Do you remember when you could stick your finger into the dial and dial a number to talk with a real person answering you, speaking good English and helping you with your problem-? Not anymore, now you will get a recorded message, then possibly from India or Mongolia · Myanmar · Nepal · North Korea · Oman · Pakistan · Palestine; Philippines; Qatar · Russia · Saudi Arabia · Singapore · or South Korea; all for the sake of the company in question to make more money (for whom~?) So I wrote a song to sing while waiting for a real person to come online, played to the old tune of “MUSAC” instead of Rap~!
SONG OF PHONE EFFICIENCY
One o’clock, Lunch is now all through, I’ll call them now, that’s what I’ll do, eight, eight, eight, two, two, two. Ever wonder who will be speaking to you-?
Ring, ring, ting-a-ting, ready to talk with me-?, Ha, good chance, guess who it is going to be. Fast, fast, fast, a recorded voice, you see, “this is, gobble, gobble company, listen said she”.
“If you want to pay your bill, it’s hit one for you, if you want to check your contract, then just hit two, if you want to place an order, you should then hit three, to buy something else, just hit four for me.”
ME-: “oh crap”, I say, so sore-! Not angry, just a little bit disgusted with her, a simple expletive, while stomping the floor. For MY problem, those numbers did not incur-!
“No, hit a number stupid, you can’t talk to me-! I’m just a dumb computer, don’t you see. I’m here 24 – 7, to make your life easier to be. Lets get back to the numbers, we can start with three”. ! ! “If you want to talk to someone, just hit number nine,” then you listen to more RAP MUSIC, so loud, never fine. But every minute or two, she then breaks in on time, “our agents are all still busy, but you are next, in line”.
Looking at the time, I’ve been at for an hour, and the cream in my coffee has even turned sour, But do they care, no they are trying to do their job, and only driving every customer, left to sob.
The company is not really to blame, you see, they are trying to make more money, from people like you and me, to pay bigger bonuses for the powers that be.
By getting away with their very evil lust, this is their selfish, quick way to cut the costs, they terminated a needy person without a fuss, not giving a consideration to the jobs they lost.
CHORUS (sing between each verse) Hello, hello there, how are you-!, are you happy with all the things we do, when I hear you, I’m happy too, So really nice just not knowing you-!
It was so very many years ago. To Venezuela-Colombia border I had to go. The tiny town of Tibu Santandar, the end of civilization so very far.
The DC 4 landed on a grass field, but the area was dead with no appeal, all was quiet, not a person around, so I decided to walk into the town.
Again like a flying saucer had arrived, leaving no one in town left alive, places were shuttered with closed doors, absolutely no one at all minding the stores.
Soon a jeep arrived and called out to me, asked if I was the man he was supposed to see, I answered “I am the one you are need to meet, but it looks like this town is fast asleep”.
He said well sir don’t you know, between twelve and three no one will show, it is seasta time, we all must rest, not to be bothered by outside pest.
Little did I realize that a town this size, was the largest to be found, civilized. For I was now at the end of the earth, go farther and everything was dearth.
So into a petroleros camp I landed, where everything needed, could be demanded, civilization had been brought into this place. Little did I know what I was to face.
I was fitted out with proper cloths, given a revolver, never expected one of those. Told that in the jungle where I must go, people were wild, but animals more aggressive though.
So through jungle we cut a path, worried that we may cause the wrath, of the natives, we should not know to worry, for ahead of us they they would scurry.
You see these natives of five feet or less, with only a loincloth was all their dress, and they had not progressed to arrows of chert, and lack of fetching, so ended not far, in the dirt.
They would shoot and then run away, for they were too afraid of us to stay. We often could smell them where they hid, they wore a juice as repellent, same as we did.
It smelled somewhat like china-berries and was a good way to know without worry, a wild creature was not too far away, but we did not know he was not there to stay.
Then one night at the bodega, a raid was made by an instigator, only wanted jerrycans, pots, and machetes, though but they were surprised by el sereno.
When he saw he was out numbered, he turned, running from where he had slumbered. And they from fright cut arrows loose, being fletcherless they only found his caboose.
We were called from our hammocks while asleep, to attempt to see if his life we could keep, but quickly we saw his big “behind”, looked somewhat like a porcupine.
You see these arrows do not go too deep, but the barbs on them are meant to keep, so where they land, you can’t pull them out, at least you can’t remove them without a shout.
But the practicante knew just what to do, he had done this, at times, to a few, he had a piece of copper tube, sharpened on one end, to which he added lube.
Placing it over the arrow and pushing it down. Closing the spread of barbs, where they were found, and then pulling them out quick and neat, before long Julio was back on his feet.
This poem is about my experience in the Western part of Colombia, and going on into Venezuela. It concerns the Motiloni Indians, several communities who were minding their own lives, having never been “civilized”. I did not consider them aggressive unless, like any animal, they were cornered, which was not very likely.
I considered these small people much as I would do a wild deer. They had never been conquered by the Spanish and were still living in the jungle as they had for eons. They were more afraid of us and if we happened on one of their villages it would be empty, and they would be gone, (but not far). When we flew over them in a helicopter, they would shoot at us, but their arrows were not fletched and they did not have stone arrow heads but rather a nice long arrow which were split and barbed on the end, mostly for shooting iguanas, birds and small animals. Somewhere I have photos of this, but need time to find them. They just were not meant for people, but they did have poison on the tips which could give you fits.
I did collect artifacts found around them; arrows, and feather head dresses, etc. The company, (powers that be), convenced me that they belonged to the company to put in their little collection, and they later ended up in the Witte Museum in San Antonio. I checked on these things years later and found that they were stored somewhere in storerooms never to be exhibited as far as I know.
