What a day! About 10 of us met at 8.30am yesterday to help a church member with a project involving dirt, shovels, pickaxes, and wheelbarrows. I, who was asked to round up people, was under the impression that we would work our tails off until around lunchtime, eat, and then hit the road. We instead left “early” at 3.15pm – half of the group was ready to leave after lunch, but the other older ones (older definitely trumps younger) thought it was perfectly reasonable to stay until 5 or 6pm (not surprisingly, those of us who wanted to leave earlier were the ones working the hardest). Even if we didn't stay as long as some wanted, we got at least half of the project finished.[is this Roberta or American Roberta: I would rather work very hard for 4 hours than "halfway" (Dedu) for 8. i assumed this was a univeral thing, but in a place where people typically prefer to spend their time with people of all things...halfway seems to be the way to go. I'm not sure why I thought about this so much yesterday - maybe because I view my task-orientation as a bit of an obstacle sometimes...especially because I'm around people so much. Does that make sense? It's a lot easier to be people-oriented when I'm home alone.]
Okay - so the first picture doesn't look nearly as impressive as I think it should. It's hard to tell, but we moved several hundred wheelbarrows full of dirt from the monstrous pile in the garden up to this new area of flat-ness.
Now I know I'm not motivated in all areas (ie: planning), but physical work is something that I usually enjoy doing. But I typically like to do it my way (or a way that makes sense to me). 1) If I say I can carry more dirt in the wheelbarrow, fill 'er up. I think it's rather absurd to think that Roberta running up the hill 3x as often as a gent with fuller loads is somehow easier on me. 2) breaking every 15 minutes won't get the job done. We can be social and sweet while working. I wish I could leave my need for "American productivity" (or, as my bro-in-law calls it, "Clogg efficiency") at the Dulles airport, but it's really ingrained in who i am... 3) Several thoughts that I'll leave to myself for the present regarding work ethic, local forms of what I'll call "reverse encouragement," and, er, more.
That said, none of the gents chided me about not using a wheelbarrow this time. They, in fact, were quite a hoot to work with. These 4 gents between mid-30s and mid-50s talked, joked, and teased each other...and worked some, too. It's funny to see competitive machizmo (ie: "I can destroy something faster than you! arr! I also still think bodily function humor is funny and thank goodness the American girl can't understand...wait...she just snorted.")
So, yeah, a good time was had by all. My arms don't hang normally today (135 degree angles), my fingers are still a bit swollen, and my back is a bit more beastly - but...I love this feeling! The weather cooperated nicely: a few sprinkles, a few nice cool breezes, and quite pleasant. Once we got home, it stormed like nobody's business. Lunch was fun - my favorite Albanian food (bean soup - homegrown), garden tomatoes, and fresh bread - eaten with 13 sweaty people. Yet - I love the look and smell of hard work (my mom is definitely my mother).One of the coolest things, though, is the opportunity for neighbors and family to see a practical example of church family. This kind of thing doesn't happen here. It shocks and raises curiousity levels. And, apart from the simple enjoyment of helping a brother/friend out, it's really neat to think about intensifying salt in this village.
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