Mike Humfreville - 10-30-2006 at 04:44 PM
That evening we watched the shadows climb Punta Roja as the sun set behind our westward mountains. The weather had been calm, the air still, the sea
slick as puddled oil. Somewhere during the night major clouds, pregnant with rain and thunder and lightening stumbled into our end of the bay,
drunken and marching irregularly in the building weather. The Internet showed us a hurricane off the cape but it wasn’t expected to carry its
influence this far north. But by morning as the sun cast a few rays above our southern point we pretty much figured we might be in for a storm.
The VHF channel used by most foreigners here was filling the airwaves with chatter and projections as to just how much of a storm we might expect.
Rain began to fall, slowly at first, then building; the lightning was close behind, then thunder. As the sky grew darker and more forbidding we
closed doors and windows and prepared for what seemed the inevitable. Within a few minutes the rain was absolutely pouring, pounding the roof and
walls of our house, the walls shook with the stronger gusts of wind – 30, 40, 50 miles per hour. All life disappeared from our surrounding desert.
Rodents and spiders scattered for holes and protection. The seabirds migrated momentarily elsewhere during the storm, nowhere to be seen.
The storm formed. Rain was now pounding down, filling the smaller crevices and gullies as it twisted down the tall mountains that define the bay,
rushing threatening and raw with a form of energy all its own. The road between our house and the village crossed mostly runoffs from the mountains.
When we had lived here in the early ‘70’s a larger storm had struck. It was several days before we could get to the village and we were low on food
and water, basically ill prepared for such bad behavior on the part of Mother Nature. But she would do as she damned well pleased and we were at her
mercy once again as the present rain grew heavier and heavier and the new day’s sky became dark like night.
Lightning flashed, seemingly only a few meters from the house. We stood on the protected balcony and watched the sea churn in the turmoil - whitecaps
and water flying horizontally in the wind. The house shook with each thunderbolt. Each threatening, smashing crash shook us to our core, we were
afraid. In this unprotected environment we often seem to be pretty much on our own. “You got here amigo, you can take care of yourself” Nature
seemed to be warning. The weather grew worse until I couldn’t imagine it more intense. The thunder and lightning and massive rains lasted most of
the day. Via the VHF we learned of other peoples problems. At our house the roof was leaking badly. The water was traveling hidden between the
roofline and the ceiling. Plasterboard was falling into our kitchen and dining areas. That in itself wasn’t unmanageable, but who knew when the
weather would break? How much worse could it get?
By evening the rain and wind were lessening and we could harbor a little hope that the storm would soon pass. We had pots and pans scattered around
the house, catching rain water. Friends down the beach had it worse than we did but there was no major damage, no houses threatened by flash floods,
roof’s blown off, whatever. As the day ended we started the cleanup processes. I knew the road to the village had taken some major hits; I was
anxious to see the damage first hand, to form a concept of just how difficult it would be to get to the village for supplies. Water was freeflowing
down the south bay road, crossing and eroding the land as it would. Several gullies were filled with water crossing the road at the rate of thousands
of gallons a minute. I was driving the Surburban but keeping it in 2WD, high range in case I needed the extra beef. Some folks that used the road
didn’t have 4WD. It took me a half-hour to get the 3.5 miles to the village. In some ways matters were worse there than in our remote countryside.
The village had grown on relatively flat terrain – standing water was everywhere. Pools a foot deep were strewn about and covered more of the open
land than not. It was difficult to negotiate the small road in the village. Most of it was under water, two to three feet deep in the worst places.
In the village, I went to the market and gathered the supplies we needed for a few days while the environment recovered. Other than the copious
puddles of water everywhere the village was pretty much normal. Markets and restaurants were open and the few tourists in town were dining and
drinking as though nothing had happened. But the weather was the subject of most if not all tourists. The local townsfolk went about business as
usual, avoiding the rivulets and standing water. It made me think about threats and how we deal with them.
Stateside many of us live in relatively protected and safe communities. Our “systems” pretty much make us feel secure. Here though, in the rural
reaches of Baja California’s central desert, things are different. Here the services are not usually provided by government, they’re provided by the
folks with whom we share space with in this tiny place. Here, it doesn’t matter where your from, on which side of a border you were born. Here we
all come together when there is a need. We look out for each other, knowing that a government is in place but that it’s remote to this village
nestled between mountains and ocean and far from the City of Mexico.
I chew on this form of relative independence and yet greater dependence but in a different way. Here we work together toward a shared benefit and it
seems so much more rewarding than having a “system” that takes care of all our problems.
Somehow this leads my wallowing mind to question whet exactly is it that I have brought to this party? What can I do to share the efforts of a small
community to recover from more rain than has fallen at a single time then most folks can remember? And I find ways, small ways that hopefully will
help with recovery from what the locals don’t see as a problem at all. Indeed, here folks have learned to be somewhat more self sufficient.
I stand back and try to see a larger picture of this entire situation. As an American I come south to partake in a simpler, less expensive life style
than I had Stateside. Here my days are not filled to capacity as they were in my previous life. Here I have time to be supportive and to receive
support as well when bad things happen. I thought about this for days and finally had to accept less than a full answer.
I guess we serve the Mexican families in our village by buying products and services from the villagers and thus providing a somewhat higher income
for them. Foreigners, on the other hand, learn another, calmer lifestyle that we can accept to our betterment, to carry back to the states with us as
a reminder that it really isn’t necessary to live such a rushed existence to enjoy life – sometimes the slower we go the more we see and absorb.
