The Plantation Diaries

Cacao-El Salvador Forms a New Cacao Association ES-CACAO

What was once a common tree growing in the middle of town some 1400 years ago, was all but lost until recently. In 2002, the New York Botanical Society led an excavation in search of cacao at the ruins of Joya de Ceren, here in El Salvador. The site was buried under nearly 10 feet of lava. Combining previous works, they were able to pinpoint evidence of cacao trees growing throughout the community. Cacao was available for everyone. I recently spoke with Paul Amaroli who works extensively at the many ruins here, and he said they even have a cacao bean on display. DNA was attempted years ago, but the results as to the strain of cacao were inconclusive.

In recent months, the growers and manufacturers of fine chocolate in El Salvador have come together to form the first official cacao association. It is a varied group of enthusiastic people who are passionate about putting El Salvador back on the map as a producer of fine Criollo cacao. I was recently asked to join the group. I am on the board, under the description of, "Vocal." My key responsibilities will be focused towards marketing in the U.S. Although I should mention, we have a fine producer of chocolate temptations right here in El Salvador that has set the bar very high. Shaw's Chocolates will be our first large scale customer. They are tooling up and will soon be doing their own processing from start to finish.

I have come to learn there are about 18 plantations of various sizes growing cacao here in the country. The majority, myself included, have the same strain of Criollo cacao supplied from one source. There have been some issues with the trees over the years. The new association will be able to provide much needed funding for technical support and additional nursery stock. We are fortunate that while production might be low as of yet, the trees are healthy. They have not succumbed to the many dreaded diseases that Cacao is so susceptible to.

We have a technician arriving from Honduras next week to inspect the fincas and offer up his expertise, all within the organic growing guidelines. I for one, am thrilled. These past four years, I had no idea there were others such as myself muddling along. It was enough that my 4,000 trees have survived with only minimal loss. These are exciting times for El Salvador. Bringing back a crop that originated with the Mayan civilization, was once bigger than coffee, and has a chance to be a big player on the world cacao market, is worth the hard work ahead.

Two Sundays ago, I joined Ramon and Judy Quiroz, owners of Shaw's Chocolates along with Paul Amaroli and his wife Elizabeth on a tour of Finca Cuyancua. The land and house, Casa de Campo are owned by Rafael Trigueros, president of ES-CACAO, our new association. Rafael inherited the property from his father, Dr. Guillermo Trigueros. The finca is located just outside Izalco, with lush vegetation and freshwater springs that supply his ever-expanding projects. Rafael and his lovely assistant Vanessa were gracious hosts.

  

One of Rafael's showcase projects is his wildly successful aquaculture tilapia and shrimp ponds. When it came to deciding what to have for lunch, there was no question. Shrimp and fish please! He has converted the old hacienda into a charming restaurant where we lingered over coffee and dessert.  Rafael is also blessed with cacao trees that are over 80 years old. He is in the process of rehabilitating the trees and they are bursting with pods. They might be the oldest cacao trees in the country.

Rafael is clever letting the land and natural resources do the work for him. He used to use an expensive diesel pump to supply his tilapia pond. He has since constructed a series of channels and locks allowing gravity to what it does best. He uses the water from his ponds to supply nutrients for his hydroponic tomatoes and lettuce. During construction, he came across a buried channel that leads off the property towards town. Paul Amaroli, ever the curious archaeologist, thought it worthy of further study.

It was an enjoyable day. We each had our cameras and I suggested we had better get our photo-op done before sunset. It took a good 20 minutes of gathering everyone together, showing the restaurant staff how to work the various cameras, and then posing, never quite sure which camera we were supposed to look at since two were being aimed at any given time.

In a conversation with Paul that afternoon, he solved the mystery of La Rama, the archaeological site that I have been trying so hard to find. He knew immediately what I was talking about and has provided me with the information I need to locate it. With the promise of course, to call him when I am successful. He is equally curious as there have been no recent studies of the area since its discovery in 1953. What is La Rama? They are footprints that are estimated to date from A.D. 1200. The footprints indicate five people with one of them being a child. I marvel to think I might actually get to see them. They are apparently badly weathered, but still distinguishable. Well as of 1953, that is. What is truly amazing, for myself anyway, is that the location is on a very old cacao plantation.

 

More Finca Fires

There is a storm brewing outside. I can hear thunder claps from beyond Vulcan Tecapa. Just like the first snow, waiting for the first official rain is an event that brings everything to a standstill. Everyone wants to be the first to feel that drop of rain and yell, "It's here!" Vigil called his friend in Ozatlan who confirmed it was raining. So we wait. Evers and Vigil are sitting outside taking odds on when it might start.

I was in town this morning and when I returned, I saw someone running from the house with a water jug on his head. I raced after him and called out. It was Vigil who said there was a tree on fire. Don Beto has just had the meeting with the families that rent land to review the fire policies. How could we have a fire the very next day?

I made my way through the fields and found Vigil, Carlito, and Mario trying to extinguish a huge tree that had toppled over a hillside. I realized the tree had died a long time ago and it was very dry. Just the kind of kindling you don't want around. One more thing to add to the list, have the boys check the plantation for dead trees....don't they do this already?

