Fighting Flames in the Dark

I have been working on this digital post card since the night of the first fire. I am now no longer in Costa Rica but felt like I needed to finish what I started and tell a story of the surreal events of the weekend before I returned to the States.

This is dry season in Costa Rica. All the lush grass and vegetation turns to tinder. Unfortunately, this fire and the one that followed 48 hours later were not the result of dry grass, they were intentionally set. It was pitch dark and quiet on the southern slopes of our farm when we saw flames shooting high in the sky. Any other night we would never have seen the fire until it hit the rain forest, since the farmhouse sits back on the north side of the farm. We just happened to be having our beginning of Sabbath dinner out at the cabina on the farm with friends. So we were facing the southern slopes and saw the fires right after they were started. The first night there were three fires set some distance apart. High in the mountains out on the pastures there would be no way for water or other fire fighting equipment to be brought to our aid. My husband had run to the bodega to get tools like shovels and rakes to try to control the blaze. Samuel, a dear friend, grew up in these mountains, and knew exactly what to do...he ran to through the pasture, broke off a branch from a wild orange tree and began beating out the flames. The fires were out in pretty short order and we all returned to our dinner, very thankful to God for being able to control the direction of the fire and get it put out.

The next fire was also set after dark. We were at the farm house so we didn't see it. A neighbor told us our fields were on fire. Daniel and I grabbed our knee high rubber boots, shovels and rakes and jumped into the 4x4. The ride out to the south face felt like Mr. Toad's wild ride, as we bumped and jolted over the deeply cut tracks of the lane, the palm branches and ornamental ginger slapping at us through the open windows. We ran out into the waist high grass and began beating at the flames. This fire was much larger and closer to the elderly neighbors who lived at the bottom of our slopes near the river. We beat furiously at the edge of the fire closest to the tiny house. This left us with our backs turned to the body of the fire... Daniel beat the flames out with a rake and I went behind him covering the coals with dirt so they wouldn't start up again. The smoke was so thick that I couldn't breathe and I worried that the wind would shift and we would find ourselves surrounded by the fire. I was tiring and Daniel was concealed by the smoke and flames. I felt all alone. The rubber soles of my boots were melting and the heat was uncomfortable to the bottoms of my feet, but I knew, as did Daniel, that if we gave up and left the fire to itself,  our neighbors would lose their home to the fire. Possibly it would continue across the dirt road to the Pueblo of Sabalito, where the rest of the families on this mountain have their homes. So we fought to gain control, sweating and choking, our eyes stingng and tearing with the smoke. Just when I thought I could go no further, I felt someone's hand on my arm and turned to see our friends from Sabalito. Two families had come to help us, others were standing ready at the road to keep the flames from spreading to Sabalito. My tears turned to sobs... I handed Samuel my shovel and stumbled out of thick of the smoke to get some air.

I don't know who started the fires or why...we have lived very peacefully and happily up here and as far as I know we have no one who would want to do us harm (it was probably done by those who have issues with the owner of the land we are leasing) . The reasons remain a mystery, but we were comforted by the fact that the people of Sabilto were there to help us and that they were very grateful that we did what we could to keep the fires from taking the Pueblo. I return to the US with the conviction in my heart that we belonged to the Pueblo, we weren't "gringos" that lived up on top of the mountain, we were part of an extended family that lived and worked and fellowshipped in simplicity and joy. The fires just annealed and tempered the relationships that we had already forged. My heart is heavy that I had to leave the place I now think of as home, and all the precious people who have been so dear to my heart... People who in some cases, can't read, don't know the first thing about sending or receiving mail, will never see this post, since the internet is not available to them. People who unless I return to the mountain, I will never see or hear from again.

A Stateside P.O. Box

 Well, after 1 1/2 hours debating with the post office as to whether or not a passport can be considered a second form of identification, I finally have a new P.O. Box! My new mailart addy is:
                                                 Elle.mental
                                               P.O. Box 535
                                           Waxhaw, N.C.,28173

I am  sitting in an internet cafe to post this so I am not yet able to do much blog posting, but hopefully it won't be long. In the meantime, I am working hard to get set up back in the USA and getting acclimated to US culture again... sigh! If anyone feels inspired to send something cheerful to a tired traveler I would be delighted! I will be producing some mailart and mailing out as soon as I find my art supplies. Until then I will hope to see you in the mail!

Stateside Bound

Well, the time has come... I have had to say a fond farewell to my beloved mountain top, to my friends and to Costa Rica, the place that I have come to believe is home. I am presently in the process of moving and will not have computer access for a couple of weeks. I hope to have a P.O. Box very soon and I will post the address when I get it. I won't have time for the next little while to do much Mail Art, but hopefully before long I will be sending something to all those who have followed my blog. I really appreciate your interest in my blog and hope that we will continue to share our interest in all things letter writing and Mail Art.                See you in the Mail!

Another Day in Paradise

383.122 A Life in Letters

It all started innocently enough. I was looking up and down the rows of books on the shelf of my favorite library. I needed inspiration for a creative writing class I was teaching. I often wander the isles letting titles or names call out to me from the shelf. Some of my best ideas come from the 641.5, the Dewey Decimal destination for cookbooks. You wouldn't know it to look at them on the shelf, but cookbooks often have wonderful stories and insights from foreign lands and cultures between their covers. But on this day, there was no conversation on 641.5. However, as I was walking past the endcap where the librarians display the books of the month, 383.122 (correspondence) spoke to me. I could have sworn I heard Meryl Streep's voice from the movie Out of Africa softly saying, "I had a farm in Africa at the foot of the Ngong Hills..." There on the shelf was a book on the collected correspondence of Isak Dinesin, the author of Out of Africa. Since I have passion for all things having to do with letters, the thought of a a lifetime of correspondence sandwiched between the covers of a book really piqued my interest. So I took it from the shelf and found a comfortable chair in periodicals to curl up in.

