Pax Gaea Human Rights World Post

PLAN B

In our modern world where almost all problems are solved by a phone call or mouse click, it is good to be reminded that life is not so simple in much of the rest of the planet. Let's face it, with online banking, 24 hour customer service lines with people who speak your language, ATMs and virtually every merchant in America taking credit cards, it is hard to remember what life was like before automation.

The first lesson learned was my failure to exchange dollars for pesos the moment I crossed the border. As a rule I never carry much cash, usually $40 or $50 dollars, as most of my purchases are with credit cards or ATMs. Here in Mexico, that can leave even the richest man in a world of hurts because, except for those multi-national companies or tourist driven retailers, few businesses take credit cards. Let's face it, the costs for equipment are expensive, and Mexicans typically price their items at a reasonable rate. To now incur the cost of equipment and the commissions to the banks would force these small retailers, more often than not family owned enterprises, a sizable portion of their profit or force them to raise prices to the detriment of their cash customers just to keep their head above water. Now, I've grown used to carrying a few thousand pesos when on bigger shopping trips. I still don't like to carry cash, but I've yet to feel the least bit threatened for either Pen or me to have to be cash rich.

Mexico is a very gas rich and dependent nation. It has been years since I have given much thought to the importance of natural gas lines. While I may have plumbed in my younger days, I take pride in my reliance on skilled mechanics and servicemen who make their living catering to the mechanically inept such as me. It took me a few weeks to grow accustomed to monitoring my tanks and giving them a good jostle every now and again to determine their contents, switching out my natual gas tanks whenever they run empty, bleeding the lines of air before attempting to light my stoves and water heater and all those little necessities to make sure I had ample supplies of my primary energy source. When I sprung a leak while switching out tanks, I was concerned because I didn't know how to contact the gas people, so one of my neighbors showed me what was wrong with the line and off to the Ferroterro I went to purchase a pigtail, the length of copper tubing that connects the gas to the house (the Spanish word for this item in just that - pigtail - not requiring me to find the translation coleta, which made them want to direct me over to the mercado across the street ... it's "pigtail" in any language I guess). I began to feel that little sense of do-it-yourself pride as I awaited the gas man, who couldn't understand why I didn't just replace it myself rather than stake out the stoops with my lovely new pigtail in hand.

Mexicans take great pride in their conservation efforts. Nothing goes to waste in Mexico, from food to packing materials, as everything has a dual usage. One thing you quickly notice is that Mexican retailers, even the big chains, tend to take energy conservation very seriously. In small retailers, they use very little lighting as, not only is electrical relatively expensive but it is also heavily subsidized by the Mexican government. We've come to the conclusion that conservation is instilled very young in both home and the schools as you do not see people wasting electricity. In the big retailers and most homes, the skylight is a common feature. On that rare occasion I allowed myself to go into the Morelai Walmart (side note: if you find yourself in a U.S. Walmart, play a game. Try to find American made products. Good luck.Every item in a U.S. Walmart is made in a democracy-free third world nation. In Mexico? I had to hunt high and low to find cheap Chinese goods. Most items, including about 95% of the clothes, were made in Mexico. Talk about pumping up your manufacturing sector. I find it interesting how Walmart can be compelled to carry domestically manufactured items in Mexico, but the U.S. can't seem to compel the richest corporation in America to help our manufacturing sector by buying American made or at least making NAFTA and CAFTA wothwhile to our trading partners and featuring more manufactured goods from Canada and Mexico or the Caribbean and Central America. But I guess slave labor wins over fairness to the American consumer. But, I digress...) I was not surprised to find it much more brightly lit than the typical Mexican retailer,but the secret to that brilliance was that the roof was almost entirely one big skylight of white corrugated plastic. This became obvious as a rainstorm rolled in and the American Pop Music blaring through the speakers was drowned out by the clatter of the rain on plastic (thank you, Gaea) and, as the dark clouds dimished the natural light, additional light was turned on to keep the store American bright. But no sooner did the rain cloud depart and natural light return in ample amounts that, one by one, unneeded artificial light was extinguished. Now, think about the cost savings. Rather than running every refirgerator and freezer to maximum levels, rather than keeping the air conditioning blasting at 65 degrees and burning thousands and thousands of watts per hour in unneeded lights so that every big box retailer's floorspace shines with a timeless incandescence like Las Vegas, what about conserving? Perhaps they could then have less operating capital being spent on non-recoupable expenses like energy and maybe they could afford to channel those dollars toward higher wages and comprehensive health care.

