Monday
Monday--
Crunch. My backbone compressed as the shocks on the doctors motorbike bottomed out. My ears were filled with the powerful roar of the engine; my eyes, with the omnipresent dust that covers our landscape, and fills every available crevice.
I was riding around Pucallpa with Richard, our Peruvian doctor and friend. Our mission was to buy the missing parts for our tractor, which was disemboweled by a capable and determined group of thieves.
We went to various automotive shops in search of an alternator, radiator, and various other paraphenalia. Richard was determined to find the best prices, so we probably went to five or six different shops. We didn't end up buying anything, but priced extensively.
Next, we went to a church sister's house, where her sick husband was in need of medical attention. Whatever his ailments, they were of a private nature, so I was invited to the table to partake of a late breakfast. The sustenance offered by hermana (sister) Blanca looked far from appetizing. The main dish was hot boiled bananas, mixed into a gruel with another nameless substance. Unfortunately, what the dish lacked in quality, it more than made up for in quantity. I helped the gruel down with liberal portions of white bread, deciding simultaneously that I should eat the dish as fast as possible to avoid prolonging my agony. I am sure I left my hostess with the impression that I had enjoyed her cooking tremendously, although I didn't take much time to savor it's finer qualities.
Richard and I remounted his motorbike, bound for the base of "Peru Projects", a similar organization to our own. There was an old tractor on their land which they had consented to let us scavenge for parts. The road out to the base was extremely rough; this, coupled with the fact that the doctor has no respect for the condition of a road, but continues to drive at breakneck speeds nonetheless, made the ride hair-raising. We found some valuable parts there in the rusting frame of the old tractor, not least among them, a servicable alternator.
All told, the weight of all the tractor parts in my backpack must have been in the range of 40 pounds. The ride back was therefore a challenge physically and mentally. Physically, because I was forced to grip the sides of the motorbike in an iron grip to avoid falling off. Mentally, because I could only imagine the consequences of letting go. We took the parts to a mechanic, who spent about 2 hours taking the various tools apart to examine them for soundness. Most of them, after a good clean and grease, seemed quite serviceable.
The doctor and I now headed back to his house where we were served a delicious lunch by his wife, Shirley. I was again faced with the dillema of how to politely turn down the piece of chicken that formed a part of our meal. I ate around the chicken, waiting for an idea of how to deal with this problem. Finally, a solution occured to me. Why not give it to the ever-ravenous doctor? He was quite partial to the idea, and I was able to avoid offence.
A late lunch at long last finished, we decided to go back to the mission to pick a few more things up before heading out to the land. Unfortunately, when we got there, Anthony's motorbike had broken down, and the doctor, Anthony, and I spent the remaining daylight attempting to fix it. We didn't, but arrived at the conclusion that it needed to be taken to the mechanic. Finally, as dusk was setting, we set out for Kilometer 38.
As twilight slowly morphed into darkness, the doctor pushed the switch to the headlight. Nothing. We pulled off to the side of the road to fiddle with the wiring, assuming a loose connection. After about fifteen minutes of fiddling, the doctor extracted the light bulb, and ascertained that it was faulty. We held a quick conference, and decided to stay the night at the misson, to leave at six the next morning.
As soon as I got back to the appartment, I took a shower, and went to bed.
Crunch. My backbone compressed as the shocks on the doctors motorbike bottomed out. My ears were filled with the powerful roar of the engine; my eyes, with the omnipresent dust that covers our landscape, and fills every available crevice.
I was riding around Pucallpa with Richard, our Peruvian doctor and friend. Our mission was to buy the missing parts for our tractor, which was disemboweled by a capable and determined group of thieves.
We went to various automotive shops in search of an alternator, radiator, and various other paraphenalia. Richard was determined to find the best prices, so we probably went to five or six different shops. We didn't end up buying anything, but priced extensively.
Next, we went to a church sister's house, where her sick husband was in need of medical attention. Whatever his ailments, they were of a private nature, so I was invited to the table to partake of a late breakfast. The sustenance offered by hermana (sister) Blanca looked far from appetizing. The main dish was hot boiled bananas, mixed into a gruel with another nameless substance. Unfortunately, what the dish lacked in quality, it more than made up for in quantity. I helped the gruel down with liberal portions of white bread, deciding simultaneously that I should eat the dish as fast as possible to avoid prolonging my agony. I am sure I left my hostess with the impression that I had enjoyed her cooking tremendously, although I didn't take much time to savor it's finer qualities.
Richard and I remounted his motorbike, bound for the base of "Peru Projects", a similar organization to our own. There was an old tractor on their land which they had consented to let us scavenge for parts. The road out to the base was extremely rough; this, coupled with the fact that the doctor has no respect for the condition of a road, but continues to drive at breakneck speeds nonetheless, made the ride hair-raising. We found some valuable parts there in the rusting frame of the old tractor, not least among them, a servicable alternator.
All told, the weight of all the tractor parts in my backpack must have been in the range of 40 pounds. The ride back was therefore a challenge physically and mentally. Physically, because I was forced to grip the sides of the motorbike in an iron grip to avoid falling off. Mentally, because I could only imagine the consequences of letting go. We took the parts to a mechanic, who spent about 2 hours taking the various tools apart to examine them for soundness. Most of them, after a good clean and grease, seemed quite serviceable.
The doctor and I now headed back to his house where we were served a delicious lunch by his wife, Shirley. I was again faced with the dillema of how to politely turn down the piece of chicken that formed a part of our meal. I ate around the chicken, waiting for an idea of how to deal with this problem. Finally, a solution occured to me. Why not give it to the ever-ravenous doctor? He was quite partial to the idea, and I was able to avoid offence.
A late lunch at long last finished, we decided to go back to the mission to pick a few more things up before heading out to the land. Unfortunately, when we got there, Anthony's motorbike had broken down, and the doctor, Anthony, and I spent the remaining daylight attempting to fix it. We didn't, but arrived at the conclusion that it needed to be taken to the mechanic. Finally, as dusk was setting, we set out for Kilometer 38.
As twilight slowly morphed into darkness, the doctor pushed the switch to the headlight. Nothing. We pulled off to the side of the road to fiddle with the wiring, assuming a loose connection. After about fifteen minutes of fiddling, the doctor extracted the light bulb, and ascertained that it was faulty. We held a quick conference, and decided to stay the night at the misson, to leave at six the next morning.
As soon as I got back to the appartment, I took a shower, and went to bed.
posted by Jonas at 11:18 AM
2 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Yeah.
Sounds Fun.
:)
P.S. Check out my blog sometime, if you have time...Not as verbose as yours, but lots of pics. just johonn.blogspot (on second thought, it may be frustrating if you have a slow connection :)
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