Monday, July 25, 2011
Woke up and washed for the first time since I got here and I have to stay it was something else. I have the option of washing by hand (which is a great deal of work) or with my grandmas washing machine (but not like our at home). I had to fill up the washing machine with buckets of water, put soap inside, plug it in and set it to spin. Once the machine was done washing I took out the soapy clothes and rinsed them in the “lavadero” a cement block made specifically for washing (pictures attached) where I had to rinse them with a hose then wring them with my hands so they could be hung up to dry. May I add there is more soap on my clothes than water! In the mean time there is water all over my grandmas’ back yard with blue dye from my jeans (which were the worst to wash). The day only got better for a minute because by the afternoon my grandmother fell ill and the house was buzzing with relatives wanting to know if she was ok and if not what doctor they should send to come take a look at her. Doctors here still make house calls and a consultation cost you less than $3 USD or $5 if they have to come to your house.
Quickly my aunts strategize for a plan. My grandmother is in bed at noon and doesn’t want to eat or drink a thing so they know things are bad. Usually, my grandmother is up and sweeping somewhere, washing dishes, cooking food anything to keep her active, but today that is not the case. I remember my grandmother when I was little but she was always a little cold and distant. She wasn’t like my mothers mother who was always hugging and kissing us. Now she needs us to take care of here and I hear everyone whispering because no one knows how to. I sense that she was a little distant from her own kids and now they are finding some difficulty looking after her. I don’t know what to do for my own grandmother I feel distant from her and every time I ask if she needs anything she assures me she doesn’t. I see how different she is with the cousins who have lived here all their lives and I know in some ways we feel like strangers to each other.
My family call and I am reminded again that I can’t go home. E tells me my dad is in poor health and part of me wants to run to him and to my mom and see how I can help. He hasn’t been well since the trip and his health is deteriorating fast. I find solace in understanding now how my parents felt when their family fell ill and they couldn’t be there to help. They tell me a water pipe broke in the house and they were left without water for a day. Dad is usually the one who mickey-mouses things around the house or finds a (temporary) fix for almost everything, but with him out of commission the rest of the house has to go on panic mode. Even that makes me nostalgic for home. Now E’s car is out of commission and he’s borrowing dad’s truck. Could anything get better? There’s a saying in Spanish “Dios aprieta pero no horca”, God will tighten the noose but he will never choke, but better understood by the English fraise, “God will never give you more than you can handle”. I like the Spanish saying better because right now it does feel like the noose is around my neck and any moment now it might be easier to jump, but I don’t, for many reasons but if only because my life is not my own it belongs to the voiceless who can’t say what I say and type what I type without fear. It has always been that way; I just don’t always know it.
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