Personas Chulas en Esquipulas (Awesome People in Esquipulas)

Henry’s mom, Señora Gela. Because of her we started classes the third day we were there. Because of her we’ve been able to get full government support for the project – something a number of other groups haven’t had. She also introduced us to…

Jorge Santiago, the coolest computer technician in Oaxaca. For starters, the guy refers to me as “Powell, Colin Powell.” That’s cool. He has also now given us 22 hours of free tech support, driven into the city twice to buy computer parts, rewired all of the Agencia computers, installed an internet connection in all of those computers, and recently, took on an entire other project – the Niños Unidos computers. The actual time we’ve spent with him has been quality as well. We’ve found out that his wife works for an Anchor-like special-needs organization in Zocalo; that his nephew, Danny Santiago, was the placekicker for the University of Michigan and will now start for Henry’s own Seahawks; that he lived in Los Angeles for four years; that he’s attending a wedding in a few weeks in North Dakota; and that he has friends “en cualquier country in the mundo.”

Virtually every family on the meal rotation. Including:
-- The family that had a pet squirrel. We’re not the only ones!
-- The family that arranged a mototaxi to take me home even though I lived seven minutes from the house
-- The family that braved hurricane-like conditions to bring atole and ternera
-- The family that served me crackling taquitos and tostadas under the bright lights of their Oaxaca restaurant
-- The family that first offered me oranges and then thought better of it, squeezing out of each of them a taste Tropicana Grovestand couldn’t match

Probably the most surreal meal rotation experience took place in the pouring rain. We had just finished a pleasant dinner and it was time to go home. I only had on a t-shirt, so they kindly offered me a jacket. I started to walk out the door and the father asked, “No quieres conducer?” (You don’t want to drive?) Oh, no, sorry, my program has rules against driving motorcycles. No, no moto, un bicicleta. A bike? In this weather?

But sure enough, the dad wheeled out a kids-size Schwinn mountain bike, all ready for me to ride back. The catch was, there was only one bike and their house was a good distance away, so I didn’t know how to get back to mine. “No importa,” the guy said, “Mi hijo puede conducir tambièn” (My son can ride as well). So that’s what we did.

The two of us sloshed and slid through the pouring rain at 10 o’clock at night, my feet on the mini pedals, the son’s feet on the mini pegs. The best part was wading through the Aguahallo mudhills. It’s difficult to navigate this area on foot in any sort of rain, much less on a bike and in a downpour. In reality, we weren’t in any real danger – no one was on the road, I’ve never seen a car on the road, and we certainly weren’t going fast – but riding through it definitely was exciting. And coming home soaked head to foot in rain and foot to waist in mud definitely was satisfying.

(My hairline, hair color, and body type has changed considerably since coming here. Friggin Montezuma).