From the pages of this book came the uncut version of Isak Dinesin's life in Africa. Her hopes and dreams, fears and the courage it took to face them, the pain of failure and the yearning of love lost, all poured out in the raw, unpolished script of letters to lovers and friends. I was so overtaken by the power of these private, handwritten words that I almost felt ashamed to read on, but couldn't help myself. I had to go on, to see her in the stark light of reality, instead of in the smartly dressed and witty, diffused version that I admired from the movie. Reading her letters told her story in a way that even she, as a first hand witness, couldn't do justice. The letters were unguarded and frank.They were not meant for public consumption, and by seeing them on the pages of a book, I came to see the person that she really was, human, vulnerable and flawed, just like me.

By the time I turned the last page of her life in letters, I was forever changed. Not so much by the story the letters told, but by the realization that her story and my story weren't so different. I have a life in letters. Scattered over years and miles, somewhere in the world, people I have written might still have in their attic, moments of my life tied in a bundle with a ribbon. I find comfort in the thought that while digging around looking for something unrelated one day, someone could run across my letters and from the pages hear my voice.

New Toucan Mail Art

We have a nesting pair of toucans in the tree behind our cabina. They have a nest in a hole in the trunk of a Mango tree. They are so beautiful; it is hard to believe how rich their colors are. Toucans are very skittish around people so getting photos of them is difficult. You have to stay out of sight and hope that they don't hear you.

I made this faux mail art post card in celebration of the nesting Toucans. The photo is of the male toucan , who was at the time of the photo sitting in one of the huge mango trees down the lane from their nest. I hope that we get to see the fledglings emerge before we have to move back to the US. What a treat that would be!

Addition on April 8, 2010

A few days have passed since I posted the above. Since then I have taken to setting up the video camera in the pasture where the Toucans live. I have left the video camera running for hours at a time and then taken the camera back to the house to watch and fast forward to activity to and from the nest. It has been very educational. After being educated in the habits of nesting toucans, I felt like I might have more luck at actually capturing them with my still camera. So off I went to the large mango tree where the toucans are nesting, equipped with the video camera on a tripod and my still camera around my neck. I knew that my approach would spook the sitting toucan and that she would fly off a short distance as a diversion. So I didn't try to sneak in. I just walked into the area and started setting up the video camera. As expected, the toucan popped out of the hole and flew away. Once the video was set up I went and consealed myself in a large planting of Bird of Paradise, thinking that when she flew back to her nest she would fly over and not see me, as I was covered by the tall leaves of the planting. It was mid-day and the sun was strong. The sunburn I had gotten from an extended walk the day before was stinging as sweat trickled down my back. Time went on and on, but no toucan flew overhead. I decided after awhile to change to a more shaded location. So I moved to the line of Mandarine trees that were directly behind the cabina. I hoped that the tree trunks would mask my location from the bird as she came back to tend the nest. Time drug by, those annoying little ants that bite and hurt like crazy had made lunch from my ankles, and still there was no toucan activity at the nest. I was beginning to worry about the unattended nest. I decided that I should leave the area and just be satisfied with the video, when I glanced around at something moving in the tree overhead. I met the stare of the male toucan who was sitting in the tree right above me.... I felt silly. Here I had been standing in the flower bed adding sun to my already crispy nose, and then providing fodder for the little ants from hell, all the while the toucan was concealed in the branches above me watching the show. So I took the opportunity to get some very nice close-up shots of him, packed up my gear and went home.

Later, after viewing the video I came to understand that the toucans had not left the nest unattended. Both toucans can fit into the hollow inside the tree, I just caused the male to come out to distract me, which he is obviously very good at...all the time he was watching me in the tree above me, she was sitting patiently on the eggs waiting for hubby to return so she could get a break from the nest. Obviously my toucan education is on going.

Faux Mail Art

   I feel strange. I am preparing to leave Costa Rica and return to the United States. Practically everthing I own is either in storage in the States or packed in totes to be shipped back when my son leaves on Monday. I will be in Costa Rica for another month at least, with only the bare essentials to live with. The kitchen is bare bones, most of the clothes that still fit are worn to a thread so they won't be going home with me, I have no books, no art supplies, no projects, nothing to cook with but a few pots and a knife... What am I going to do for a month?
   This is the first time since we moved to Costa Rica that I have had time to work on projects. I love what we've been doing here, but there has been no time for art. Now I have plenty of time, and nothing to work with. Sigh. Fortunately, I still have the laptop and internet so I have been playing around with some digital art. It is no muss no fuss, but not as satisfying as holding paper, paint and getting ink on my hands. I am happy though to have some sort of creative outlet.

    For the past few days I have been puttering around with some old images that I found on the computer. Some time ago I had scanned  into the computer a bunch of images that I collected from all over. I ran across them recently and have been pulling images from this forgotten trove, to make a digital faux mail art. Faux mail art because I can't actually mail it. There is no way to get it printed out. Here on the edge of the rainforest there is no Kinkos or photo processing place to get my things printed so I will have to be content with posting it to my blog.

    Actually, due to the wonders of the internet, I can reach more people with faux mailart than with the real McCoy! The only problem is... that it can't be mail art if it's never been through the mail.