This particular patch was being rented by Renaldo Avila who was busying himself with some branches off in the distance. When I asked Carlito why his entire field had been burned instead of isolated areas, he told me that Renaldo had not been at the meeting yesterday. I was fuming when I also noticed a large avocado tree in the middle of the field. The fire had burned right up to the trunk and singed all the lower branches. Renaldo had pruned all the burned branches and there were avocados strewn all over the ground. I knew he had also cut the branches to provide more sunlight for his corn. I called Don Beto and he said he would be right over.

I told Beto to review the rules with Renaldo. I reminded him that now three of our workers were spending their day working on a fire that Renaldo has set. Would Renaldo like to pay their wages? I showed Beto a photo I had just taken of the tree and pointed out there were 10 fresh cuts on the tree where Renaldo had cut off the branches. I told Beto to tell Renaldo not to cut another branch and get himself up there with the other men and start helping put out the fire.

I hate being the tough guy. I could see Beto wasn't comfortable with my demands, but I crossed my arms and planted my feet until he walked over and spoke with Renaldo. He reluctantly grabbed a shovel and began helping. Beto assured me he would talk to anyone else that had not made the meeting.

About a week ago, a large dog slowly wandered into my office. We already have three dogs here on the finca which is plenty. They are outdoor watchdogs the men have acquired over the years. When I saw this dog, I immediately thought to shoo him off but hesitated as he kept staring at me. I got up and he ran outside, but didn't leave. I put out my fist for him to sniff and he continued to back away. His skittishness indicated abuse and being the softy that I am, took a liking to him. After several attempts, he allowed me to pat his head. He devoured two bowls of food and then scooted under my desk and fell asleep.

The other dogs, Choco, Nuvo, and Fortuna were less than pleased with the new intruder and kept their distance. He continued to shadow me for another four days until I left for meetings in the capital. When I returned a few days later, he was gone. No one had seen him. I was more than a little disappointed. I was hoping for a moment that he was beginning to trust me and would turn into my loyal companion. I don't think I had been home an hour, when he suddenly appeared and carefully walked up to me. Juana and the men all said he was meant to be with me.

I bought him a collar today. He does wonder off now and then. So I thought that if he does have an owner, they will see the collar. They will know someone else is caring for him. Maybe they will attach a note and tell me I can have him. I tried to take a picture of him today. The flash startled him and now whenever he sees the camera, he heads in the other direction. If he stays, it will take some time before this poor creature can relax and feel at home. I keep looking for a wagging tail. Perhaps tomororw. It took three of us to give him a bath this afternoon. He is asleep under my desk with his head resting on my feet. I named him Bruno.

　

　

　

Pruning Shade Trees

Some of my tomatoes have large black spots on the bottom the size of silver dollars. The Internet says it's a lack of calcium. Don Beto said it is a fungus. When I called him this morning to discuss it, he told he was at the upper finca  extinguishing a few fires.

I always get nervous this time of year when the families that rent land to grow corn clear the fields. The traditional method is to just set fire to the land regardless of what trees might be in the way. My first year here, I found nearly 30 acres had been set ablaze and it almost brought me to tears. Beautiful trees from my great grandfather's days were gone. I have changed the policies regarding burning, but it has not been easy.Instead of burning an entire field, they have to gather last year's debris into small piles for a controlled burn. The winds are fickle and can spread fires quickly. We had such a fire like this a few years ago and lost several coffee trees.

I decided to drive up myself and have a look. For the most part, the fields looked fine with the exception of Roberto's field. His field was burning away while he had gone home for lunch. The flames were creeping up the hillside, and a few other renters were just standing by watching. Don Beto pulled everyone together to put put out the flames. There was a fairly tall tree in his field whose leaves were now dried and shriveled. Don Beto said he was planning a meeting with the families to review the guidelines. I told him to remind them that breaking the rules meant breaking their contracts, and I would be happy to return their money. The finca rents the land more as a goodwill gesture since there are not too many available areas so close to town, but not at the endangerment to the coffee or cacao.

The rainy season is about to start. Don Beto said it will begin on Friday with the new moon. I know there is merit to farming by the phases of the moon, but I have never taken the time to understand them. The men finally hooked up the water tank after I had badgered them for week. Perhaps they knew there was no rush since it won't rain until Friday according La Luna! There are three tanks on the finca, but the larger one had been disconnected all summer for cleaning. It took the men most of the afternoon to fit the piping properly. We are ready for the rain. The tank is almost empty and it can't come a moment too soon. We are repairing another tank next week and building two more which should keep us well supplied come this year's dry season.

Yesterday, I went to check on the progress of the shade trimming. I found two men high up in the trees while Don Beto and Carlito were chopping the fallen branches and stacking them into piles. At first, it appeared normal until I actually walked up to one of the large trees that was being pruned. I found a large branch some 10" in girth that had fallen on a cacao tree. Several branches of the cacao were broken. I don't get mad often, but the boys sure know when it happens. Don Beto tried telling me the tree would grow new branches, but I wasn't having it. I told him it was unacceptable and the man up in the tree had better start tying the branches to the ropes I purchased, and lower them down instead of letting them drop. I walked around the area and found more coffee and cacao trees buried under large branches.

