Sometimes it all comes together: San Lucas development continues

by Fr. Richard Broderick

Tuesday night, January 23, was quite an exceptional experience of "community" in San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala. One might say that it was our own version of Boston’s "Big Dig."

For months the workers had been putting in place the wire and re-bar in preparation for the "big pour," cement for the second story of the school building. This would add three classrooms to the existing school. The strategy was to combine the strong volunteer force of young and middle aged men and women from the U.S., with the native workers and volunteers from the surrounding communities here in San Lucas to do the job in one night so as not to disturb the children during their school day.

At 6:00 p.m., as darkness fell, the work began. At once, as if a conductor of a symphony struck the baton, 230 workers spanning an age range from 10 to 76 years (about fifty of us Gringos), simultaneously began mixing sand, stone, and cement with primitive hoes, shovels, wheelbarrows, and buckets of water into a liquid slurry that was shoveled into two gallon buckets. Since water pressure was low, pickup trucks carrying 55 gallon drums were sent to the lake to siphon water that would slake the dry thirst of the powered cement. A mechanical human chain was then activated to pass by hand each bucket of cement to the next person standing on a gradual incline up to the second floor. An opposite line to ground zero returned each empty bucket. With the buildup of kinetic energy, pickets of spontaneous laughter and song could be heard amid all the din of hard work. Soon, the working human forms appeared covered with the ghostly dust of cement making the place seem like a scene from Jurassic Park.

At about 8:30 p.m. something strange happened. It started to rain. It hadn’t rained here since October. The rain began gently at first, but soon the heavens opened and it poured, forcing all of us to seek shelter with reckless abandon under tin roofs. I wondered whether Choc, the Mayan god of rain, felt ignored and thereby was making (his) presence known. My unenlightened view was that the rain would ruin the pour for sure. However, soon my sadness changed to joy hearing that this was considered to be a blessing since the concrete will be stronger if it dries slower and longer. The work began again with even more energy and fun after the twenty minutes of rain ended. Songs again were begun, harnessing all our mechanical energy even more efficiently. By 10:00 p.m. we realized that this job was 2/3 done. Soon, displaced workers below kept looking up at the small band of workers left huddled in the last corner of the top floor yet to be poured. It was now a spring to the finish. At 11:30 p.m. it was done! A huge job of pouring about fifty tons of concrete now turned into a joyous celebration.

Everyone was now invited to the parroquia to share in a huge and delicious supper the Mayan women had prepared. All without exception felt a deep sense of accomplishment.

Perhaps the only experience that could compare to this would be an Amish barn raising, or a Habitat for Humanity project. By 1:00 a.m. all the dust had settled and all the voices were stilled in sleep. The next morning, in full sunlight, the site was inspected with pride. It felt so good thinking about how many future generations of children will benefit from this project. Sometimes everyone comes together and everything just seems to fall into place.