Communing with the Stone Workers

Last week, I spent several days helping some local workers who have been building a wall at Katie and Georgia’s school.  Since I don't know how to cut stone and consistent with one of the universal laws of manual labor (or probably any other job), I was given the work nobody else wanted (or that they were too skilled to do).  That consisted of pulling the biggest stones from a huge pile of rocks and carrying or rolling them from one place to another.  Given that my usual job mostly entails sitting at a computer or going to meetings, I generally was generally fairly exhausted after about 4-6 hours of this work and typically went home early (I'm a little embarrassed to say).

On the days that I volunteered, the other workers were kind enough to share their food with me, which we all ate community style.  Food generally consisted of some type of starch – one day it was a blanket or towel full of corn/beans mixture, bread another day and potatoes on the third day – along with a bowl of spicy sauce (sort of similar to guacamole).  We ate the food with our hands and a single spoon that we all shared.  One day somebody forgot the communal spoon but found a fork-shaped stick on the ground (or maybe on a tree) and that became our utensil of the day. 

The beverage of choice each day was “chicha” of which we drank copious amounts.  Chicha is an indigenous local “beer” made from corn.  It is somehow fermented but not carbonated and has a very sour taste and relatively thick consistency.  It is like no other beer I have ever tasted.  I am told that it provides a lot of nutrients and is a good source of energy, hence the custom of drinking it during all workday breaks. 

The chicha came in a big container similar to a 5-gallon gas can.  It was poured into a pitcher and passed among us with the single cup that we all drank from.  During each morning's break everybody had about 5 cupfuls.  They basically chugged the first three (don’t want to keep the next guy waiting too long) and slowed down a bit on the last couple.  I generally limited myself to 3 1/2 cups as I don't think my stomach has the same tolerance for chicha as the locals.  To round out the afternoon break, everyone was given some coca leaves to chew (for “la fuerte”).

I haven’t returned to my stone moving work this week (have been focusing on other needed errands, etc.) but I have seen my co-workers on several occasions.  Each time they have graciously made sure I’ve gotten a couple of cups of chicha (more at the fiestas, of which there have been many this week).  It’s been quite the interesting introduction to yet another aspect of the local culture.

Matt