Minga

Yesterday (it occurs to me that I ought to date these entries, since I don’t write every day and I can’t always post them the day I write them, so “yesterday” means Wednesday, November 9, 2011) I participated in a “minga,” or community work detail. I had finished teaching early, because the fourth and fifth grades had the day off. Their teacher was taking a training course in Chunchi. I’m glad they don’t try to have me substitute for him anymore; it doesn’t seem to be worth the trouble. So I taught the sixth and seventh grades, and was finished by about 9:30. I noticed that lots of people were gathering in the plaza, all armed with azedones, picks, or shovels. This implied a minga, and I went to join the crowd.

A minga seems to be a tradition with indigenous roots. It is a way of accomplishing some task for the community without having to depend on outside aid or spend tax money. Very often, mingas in Tolte have to do with roads or the drainage and irrigation system, which is related to the roads in many spots. As I stood in the plaza without any tools, I really wasn’t sure how or whether I could contribute anything to the minga beyond my silly gringo presence, but I decided to wait and see. After a while, we hit the trail that drops down behind the school, reached the new road, and kept walking. Sooon we were on the road down to the train station. This made me nervous; the downhill side is dreadfully steep in some places, and I wasn’t sure I would be able to participate in any useful way.

We finally reached the work location, a culvert under the road with steep mountainsides at the entrance and outlet. It was plugged with debris from a minor landslide that ust have occurred Monday, the day it rained all day while I was traveling in from Portoviejo. That must have been a heavy rain, because I also saw small slides along the highway from Alausi to Tolte. In any case, I got immediate relief from my worries. I could work standing on the road (though some people did go over the edge to work on the outlet side), and I didn’t need any tools, because we were passing rocks, bucket brigade style from where the slide had clogged the inlet to an out of the way spot along the side of the road. A few people did work to pull the rocks away from the inlet, but most of us were passing rocks from hand to hand.

The effect was similar to the days I spent working with bricks. The first hundred rocks or so don’t seem like a big deal. I did pick up a couple of real big ones so as not to seem like a total loser, and carried them to the other side of the road. But mostly, it was fairly light work for the first hour. Then things start to change. The weak area between my shoulder blades definitely started to tighten up, and continued to do so for the next three hours. I didn’t fail to hold up my part of the rock chain, but I suspect that the local people didn’t feel like they were having as hard a time as I was. One young woman was working with her toddler slung on her back, and didn’t seem to mind much. I need hardly add that the women here are very strong. To say that they work like men would be an insult—they work much harder than almost any man I know, and harder than many of the men here. If a man picks up a big rock, a woman is likely to pick up a bigger one to show him who’s boss.

And the mood throughout was cheerful. People laughed and joked as they worked, though I can’t say I understood much. I got the impression that these were long-standing jokes based on the known characters and relationships of the townspeople, which are still largely a mystery to me. But I was glad to be there, working along with everyone else, because it was the sort of civic obligation that it just doesn’t pay to dodge if you want people to treat you like a real friend.

We were near the end of the work by about 12:30. More debris is likely to slide into the culvert in the future, but at the speed the water moves, some of it will wash out. Segundo, a stocky fellow about my age, and Petrona, a very big, tall woman, were clearing the opening of the inlet, which had finally open up now that we had taken away so many rocks. Suddenly, Petrona disappeared. The rock pile had given way, and she fell to the bottom of the culvert. The mood shifted just as suddenly, as everyone wondered if she were all right, and how we would get her out. But a couple of minutes later, she climbed up the outlet side to the road again, looking no worse (although a bit embarrassed) for the experience. And so the whole event finished in the cheerful mood that had dominated all day.

Victor, who has spent time in Spain, pointed out that in the US, this would all be done with machines, and of course he’s right. And maybe it’s better that way—there’s much less risk of anyone getting hurt. And there were plenty of ways to get hurt yesterday, including the possibility of another rock slide. You can’t just romanticize this sort of work. But the community spirit is a good thing to experience and be part of. So I wish the people of Tolte a future full of safe mingas.