Mission Trip - Day Three

My brain is so overwhelmed right now and the steroids I’m taking are only making matters worse. Just picture the equivalent of rush hour traffic going on inside your cranium and that’s my mental state. Time to put on the hazard lights, my friends.

There was a humorous moment in the day, however. In an effort to provide some comfort and humor, one of my coworkers smiled and said, “even God took seven days for creation.”

Day three

Let the real work begin…

The beginning

For the first real work day I was scheduled to work with the best crew chief ever, my dad. We arrived in San Francisco around 9am and went to the job sites. The house we were building was made of concrete blocks and consisted of 2 bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room. It would eventually house the Rodriguez family. We worked from 9:00-12:00 then took a break for PB&J at the soup kitchen. At 1:00 we headed back to the jobsite for 3 more hours of work. By the end of day one, our crew had laid 4 courses of block which would not have been possible except that we had lots of great helpers. This is the day I met my buddy Maria. From this day forward, she would wait for me every morning and see me off every afternoon. If there wasn’t a trowel in my hand then it was Maria’s hand. (Sidenote: It turns out Maria wasn’t really named Maria. Her real name is Demetria, or so we think.)

It’s also the day that would trump my bloody leg of beef sighting. Shortly after lunch a herd of pigs came down the hill. By the end of the afternoon, one of these piggies would squeal his last squeal. After some wrangling, this (not so) little piggy was taken behind a gate and killed. It was a much longer process that I would deem necessary; apparently they let the pigs bleed out. We all assumed what was going on but it wasn’t until one of the workers gestured a throat slitting that we knew for sure. Shortly after the squealing stopped, Mr. Piggy was on top of bench (where a child was napping earlier) getting his skin boiled off. Anyone for bacon?

By the end of this day I was desperately in need of a shower. Maria thought so too as she kept trying to brush the mezcla (cement) off my clothing. After the 45 minute ride home, I had one of the most wonderful, most needed showers of my life. 

End of day. Trowel in one hand, Maria in the other.