Window into my Life

My counterpart texted me around 10pm last night to tell me that if I wanted to go to Guapotal for a meeting with the brigadistas, the bus would leave at 6:30 this morning.

What’s the theme of the charla? I texted back.

Don’t worry about it, he replied.

But I insisted, it’s just that if we’re not giving a charla, I have things to do in town.

No response.

So I set my alarm for 5:30am thinking that I’d plan as if I were going, and see what happened when I talked to him in the morning.  For whatever reason, after that last minute change of plans, I couldn’t sleep.  So I dragged myself out of bed at 5:30, got ready, and met him at the bus stop this morning.

“Are we giving a charla?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Which theme?”  A lapse of time went by in which he did not reply, but instead began talking to the MINSA worker sitting next time him.  I can only assume he was ignoring me.   “Which theme?” I asked again as the bus pulled up.

“We’ll see when we get there, “ he replied.

Ah. I know how this goes.  After traveling all the way to Guapotal, which is the furthest and least accessible health post in our municipality, and after all the brigadistas trickle in, my counterpart would go on at length about MINSA regulations and time would pass, and I’d never give a charla.  We’d miss the one bus out that leaves at daylight, and we’d both be stuck there until dark.

So, I said, “I really want to go, but if I’m going to be sitting there with nothing to do, there’s a meeting I want to go to in town today.”

“Yeah, you should probably stay here,” he replied as he got on the bus.

And the bus pulled away and I was left wondering why he even bothered to text me last night and why I was now down a night of sleep over this ordeal.  But this is generally how things go here, so I cannot say that I’m surprised or even angry.  Just tired.

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