Life in Coco: Know Your Role

I’ve resisted it for two months now. Called it “a fluke”. Called it “a freak series of accidents”. Blamed it on poor construction, poor craftsmanship, and bad timing. But now, I’m just embracing it. My role here in Coco is to be the team klutz. I don’t know how it happened this way; I don’t remember being particularly klutzy in my previous life. In Utah, I was Captain Awkward at times, but that was mostly because of awkward things that would happen between myself and other people. Here, it was like there was a vacancy in the klutz department, and God said, “Oh good, Jake can fill-in as anesthesia and klutz.” (That sounds like a terrible combination, but luckily the two spheres haven’t interacted at all.)

The recent wave hasn’t included breaking things, as much as it has included losing things. For instance, in the past few weeks, I have lost both my favorite “fish” necklace and my sunglasses. Now, this wouldn’t even be a big deal in the States. The fish-necklace had sentimental value, but I wouldn’t have replaced it. The sunglasses were $12 at Target. But it’s annoying to lose things here, because they are so much harder to replace.

Then there was the incident of the bird. Yeah, I know…you’re kidding me, right? Lost the bird, again? I woke up Sunday morning this past weekend and could hear the stinking thing squawking outside. I occasionally hear the bird when the windows are open, so I didn’t think anything of it. I had seen it the day before, and it still had plenty of food and water, so I didn’t open the cage. (Which means, this is not my fault.) Well the morning progressed, and I was getting ready to go to church, when S told me that we had a big case that needed to go to the OR in a little bit. So I canceled church-going plans, and decided to rest a bit, pray, and send out a pray request for this case. (It was a very sick lady.) I packed my things in my bag and headed out the door. Before grabbing my moto, I checked the bunny: Alive? Check. Food? Check. Water? Check. Headed back to the bird cage: Alive?… Buhler? Buhler? Anyone? Buhler?

The stinking thing wasn’t in his cage. Then I heard its ear-piercing screech above me, in the trees. I looked up, but couldn’t find it. There are two big trees close together, so I wasn’t sure exactly which one it was in. And to make matters worse, the screech was echoing off the house, so it was really hard to pin down. I shook a few branches, grabbed a broom and tried parting leaves, but was never able to see it. It kept screeching, as if to taunt me. I decided I not have the time or energy at present to be climbing in trees looking for this bird.

I headed off to the hospital and was there all afternoon. When I got home it was just getting dark. I was exhausted and really didn’t even want to think of having to find the bird. After coming inside and setting my stuff down, I decided that if I didn’t go find it, I would officially be the worst house-sitter ever. So I headed back out. The ever-familiar squawk rang out over the backyard. It sounded a bit different this time. I poked in the trees a bit more. I was starting to get desperate because it was getting dark, quick. I thought about going to get some neighbor kids. (That had worked for Elizabeth.) Then it screeched again, and the echo was really different this time. Then it dawned on me. I looked down into the now-empty pool. It had fallen into the pool and was running around down there. I smiled—breaking things has its advantages. I jumped down into the pool and threw a rug over the bird, wrapped it up and threw it back into its cage. Maybe I’m not such a bad pet owner!

Then, there was Klutz-Fest Wednesday. The night before, S had thrown an all-night party from 10:30-4:30. We had three back-to-back emergencies. Afterwards, I went home to crash for a couple hours and then headed back in for morning rounds. I had intended to get out of the hospital by noon to take a nap. Unfortunately, I didn’t leave until 4pm. I crashed for an hour and a half, then got called for a diabetic woman that wasn’t doing well. I grabbed my stuff and headed out on my moto. It had rained really hard that day, and the roads were just a slimy mess. (A large section of my trip to the hospital is dirt.) In one back alley, someone had piled a mound of gray silt. (I had originally thought it was cement, but I guess it is silt that they find when digging wells. It turns clay-like when wet.) The pile had washed almost all the way across the road. It was a bog of wet clay, and would just suck your tires in. Approaching this little mess, I decided that I would try a different tactic. The far side of the road had puddles, but didn’t have the clay. I decided to just drive really slow through the puddles, and thus avoid the muck.

I approached the puddles at a slow but even speed. I was congratulating myself for being so clever. I entered the first puddle and before I knew what was happening, my front tire was swallowed completely into a sink hole. I climbed off the bike, standing in mud to my knees. I heard clucks and slight chuckles from the handful of on-lookers. I struggled with my moto to get it out of the hole. I finally freed it, but couldn’t go forward through the puddle, so I had to go straight back. This left me in the highly unenviable position of having to go through the clay-mire on the other side of the road. But not having any speed, I couldn’t get the bike through that mud while riding, so I just walked through the clay while pushing my bike, the clay squishing up over my sandals and between my toes.

So much for making it to the hospital quickly for this emergency. I arrived and a group of nurses that were waiting for me were sitting outside. They just laughed upon seeing me and led me back to the hose. I hosed off, went in and saw the patient. We got her squared away quickly enough. I wrote some other instructions, and then took off to make it to my Wednesday prayer meeting. I was already late, but thought I could just slip in.

I got to the place without further incident and ran up the flight of stairs to the meeting room. I opened the door quietly and heard one of our visiting medical students sharing a rather serious story about a mother losing her baby. I squeezed through the door quietly, and began to shut it slowly so it wouldn’t squeak. In the process, my back touched the wall right next to the door. And with the deadly accuracy that only a klutz could have, my elbow landed squarely on the light switch, leaving the whole assembly in the pitch dark.

The moment was gone. I flipped the lights back on, hung my head, and walked to my seat to a chorus of laughter and “Hi, Jake’s”. If it weren’t so funny, I might cry. Just too uncanny.

So here I am in Coco, embracing my role in life and being sufficiently humbled. And I’m thanking the Lord for humor, which seems to carry me through a number of my days here. I just pray that I learn this humility lesson quick.