Potholes

Two weeks ago I was on my way to teach at Carcel Abra. The rain was falling steadily but not hard. As usual here the temperature dropped before the rain began so the air felt like what I remember from a cold spring in the United States.  The trip east was a little more challenging than usual, with standing water in the curves as the rainwater quickly exceeded the capacity of the drains--when there were drains--or the capacity of the surrounding terrain to absorb any more water. Rooster tails of spray shot out as vehicles spun along.

At Sacaba the detour for the highway east was still in place. The paving crew had to stop during the rain.  This sent me and my transit buddies over a section of road paved with rock and with numerous potholes and what on these roads serves the same purpose as a speed bump--a trough or indentation. At least the rain kept down the otherwise thick dust in the road (especially when unusually heavy traffic rumbles over it, dropping visibility to about a car's length), but the traffic was just as thick and unmanaged as we all dashed forward in land rush free-for-all style on both lanes and in both directions to get back to the main road.  This was at times like those moments of disorientation when maybe surrounded by nothing but water and sky or just stolen away by my own thoughts I suddenly look about and briefly am not sure of what's up and what's down. At least the blockade from earlier in the week had also stopped and we could pass to our destinations.

We merged back onto the main road. After two more kilometers we passed from pavement to stones to mud, city giving way to town and then to sparse community, brick giving way to adobe, adobe giving way rain-by-rain to mud and then dust again. My appetite for it all was a bit dampened too, but then I was and am in the cuaresma¹, so 'tis the season.

Between watching for potholes and--it was impossible to read with this much jolting--musing on a movie scene², I wondered if I would have a good class, good being when more than a few students show up, that they seem interested, and that my own mind can stay on topic enough to reward their interest.  I recalled that toward the end of the previous semester attendance dropped and with that my interest sometimes waned. My challenge then was to keep my own attitude from influencing that of the students.

I passed a dog sitting on top of a rubbish heap, trying to escape the pooling water below.  I was glad that my books and papers were stowed in plastic bags. Water seemed to creep into everything.  And the people along the way looked stressed, hurrying along, trying to stay dry.  I saw no umbrellas or rain gear on them, only the occasional pancho. This soggy day was not for dawdling. I mentally thumbed through some resources.³

As I said, I hoped for a good teaching day--reasonable attendance, interested students, maybe a few jokes to keep it light--and that's just what it turned out to be. When class was over and I chatted with the men about things related to their upcoming hearings, or their medication needs, and  their desire to have certificates for their work in the class so they could prove their progress with a constructive activity and maybe reduce their sentence time. Nothing seems to happen without a struggle.
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¹Lent/Carnaval, elige su punto de vista, but isn't that like life.

²It was the scene from the film Amarcord in which a man apparently tired of being alone climbs a tree, refuses to come down, and begins shouting "I need a woman!" Soon his wish is granted. A woman arrives--a sharp-tongued midget nun.   It was a funny scene, but then I thought maybe a midget nun wasn't such a bad thing if she had what he actually needed at the moment, even if he didn't think so.

³"Just as from the heavens
the rain and snow come down
And do not return there
till they have watered the earth,
making it fertile and fruitful,
Giving seed to the one who sows
and bread to the one who eats,
So shall my word be
that goes forth from my mouth;
It shall not return to me void,
but shall do my will,
achieving the end for which I sent it."
(Isaiah 55: 10-11)

"¡Oh alto y glorioso Dios!, ilumina las tinieblas
de me corazón y dame fe recta, esperanza cierta y
caridad perfecta, sentido y conocimiento, Senor,
para que cumpla tu santo y veraz mandamiento."
(San Francisco. Oracion ante El Crucifijo
de San Damian.)

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.

I do not see the road ahead of me.

I cannot know for certain where it will end.

Nor do I really know myself,

and the fact that I think I am following your will

does not mean that I am actually doing so.

But I believe that the desire to please you

does in fact please you

and I hope that I have that desire

in all that I am doing.

And I know that if I do this,

you will lead me by the right road

although I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always

though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death,

I will not fear, for you are ever with me

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone."                                                                          
(Thomas Merton)