At times like this, I get a little overwhelmed by it all. I need to constantly check on what is going on. There are not enough hours in the day, or enough of me to go around. Maybe I could install some web cams around the finca and attach them to coconut trees.  I can have split screen monitors in the hacienda to keep tabs on any nonsense. On the other hand, I have a new horse which I acquired just for this reason. He's low tech, and doesn't cost a penny.

Easter Sunday

Alegria is a small town thirty minutes away from the finca. It is higher in elevation perched on the side of another volcano. The volcano collapsed during the last eruption forming a crater lake which now attracts tourists by the droves. Especially this past week. Entrance to the the laguna (lagoon) is a quarter, and Don Anselmo said they took in over 2,000 visitors yesterday. My friend Lito, bought property here during the war fifteen years ago. This part of the country was occupied by the guerrillas during the conflict and land was cheap. He has cultivated coffee for the past decade and built a small hostel with 9 rooms. This week was his official opening and he did quite well. The restaurant did a brisk business, and only slowed down late this afternoon. I spent the better part of the weekend at Alegria and the laguna watching the tourists and catching up with friends, even making some new ones, and a Americans at that.

I brought Evers with me today to show him Cartagena which is a popular restaurant and nursery in Alegria. They have done a wonderful job in creating a maze of pathways displaying exotic plants, and birds with three restaurants and strolling mariachis. The coffee wood furniture is arranged on a long sprawling deck with views that stretch from Honduras to the ocean.

 

We are looking at breeding small birds and I wanted Evers to see the operation that they have at Cartagena. He was eager to come along and said he had not been to Alegria since he was 5 years old. I'm beginning to realize that none of the people that work here have ever been very far from home. No wonder the U.S. seems like some magical place, if you can just get there. When we parked at Cartagena, I noticed Evers had brought along his best machete. I told him that I didn't think he would need it where we were going and he should probably it leave in the car. He hesitated for a long time, and then tucked it behind the seat.

We studied the bird cages and took pictures for reference. Evers suggested it would be best to have Santiago build the frames and he would attach the mesh wire, perches, and make nesting boxes from bamboo. We toured the extensive nursery and he commented that he had never seen so many different kinds of plants. He could not believe how expensive they were and commented that some of them were growing all over the finca. I was forever losing him and would have to double-back only to find him enraptured by a Toucan or Macaw which he had never seen before.

I took him to the cafe which was filled with families from around the country. Evers ordered a slice of apple pie and I had a cappuccino. He had never had a pie before and I only wished there had been a scoop of ice cream to go with it. A trio of mariachis came by our table and played a few songs.  Normally, the musicians only play for money, but today they gave the music away. Later while driving through town and at the laguna, there were more musicians pouring their hearts out while strolling the streets or perched on the back of trucks. At one point, I thought this must be what it feels like to be in a musical. Any moment now, women in traditional costume might appear from around a corner twirling their skirts in intricate dance steps.

Just before leaving the cafe, there was a group of nuns enjoying a day out for coffee and pastries. I started chatting with them and took their picture. I thought how perfect on Easter to run into 7 nuns. I could call them, Sister Sunday, Sister Monday, Sister Tuesday....They were very sweet and friendly, but when I took their photo, they immediately became serious as though they were not participating in having their photo taken.

Before leaving Alegria, I stopped by Senora Maria's bee stand. She is a beekeeper and turns out some incredible products that Lancome would charge a king's ransom for. A small jar of the most luxurious face cream that smells just like a honeycomb and glides on your face like silk, goes for $6. I keep telling her that I would like a gallon. I have to restrict myself when it comes to her whipped honey. A thick gooey spread of it on a warm slice of toast is just about heaven.

Vigil and Mario were waiting back at the finca and I was concerned they might be a little jealous of Ever's Sunday excursion. I stopped in Santiago de Maria for two dozen warm tamales and pupusas. When we pulled up the finca, I thought I saw a distinct pout on their faces, but they were all smiles when I pulled dinner out of the bag. Vigil unwrapped the banana leaf from his tamale and gave it to Nino. While Evers was feeding Nino another leaf, I stepped up to him and gave him a pat on the neck. Well, I guess horses don't like to be disturbed when eating. For that matter, neither do I. Nino kicked up his back legs and turned to kick me. It happened in a few seconds and it was a blur as I felt the air moving around my legs while I instinctively turned away. Vigil ran up to Nino and grabbed his rope and I ended up about five feet away, still standing. Mario ran over and started rubbing the back of my legs while everybody was yelling at once. I finally got a word in, and told them that Nino had not touched me and Mario could stop massaging my calves. The boys were a little mystified and in the end decided, that Nino didn't like the lavender cardigan I was wearing. They made me take off my sweater and walk up to Nino, who was of course, back to being a sweet horse. They told me I can't wear the sweater again, ever. I thought to argue at how ridiculous it was, but let it go and left them to feed Nino more tamale-coated banana leaves.

