Back home after our luxurious hotel stay in Tucson, we find our water and cable (upon which depend our phone and internet) are still sporadic and unreliable. Thinking of a shower? Good luck, it's likely to run dry before you get the suds out of your hair. Got an urgent phone call to make? That's when the internet will go on the blink.
But yesterday a reality check made my problems seem infinitesimal. I joined up with a gringo gang that drives out to the ejidos once a week to deliver food to families affected by the hurricane. Our assignment was San Jose, where we passed out bags of beans, rice, canned ham and flour to about 275 people. Recipients were selected by local schoolteachers who know all the families and can best assess their need. Getting there on the rutted dirt roads, even in Jan's trusty Jeep, was an experience in itself. A car like mine, for instance, wouldn't last more than a week before the undercarriage, wheels, shocks, struts, etc. fell apart.
San Jose is mostly rutted dirt and dust now, but a week ago it must have been a nightmarish quagmire. While we waited for the food trucks (one carrying bags of flour, the other everything else) we stood in the shade and watched people carrying babies and towing toddlers, gather in a large open area, out in the broiling sun to wait for food.
Once the trucks arrived, we hustled to unload and stack black bags and shrinkwrapped packages of flour, and then began passing the goods back up to the folding tables, fire-brigade style, where they were handed out. Boys in homemade carts played on the road out front. Poised little girls, sticking to the "best seen and not heard" adage, hovered near, obviously thrilled to help when asked. Skinny dogs wandered by hoping there might be something for them too, and I longed for a giant bag of kibble. A smiling joven in a brown shirt took a station at the end of the line and kept himself busy whisking bags of flour to me, and disposing of the plastic wrappers.
We had enough surplus to take to the residents of the old men's home which was demolished by Jimena. (A story in itself—Jan says the 14 viejos were on the roof of their flooded home all night during the storm, and were airlifted from there by helicopter.)
Demetrius is the most popular of the viejos...in fact Jan was considering auctioning off a date with him, as a fundraiser.
Most are in wheelchairs, some seem completely out of touch with their surroundings, while others are very responsive and friendly. One, in a bright red T-shirt, got up to dance with a nun when a radio somewhere started to play a lively Latin tune. I didn't get his name, but I'm tempted to call him Mr. Bojangles from now on.
We quizzed Luz about whether they had adequate bedding, clothing, books, toothpaste and all the necessities, and she nodded yes to everything. Then I asked about dulces and she indicated with a smile that sweets would always be welcome.
Luz is meeting with a group of patrons to work out how their home can be rebuilt. We decided we need someone bilingual to meet with Luz and us clueless gringas, to help establish what we can do to further help los viejos.
Like a blessing on my efforts, the water and cable were both functioning when I got home.