fish bowels and nowhere

Her tears were the voice of God,

spoken audibly

from the drivers seat

of a white Nissan;

sending me to a city

to practice a message of repentance,

reconciliation, salvation;

but grace appeared the enemy.

But now,

as I foot home,

our story smells of burlap,

and sackcloth.

And for my sake,

when you hear it,

good god,

let your pretty heart jump

a little,

if for no other,

than for the

hope,

I have,

it might.

Because I didn’t set my course for Nineveh.

I took a third class to Joppa, and

in the storm named ambitions,

dreams,

found myself asleep,

awake to screams to

summon God.

So when I drew the short straw,

and convinced this crew

my nightmare,

was in fact

the one to cut your wrists for,

they tossed me overboard,

into an ocean called lovesick,

homesick, godsick,

and without knowing it,

but hearing,

the voice in my body

hit the water,

“dear holy god,

if your holy ears

hear

my soul,

then bridge my reach;

swallow me,

neck deep

in fish bowels and nowhere;

but

my knees;”

like standing,

only laying”

and I pray day and night there,

i pray day and night there; and yet,

these hands

could still clench tighter,

this heart

could still know fuller

three days thirst, before

vomiting me onto her shores.

Partida #9: There's coffee in the mountains, and women in coffee, International Women's Coffee Alliance visits El Manzano

Representing multiple areas of the coffee industry, from producers and exporters to importers and marketers; women from around the world gather in El Salvador for the second Annual International Women’s Coffee Alliance, International Convention, from October 25-27.

On Wednesday, 30 of those women journeyed to Sierra Apaneca-Ilamatepec, to explore Finca, Beneficio, and Tostaduria El Manzano, observing the farm, milling, and roasting levels of coffee production.

As stated in their website, the objectives of the convention are threefold, “to increase the visibility of the organization, share knowledge of coffee from seeds to the cup, and promote relations in the coffee sector.” In conjunction and support for their theme, Emilio Lopez, wife Christy, and mother, Margarita Diaz de Lopez, each having experience in the different levels of coffee production, from growing to marketing, welcomed the group.

The day began late morning, in the garden area of the plantation, enjoying El Manzano coffee and pan dulce. From there, the tour began, following the path of coffee from seed to cup, as Emilio led the group through the construction zone of what will become a new patio at El Manzano, allowing visitors to pause for photos of the bright coffee cherries, blushing from the trees planted in route to their first station, the weighing and categorization station, where cherries are weighed and graded for processing.

They then observed the de-pulping station, where cherries are washed and separated by the mechanical syphon, into two qualities of cherries called sinkers and floaters, before passing through an unripe bean separator, where unripe cherries are rejected, and cycled back into the batch of second quality cherries; at which point, both qualities will be de-pulped by vertical machines, and filtered by horizontal rotary screens, which allow normal beans to pass through, while rejecting any beans that did not get de-pulped, is round, or otherwise does not have a flat surface, ultimately resulting in four qualities of parchment coffee; which are washed of their mucilage in water, and channeled into hoppers, and carts, to be spread out onto the patios for drying.

The women were able to walk the patios, as some asked questions, while others kneeled to hold and smell the coffees, taking photos of and with the coffee, or of the small placards marking each batch of coffee processed, listing its complete information, from batch number, to farm and quality. Completing the drying portion of the processing level, were the two horizontal dryers, which the group visited, staring up the long bucket elevators, and into the two furnaces that, fueled by husk, heat the dryers, before pausing for a group picture in front of the patio.

From there the tour entered the hulling portion of processing, as the group walked through the warehouses, already partially filled with parchment coffee from this years harvest, bagged and compiled according to elevation and certification, ready to pass through the hulling equipment, which removes parchment from the green coffee, and separates it with screens according to size, including a newly installed screen for peaberries; at which point the coffee will be ready for export and roasting.