 

Tomorrow, they men will continue to prune the shade trees which will go on for another five weeks with three additional workers. I have two tradesmen coming tomorrow to give me estimates to build some new pilas (water tanks) around the property. Carlito is going to clean all the gutters and hook up the two tanks from which we collect water during the rainy season. We are almost out, and I am about to take up rain dancing.

Good Friday

I was supposed to head to the beach today where a third of this country is currently spending Easter weekend.  Feeling a little under the weather, I opted to stay home and enjoy the solitude. Evers and Mario were here to keep on an eye on things and do a few chores, but everyone else has today off.

I awoke this morning to an orchestra of crashing thuds coming from outside. Evers and Mario were behind the house pruning a massive mango tree. The tree has been dropping a mysterious dust (well, mysterious to me), which is causing mold on the cucumbers and squash directly below. I only noticed it yesterday and was dismayed that some of the plants may be lost. Evers decided the only thing do was remove the offending branches and enlisted Mario's help. Ever's is still trying make up for the phone caper and jumps at the chance to do extra work.

When I walked out back, I found Evers high up in the mango tree and Mario stationed at the base of the trunk catching branches. The ground was covered in mangoes. It was a sea of green and yellow fruit. Astonishingly, none had landed on the cucumbers or squash.

After they were done, they quickly buried the green mangoes to keep them away from Nino. Mangoes are his favorite and if you are riding him and there is a mango in his path, everything comes to a dead stop. He will swallow and chew the fruit whole along with the pit. I have visions of Nino's stomach full of mango pits soon to be followed by serious indigestion and an emergency call to the vet. So far, he seems very content. He greets me in the morning by shoving his nose on my chest and lowering his head so I can pick out the burrs that he seems to collect at night.

Evers then tended to the tomatoes which are growing by the day. Evers takes a lot pride in those tomatoes. He has for the most part, built the greenhouse, watered, transplanted, fertilized, and staked every single plant. All I did was bring the seeds, sow them, and guide him along. The plants are growing tall and heavy. Evers continues to tie them to the bamboo stakes he installed earlier last month. I found him counting tomatoes today but startled him and he lost track somewhere around tomato 239. He keeps asking me if I am sure that some of the tomatoes will be yellow. I reassure him that yes, in the U.S., we have yellow tomatoes. He is anxious to see them as well as the kiwi and pink bananas that I have started. He simply does not believe a banana can be pink.

After lunch, Evers and Mario settled down to clean corn. I have asked Beto to sell a dozen 200lb sacks next week. The corn was harvested in January and has been in storage. The boys set up a sifting rack and spent the rest of the day pulling out pieces of cob and discolored kernels. I had no idea it was so much work and once again, have a new appreciation of what people in the countryside have to do to survive. They finished three bags and Vigil and Carlito will continue on tomorrow.

During the corn meeting I had last week with the men, it was decided to not do a co-op project with the finca corn and the plots that the men usually have for themselves. They were simply too nervous to try something new. When I brought the subject up, I could see they were expecting me to force my will. They would have acquiesced, but I realized that for whatever reasons, their fears were real. It came to light that it was about their differences in how they grow corn. They are a close bunch, but during the meeting I could see they were holding back. I projected a future of constant bickering over how many sacks of fertilizer, the right phase of the moon, when to turn the stalks to dry, etc...I decided that serenity amongst the troops must prevail and told them they could go ahead and have their own plots. I reminded them that they could only work their fields after work hours or on Sundays, and the finca corn had to come first. A collective outburst followed, first by relief, and then with each of them reaffirming their loyalty. I had no idea this meant so much to them, and I was equally relieved that I had had enough sense to figure it out.I had to laugh when they each stood up and pulled out $25 which they had ready to pay for their rent. I had clearly made the right decision.

One after the other, they told me there was nothing they wouldn't do for me. They didn't care if they had to come on a Sunday if there was work to be done for the finca. Carlito said he hoped I knew that I could count on him. Don Beto reminded me how much this job meant to him. Mario, who never says much, grunted affirmatively every time someone made a comment. Vigil told me he would make sure the finca got the best prices available for seed and fertilizer since he was in with the new mayor. Evers held back and didn't say too much. Having just recently found himself back in good standing with everyone knowing of his mischief, he could'nt very well pledge his allegiance. In fact, I think the outpouring had a lot to do with Ever's mishap. It affected the group in more ways than I realized. I know now, that they were concerned that I didn't trust any of them. And what of trust? I have had to take leaps of faith here when it comes to the crew. Most of the day, they are far out in the fields and I have no idea what they are really up to (hence the horse).

Forgiving Evers was as much for me as it was for him. Trust I have come to find out, is a renewable resource when ministered with common sense. I maintain a more watchful eye these days, but have faith in the men. I forget how much religion plays a part in their lives. Often when I say, "See you tomorrow," to one of the workers at the end of day, they respond with, "If God is willing." They look upwards and shrug their shoulders. They believe this and so I nod back at them and tell them I'm sure God will bring them back.

