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Thursday, May 22, 2014

Nobody gets in to see the Wizard. Not nobody.

Electric light on Chirimoyal.
Four A.M. in the valley of Chota. Darkness envelops all things, casting the mountains in dim outline against the sky. The water boils noisily on the stove, the only sound left. I pull on a warm camel-hair hat, pour a cup of coffee for myself and sit, staring out at the shadowy forms beyond the black mesh surrounding the kitchen, red nescafé cup steaming in my hands. The foundation trenches have been dug and the gravel infill filled in. It is time for the stone stem wall. One day has passed since the chief engineer of the province ordered Ingeniero Zapata to provide me with rocks from the excavation site.

The gate to the encampamiento appears deserted. I walk up to the hatch and bang on the steel door. I wait half a minute and bang again. To my left is a small guardpost jutting out from the monolithic concrete wall surrounding the encampamiento. The hatch in the guard-post slides open.
"How can I help you?" I turn left to face the unseen questioner.
"I would like to speak with Ingeniero Zapata."
"He's not here."
On the other side of the hatch a security guard in a bullet-proof vest with company insignia sewn over the right breast looks back at me. The time is not yet five A.M.: truth is still a relative thing.
"During a meeting with the chief engineer of the province two days ago at the MTOP headquarters in Ibarra, I was told me to meet Zapata here between four thirty and five in the morning."
"Let me go see."
The hatch closes. My hands are warm in the pockets of my vest. A hatch opens, the one beside the vehicular gate.
"Yes?" says a worker with a white helmet.
"I would like to speak with Ingeniero Zapata."
"About what?"
"About receiving a few dumptrucks of rocks from the road works near the old panamericana."
"What's your name?"
"Bartels."
"Wait here. Ingeniero Zapata is preparing the crew so he may be a while."
"I'll be here," I say, pointing to the pick-up.
The hatch slides shut.
From within the pickup cabin I watch the white cinder block change from black to grey.
"Hey!" The hatch beside the vehicular gate is open. The dawn quiet amplifies the sound of the pickup's doors opening with a heavy click and closing with a satisfying thunk. For the third time this morning I have a stranger's face.
"Well?" I ask.
"The Ingeniero says he can't spare any material."
"Look, do you know who Sofía Franco is?"
"The Ingeniera?"
"Yes, the same, head of the MTOP. I had a meeting with her two days ago and she had the chief engineer of the province call Zapata and tell him to give me the material I'm asking for. Please remind him of that."
"OK, I'll try telling him that..."
"Wait – could you just ask him to come over here and speak to me himself?"
"Wait here."
The vehicular gate-side hatch slides shut. The hatch in the guardhouse slides open.
"Who are you?" asks a security guard.
"I'm here to see Ingeniero Zapata," I say, turning to the left. "His boss called his cell-phone two days ago and ordered him to give me two dumptrucks of rocks from the road excavation by the old panamericana. My name is Bartels; I spoke directly with Zapata right here, two days ago at about this time."
"What do you need the rocks for?"
"For the foundations of a house I'm building."
"Where are you building?"
"On the old pana, just past where they are excavating."
"Ah, that's real close-by."
"Yes. Could bring Zapata for a moment? Just tell him who I am, he should know."
The hatch slides shut.
I kick at the lose gravel in front of the gate. The sun is beginning to rise. Metal rattles and the gate slides open. A white ministry pickup rolls out of the driveway, stopping before my pickup. A security guard walks over. How many security guards does the encampamiento employ? "Please move your pickup out of the way," he says, and points to a strip of bare earth between the encampamiento wall and the highway. I move my pickup and watch the gate close behind the ministry pickup. From within their pickup, one of the ministry men looks at me from under a yellow hat, and then their pickup turns onto the highway and is gone.
Dawn is a strange moment. The sun rises quickly while time passes slowly.
"Sir!" The gate-side hatch is open. I get out of the pickup and walk over.
"What's up?"
"I told Zapata what you said." Ah! At last, an acquaintance! I nod.
"He doesn't know who you are or what you're talking about."
"And I suppose he didn't receive a call from his boss the other day either?"
"That's right."
"Is there more than one Ingeniero Zapata here?"
"No sir, just the chief engineer."
"Can I speak with him please? If he's busy maybe you could let me in and I could see him in his office."
"I'm sorry, but Zapata has already left for the day."
"Well where can I find him?"
"I can't say – he drives around to all of the works in the region throughout the day. Your best chance is in the morning--"
"--between four and five-thirty?" I interject.
"That's right."
"Thank you," I say.
The hatch slides shut.

Zapata . . . !

A house must needs construction to be built. Just so hands must need work to construct. My hands, driving me all about in search of materials, were long in not doing construction work. For a second time in two days I visit the MTOP. This time however Ana, the secretary, lets me in to Sofía's office after a short wait. We exchange greetings.
"Did you receive the materials you needed?"
"No – Zapata said he neither remembered me, nor the phone call the chief engineer made to him – but I don't know, they didn't let me speak directly to Zapata."
"Hmm... In that case, you'll have to submit a written petition for materials, signed by the director of the NGO you are working with, yourself, and me."
"You'd sign something like that?"
"Sure, it's not a problem if we have the signature of the director of you organisation. We can't give materials and services to private individuals, but to organisations, yes."
"Alright! – thank you so much! I'll go prepare a petition for materials with the organisation. Will you be in this afternoon?"
"I'm here from three to four-thirty."
"OK – I'll come by between those hours for your signature."
"See you later."
"See you later, Sofía – and thanks!"