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Field of Dreams; Fields of Reality
The movement outside is ludicrous; some of the men are pushing us
to one side while the others are trying to rock the army vehicle out
of its muddy trap. Eventually, they move their vehicle out of the way
and decide that there is only one way to get this god-forsaken Volk-
swagen out of here and that is to push it. Suddenly, there are cam-
ouflaged men surrounding our van, pushing it and trying to rock us
back and forth.
When I looked outside my window now, I am face to face with a
soldier who is desperately trying his hardest to push us out of the way.
We can now no longer stand not laughing and do so openly at how
funny this whole performance has become. I notice that the begin-
nings of a weak smile have surfaced on his face, and gradually it de-
velops into a large grin and finally he begins to laugh. All these sol-
diers are giggling and laughing out loud, which makes us laugh and
thus increases their laughter even more.
After a last effort, all the men managed to push us far enough out
of the mud—and out of the way—to let them now move the Hum-
vee in front of us and pull the van the remainder of the way. Before
doing so, these dirty, gasping men helped us out of the van and over
the muck.
“Lodo,” they said, pointing to the slop oozing all around us.
“Lodo,” we said, having learned a brand-new Spanish word.
As I stood outside, I looked across the chaos to our point of depar-
ture and at the faces of my professors. Although there was some re-
lief in them, there was still absolute horror in their brows and anxi-
ety in their stiffened lips. We hadn’t covered this in class.
Later that night, it occurred to me that the soldiers were so much
more cooperative than I had anticipated their being. I questioned their
motives, and I questioned their humor. Today, sitting safely behind my
desk and reviewing this event, I still have to ponder: Were they laugh-
ing with us, or at us? What ever they were up to on their military pa-
trol, I hoped we provided them with a diversion that kept them from
harassing the Zapatista community down the road. You never know
how or when you might be called upon to serve!
Kate and I returned to our vans, chugged some water, and ate some
cookies. We are out of the mud, sucked out of the dream and into the