Vigil has had a cold these past few days and finally came to me for some medicine. I still had some Dayquil and NyQuil left from my trip home a few months ago. I gave him some of both with instructions to take the green pill at night and the orange one during the day. He got them mixed up and came to me two hours ago complaining that he cannot sleep. He is now outside getting a head start on tomorrow sifting corn by the fire pit. He has a pot of beans boiling away and has just thrown in a strange looking pod. He said it is a delicacy that only comes once a year. I just hope he remembers to put out the fire before he falls asleep tonight.

UPS

On March 20th, Marquis sent me a gift for my birthday via UPS. Having just received my new California driver's license by FedEx, it seemed like the package would make it through fine. I could not have been more wrong. I still can't decide who I am more disgusted with, UPS or the Salvadoran Customs operations.

When the package became overdue, Marquis sent me the tracking number. By April 2nd, the box which mind you, was only 6 x 3 x 3 inches had landed in Sunnyvale, Oakland, Louisville, Hialeah, Miami, and finally San Salvador. The tracking website noted a stop in customs pending clearance. The following notes indicated UPS was waiting for a driver as the destination was in a remote location. No further mention of any clearance needed. The last note stated UPS needed more information about the address.

I called them Saturday only to be told the package had never left customs. I would have to to drive to the capital, stop at UPS downtown to pick up the original documents, and then drive to the cargo terminal at the airport. They said I had better do it by Monday, as on Tuesday, the package would disappear as they cannot hold anything over two weeks.

I was up at 5am this morning and on the road. Two hours later driving through rush hour traffic, I arrived at the UPS office. They handed me several sheets of paper and said I would have to pay $50 in duty and $15 for warehouse storage. I told the young lady that if they had entered the correct information on their tracking website, I would obviously have known that there was a customs issue. All this time, I was under the assumption that they were waiting for a driver, and now I had to pay storage fees?

I ran two quick errands and made the one hour drive to the airport. I found the cargo terminal, and spotted the UPS office. I pulled up and was almost out of the car when a security guard rushed up to me and said I couldn't park there. He pointed to a lot near the loading zone. I found a parking spot, but my pesky security guard was idling in his truck behind me pointing and yelling at yet another parking lot. Hoping this was not a sign of things to come, I moved the car and made my way to the UPS office.

The agent directed me to another UPS office on the opposite end of the terminal. Why two offices, I don't know, but the second office told me I needed go to the customs department first. I finally found the right door and entered a large room with five windows, each with a different sign hanging from above. This didn't look good. It reminded me too much of when Adam and I had to replace his passport and each window meant standing in line for long periods of time. One or two lines, okay, but five.....sigh.

I was directed to window number one where I had to register. The man told me to wait while he disappeared with my papers. He returned with a fresh handful of new documents, stamped each one, and stapled them to my originals while pointing at window number two. Window number two's purpose is to generate an duty invoice. The clerk handed me the form in triplicate to sign. I glanced at the amount which was $5. I wondered what happened to the $50 that UPS had originally said I would have to pay. Window number three was a CitiBank kiosk where I handed over my $5. Window number four was for pets. I could skip that one. Window five remains a mystery but the clerk scampered off and came back with more documents and stamped away like she was designing new wallpaper.

By now I needed a binder for all these documents. It all seemed a little ridiculous. I was directed outside towards the warehouse. Hoping I was nearing the end, I kept walking when a clerk tapped my shoulder and said I would have to go to the Document Verification office first. Okay, hang on Steph, one more clerk.....The woman reviewed all the papers and pulled one document from the pile. The name didn't match. I explained I had used my friends address and yes, her name was on the shipping label as well, but my name was on every single document in the stack. She said it didn't matter. I would have to go back to the hall of windows and have it corrected.

Two hours have gone by now, and my patience was down to a trickle. It was replaced with a empty glaze of futile surrender. Just spin me, point me, and keep me moving or I will start crying on the spot. I quickly realized that correcting the document meant going through the entire process all over again, including paying another $5. When I turned to Window number three, the Citibank kiosk which now had seven people waiting in line, I did start to cry. I just sat down in a chair and gave up. The woman from Window two asked if I was in pain. I told her that I had started my day a 5am to pick up a gift, and I simply didn't understand why on earth there were so many damn windows and papers. I was not picking up a car or a large piece of farm equipment. For that, I would expect mountains of red tape. She took pity on me, and took care of the payment. I pulled myself together and shuffled back to window four and five. A new crew of clerks were stationed behind the glass so it took them an additional amount of time to go through everything again.

I made it through the Verification office one more time, and was given a small snippet of paper not more than 1/2 inch long by 1/4 high with a tiny little stamp on it. My stack of documents disappeared. I had grown attached to them and was savoring the thought of shredding them for the compost heap.

I walked over to the warehouse and was redirected to the other side where small packages are claimed. I waited for half an hour before my name was called. The guard told me to remove all of my jewelry. I could not fathom why and I almost refused, but by now I didn't have too much spunk left in me. My two rings would not come off. I never take them off and with the heat, my fingers were a little swollen. I demonstrated this to the guard who shook his head. He called for his boss and an armed custom's officer. They studied my hands in depth before they were convinced I was telling the truth. The guard then took my purse and jewelry saying he would watch over it. He pointed to a man sitting at a desk where I turned in my little piece of paper in exchange for a red clip tag to pin to my blouse. From there, I made my way to another man sitting at an old metal desk in the middle of the warehouse. He pointed at a small package and asked in perfect English if it was mine.

