Small Satisfaction

Chayo came to camp to tell me that Saul had again been up to fence tricks. This time he'd had his work crew string four strands of barb wire from his south fence towards his north one, this cutting across a wind in historic roadway. Not only was that clown insisting on locking that south gate, but now this other blockage. Chayo wanted to know how we were going to play this one.

I'd told Chayo about that talk we'd had with the Presidente. He'd confirmed that Juan, the mayor of Agua Verde, had indeed gotten a call in regards to this; but he'd been flattened by a nasty gripa that, right then, was sweeping the village. That had been almost a week back. Chayo claimed Juan to be up and functioning again.

We both agreed that starting at the level of the mayor made sense. I told him to, straight off, head in that direction. We'd make an official complaint. Chayo tells me that won't work because Juan had, just that morning, gone up the hill and to Loreto. He speculated that Juan would be passing back by the Restaurante sometime early that evening. Maybe. The mayor has no wheels of his own. Where ever he goes he has to bum a ride.

We structure a plan that has Chayo stopping Juan on return trip. Them setting up a meeting for the next morning, 9:30 sharp and at the restaurante. I really wanted the mayor to take a first-hand look. Chayo stated here that even if Juan got by him, he could call him from Martin's casa; Martin having that capacity now.

O.K. Great! Nine-thirty sharp! I pretty much figured I understood how our strategy stood.

Next A.M., after exercises, with plenty of time to make the "our camp to San Cosme passage," with yellow handled wire cutter gripped in left hand, I stride out intent to do battle...if that was at all possible.

Passing through Saul's disaster area I surveyed this new four wired fence. My urge at that moment was to apply those cutters to them shiny new barbed strands. I suppressed this emotion even though I waved that tool at 'em, me promising myself, "later." I'd do this right. I'd do this legit.

Just about at appointed time slot I swing round the corner there at our old camp. Now naked and some what ugly San Cosme lay there before me in glaring morning sunlight. The place was quiet, seemingly devoid human activity as I came closing in. I detected no strange carro that could have carried the mayor.

As I neared Guadalupe's kitchen I did hear voices, recognized one of them as her's.

We greet good morning and share some small talk before I bring up the subject of the mayor. She tells me that he'd passed back by last night, but hadn't stopped. "And Chayo, did he call him?" I questioned. Well...she didn't know anything about that, nor my attempt for a that - morning meeting, either. I asked where Chayo was and she told me to check at the goat corral.

As I come up on that corral I spot Chayo's thick form laboring there. I holler out a good morning and ask him what's shaking down with the mayor? With big smile on his kisser he returns my greeting and then tells me that nothing's going on, like maybe this whole thing has totally slipped from mind.

"What's going on with Juan, the mayor?" I pushed, me sort of confused by his lackadaisical attitude. "Didn't you call him? Set this morning thing up?"

"No." He'd thought it was me that was going to call Juan from our cell phone. I really don't know how we'd miscommunicated this. Truly I thought I'd got everything that had been said. Him, too! But, apparently, that hadn't happened. For sure...it wasn't first time.

Well...shit!

O.K. We'd march right over to Martin's casa, make the call from there. It was still relatively early. The morning still could be salvaged. We go off and immediately do that. The line is busy first but we persist and do make contact. The mayor will come but.... Chayo jumps in his little red carro and heads for Agua Verde, Port side.

In the kitchen again, there's speculation as to how long it will take for round trip, Chayo at the wheel. Julio, her eldest son, ventures the opinion of an hour, Guadalupe hoped it would take longer. So did I. This was not a life or death situation, but speeding on this Agua Verde road, sure the hell is.

I beg a fast breakfast. Fresh cheese melted inside fresh tortillas. There's a big pile of blue rim scollop shells over by Chayo's casa that I need to sort through, so I go over and start digging through this. On my knees I, one by one, assess these, me looking for select ones; one in twenty, maybe thirty, that I pick out, save from Chayo's saw. Cutting shell to pieces is what does go on there. I like this selecting work. I find it fun, actually. Easily I got lost in this till I detected obvious sound of Chayo's carro coming back. He's got the mayor. He pulls carro right up beside where I'm just finishing up things there.