Before the final stop on the tour, the group paused for stories of historic Santa Ana, of weeks journeying, and wagon trains out to the plantation, while imagining what farm life would have been like from 1870 to 1950, before modern roads and efficient transportation. For this reason, a chapel was built to host mass for family and workers throughout their stay at the plantation during harvest, the altar from which however, having now been removed, and replaced with a black, steel, Diedrich IR-12 roaster.

The Roastery at El Manzano is where roughly 10 percent of all the green coffee, processed at Beneficio El Manzano, will end up, where just over half of that 10 percent will be roasted for commercial clients within El Salvador, (i.e. Pollo Campero and McDonalds). The rest will be roasted for speciality customers, distributed to various outlets, (Super Selectos), also within El Salvador.

As the tour came to an end, the group rejoined others in the garden, for lunch and conversation, all accompanied by more coffee and pan dulce, from a famous shop in Santa Ana, bringing an end to an odyssey that began many months ago, as trees shed their flowers and absorbed the seasonal rains and filtered sun, to produce the harvest that brought these women together, now experienced, shared, and enjoyed at every step along the way.

Damien Rice - One (U2 cover)

Is it getting better
Do I feel the same
Will it make it easier on me now
I've got someone to blame
You say

One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves me baby if I
Don't care for it

Did I disappoint you
With a bad taste in my mouth
I act like I never had love
And I want you to go without
Well it's

Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other
One

Have I come here for forgiveness
Have I come to raise the dead
Have I come here to play Jesus

To the lepers in my head

Beneficio El Manzano: 16 crew, 8 hours, 4 wheels, 2 lightbulbs, and 1 installed horizontal cylindrical dryer

A sixteen man crew, eight working hours, four wheels, three support ropes, two lightbulbs, and one, installed horizontal cylinder for the new Pinhalense SRE-150 mechanical dryer.

There were moments of laughter, amidst others of waiting, measuring, and brainstorming, with reggaeton to fill the patient and often fraught silence, as the crew at Beneficio El Manzano worked into late Tuesday night, in order to install the first of many pieces for the new dryer.

Work began in the afternoon, with two freestanding base supports, and the two ton cylinder in the back of a truck, which needed to go from the latter, into and onto the former.

Using sawhorses to support long pieces of lumber, a makeshift bridge was assembled between the truck and foundation, and wheels were attached to both front and end of the dryer, which they then, rather then lifting, patiently pushed into its suspended position.

Hour by hour, the dryer edged nearer and nearer, until reaching it’s far end brace, where it was then hoisted with a jack, and clamped into position, leaving only the second base to be lifted and bolted into place. As the night set in, a truck was pulled near to cast light on the project, while other crew carried extension cords attached to sockets, and lightbulbs, which shone into the tight spaces where headlights could not reach.

Since the dryer had been suspended in place by sawhorses and lumber, it had to be hoisted again with a jack, allowing the lumber to be sawed in half and removed by hand, making for some tense minutes as the dryer held, suspended, supported only by the first base and a narrow, orange circular jack, which, once both foundations were secured in place, was released, allowing the dryer to rest in its now permanent home.

Ropes were removed, handshakes were extended, congratulations were said, and deep breaths again filled lungs as the day’s work was called and approved, and the feeling of deferred hunger suddenly emerged to everyone’s senses.

Beneficio El Manzano: Partida 7 (Here comes the sun)

With Tropical Depression 12-E passed, the clouds have soon emptied and dissipated, bringing the late morning and afternoon's clear sky and sunshine.

At Finca El Manzano, the new harvest is more visible each day, as cherries begin to show clearly from the trees, intermixed with still ripening beans. Early in the harvest, being a strictly high grown (SHG) plantation, it has begun to be picked, however will not begin full harvesting until December.

While at the mill, seeing some of the effects of the recent rains, many overripe beans make processing more technical and dirty, however, with sunny weather to wake up to, along with a full harvest soon arriving, attitudes are bright and 'cherry.'

We were three worlds, both in one world

No photo could ever capture all that is contained within that tin-wall, double-bench, tarp-covered comedor we call Maria's. I did my best tonight, and would be content if I never took another. These tables are my every day, these faces are family, these friends are true love, and these moments are everything.