Never having seen the package, how did he expect me to recognize it? He asked me what was inside. I told him I thought there was a rabbit inside. He became quite serious and asked if it was a live rabbit. I couldn't believe he would ask such a thing and I told him that, no, I believe it was a carved rabbit made of wood. He took the box, grabbed a razor blade, and proceeded to manhandle the small package. I started crying again. This was not the way I imagined opening a gift. I had waited so long and here was this brute treating it like an old shoe. My tears got the attention of a few customs police who now gathered around the desk. When the man finally opened the top of the box and saw two small boxes with gold ribbons tied around them, he stopped. I think he finally realized how thoughtless he had been. He picked up the shipping box and set it down in front of me. I took out one the little boxes and removed the ribbon. I opened the lid and pulled away a bit of blue tissue paper. Inside was one beautifully carved rabbit barely two inches tall. I held it up for all of them to see. If they were expecting narcotics or some prohibited item, I had surely disappointed them. I looked at them with exhausted disbelief that I had gone through all this for something so innocent and sweet.

The officers backed away, and the man returned the rabbit to the box and sealed it up with tape. He apologized and busied himself with more forms. A woman came by and walked off with my box. The man said I would have to take the new forms and pay additional duty. He had assigned the value of the rabbits at $200. A figure he had plucked right out of the air. The stated value on the original documents was $50. He told me to return to the Citibank kiosk where they would determine my fee. I turned in my red badge and found my purse completely abandoned. The guard had simply left. I paid another $15 and was given a piece of chipboard with the number 39 carved into it. Back outside, I sat on a wall and waited until they called my number. The young man was friendly enough and produced my box. All I could do was nod as I clutched it and headed for my car. I'm usually a tough cookie, but today, they got me.

On the long drive back to finca, I hated this country for a while. I despised the bureaucracy and endless red tape. The ineptness over something that should be simple, and yet, isn't. I speculated on what might await me when I get ready to export the finca coffee to the states. Surely, it wouldn't be like this. I had better find a good freight forwarder who knows his way around and stay home.

As I neared the turnoff to Tecapan, I could see my volcanoes off in the distance. You have to skirt Tecapa, Tabureta, and Usulutan in order to reach the finca. It is a slow climb along twisting roads with a canopy of trees that form shaded tunnels. There was a mist creeping down from Alegria, and it looked like it might rain tonight. I remembered that the coffee trees are about to bloom. Don Beto says it is like a carpet of snow has fallen over the finca. The air is filled with perfume signaling yet another cycle. I have never seen the coffee flowering and the thought made me forget all about the events of day.

The rabbits are now of course, more than just a gift. They are like a journal entry all by themselves. The next time I am faced with a challenge, I will look at them and remind myself that everything is possible if you are willing. And while the rabbits did not make my birthday, they are certainly here in plenty of time for Easter.

Animal Days

La Finca received $180 from Mr. Richard Myers to purchase one horse. Money in hand, the boys were very excited at the thought that we would finally have a horse. I have been searching for several months without luck. The majority of the country horses here are quite small. There was one I was taken with in December, but the price quadrupled when they knew that it was me that wanted the horse.

Don Roberto who rents land on the finca and Don Beto came to me yesterday to say they had a found a good horse in the canton of Las Violeta. I told Don Beto I only had $150 to spend and he would have to use his best negotiating skills. We grabbed Carlito and headed out in the truck.

I did not even know Las Violeta existed until yesterday. To get there, you have to drive to the bottom of town to the river where the woman do their laundry. From there, it is a half hour bumpy ride on large cobblestones. We passed half a dozen other fincas as we wound our way around Vulcan Tecapa. The road was washed out in several places and made for some tedious driving. I was gripping the steering wheel so hard, that I finally realized I was giving myself a headache trying to avoid any mishaps.

We arrived at the small school were we were to meet Jose Marraquin. He showed up twenty minutes later riding a tall brown male horse with two smaller ones in tow. The horse was feisty and seemed unsettled which made me a little nervous. I do not have vast experience when it come to horses. I guess I'm what you would call, "A Sunday driver." I had resolved in my mind, that the only way I would ever become a better rider, was to buy one for the finca.

We took the horses to a field and Don Roberto inspected Nino. Nino was tired, hot, and sweaty. Don Roberto attempted to mount him and then stepped away unsure. I was thinking that somebody was going to have to ride the horse if we were going to purchase him. Don Beto and Carlito held back. I handed my purse and camera to Don Beto and said I would get on the horse. Don Beto couldn't have looked more surprised. I wasn't trying to usurp their male pride, but I was a little frustrated that nobody would get on the horse. I remember being told you can't let an animal like a horse know you are afraid. I summoned my best bravado and climbed on top. Nino could not have been more docile once we left everyone behind. We circled the field a few times while I made up my mind.

