other teams went before us setting the 11 blocks and 3 concrete shapes that make up the outside of the ONIL stove. We assembled the firebox that houses the fire itself, the pummace that would insulate the heat from the concrete shapes, and the vent that would channel the smoke to the chimney. The last team installed the elbow, pipes and hat that made up the chimney. Training took more than 2 hours with translation, and poeple began to lose focus. A few of the ORUMC church members had installed stoves on the last trip, so the training was primarily for us first-time travelers. We caught on quickly. Max rushed the rep through the filtration system installation, so we could begin working.
With the community gathered outside, Santos, who owns the community store nearest the church (smaller than my closet), began calling the names of the families who would receive stoves. One by one, they stepped forward to gather additional pieces necessary to assemble the stoves. The majority of the pieces had already been carried to the homes, and the concrete slabs had been poured. Many of the women wrapped the materials in handmade blankets and carried them around their shoulders, like the babies and toddlers who occupied the blankets yesterday. Some women wrapped their babies in the blanket around their shoulders and carried the stove pieces on their heads.
We gathered our our materials, met our guides (who didn't speak any English), and made our way to the first home. To call them houses would be incredibly misleading. Even to call them shacks is being generous. In most cases, they are built with tree branches at the four corners and other branches laid horizontally, not attached. As a roof, corrugated tin has been laid (not attached) over the branches. More tin is propped against the structure as walls, or boards are nailed horizontally with small spaces in between. The fires they cook on are inside these structures. That means, the heat and smoke fills the room completely and seeps out through any hole it can find. The women and children have severe respiratory problems from breathing the smoke. The children stumble into the open fire pits and are burned, or the fire pops and burns whatever it touches. They spend every spare moment hunting and carrying wood to burn in inefficent stoves. Those affected by ringworms and other parasites are easy to pick out with a spare-tire-like bulge around their waists. I can't begin to explain how the lives of these people are being changed by something as simple and easy to install as a closed-fire stove and a water filtration system.
I was paired with Sydney, and we worked well together. We assembled the pieces and packed the pummace while we talked to the kids in the room. Some would stand timidly in the corners of the room or at the door. Others would stand right beside us with their little fingers on the top of the stove. They would pack pummace with their hands and brush away the excess before we added the stove top (planches). Sometimes the kids lived in the home where we were installing the stove, but most of the time, the kids would follow us from one place to the next. We got so good at working and talking that we started talking to one another in Spanish or Quiche.
We had completed 5 fireboxes when lunch was called. The most difficult part was finding the next home that was ready for us. The walking trails wove a complicated network of paths, passages, spaces between trees, under branches, spaces that weren't very big at all. we followed Juan from one home to another. He shared with us that he was 17, married Manuela at age 16, and has a one-year-old son Cesar. Very big smile when he said that.
Open, full-hearted, unhidden smiles were rare. These are modest, humble people. Children cover their smiles when they realize someone is looking at them. Some more quickly than others, they find the love in our intentions and let down their guard. only then does their beauty truly show through. They laugh and giggle, hold our hands, and rub our arms. They poke at our stomachs like we poke at theirs. Everything between us is an ongoing joke. Occasionally play is put on hold to accomplish a task that cannot be done otherwise. However, mouths are straight for only a short tim. Their corners are soon turn upwards once again, and the joking and playing continues.
Kaylyn said the language barrier has been fun, and I believe it puts us on a common level, even though much of the community seems to view us as having the upper hands. They step aside to let us pass on the trail, even if they are carrying a heavy load. Throughout our entire time and work, we have been clear that we are not here to change these people, to Americanize them, to save them. We are here to give themselves the tools to improve their own lives. Although I have tried, I have been unable to capture all of the stories, all of the names, all of the sights, all of the love and gratitude. I can only hope that they will come back to me in pieces or in my dreams. Smiling dark eyes, tongue pushing around a Tic Tac. Gentle glances. Simple kindnesses. We are not on a common playing field. They have so much more to offer us than we do them.
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