You could smell the Indians while not seeing them, they rubbed a juice somewhat like china berry juice on their selves to keep gnats and mosquito off. If you caught sight of them it was like seeing a deer running away.
A young boy was captured with the idea that the Government could train him; and he could go back helping to “civilize” them. As it turned out when they released him a year of so later he was not accepted back by his tribe and it turned out that our company had to take care of him, which later turned out rather bad for him (and us).
This event really happened while I was there. It seems that they tried to raid our “bodega” and what they wanted was pots, Jerry cans, machete, and hatchets. You could leave an expensive camera or watch there and they would not touch it as they did not know what these things were for.
We did wear side arms in that area, they did not know how to use guns, something we could not do in the Western part of Colombia as that was bandit country, and they would just kill you for the gun.
There is an epilogue to this story which badly needs to be told. So stay tuned.
This abstract (Barco Consession) predates my work but will show you the area of interest. The concession at the time I was there was owned by Sinclair Oil company. Many people ask what I was doing in this end of the earth, this will give you an idea of my work~! Later some of the people I worked with were held by FARC for about a year.
Speaking of anthropology, My life has been involved with the anthropological life of people along with nature for many years. Pushing people and those animals out while clearing land for other purposes, is just wrong, but when they encroach with our life, what should we do~? When they found a way to enter my home and did a lot of damage, then one of us had to give…. It is my fault for feeding a beautiful mother fox near the house, who has pups each season. I long ago stopped putting out feeders for deer as this would not show them that a feeder was a place to get killed. I would feed them when times were bad, and my neighbors would then kill them. They call this “harvesting”, You know kill the animal and then just eat the backstrap while hanging their head on your wall to show how great a hunter you are. I do still have feeders but only put maze in them for the turkeys and quail; the deer can not pick the maze up.
I am in a quandary this morning. Things have been bothering me that only can be resolved by a good talk over a glass of wine with a person who would understand my guilt feelings, and may give me tit for tat. These things sometime can not be put down in writing and often a person sounds like a kluts if they express their feelings without the background being understood. That Coon and Possum are only a small part of my thinking along with the writings of other, people which I am trying to come to grips with.
I consider my place a refuge for me, but also for all the animals, who really are the rightful citizens of this area. My little refuge or holdout for nature, in the madly overpopulation of our earth. However if I were not here, it also would not be here for long; it would either be a “wine place” for “sippy lous” to come in buses on a Saturday to “commune with nature” or a “Wedding Place” with fake amenities for couples to spend too much money toward a marriage which may go on the rocks within a short time, due to money problems, partly due to paying too much for that ‘fake” beautiful wedding. It is happening out here daily and the refuge is rapidly dyeing.
But there is a lot more to my guilt feelings, primarily from my life’s work where I lived among aborigines over all of the Americas, not to mention natives of Africa. Places where “civilized” man just did not go. I tried to count and came up with more than twenty “reservations” and locations where the land should have been exclusively the home and traditions of the native peoples and animals, at least one had never been “civilized” at all, (at the time). Many of these have now been pushed out or amalgamated by “civilization”. In the Americas this has been going on for hundreds of years and with each generation more is lost with only museums and zoos trying to show what they once were. Though I always tried not to encroach, I am guilty too of helping this “civilization” take over.
You would need to know Tami to understand her, she considered those “varmints” part of her everyday life and was not wanting to see them go. By the way each morning she walks out among the deer feeding and they do not fear her~! But in my eyes this was the best solution, all things considered. This is not the first time by far, but it always only takes place when push comes to shove. She would jump out of my ATV and run around to the back where the trap was, and then when I was on my way back home, she jumped down and wanted to run back to where we had left them. Would it not be great if more of us had the compassion of a dog~?
I have not covered here what is really bothering me, but this was a part of the provocations along with a couple of posts which I have read over the past few days. Unrelated, yet related~!
I have for a long time built and maintained Brown Head Cowbird Traps as well, but do not need this on my place. Please read about this elsewhere because it is too long for me to post here.
I awoke rather early as per usual this morning and felt that it was time to check on all of my friends and family who may now be Corona-virus “shelter in place” prisoners. This is always the same for me, as I am always in place~!
I hope all of you are doing well and have a good book to read or some other thing to do, as the TV only has negative news making your imprisonment worse.
As for me, I always have at least one book near me with a couple standing by. But today I am working on my journal…. Some day I will finish this, but then I guess the last line will only be “the end”.
Nothing new from here, still trying to get over that fall; and except for a few sore places and a wrist brace, I am doing fine. Just me and the animals. I had a huge coon get into the sun porch a couple of nights in a row and the two cats disappeared for three days at the same time. Cats are funny that way, they decided that if I was going to have coons, they were moving out, and after I trapped him and took him to new lands far away, they finally came home, but this had me afraid that something had happened to them…I will bet they were down under the Jacuzzi; a good place where they like to go to hide.
It looks like Joe Biden about has the election sewed up and I hope he is smart enough to get Amy Klobuchar as his running mate as this would make the presidency a sure thing for us.
God forbid that Sanders would drive me crazy with pointing his finger at me and yelling, as per Trump has done for almost four years. Is it only four years~? It seems like a life time~! I am ready for a little calmness, after all of that “make America great” crap~!
That about brings you up to date on my interesting life, so what is happening to you~?
Yesterday was such a beautiful day and the flowering trees were all calling me into my woods. So I planned to do so early today when the sun was still low. Well best laid plans, today turned out with heavy misty fog and light rain. But I tried anyway. The plums have started to wilt a little but got a couple of photos of red buds. Most are under story and hard to see on a dull day.