So, while I still have still no answer as to relative social values during times of crises, I have come to understand that I am one very lucky fellow
to have lived and learned many new standards from my local friends and involvements. My world has been improved simply by comprehending the values of
difference.
Now I just hope I can hold up my part of the bargain.
vgabndo - 10-30-2006 at 05:10 PM
Proof again...there's still plenty of SWEET water in Michael's literary well! Thanks. Again.
tripledigitken - 10-30-2006 at 06:05 PM
Paula and I have finished reading your book that we purchased at the book signing. We both enjoyed it immensely Mike. Your words evoke a fondness
for the land and people that we both share also.
Your posts are ones I allways read first. Hope your feeling better, and I hope you got a new CD player for your ride, by the way. 
Ken
4baja - 10-30-2006 at 08:25 PM
as allways, you outdid your self again. love your memory of events. will be down soooooooon, see you then.
RockhouseTom - 10-30-2006 at 08:55 PM
Mike,
As someone relatively new to the Baja experience I do find my life stateside is “filled to capacity” yet seems to have less meaning the more time I
spend in Bahia..
Baja calls!
See you soon!
Janice - 10-30-2006 at 10:17 PM
Eloquent.
Mike Humfreville - 10-31-2006 at 10:33 AM
Thanks for kind words. Ken - I'm glad you liked the book. I did get a new "jogger" CD player and find that my patience is performing much better!
El Jefe - 10-31-2006 at 12:30 PM
Hi Mike, nice bit of writing. I have been thinking a lot lately about the concept of being “out here on our own” verses the idea of having public
services such as public works, fire department, police etc. readily available during a mini or maxi crisis. As you know I come from a background of
public service with the fire department for 28 years. We take great pride in the service we give to the community, and are compensated well for those
services. Paula and I are living the good life on the east cape on a healthy pension that many would say is well deserved.
But I have to question the real value of those services in light of what I have seen here in Mexico. Here the fire departments are woefully under
staffed and under funded by US standards. The same goes for public works departments. There do seem to be a lot of cops here, but their funding seems
to be gotten by different methods that have been well discussed on this site.
What I am getting at here is that even though there is a very minimal emergency response system in place, people seem to get along just fine. If
something bad happens, they deal with it. If the road washes out or a tree falls across the road, people get together and figure out a way to address
the problem. Eventually the powers that be get around to fixing it, but in the short run folks make do. There are not high expectations about “them”
coming to help. Contrast this with the USofA where people have very high expectations of being taken care of by the Mommy State. (Good God, here I am
a Berkeley educated liberal talking like this!)You would be amazed at the silly things folks dial 911 for. And we would go out and take care of it
for them with smiles on our faces. Good service, that is what we took pride in.
Mike, you and I are at the age where things start to go wrong with our bodies. Up north we have access to paramedics that can be at our front door
within less than 10 minutes. Down here, fageddaboutit. And yet, we have chosen to take the “risk” for any number of good reasons. Evidently the
tradeoffs are well worth it.
As for Norte Americanos, people need to get a grip and take responsibility for themselves and their families. The government is being held accountable
for more and more as people have grown accustomed to being able to get their problems solved with a phone call or a disaster declaration.
And what is the cost? Surely taxes are high, but in my experience those tax dollars that go to local government are used more efficiently than most
people think. The real cost to society is in the reduction of importance of family, friends, neighbors, church etc. as the go-to guys for help with
all the little things that make life a challenge.
Guess the old liberal is becoming a libertarian……..
vgabndo - 10-31-2006 at 12:54 PM
More sage words...this time from the CHIEF. My house is built on the slopes of a volcano. In the very unlikely event that "she goes" I'm pretty
likely to deal with it the way Harry Truman did at St. Helens. No one else has to pay for my folly.
Eli - 10-31-2006 at 04:34 PM
Thanks Mike, your words and those of El Jefe really strike home for me in watching the people of the city of Oaxaca walking their rocky trails of
tribulations thru months of inconvenience like it was just a normal day. I think you fully intend a concept that many people from the North cannot
even begin to grasp; That being how the every day people always make it work no matter what the situation is that they must face, how they can go
about their daily lives and live "normal" even in the most dang disheartening circumstances, they pull together without complaint and make life work
without government intervention. Bless them, they teach me so much about life every single day that I walk with them.
[Edited on 11-1-2006 by Eli]
Eli - 10-31-2006 at 04:36 PM
Oh my gawd, I just hit the stars, I finally just made Sr. Nomad after how many years has it been now? Ah well, Jejeje. Saludos, Sara
TacoFeliz - 10-31-2006 at 04:52 PM
Mike - Clearly you bring to the party unusually strong gifts of observation and caring, and the means to communicate your views with power and grace.
Thanks.
Bruce R Leech - 10-31-2006 at 04:59 PM
this is a fantastic thread El Jefe and Mike I have many feelings sense the flood here in Mulege I just wish I were a good writer like you guys so I
could put them down for others to read. It seems such a wast to not be able to share in the way that you guys do. I have many Books inside that will
never be written.
Crusoe - 11-2-2006 at 05:38 PM
Please Mike ..........never stop writing. Thank You!!!
jerry - 11-6-2006 at 08:06 PM
just bringing mikes wrightings to the for frount
Janice - 11-10-2006 at 09:45 PM
Bump