We stacked benches on the stove and shelves, washed dishes with wet hands and cold air, and locked your tin windows with wire. I kissed yours and your daughters cheek, hugged your brother and your sons, waved goodbye, and wished as I have before, that I could swallow your poverty as you have mine. I bit my lip and turned my head, you walked that way, and I walked this...

We were three worlds, both in one world, pondering if bridges could ever unify our roads. So you made dough and lit a stove, and I poured coco-cola; and together we sang hallelujah from our island world, and called it home.

Boys - Three

Marlon

If whippersnapper had a photo...

If you were attempting to unlock a door, and had the wrong keys; Marlon would be right there watching over your shoulder, waiting to offer his services to have a go at the door, just in case somehow you'd forgotten how to use keys.

Kid's got a spark, a quick wit, smart lip, and a fantastic excuse for everything; Nothing was Marlon's fault, but always a perfectly good explanation for why he was typing on someone else's computer, late to class, or fiddling through your stack of papers or books; and yet at the end of the day he was the most fun to joke with and at, because more than likely he was the one dishing it out to me half our days together; certainly one of my favorites.

Boys - Two

Javier Francesco Cruz

If any of our students are going to forget everything learned last class, how to spell carpenter, or respond to How old are you with "I'm fine thank you," it's Javier. However, a drummer in the school band, a soft and loyal disposition, and a seconds' fraction away from hysteria, you wouldn't rather him be any other way.

You could not pay Javier to miss class; rain or shine, he will traipse the two miles uphill to the academy with his leopard print umbrella and second-hand bowling jacket belonging to a Stan Andrews, in order to sit in his usual spot at the boys' table, back against the wall, next to Carlos, whom he'll nudge pre, during, and post lunch for consistent, confirmed laughter.

I didn't want one one photo, chopped up into many, but many photos, telling one character. It's an idea.

Boys

Since arriving in El Salvador, I have been working with an organization, teaching and getting to know a group of students from a community in Los Planes de Renderos, a rural area composing one of the outskirts of metropolitan San Salvador.

The name of the organization is Passion for Purity, and while they teach English, their primary purpose and goal is discipleship in the gospel, and I am grateful to them for opening the door into the lives of each of these kids, into their abilities to learn, and hunger for laughter and community. Their needs are many, and potential likewise.

I am not leaving El Salvador, but am moving to a new region, to begin work at a coffee plantation. In light of that, I brought pizza and Coke up from town, to the bible study Nicole and Noemi lead with our students on Saturday afternoons.

Afterwords the kids and I sat, ate and, mindful of our inability to communicate fully, loved through our laughter, deep smiles, and mutual understanding of that small candle within us burning at both ends.

We said our goodbyes, and I walked them to the gate, where we waved, hugged, and said goodbye once again. Thinking it was the last time I'd see them for a short while, I was surprised, yet pleased when Edgar's face peered around the door to our classroom, with hand soon following, holding a cone with coconut sorbete and raspberry topping, sold for 25 cents from a man in town that walks the streets with three-wheeled cart and bell.

I said more than thanks, and followed him out to the gate once again, knowing sorbete tastes best under a clear sky, but now noticing two other of my students, Javier and Carlos, also buying ice-cream, (pause here, for clarification, that sorbete is like ice-cream, but not ice-cream; not necessarily better, not worse, only like, but not ice-cream). I strolled over, raising my cone as I approached, to signal approval and gratitude, motioning across the street, to the mirador, as a clear location for us to unveil more than delicious from our snack. All concurring, we both-wayed and crossed the street, passing through the small black gate and single-filing, then shoulder to shoulder against the stone wall that marked the ledge, over-looking the nation's capital.

We didn't speak, solely surveyed, taking in the newness of blue sky and chilled air, white clouds and all that was the present. A photograph would have taken away from our pure pleasure and perennial contentment, however I did take one picture, as I glanced at the three boys and their ice-cream cones, staring out, thankful and non expectant at the city below, developed it in black and white and hung it at the forefront of my soul; reminding me of the things I hope to live for, and an Edwin Arlington Robinson poem I once read...

