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Expert German-English translation available; business and finance our specialty.
Sachverständige Deutsch-Englische Ãbersetzung; Geschäft und Finanz unser Spezialgebiet.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
EVERYTHING’S OFF
Thursday, 15 September 2005
Well, the anticipated ride out with Simon to see if we can find the marijuana grow operation is called off. Fortunately I waited before I started novocaine injections into my bum. I can’t say that hours and hours on horseback over very rough country is worse than a trans-Pacific airline flight. But it’s definitely close. Nevertheless, Simon said he would bring in a horse to ride; there are about thirty head of horses on the ranch, of which about 20 are suitable for horse-trekkers to ride. I think Simon is bringing in the big appaloosa that I have been admiring down on the river pasture.
Yesterday from the house I spied some men walking single file along the river bank down by the ford. I grabbed a pair of binoculars from the house. There shouldn’t actually be anybody around except the perimeter cowboys and Simon. Dressed in olive drab and carrying rifles, I saw that they were soldiers and they were heading this way. Up on the heights above the river I identify a few more. Eventually, they appear hot and sweaty at the corral fence, preceded by a major barking campaign by all the dogs. Even Tank, the very old, near-blind mastiff sets off his aged woofing though he is only half-aware of what’s going on. The noisiest are the two little Chihuahua pups. The soldiers stay carefully behind the fence until I calm the hounds and the hullabaloo dies away.
In the end there are eight soldiers with light combat gear and weapons. The corporal speaks a little English but he’s the only one. He asks if the ranchero is at home but I tell him in my broken español that only Kathleen and I are at present at home, that the little boy is the ranchero’s son, that the ranchero and the ranchera are away for a day or two and we are just temporary visitors. Even Simon, the Vaquero, is out in the mountains working. They are not very inquisitive. We offer them a drink of water. One of the privates ask if we have “una trucka”; it takes me a while to realise that he means a truck, and would we please drive them back to their bivouac twenty minutes away. Well, of course there are trucks around the ranch. But at present only one has a battery in it and that one is still down at the ford in case the rancher has to wade the river because it is too deep to drive through. I tell them “Hoy, non.” Not today. I have to stay at the ranchhouse. This doesn’t upset them and the squad leader asks if there is a good river crossing nearby. Just yesterday Bob pointed out where he came across on foot in high water last week. It is actually just below the house. I point it out to the corporal and off they all go in single file again. A few minutes later I see them scouting out a crossing somewhere else along the river bank. Three guys head straight into the river, get into knee-deep water, cross quickly, emerge on the other side and head up the gravel road into the woods on the way back to their bivouac. The other five sit down to take off their boots and then wade across in bare feet. By the time they take off their boots, wade gingerly through river while almost falling in because of the rocks underfoot, and finally sit down on the other side, dry their feet and pull their socks and boots back on, they are at least a half-hour behind the first three. Not sure if the corporal was in the second group or not.
The last group moves off in single file. I notice that one soldier is adjusting his rifle. A shot rings out and the man a few yards in front of him cowers. I guess the soldier inadvertently loosed off a round. He spends some time searching for the spent cartridge. He will have to account for all the ammunition when he gets back.
After that the ranch returns to silence except for the buzzing of bees and flies. Oh yes, and Eli. Eli is six. A very bright and interested kid. He is the middle of three children living on the ranch. The youngest, Levi, 4, is with Cindy in the States. Cindy’s daughter, Tanner, 10, is also at a school for a few weeks in Arizona with her dad. Cindy will be bringing all the children back next week. We are looking after Eli for a day or two while Bob is doing business in town.
Eli is pretty good about keeping himself busy; that’s uncommon for his age. But of course there is no TV on the ranch so he is used actively to doing things himself. We have never heard him say to us, “I’m bored.” He always finds something to do though sometimes we have to change some of the game rules. Like, certain things (throwing, pounding, kicking, etc.) are outside things; it’s all right to play with the house pets (the two kittens and the two Chihuahua pets) but don’t get too rough with them (things get boy-rough at times but we have never seen him ever intentionally inflict pain on the little animals); etc.
At that age he is very interested in what he is interested in. So this morning Kathy spent an hour or so with him on the internet Asking Jeeves about bees and honey, Chihuahua dogs, various other insects, how to catch mice, how to catch electric eels, how to get rid of flies.
That concluded, off he goes to busy himself outside while Kathleen and I do other things. He runs barefoot and shirtless most of the time. Yesterday Kathy introduced him to the keyboard; he’s a little young perhaps for real piano lessons. But he played with the keyboard and sang for another hour or so and this morning he pulls the keyboard out on his own initiative.
At the moment he is running in and out from the picnic table behind the kitchen where he has placed the school-supplies water colours and is painting himself in various patterns. It all started out to be war paint but the result is more like modern art. Each time he comes in to where I am writing this blog more and more of his upper body has been painted fire-engine red. He looks like he has been flayed and is bleeding. When he smiles, his teeth, gapped in the uppers because he is losing his baby teeth, show startlingly white against his totally bright-red face. When he decides he has had enough of this activity, he wonders how to get the paint off. I suggest he do what we do: just strip off and stand under the spigot at the water tank near the corral. He runs off and comes back dripping and exclaiming that it has been the best bath he has ever had in his life. People! Throw out your televisions! Liberate yourselves to life!
Last night at bedtime we asked him if he wanted something to be read to him. He thought that was a great idea, pulled out a children’s book, and curled up on the sofa with us. How was he going to deal with getting to sleep when his parents and siblings were nowhere around, we wondered. This proved to be no problem at all. We told him where we ourselves would be sleeping (in the guest house at the end of the walkway; just come over if you need us). He chose to sleep on the sofa in the living room where we continued reading for a while before retiring. The Chihuahuas slipped under the blanket with Eli. He was dead to the world in five minutes and was just waking up when I got up to do the morning chores around 0700.
Just now he harvested a couple of tomatoes off the vine next to the door, discussed how best to eat them, cut them open and salted them and declared them delicious. His enthusiasm is infectious. I think I will go and eat one too.
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