The light

I have been reflecting the last few weeks about how I have been experiencing different textures of light here in Plan Grande. Yes, I mean “textures,” because at times the light seems almost palpable.

In the early morning soon after dawn and in the late afternoon shortly before sunset, there is an incredible light that seems to permeate the area.

I first experienced this in El Salvador in 1992 when I was living in the rural village of Haciendita 2. But here I experience it many days.

This light seems to pervade the landscape and it is almost tangible. Look at the light on the nearby church one recent morning about 6:45 am. 

But then there are the days when I have looked out on the valley and have seen splotches of the countryside lit by a beautiful light.

There have been the sunsets with their own types of light.

 There are also the nights when a full moon has illuminated the upper terrace so much that I could have read by moonlight.

And then there was the light this morning from my terrace in the midst of torrential rains and strong winds.

And then the light shone through the clouds.

Seeing this, I can appreciate the work of artists and photographers who try to catch the various lights that fall upon the earth, landscapes, buildings, and human interactions.

In the midst of darkness, may we always be open to the light – in the world and in the depths of our hearts.

Almost moved in

The year is winding down.

I am spending my last hours in the diocesan Caritas office, helping with evaluations and signing checks.

But I am mostly transporting things to the new house in Plan Grande.

Yesterday I went out in the afternoon with a load. I wanted to take advantage of the sunny weather.

But the roads in the countryside were still a mess, including slippery muddy areas and potholes which were about a foot deep (and muddy). Thank God (and some engineer) for four wheel drive. The municipalities were trying to fill in some of the holes with crushed rock. Who knows how long before they have to do it again.

I encountered more trucks than usual on the road, since it’s coffee harvesting season and many trucks are transporting coffee. One large truck was stopped with its load of coffee sacks precariously held onto the flat bed with rope. I passed with great trepidation.

The house is almost completely finished and I am moving things there, a pickup load a day. Later this week I’ll hire a few guys from Plan Grande to help me transport some bigger items.

I hope to be living there by Friday or Saturday. That way I’ll be able to get to Sunday Mass in the village (which they have once a month) and begin planning more for next year.

I will spend Christmas with the Dubuque Franciscan sisters in Gracias, Lempira – continuing a tradition I began in 2007.

The day after Christmas I will go to the meeting of the small coffee producers’ cooperative in El Zapote de Santa Rosa.

But I’ll probably spend much of my time preparing materials for next year – especially for catechists and the base communities of young people.

In the meantime, I'll be setting up the house - awaiting visitors.

Pouring the terraza

Today about 27 mostly young guys worked from 6 am to noon to pour the terraza on the house in Plan Grande. The terraza is the roof of one floor and the floor of another.

It’s a process that has to be completed in one day so that the reinforced concrete is one piece, without seams.

Boards are place above the walls of the first floor and are supported by beams called pilotos.

Then the wiring for the ceilings is put above the board and rebars are put in place. 

Then the pouring begins in the morning.

The maestro de obra – the construction supervisor – had an electric mixer.

One part water, two parts sand, two parts gravel, and one half of a bag of cement are mixed together.

The mixture is then poured into an area where it is further mixed and put in buckets.

It is then handed up to the guys on the roof who pour the concrete over the boards.

The terraza for this house is five inches thick.

The mixture is flattened out and then leveled off.

A final pass over is made to prevent cracking.

The concrete has to dry for at least one week before they can start doing more construction on the second floor.

The wood and supports stay in place for about 20 days.

What is amazing is that this is often done without architects or engineers. (In fact, most of this was my design. I am, though asking a young engineer friend I know to help with designing the roof.)

More photos of the construction in progress at 
https://www.flickr.com/photos/johndonaghy/sets/72157644452643671/

Viejito - old guy

The other day in the market here in Santa Rosa I passed by a booth and a kid called out “Viejito.” I pretended to be offended. When the kid saw me a few minutes later, he apologized.

“Viejito” – old man; “abuelito” – granpops; and even “viejito rancio” – rancid old man: there are all often affectionate ways people address older men. It takes a little bit getting used to.

But now that I turn 67 tomorrow, I guess I do qualify as an “old guy.”

I also find that as I get older I get more like my father.

Today, I started joking with the workers on my house in Plan Grande. One of the guys was singing and I told he that his singing would scare the roosters. (Where I got that phrase I don’t know.)

The guys thought it was hilarious.

I then told them that I am getting more like my father who was incredible joker and could tell puns like no other person I know.

One of the guys noted that it’s better to be laughing that getting angry.

That's a good thing to remember at my age!

Plan Grande house drama - continued

Last week Padre German suggested that I consider building my house in a different location in Plan Grande. The location is beautiful, spacious, near coffee fields, and would allow a slightly larger house and a garage.

My first reaction was positive. But I began to think and pray about it a bit more. I also called someone in Plan Grande whom I trust. She didn’t want to say anything – but it was obvious that she would prefer me to continue to build on the church grounds.

I prayed over this a lot on Sunday.

At a certain moment things became much clearer for me.

The place near the coffee fields is beautiful but it is a short distance down the hill from the central road through the village. There are a few houses nearby by, but it is in a rather deserted place. It is a great place for a retreat house. But to get to the church I would have to climb the hill and then walk a few blocks to get there.

In contrast, the current site is very close to the church, as well as to the school and several houses. I would be more available to the community.

As I consider my mission here I see it as accompanying the people, being with them. The house down the hill would be great and could be used for workshops, etc. But to me it feels like a distancing from the community.

Where am I to be?

I think I’m called to be in the midst of all this. Maybe later I’ll need a retreat spot, but for now, I see myself being called to be in the midst of the people.

digging the foundations