I: Boys

WE were all boys, and three of us were friends;

And we were more than friends, it seemed to me: --

Yes, we were more than brothers then, we three. . . .

Brothers? . . . But we were boys, and there it ends.

We finished our cones, and by this point had defined in spanish and english all the geographical landscapes we could spot with our eight eyes; at which point Carlos opened his backpack to reveal and retrieve four mandarins he'd picked while visiting his grandmother, polishing them with his palms before offering them to each of us, chuckling, hiding then, what we'd find out five minutes later, that we had 35 plus, mandarins in his backpack, at which point, we too laughed, each narrating a story of our own as to how Carlos managed to pick and conceal such treasure from us all afternoon. We peeled, and ate, and stared, and ate; before again breaking the silence by attempting to land the seeds spit from our mouths onto a decorative ledge roughly five feet beyond and ten feet below where we leaned against the stone wall. I was the last to accomplish my own objective, only to regain my high standing by retrieving three more mandarins and juggling them near the ledge of the lookout; gaining glances and slight applause before losing control and hitting a mother on the right shoulder, to whom I apologized, and feigned embarrassment for being the adult in my group. In reality, I was thirteen, and could not have felt ashamed even if it were appropriate.

We finished our mandarins, and absorbed a last look at the city, as I took one last photo of my friends for the dashboard of my eyes. They had nothing, and they had everything.

Other day, same sky, students, more like friends.

....I studied

Their faces and made for myself the story

Of all their scattered lives. Like brothers

And sisters they seemed to me...

Edwin Arlington Robinson

One for a deep cup and an empty wall, or sky

Edwin Arlington Robinson

from The Night Before

...When or where I first met the woman

I cherished and made my wife, no matter.

Enough to say that I found her and kept her

Here in my heart with as pure a devotion

As ever Christ felt for his brothers. Forgive me

For naming His name in your patient presence;

But I feel my words, and the truth I utter

Is God's own truth. I loved that woman, --

Not for her face, but for something fairer,

Something diviner, I thought, than beauty:

I loved the spirit -- the human something

That seemed to chime with my own condition,

And make soul-music when we were together;

And we were never apart, from the moment

My eyes flashed into her eyes the message

That swept itself in a quivering answer

Back through my strange lost being. My pulses

Leapt with an aching speed; and the measure

Of this great world grew small and smaller,

Till it seemed the sky and the land and the ocean

Closed at last in a mist all golden

Around us two. And we stood for a season

Like gods outflung from chaos, dreaming

That we were the king and the queen of the fire

That reddened the clouds of love that held us

Blind to the new world soon to be ours --

Ours to seize and sway. The passion

Of that great love was a nameless passion,

Bright as the blaze of the sun at noonday,

Wild as the flames of hell; but, mark you,

Never a whit less pure for its fervor.

The baseness in me (for I was human)

Burned like a worm, and perished; and nothing

Was left me then but a soul that mingled

Itself with hers, and swayed and shuddered

In fearful triumph...

Beneficio E Manzano: Partida #6 (Report on Tropical Depression 12-E)

After ten long days of the highest recorded rainfall in El Salvador since 1960, the rains have reached an end; at least in the torrential, 24 hours-a-day category.

However, despite the optimistic reports of the first sunshine in a week and a half, and sub-sequential reinstating of coffees back onto the patio, we await reports and coming estimates of damages to not only the Central America region’s total coffee production, but to our own plantations as well; accompanying the effect that these reports may have on the global coffee market, and international prices for arabica coffee.

In Atlantic Specialty Coffee, Inc. report, Central America takes stock of rain damage to coffee, published October 18, Hernando Urena, manager of Costa Rica's national coffee cooperative federation comments, "We've already had nine days of uninterrupted rain and the coffee is ripe. Too much rain makes the berries swell up full of water and burst, and then they fall off."

