A hitchhikers guide to the galaxy of words

For those of you planning on coming to Full Belly who think they already know Spanish, think again. I consider myself pretty fluent when it comes to speaking Spanish since technically it was my first language. But even so I was a bit turned around when I first came here and heard those Sinaloan words being shot around, rapid-fire. The accents seemed so foreign and the speed at which it all came rushing in didn’t leave me any time to sort anything out.

But already after just a few weeks my ears have become unbelievably well adjusted. It’s scary how I can barely hear the accent anymore…

So, for the benefit of those who are planning a trip to Sinaloa any time soon, or for that matter for those of you visiting Guinda, CA, I have started compiling a farm-word dictionary:

bato = a guy

baybies = bebés (babies)

bichi = desnudo (naked)

bin = bote (bin)

brakes (brah-ques) = frenos

catchár = atrapar (catch)

chanse = quizá (maybe)

juga

marketa = mercado (market)

morro = dude

parking = estasionár (park)

Pablo = Paul Muller (Paul is one of four Full Belly owners. For a week I looked around for this guy Pablo so I could introduce myself. Then I realized it was Paul's Spanish name.)

panchi = corto (short)

ride (rai-te) = aventón (ride)

tirar roll = hang out

trocka (troh-ca) = camioneta (truck)

trocke (troh-que) = camión (big truck)

Silent lamb

You get that flood of doubt and anxiety when you first see a little black mass on the floor lying very still. Too still. It's just sleeping, you say to yourself, and you move on to check the other 79 ewes. But when you come back a few minutes later and it's still "sleeping", you realize it's not. Breath is gone and eyes are closed, it must've been asleep. And then it just slept too deeply. I wonder what lambs dream about. Or if they dream at all. But you think hopefully in his dream he's in the middle of a field of squash, content. As a morbid afterthought you think he was a boy, he would've been killed anyway.

But then from the corner, the other brother bleats. Life! At least a little bit of relief.

The first

Last night I read a few chapters in James Herriot's All Things Bright and Beautiful. Today, I could have easily been in one of those chapters. I feel like a true Yorkshire dalesman now - out there with the sheep, wind blowing the icy rain in slants against my face. The misty hills that can sometimes be made out through the sleet could almost even be mistaken for the heather-covered hills Herriot so often describes.

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They lie disoriented in the hay as you approach. Their tiny curls of wool are matted and coated in a thick layer of mucus. From their bellies hang thick red ropes that dangle below them.

One is lying down. Panting, confused.

The other is already sorting things out, he takes a few wobbly steps towards the pile of hay and stands there shaking.

I approach and scoop him up, his slimy warm body pressed against my chest. I can feel his heart pounding viciously and his body trembles. 

The mother is weakened by the birth, a mass of entrails drags behind her as she hobbles over to lick her baby's head. She pauses, gathering strength, and follows me as I back slowly into a pen, holding her baby carefully in front of me to lure her in. She stumbles in willingly, limping over until she collapses next to her babies. Then again more licking. A few bleats.

A day without water.

Taken from a journal entry on 1/20:

Right from the start, today has been full of adventure. Starting at 3 in the morning I was awoken by the wind that seemed to almost tip the trailer. At the same time the two dogs that I am watching over (Charlie and Lila) began barking furiously at the crazy weather. Later at 5am, the door blew open and I awoke to find a puddle in my living room. After carefully tying the door shut I crawled back to bed for a few more hours until my alarm went off. Climbing out of bed I was met by two eager faces and I continued on to do my morning routine. But as I switched on the light, I was stopped short. I tried multiple lights until my sleepy brain finally made the connection between the weather and the lack of electricity. 

As I had predicted, I emerged to find the farm turned upside down. No water + no power = maaaaajor setback. As I'm sure some smart person must have once said, "You don’t really realize how much you use it until you lose it."
Anyway, the rest of the day was spent trying to cope without power because everything seems to take so much longer without it. First thing in the morning I set off to milk the cow and then realized there was no water with which to clean her udders. After strategically placing buckets under a few roofs, I managed to find water and went to milk. On my way back I decided to cook lunch for the hungry farmers only to realize there was no water to boil food with. After eating, I instinctively walked over to clean eggs and then once again found that no water came from the tap.

Oh the irony that we panic about losing water the same day that buckets are pouring from the sky...

Lambing? Lambing!

Besides my goat adventures in the morning, Dru also took a few of us over to look at the pregnant sheep that are due to start lambing any day now. There are about 80 ewes and they are all starting to look rather large, Dru is nervous because at the end of this week the four partners are going to be at a conference called Eco Farm so Rawley and I will be left to farm-sit. I am so excited, it is going to be a great week at the farm; checking on the lambs, doing a lot of milking, and I even asked Antonio if I could tag along to his animal chores so I can learn more from him. At first I was hesitant to ask because I remember him telling me a while ago that he prefers working with animals than people but he didn't mind me asking and I think he will be thankful for the help these dreary days.