The Man of Your Life

However, at around 5am as we rounded a corner in the dim light of pre-dawn, we were met by a long line of various vehicles jamming up the precariously narrow, dirt passage. Quite a distance up the road, but within visibility, a passenger bus like ours was clearly stuck. For about thirty minutes I watched quite a ridiculous charade of the bus, engulfed in exhaust and a gaggle of heaving, pushing, and pulling men, slowly advance up the pass; getting stuck, advancing meters, getting stuck, advancing meters until finally it crested the hill chased by a long line of its passengers racing to hop back in before it descended.

With the roadway now cleared, the long line of waiting vehicles from both directions, began attempting the pass. Several large cargo vehicles and four-by-fours (one containing a cow most certainly headed for market) were slightly luckier and struggled, fish-tailing and tire-spinning their way successfully to the top in one try. Unfortunately, the next rear-wheel drive passenger bus (again like ours) wasn´t so lucky and quickly became lodged sideways in the road. This time, I climbed down from my poor vantage point and hiked up the road for a better view of the action.

Approaching the scene, the situation became clear; it was like mud bogging the Andes with a bus. Men in waders, armed with shovels, sloshed around a 50 meter stretch of the road attempting to create traction by bringing dry dirt from the side embankments unto the roadway...embankments that are sure to erode dangerously as they´re carved into, but that´s next weeks problem. Typically, an even larger group of men stood idly by shouting out orders and opinions about the best way to go about unstucking the bus. The bus, cheerfully named with cursive red paint on its front grill, "El Hombre de tu Vida" or "The Man of Your Life", (which I found to be hilariously ironic) spent the next hour-plus with its wheels helplessly swallowed in mud, being pushed, prodded, and tied to other vehicles until finally it was pulled free by a tractor that seemingly appeared out of nowhere to its rescue.

Watching the scene was quite incredible and I couldn´t help but be overcome by thoughts of development. Its so easy to sit back and wonder why poor countries can´t just work harder...grab life by the bootstraps, rise out of poverty and develop for godsakes. I have been privy to hearing countless similarly closeminded and borderline racist comments. But watching that scene was a sobering dose of reality. There were men in business clothes, presumably headed to the city for work, ruining their one pair of dress shoes as they tried to push the bus out of the mud and several dozen young kids in school uniforms (who had woken up to catch a 3am bus to school in the city) who took to walking the rest of the 10km hoping to still make it on time. Similarly, the prospect of missing a weeks worth of income was surely quiet horrifying for the countless women headed to Saquisili´s Thursday market. I hardly believe improving infrastructure, such as paving, creating gutters or regrading a road that connects rural indigenous people to the closest major city is a top priority for a corrupt government in Quito. Especially so, considering there seems to be pretty serious racism towards indigenous peoples everywhere in Latin America. Thus, the people are left with little options other than leaving the house everyday of the rainy season equipped with rubber boots and shovels.