Day 314 Two Machines

Thursday 18 Jun 2009

Midmorning I’m working at my laptop, my machine, and I hear the gate bell ring, I hear Yobani pick up the speaker phone, and she walks quickly by the office door on her way to the gate. Her voice mixes with men’s voices and I figure it’s Meche coming to cut the grass so I go back to work—it’s 10:15. In a few minutes I hear another machine—a power mower. What’s this? Work in Peru is all manual labor, no machines allowed. Almost nine months ago on Day 45 the first time the grass cutters came they used machetes to cut the lawn. It took two of them two hours and I can’t forget the sight of Meche, his shirt soaked with sweat, face furrowed with fatigue, duck-walking across the grass swinging his machete inches above the hard ground, the shiny blade silently slicing through blades of grass one swatch at a time.

I’m pulled from psychic union with my machine by Yobani standing at the door saying something. Could it be time for my entrance already, it seems they just started; I glance at my watch and it’s not yet 11:00. Yes, Yobani tells me it is time for my role as Lord of the Manor.

“Bueno,” I say often, during a hands-behind-the-back saunter to the gate, my white neck swiveling side to side regally, my blue eyes surveying all, and my gringo ego feeling four brown eyes stabbing me like spears. When I finish my performance I shake Meche’s hand, thank him, and hand him 30 soles. I notice he’s not even wet, his brown skin is bronzed in a glaze of sweat and he has a comfortable contented countenance after only 45 minutes of labor—machines are like magic. The grass cutters roll theirs out the gate and I return to mine to write these words.