As we walked the plantations, Emilio pointed out the these effects at both Finca Ayutepeque and El Manzano, however, noting more severe damage to the trees at Finca Ayutepeque, located at an altitude from 1,000 - 1,100 meters, as opposed to El Manzano, which is from 1,300 - 1,550 meters. All measured, the farm experienced a meter of rainfall, and at a lower altitude, cherries at Finca Ayutepeque ripen sooner, and therefore, at this point in the harvest, are more vulnerable to rain and heavy winds.

Scores of ripe coffee cherries lay in the dirt surrounding the trees in certain regions of the plantation, many of them split open. Many others, bulging with fluid, falling with a slight touch or sway of the tree; Emilio estimating as much as 15 - 25 percent of first ripened cherries to have been damaged or lost in initial areas, specifically those planted with the bourbon varietal.

Red Bourbon, is one of more than five varieties of coffee growing at the two plantations, comprising 95% of all the coffee grown. It experienced a greater degree of damage to its cherries than did other varieties observed, such as Pacas and Acaia; due to the fact that its branches and clusters of cherries are more spread out, as opposed to a much tighter, consolidated series of branches and clusters on other varieties mentioned. As a result, its cherries are more exposed to sunlight, causing them to ripen quicker, and again, leaving them more exposed and vulnerable to the wind and rain experienced.

Atlantic Specialty Coffee’s report goes on to site the uninterrupted rain as a potential cause for damage to the future crop as well, as a lack of sunshine can give fungus the environment to spread very easily throughout plantations.

While Emilio is confident this kind of damage will not harm the crop at El Manzano or Ayutepeque, we cannot speak on behalf of other plantations, and can only wait for time to tell of the total effect that this storm will have the region for the coming harvest.

i carry your heart

i carry your heart -- EE Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

If you love me, love El Salvador

The rains in El Salvador have fallen, and with them roads, and bridges, roofs and walls; fathers, mothers, and children. The need is beyond any i've known with my two literal eyes, or hands, while photographs seem misplaced, as creativity at their expense is beyond my maturity to portray with pure motives.

If you love me, love El Salvador. Pray for fathers without homes or jobs, mothers without food, and children without blankets. And pray for east africa and palestine; and much of the world, who were without food and homes long before we had a rainstorm and a story to bolster my heroics.

I want you with me;

i need godliness and family;

selflessness and charity,

direction and clarity.

When "I'll drink it black" meant I love you

I remember the day you said you loved me, in fact I remember many, however there was one in which you said it looking beyond my two eyes, and into the part of me that made was wholly Michael, far beyond your nephew.

I was fresh off the trail of a story I'd been buzzing, about a roastery in some warehouse, with some company I wasn't even convinced I knew the name of; about coffee, roasted coffee, that I had seen drop into the drum, from a hopper loaded with my two hands, that I had seen turn circles, above fire and heat with my two eyes, and I had made the call after first crack with my own sense, to let full air through the roasting drum, and soon switched on the cooling bin, before lifting the bar and door to let each bean spill into its ocean of deep brown and smoke.

And after lunch, was a moment I lost sleep for; when I'd brew that religious pot of pre-dishes, mid-desert Sunday coffee. I made every women in the kitchen furious, pulling open cabinets, plugging in the grinder; making what would seem like a routine, sober task, comparable to a British monarch's coronation.

I prepared five or eight cups, and even french-pressed one for my dad, being over-meticulous with the press and pour, like I was threading coffee through mug needles; and set them out on the table; intentionally serving without cream or sugar, hoping my first tasters would take my word for it and search the darkness, the untainted truth, to find something beyond usual weekday morning or sunday afternoon; however, as expected, cream and sugar were soon placed at tables center.

Askance, I quickly righted and tossed glances to each table head, obscurely noting if anyone had caught the chagrin in my demeanor. Nothing, hands nor lips moved in fluid, as my brain processed reaction, like a referee interrogating instant replay for foot placement on a sideline catch. Then, my eyes caught note of my Uncle Ron, forming the words, "I'll drink it black."