I told Don Beto to go ahead and start haggling. Jose set the mark at $250. After much hemming and hawing, we were down to $195. That seemed to be the stopping point. I pulled out my money and fanned nine crisp twenties in one hand. I told Jose this was all I had and waved it around before returning it to my purse and walking away. Don Beto and Jose kicked the dirt with their shoes not saying too much. I took my car keys out and slowly started walking back to the truck when Don Beto waved a little victory sign. Nino was ours for $180 with the saddle and papers. Papers! Horses in these parts come with papers? Never heard of such a thing.

Carlito and Don Beto prepared Nino for the ride home. Carlito was to ride him and we would see him back at the house. Nino is an exceptionally tall horse compared to most horses here, and Carlito is short. It took him four tries before he got himself in the saddle with the assistance of Don Roberto and Don Beto. We drove back to the finca and we waited for them to show up. Vigil, Mario, and Evers were talking all at once discussing how a new horse will come in handy. Evers said it will be so much easier to bring back the Bejuco vine and bananas from finca Santa Nita. Vigil said we should build a cart and Mario asked if he could ride Nino when it was his turn to patrol.

Carlito finally showed up with a big grin on his face. The trip had gone well. Everyone crowded around our newest member admiring his height and plump belly. The guys ran around cutting down leaves from different trees to offer Nino. Nino sampled each finally settling on Mango leaves, and then proceeded to mow down the weeds around the house.

I told everyone that Mr. Meyers had one condition for his generosity. He had asked that the horse be named Dr. Earle. I listened as they tried to pronounce Dr. Earle and then looked at me in frustration. I repeated the name, and they gave it their best shot. Earle is not an easy word for them to say and their efforts were met with much laughter. Nobody got it quite right. So the horse's official name I suppose is, Dr. Earle Nino. Nino for short. Being my horse, I would have named him something entirely different, but sometimes you just have to let things settle of their own accord.

Dr. Earle Nino spent today being trotted from one field to the other, bathed, brushed, watered, and fawned over. I wanted to ride him, but I couldn't seem to find an opening. Whenever I asked after the horse, he was engaged in some activity with one of the guys. Life is hard for animals here. With seven people to look after our new family member, I think this is one horse that just might have slightly better luck.

There have been two other additions to the finca in the past few days. I sent Juana to town three days ago for a few groceries. When she returned, she was ranting and carrying a large white plastic bag. Inside was an orange and white kitten, a gift from Bertilia who owns one of the many little corner markets. Nellie is a sweet cat, my first, and spent her first night meowing while following my every move. We set her free the next day and she settled in immediately, making herself useful catching spiders and small lizards.

Evers arrived a few hours ago as he spends the night here with Vigil. He handed me a small black and white male kitten saying it would be a good companion for Nellie. Why is it, whenever I get one animal, people feel compelled to give me another one? Winston, my original rabbit was my buddy until Anna arrived a few days later with a companion rabbit. Nellie has all but forgotten me tonight with her new found friend. They are running and leaping throughout the house at this moment. It is spellbinding to watch their antics and impressive acrobatics as they scale the side of a wall, leap five feet, and land with precision on top of a chair-back.

I held a meeting today to discuss the upcoming corn and rain season. I found out that May 1st is Workers Day. The equivalent of Labor Day back at home. It falls on a Friday, and I told the men that I would like to offer them the hacienda for a fiesta for their families. I would give them three chickens for a stew. I would also buy the soda and a cake. They would have to organize the event and enlist their wives for cooking. They all started talking at once and the main topic became which of the chickens from the coop they would choose. I had told them earlier that with the exception of two rabbits, all the chickens and rabbits were to be sold in the next few weeks. The two ducks, Fred and Frida could stick around. I would like a build a pond this year and what could be better then to have a couple of ducks swimming around? If the pond doesn't make it into the schedule, there is always Christmas dinner.

We have two roosters named Don Pedro and Don Pedro Junior. They are always up to mischief creating havoc in the chicken coop and harassing the dogs. Don Pedro is a bully and even attempted a little peck at Nino today. He is a time-challenged rooster with no natural circadian rhythm. He begins his wake-up calls at 3am and continues at half-hour intervals until the sun comes up. I have become somewhat immune, but it is a dilemma when there is company. Yesterday, he found his way into the greenhouse and decimated one of my heirloom tomato plants. That sealed his fate. If he was a smart rooster, he should just start walking down to the finca gate and head for the hills.

　

Phone Caper

I have been unable to write anything until tonight. The case of the mysteriously high phone bill was at last resolved a few hours ago. After ten days of delicate prodding and waiting, the guilty party finally confessed. It has not been an easy time, as I have come to depend on the people who work and sleep here. They are in some sense like my surrogate family since I am alone most days. It was disturbing to know that someone had been abusing my trust for the past 8 weeks. It is difficult to ascertain where to draw the line when it comes to the employees of the finca. How close can I get without diminishing my authority and still enjoy a genuine relationship with them?

I picked up my copy of the phone bill last week at Telecom with the detail breakdown. I was expecting to see several international phone calls. I was convinced that Juana was responsible for driving up the bill so high. I knew she had a brother in North Carolina and had spotted her one day standing near the phone.

I wasn't prepared to find the majority of the calls were made to a local cell number for a total of $57. It appeared that Juana was not the culprit and I began to suspect Vigil. Even more so when I noticed all the calls were made after 5pm. Juana leaves at 4.

