Rico

Summer was in Boston today and everyone was outside. It was gorgeous. I spent several hours at Jamaica Pond thinking and enjoying and saying hello. I passed a set of fisherman and asked if they were catching anything. They began to talk to me, and suddenly I got nervous. It was irrational but there was a quite a few of them and they looked much different than me. I spoke briefly with them and continued my walk. I noted the fear and processed just how absurd it was and ungrounded. I am trying to notice and overcome ridiculous fears that have been ingrained in me by growing-up in this culture.

I walked another lap barefoot and free and as I turned the last corner I saw the fishermen again. Determined to overcome my fear I said hello again and this time lingered to chat. I was not going to let an irrational fear keep me from speaking to an interesting crew of people on such a beautiful day. It was absurd. We chatted and I learned much about Jamaica Pond—its fish and 3 springs that feed it; its depth and glacial history. It was once used as an ice supply. People would cut large blocks of ice and ship it all over the world. This was before refrigeration.

The talk came back to fish and one of them took out a picture of himself and a huge salmon. He had caught it at that spot last week. I was impressed. The conversation ended and I left again, but as I walked away I felt another pull, to go back and chat. This time specifically to the man who caught the salmon. He looked to be of native American descent. I wanted to know more of who he was and where he was from, but I kept walking. Now this was absurd. I did not know this man and it would be presumptuous to assume he would want to talk me about anything as personal as this. I walked towards my car.

Damn I was afraid again. This time of feeling like a fool going back yet again to this group of strangers to talk. But I wanted to meet this man. I kept saying maybe I will run into him again. I crossed the Jamaica Way and headed to my car. I did not want to leave but fear was keeping me from crossing back over that street and having another conversation. I did not want to regret never trying but I was to afraid to try. Suddenly I looked over to where the fishermen stood and it appeared that one of them may have caught a fish. Just the excuse I needed. I ran back across the street.

Back near the pond I realized they hadn't caught a fish, they were just getting up to leave. Maybe they will walk past me and I can strike-up another conversation. I was feeling really fearful of going back especially if there was no fish. But this was ridiculous. For some reason I was being drawn back to talk to this man and I was afraid of looking foolish—this is asinine! I looked over again and noticed that all the other men had left except for him. I walked his way. I was not going to let fear rule this synchronous moment. As I approached him I decided to ask him what a good fishing lure would be to use here. It seemed less intrusive than, "Hello again, I noticed you seem to be of Native American descent, will you please share with me a little of your life and your culture."

He was friendly and we talked about kastmasters and dardevles. Then we talked about fish for a good while. He taught me about the giant grouper that you can catch off the shore of his home nation El Salvador. Legend has it that this was the fish that swallowed Jonah. He told me about the forests in El Salvador and his love of animals. He talked about howler and spider monkeys, capabaras and armadillos. He told me of the Galapagos islands and LonelySam, a 900 year-old sea turtle and only male surviving from his species. When he is gone the species is gone.

Then he told me of his country and of the year 1932 when 30,000 native men were massacred by 'Uncle Sam.' He told me about dictators and tyranny and genocide. I learned of the suffering that grew the banana I ate on my way to church this morning. All of this death for bananas. I knew a little about Latin America before this conversation but never with such detail. There was much to digest.

I overcame a fear that day and met a man familiar with a very different fear. Not the feeling foolish kind of fear but the feeling cold-metal rifle kind of fear. Our conversation at one time could have cost him his life in El Salvador. These fears led him to seek refuge in this country. The irony of course is that the one place he could find refuge was one of the places responsible in part for the tyranny he sought to escape.

He said if I wanted to learn more I should read, Open Veins of Latin America. This controversial book was just given to President Obama by President Chavez last week. Two months after Obama was elected, El Salvador elected a left-leaning president. He will be inaugurated in June. I saw hope reflecting in my friend's eyes.

The sun fell and burnt my cheeks. In El Salvador the sun always rises at 6 and sets at 6. At noon you have no shadow. This is because it is on the equator, the 'belly of the world", he said. He stood up and introduced himself as Rico. We must have been talking for over 2 hours. I hugged him and we parted ways. I learned much about fear this bright sunny day.