FOR YOU TO PERUSE
BEFORE I TELL YOU
A TRASHY TALE
A street in San Cristobal
So here is the trashy tale I promised. It is about my first experience with the garbage collection routine here in San Cristobal. You didn't think it was any other kind of trashy tale, did you? Anyway, it was a Monday morning and I knew the basics of the procedure, so I dutifully set my alarm for 6:00 am and sat around in the almost-daylight waiting for the sound of the bell. They said I would hear the bell announcing the approach of the garbage truck. Sure enough, around 6:15 am, a man with a cow bell in his hand came walking down the street ding-a-linging. Quickly, I gathered my 2 small bags and hurried out to the street. The man cheerfully wished me "buenos dias" and I wished him the same. He pointed to a stack of 6 other bags alongside the 2 of my own and seemed to say something like: "Are all those 8 bags yours?" Not being quite sure what he said, I did my best to answer with "dos," meaning only 2 bags were mine. He then gave me some other instructions which I totally missed, so I simply stood by my bags and waited. Pretty soon, the women of the neighborhood began to gather with their own bags in hand and started a lively session of friendly gossip and news sharing. It was quite a demonstration of community around the garbage bags. I smiled at them and one woman pointed and seemed to ask: "Are all those bags yours?" By now, I knew I couldn't find words to defend myself, so I meekly said "Si." I now owned all 8 bags of trash, which in this part of the world includes the used toilet paper you can't flush. She indicated with a smile and a wave of the hand that my bags were all on the wrong side of the street and that I should move them all to the other side next to all the others. Obediently, I carried all 8 bags across the street and she smiled again like I had done the right thing, even if I had generated an inordinate amount of trash for the three days I have been in town. So, having nothing else to do, I stood by my bags and waited, not understanding what I was waiting for. People had warned me about the stray dogs that loved to claw their way into stinky trash bags, so I was ready to defend them come what may, but the dogs never came and I waited. Finally I saw the truck moving toward us. It was white - I mean it "was" white once. The bed of the truck was a large cylinder with a hole in the top. Not like any garbage truck I'd ever seen. In the hole was a man whose part in this drama was to stand on the garbage, distribute it evenly, and squash it with his feet. My part in the drama was to hand MY GARBAGE (which was now 8 bags) up to the man so he could do his part. Now people appeared from other doorways with their own bags and played their own part in the scene. When we all had done our part, the drama was over and everyone went home without a closing hymn or a prayer!! I left with a smile on my face and a tale to tell to my wife who had convinced me that I was the one most qualified to negotiate all of the ins and outs of 6 am Monday morning garbage collection in San Cristobal, Mexico. So there you have it. The tale is done. Well, not quite done; it is a tale to be repeated this Thursday morning. See you at the corner!
2 comments:
I believe that church happens whenever two or three are gathered (so to speak). Indeed it sounds to me like this gathering has its place of importance much like church does: a gathering, a sharing, an offering. You might want to seek a name other than The Church of the Trash or whatever, but in all seriousness, it is church nonetheless. Thanks for the tale.
The colors are so Cuban and the roofs, although the style in the fronts of the buildings seem slightly different. The bars on the windows are like Jamaica and probably Cuba in the larger cities. I don't know the way trash is collected in any of the countries I visited, so your story was pretty fun (gross??). Lots of people walking, that's so typical of the Caribbean. Very fun. Wish I were there.
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