Sharp thorns, sweet fruit: 09.04.04
Lateish last night as we were sat around the table ther e was a sound at the door and Ricardo my calm and good humoured host jumped up knocking the table and was the door before I turn my head to the sound. The door opened and Jose Munera walked in unannounced. The president of the union, a small man in his mid to late forties made no greeting and went straight to the phone and made a call. He was promtly upstairs and in discussion with Ricardo unitl the rest of us went to bed. He was gone by morning. His predecessor is still missing, presumed dead.
Today is good friday and relatives are over. The sister of Ricardo and her husband have come round. Its a quiet day, a family day. There streets are dead. We ate a good lunch of fish stew, rice and plantain and played cards. though they do not own a fridge i have been fed enough since arriving in this house to last me till i come home. im loving sitting around talking though its often heavy. Its something I couldnt really do the last time I was here due to the language barrier and for every time a conversation decends into a deep and desperate lamentation a persistent humour rejuvinates the silence with laughter. they are extremes reflective of this country and its people, one of the most violent yet one of the most beautiful on earth.
yesterday we walked up to Montseratte a church atop the towering green mounains to the east of the city. there is a cable car which takes you to the top but we decided to walk. Given the hefty climb and the presence of the cable car I imagined a small track winding up to the top with perhaps the odd keen rambler but no more. What we found was a heaving pilgrimage snaking its way up the rocky track, adorned with shacks and their screaming vendors selling everything form all types of refreshment and food to prayerbooks and rosaries to aid the mission. several older people had collapsed on the path and were being aided by makeshift medics in uniform. people carried children, children led decrepid grandparents and the smell of sweat was only masked by the woodsmoke pumping out from under enormas friers cooking provisions for the travellers. It took us about an hour and a half and god rewarded us by pissing it down when we got to the top also heaving with easter week revellers. it was a good outing.
This after noon after having spent most of the day indoors we went for a little walk before dinner. A man was selling beautiful flowers and plants under a dirty overpass near some open wasteland where the remains of a decrepid circus lay. We noticed how the branches of plants bearing the sweetest fruits also wore the sharpest thorns. The sun came out this evening and we had an ice cream.
Today is good friday and relatives are over. The sister of Ricardo and her husband have come round. Its a quiet day, a family day. There streets are dead. We ate a good lunch of fish stew, rice and plantain and played cards. though they do not own a fridge i have been fed enough since arriving in this house to last me till i come home. im loving sitting around talking though its often heavy. Its something I couldnt really do the last time I was here due to the language barrier and for every time a conversation decends into a deep and desperate lamentation a persistent humour rejuvinates the silence with laughter. they are extremes reflective of this country and its people, one of the most violent yet one of the most beautiful on earth.
yesterday we walked up to Montseratte a church atop the towering green mounains to the east of the city. there is a cable car which takes you to the top but we decided to walk. Given the hefty climb and the presence of the cable car I imagined a small track winding up to the top with perhaps the odd keen rambler but no more. What we found was a heaving pilgrimage snaking its way up the rocky track, adorned with shacks and their screaming vendors selling everything form all types of refreshment and food to prayerbooks and rosaries to aid the mission. several older people had collapsed on the path and were being aided by makeshift medics in uniform. people carried children, children led decrepid grandparents and the smell of sweat was only masked by the woodsmoke pumping out from under enormas friers cooking provisions for the travellers. It took us about an hour and a half and god rewarded us by pissing it down when we got to the top also heaving with easter week revellers. it was a good outing.
This after noon after having spent most of the day indoors we went for a little walk before dinner. A man was selling beautiful flowers and plants under a dirty overpass near some open wasteland where the remains of a decrepid circus lay. We noticed how the branches of plants bearing the sweetest fruits also wore the sharpest thorns. The sun came out this evening and we had an ice cream.
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