Maybe, instead of all of us forcing every item's cost to increase by forcing retailers to accept credit cards, we should return to the simple practice of spending cash and buying only what we can afford. Maybe if we were a little more pragmatic in our purchasing habits and demanded retailers carry domestically manufactured goods, we may spend a little more and I buy a little less but we would reinvigorate U.S. manufacturing. But again, I digress ... because I received a crash course in manual bill paying. We receive our first power bill which came to a whopping 90 pesos (about $9 U.S.) but we didn't bother to notice the date it was due and headed off to Leon to shop for boots for the girls (Leon is the "Shoe Capital of Mexico"). When we got home, we were without electricity, and by the time I stopped cursing and trying to figure out what to do and how I was going to address the coffee isssue in the morning, I gained the presence of mind to head down to the Electricidad. To my chagrin, they closed an hour before I got there, but the soldier posted out front smiled and told me in great English to come back in the morning at 8:00 and they'd solve the problem immediately. So we played cards that night by candlelight, and I resolved the coffee dilemma with a trip to the OXXO, a U.S. like convenience store that let me fill my thermos for about $2.00 U.S. (plus we were able top put in a bit of work before bed with about two hours of battery time on the laptop). And the next morning I didn't have to endure some surly attendent who hates his job and grimaces at me from behind bullet-proof glass. I was instead directed to a nice desk and greeted by very sweet and apologetic ladies who spoke no English and were very forgiving of my poor Spanish and arranged for power to be restored that day. But here's the deal. They treated us like adults. No two or three notices in the mail warning us that we were late paying our bill. It was late, I ignored the deadline and we lost power. It was nothing personal. And when I paid my money, they were kind and gracious and very service-oriented, despite the fact that I was just another ignorant alien who didn't speak the language or understand their protocols. It was an eye opener about what a bitter, superficial nanny culture we have become.

My most recent eye opener occurred today. Last night we ran out of water around 10 p.m. It was too late to call anyone, so we used our bottled water to flush our toilets and brush our teeth and resolved to discover the source of this latest snafu. Our tap water comes from a central plant in downtown Patzcuaro and, apparently, it blew up last night. But they worked on it through the night and got it back on line this afternoon. In the meantime, my neighbor Arturo showed me a little trick. We're both middle aged men, but we threaded our way onto the roof where he showed me three tanks that provided service to the apartments below. Both apartments beside us are presently empty, so he produced a length of hose and got a siphon going, and we began to drain water from one of the two full tanks. "This is the Mexican Way," said Arturo, a 50-ish Mexican artist, permanently adorned by a rally hat and leather vest. "We always have a Plan B."

I climbed back onto the roof just before starting this blog and saw headway on my tank and moved the hose to the fuller tank, drawing with all the strength my smoke blackened lungs could muster to start a very impressive siphon from the other full tank. I sat on the roof for a moment, marvelling at the beauty from my precarious perch with its miles of mountainous view. I realized how lucky I was to be someplce that forces me to be part of the process of my life. It's my responsibilty to monitor my gas, conserve electricity so I don't further tax the Mexican people, relish the cash in my pocket and the good it does for that family who sold me a product at a fair price, to pay my bills on time and not expect a wake up call for delaying, to figure out how things work and to put my hands to the wrench or my mouth to the siphon hose and solve the problem myself. It forced me to get out of our apartment, put the work aside for a few moments, heft my oversized body up onto the roof and take in the majesty around me.

And thank Gaea for Plan B.

posted by Dave Carroll @ 9/22/2006 10:40:00 PM