The first night in Todos Santos, with the kids all enrolled in home stays and Spanish classes I had warned them not to drink or drug. A gift from heaven came in the form of a man who was in the one room jail cell for the night. This room with its thatched roof was dead in the center of town, across from the church and at the bus stop. This man, high on something, screamed bloody murder all night. His screams of agony were heard by everyone. They actually weren't torturing him or even touching him, but the fear of God was planted in the kids.
At the end of the school weeks we headed out for our destination. We made our way to San Lucas Toliman on the banks of Lake Attilan. We were met by the mayor. That was good news. He told us that the women we had planned the project with had been killed. Bad news. He introduced us to some of the still living moral leaders in the area. One had a fantastic herb garden and was heading a group that was trying to buy back, inch by inch, the land that had been stolen from them. They were taking the coffee production organic.
They had only one place where we could stay. It was a very large room with a nice breeze and lots of beds. One slight problem was that the cousin of the owner had recently died and the coffin with the body in it had to stay in the room with us until a week passed and certain Mayan ceremonies could begin. OK
We had a bunch of discussions with the locals and the gang decided that we would build a recycling center. There was no way of dealing with trash in this ancient village. Until very recently there had been no trash. Then came plastic and paper and all the modern shit.
We were offered a piece of land way up near the top of the volcano. We got a bunch of locals to help and dug a huge pit up there and started constructing a rebar and concrete structure that would have a palm roof to keep the rain out. Then some guys started using an old pick up to bring up the trash and dump it. Then the kids started a big tomato patch to make money to pay for the gas for the truck. Then we started sorting through the garbage, looking for anything that we could recycle or reuse. I thought cutting rebar with a sledge hammer was hard. I thought shoveling cement was hard. But nothing compares to sorting garbage in a pit at the top of a volcano. We managed o get a few pairs of gloves from some kind person who made a trip to a store. We found horses hoofs, then stillborn animals, then razor blades, all sorts of great stuff.
The dead body was gone. The house lost its water supply. We bathed in thee lake. We got new clothes from the truck that came with Ropas Americana..donated clothes from the USA. We ate well. We had a ton of help from the townspeople. We did it. I carved a stone sculpture that was put at the entryway to the site. We played in softball games. I initiated a spitting contest. We were done.
I kept hearing a lot of buzz that the town was planing a farewell event. I told the kids that we had to make a gift to give back as we were not good enough in Spanish to match the speechifying that was bound to come. We decided to do a play. We decided on a very condensed version of The Wizard of Oz. We spent a day collecting props and arguing about who played whom. One of the kids came back with a nine inch chicken on a leach. It was Todo the dog, OK. That night much of the town came out to a big bonfire.
The mayor and other important people made speeches that we mostly couldn't understand. Then with great fanfare they gave us beautiful documents hand printed with gold seals all over them. Someone had had to go to the Capital to have these made. They certified that we were experts and generous activists in garbage. Our diplomas. I almost started to laugh hysterically because I was so tired, but I managed a gracious thank you.
Turns out that this project continued on and became a model for many towns, so many, in fact, that they had to appoint someone to give tours and show people how to emulate it. Who knew?
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