Salomone Rocha at Telecom dialed the number and found it belonged to a woman by the name of Rosa Elena. But of course, she knew of no one by the name of Vigil, Evers, Carlito, Mario, or Juana. She had no idea why her number had appeared so many times on my bill. I called my uncle who suggested I visit Santiago at the mayor's office. Santiago, always willing to help me out, asked around and we were told that Rosa Elena lived down in one of the colonies. We drove to her house and right before we parked, I dialed the number. We could hear it ringing inside her house before it went to voice mail. The woman came to the door, but stuck to her story that she didn't know anything. I tried dialing the number again while she was standing there, but by then she had turned if off and there was no answer.

Santiago tapped me on the shoulder and told me to turn around. Across the street stood Ever's father. I did not know that his parents lived in this part of town. I waved to him and he nodded. He had worked for my grandfather for several years and was happy to see his son following in his footsteps.

Alex called a few minutes later to say I should go back to the finca and have everyone show me their phones. The number in question was probably saved in their call list. I arrived back at the finca at quitting time to tell Don Beto that I would like to see everyone's cell phone. He stopped me mid-sentence to say that Carlito had told him that Evers had a sister by the name of Rosa Elena. Rosa Elena has a best friend living next door by the name of Marte Rose who also happens to be Ever's lover.

I stared at Beto not wanting to digest what I was hearing. I had been at the point of gearing myself to let Vigil go. I have for some time been feeling a little uncomfortable with Vigil and this would serve as the perfect excuse to terminate him without legal repercussions. But this was much worse. How could it be Evers, who has been working side by side with me for months? I have taken him under my wing and treated him almost like a son. Perhaps that was my mistake. I had also been confiding in him these past few days about the phone issue, only to find out it was him. And now, he has a lover too?

That was enough for one day. I wiped a few tears and told Beto we would talk more about it later. I watched as Evers walked away towards home wondering if his father would tell him that I had stopped by earlier in the day. When Evers finally showed up that night an hour late and looking rather sheepish, I knew that he knew, I knew. He came to my room several times with various minor questions. It was clear he was nervous and trying to figure out what I was thinking. At one point, he got out the hammer and replaced a door lock and started cleaning some windows. It could not have been more evident that he was feeling guilty.

The next morning, he came to say that the tomatoes needed more staking. I gave in and then filled up his day with jobs around the house, never saying too much and keeping a poker face. At my request, Beto took him aside for a long talk. I told Beto, I wanted Evers to at least admit his wrongdoing, apologize, and then we could move on. I might make him pay back a very small portion as a reminder to think twice before doing something like that again. Beto worked on him for an hour, but could not get a confession. He told Evers to sleep on it and emphasized that it was extremely important that I have trust in everyone here on the finca. The following day, when Beto asked him if he had anything to say, he replied that he was still thinking.

I was busy the remainder of the week up until today. Evers knew that our relationship had changed. I was hoping he would come forward, but he never did. Tonight, I asked my uncle to come to the finca. The three of us sat down and my uncle made it clear that I needed an answer. I was willing to forgive the expense for an apology. The issue of trust was more important and I knew Evers could never repay the bill. It is $50 as of right now, but there is still another bill to come. I told Evers I how disappointed I was. Admission and perhaps some extra work around the finca would take care of it. It would go no further than this room. Evers continued to deny that he had used the phone even if the owner of the cell number was his sister.

Having given him every opportunity I could think of, my patience finally waned. I told Evers that I wanted him and Vigil to talk it over tonight. I wanted an answer by tomorrow afternoon, or sadly, there would be consequences. He said he understood and left the room. I asked my uncle to call Vigil who was in town watching a soccer game and relay the same message. My uncle tried to explain to me how difficult it is in this culture to get someone to admit to anything. I was fighting pride, machismo, and that fact that I was a woman. Evers was probably convinced I would fire him anyway, tell his wife, and keep his next paycheck.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. It was Evers asking to come in. He said he had something to say. I gave him a cup of coffee and we waited. It was probably one of the more difficult moments in Ever's young life. He admitted that he was the one who made all the calls and he had been feeling terrible about it. He said he just got carried away. He knew that I had lost my trust in him and it was eating him up. He realized how much he missed the daily camaraderie and confidence I gave him. I wanted to cry of course, but held on. I thanked him and reassured him that everything would be fine. He could make good on the debt by working some extra hours. I gave him a hug. Finally, I could put this to rest and feel good about what goes under this roof.

I drove my uncle back to town and Evers was waiting outside for me when I pulled up. It was just him and I without anyone mediating or translating. He gave me a hug this time and apologized all over again with big tears in his eyes. He held on to me and I just about lost it. I told him tomorrow is a new day and we will begin again. It reminded me of something my son might have done when he was 17. A silly act that was not thought through. I hope Evers learned the power of forgiveness that comes by doing the right thing.

On a lighter note, I am quite sure that Vigil phoned Evers and told him that if he didn't fess up, he would come back and make mincemeat out of him with his machete. I had hoped not to pit them against each other, but the results were remarkable.