Juan and I share a good handshake and greeting; we've never been buddies nor hang-around pals but we've known each other for quite a string of years. Always I've liked him, felt comfortable with our past contacts. He's a handsome gentleman that carries himself in a dignified manner, very similar to his brother Preciliano, who had been mayor two terms back. I've always treated both with respect and they've returned that. I'd considered them friends, and, that too, they'd seemed to return.

The three of us walk off in direction of low-tide-only pass, me questioning Juan if he understands the problems I'll soon be showing him. And, no, he really doesn't. Chayo had told him very little. All he knew was that the Presidente had called him and indicated that he was to look into the matter. With note pad and pen, there he was, in his official capacity, to do just that.

In just a few minutes of vigorous marching we come within range of vivid examples of just what I'd been filling in the mayor about. From several hundred meters distance we could easily see the degree of eco destruction, me pointing this out and describing how it once was heavily vegetated, before this insane invasion. As we approached the gate through which the historic road passes, it was easy to see from a distance that it was closed and locked. I pointed to Saul's new roadway, for which he'd taken the liberty of chopping down considerable vegetation which was outside his fence's line. "Who gave him permission to make this new roadway?" I asked. "Nobody!" I answered my own question. "Who gave him permission to block the old roadway?" "Nobody!" I repeated myself. Juan nodded in accord with me, stopped and made notations on his pad.

We walked up to that closed gate. Upon a brief examination I asked mayor for his permission to solve that aggravation, which he granted me. I worked the tips of my cutters behind fence staples that held locking chain to post and easily pried them out. Chayo drug loose assemblage of posts and barb wire out of road way. We advanced to where those new strands of wire blocked the way. The mayor assessed historic trail. No question it was blocked there. He jotted on his pad. "With your permission, may I cut these wires?" I'd been waiting to ask. He shakes his head "Yes." He follows that with an audible, "Si."

I want you to try and imagine how good it felt to, with official blessing, put my sharp cutters to that newly stretched wire. With each of the four easy snips these sprung back in remembrance of tight roll they'd not long ago been. Just as I finished the last one, here comes one of Saul's worker, the one who'd done that slow walk for that key, upon this scene. I was glad to have such a witness. I moved to post that loose wires had sprung back towards and cut the tying wires that held those strands there, too. Wasn't nothing he could do about it. Juan made sure this worker understood that he was there representing the Presidente.

Chayo stood there grinning from ear to ear as he watched all of this. He'd experienced the satisfaction of cutting Trojillo's wires himself already. It seemed from his expression that he understood the great pleasure involved with such a simple thing. Maybe not as much as me but I could tell he was, too, enjoying this event.

Naturally it was easy to point out the well with the windmill that, like all else there, Saul had no legal right to impose upon this terrain. I'd shown Juan a copy of the agreement the ejido had signed, stating that they'd respect the historic limits of El Carrizalito. I pointed up to old stone fence high up in the saddle that high-tide-pass passed through, the historic south boundary. Easy it was to see that Saul was in violation of that legal accord. He scratched away there on his pad, him seemingly in agreement with all that I said. He tells me that he's going to make an official report and give it to the Presidente.

Walking back to gateway we'd opened we passed numerous small trees that Saul had had planted. Town trees. Trees that didn't belong there. Already they were showing the effect of having saline water sprinkled on their leaves. They didn't look healthy. They didn't look like they were going make it there.

At that gateway we shook hands and parted. I sincerely thanked the mayor for services rendered. He told me it was nothing; that I should feel free to call if there were further problems. He and Chayo headed for San Cosme, I happily skipped and hopped my way back to camp.

"You can't imagine how much fun I've had this morning!" I shouted to the lady Marcia as I came cruising in.

Email: david@dondavidonbaja.com