I was inwardly beaming, while outwardly annoying; taking each of his sips with my eyes, to the dregs of his cup with my overbearing questions; but truly, happy.

In retrospect, it wasn't fantastic coffee. It was non-organic, marked 'humanic,' over-roasted, and perhaps, good; but for whatever reason, in my naivete, I had taken a piece of what made me Michael and brewed it that afternoon, poured it into a black-rimmed, white glass cup, and set it out on the Sunday dinner table, exposing my sincerest self and wants; to which he, in his supportive benevolence, saw into my imperfections and shadows, and said, "I'll drink it black."

Where you at Drew Barsalou?

I remember a black suv,

chick-fil-a coupons,

and battling zach cole for shotgun;

medieval europe,

lacrosse sticks,

laughter;

'it's too late to apologize' and

your ever dramatic social scene.

What else did we need in life,

honestly,

but the all consuming immediate present?

We lost touch.

I hear your dating a girl now.

I'm sure if we collided, we'd reconvene

that scene,

like yesterday never came between us; but

must we remember life

is not an eternal university campus.

And a nine to five no longer consists of

Dr. Poe's 3:30, Tuesday - Thursday;

and your,

mid-afternoon perma-snack

that never seemed to stop flowing from your

quicksilver/billabong/some surfboard company

back-pack;

(ZC, back me up on that one).

I can't speak on behalf of what you were

to any one else who crossed your path, an

intellectual, honors buff, paper-writing - sandal wearing

goofster; but

hard-to-get-a-hold-of

aside;

it was always worth the time.

Wherever you are;

these days I hope

you got someone

riding shotgun;

because at least, to their gain,

I'm sure as any,

they've got a good story to tell.

Don't Dress, You're Beautiful

We are the more marketable,

but you are without doubt the more authentic.

And while more people will love us;

those that do, will love you exclusively more.

For we, (I and they), sold a piece of our sincerity, when

we pursued marketability,

an external sell;

that went beyond the nature of being,

and into the nature of being seen,

which in the beginning meant nothing

to Adam and Eve.

"And they felt no shame."

But once perceiving being seen,

we realized our nakedness,

and subsequently clothed ourselves

in fabrics never designed to be worn. Like advertisements;

when nature’s inclination already tells us what we need,

we now live inside a world aiming for the things we don’t.

So please don’t dress, you’re beautiful.

Indelible Grace: Jesus I my cross have taken

1. Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee.
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my all shall be.
Perish every fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known.
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heaven are still my own.

2. Let the world despise and leave me,
They have left my Savior, too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
O while Thou dost smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me,
Show Thy face and all is bright.

3. Man may trouble and distress me,
’Twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.

4. Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn and pain
In Thy service, pain is pleasure,
With Thy favor, loss is gain
I have called Thee Abba Father,
I have stayed my heart on Thee
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather;
All must work for good to me.

5. Soul, then know thy full salvation
Rise o’er sin and fear and care
Joy to find in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father’s smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to win thee,
Child of heaven, canst thou repine.

6. Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith, and winged by prayer.
Heaven’s eternal days before thee,
God’s own hand shall guide us there.
Soon shall cease thy earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days,
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

It was a

grey sky and fog, an

it rained all day, a

water flicked by your shoes onto the back of your thighs, a

frozen burritos and tater-tots for lunch, an

i really enjoy laughing with these kids, an

"I make juice," an

umbrellas hanging from the window bars, a

there's a leak in our roof, an

i think i'll cook dinner tonight, an

i met my nephew for the first time, an

over a skype conversation, an

i talked to my sister and her kids, an

i want to share coffee with my brother, a

greg zajicek motivational conversation, an

i miss teaching history, an

i'm neck deep in a presentation i should be preparing for, a

no i won't cook dinner tonight, a

there's always love at Mariah's comedor, a

sure why not, my body can handle entirely fried food, an

if you add enough sugar to corn-hash drink, it'll taste pleasing, an

i don't want to do this alone and

i wish i knew how to tell her so,

kind of day.