Season’s greetings from the Paute canton

The traditional greetings of “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!” were spoken with an air of heightened reverence this year. An empty sky, many months long, weighed heavily on everyone, interrupting daily life throughout the country. Shopkeepers and small business owners were burdened not only with the loss of street traffic due to inconsistent power outages, but they also needed to do their best to neutralize the most significant dangers their community faced: despair and fear.

A public too worried to buy a needed washing machine or new school clothes for the children is a particular cruelty — fear of the future is fatal.

Unfortunately, it was the local farmers who, by sheer grit and determination, provided our community with the ingredients for survival, who bore the brunt of our collective suffering. Their once verdant gardens, tended through months of backbreaking labor, slowly withered to husks under a sprinkle of tears.

For those who watch such things online and listen to talk radio, the conversation regarding the drought focused on what science can or should have done to mitigate climate change. But for the many who raise their crops beside tiny hamlets atop mountain ridges overlooking Paute, or farm ancestral land deep in mountain valleys, the story was far simpler; they prayed that their sins would be forgiven and that their sadness would end.

Some folks fretted that decades of abuse the land suffered under unscrupulous land barons and multinational corporations had ushered in a new season that celebrated neither renewal nor slumber. Instead, it promised shriveled expectations and severed reliance.

Others believed that the siege of summer was proof of God’s dismay that the old ways were falling behind and that adherence to tradition, penance, and prayer was the only salve to soften His wrath.  The more devout resurrected the ancient appeal of fire. They burned their stubble, the smoke rising like a telegram to Heaven: “We are desperate for your help. Please send rain.”

And then, at last, the clouds poured rain and the people rejoiced; they awoke to a heartening fragrance that is unforgettable — the scent of moist soil turned and ready to be planted again.

Paute, founded in 1860, has long been regarded as Cuenca’s food basket. Dozens and dozens of greenhouses are cast about the steep mountain sides like seeds — the vegetables they house carefully tended, packed, and sent into the city to feed the hungry. Hardware and husbandry stores are common. The local mercado is chock-a-block with fruits and vegetables of every variety and there are several butcher shops in town that will process whatever animal you wish. “We use everything but the squeal,” is a common bragging right.

Farming is a good life, rich with friendship and comradery.  My wife, who was raised on a large farm in southern Minnesota, spins endless yarns of all-night harvesting aboard tractors so large you need a ladder, computer screens aglow with charts and topography, and neighbors helping neighbors. Everyone feasted on the sandwiches, cakes and cookies prepared by wives and daughters and delivered to the fieldhands who drowned their fatigue in gallons of strong coffee and — lately- a soundtrack of favorite music played at, ‘loud, loud, kid next door loud’ volume.

Our next-door neighbors, and good friends, the Lasos, have been working the family land for many generations. Perhaps 20 family members now live along the ridge behind our place, their “private property” planted according to the needs of the clan, including corn, squash, tomatoes, carrots, and flowers for the church altar. When I asked Cici Laso how her family fared during the drought she said, “We gathered together every night and prayed that our suffering would end. We recalled Moses in the desert, and Job’s seemingly endless hardships, we spoke of our own fears and longing, but most of all we asked for forgiveness for our sins and rain.”

Wow.

The fireworks show scheduled for New Years Eve was cancelled due to rain. Nobody seemed to mind. I understand Paute will host another party soon, and the fireworks will come in handy then, or maybe another time will come that requires celebration. I know we are ready.

Merry Merry and Happy Happy to all.