Sounds from the morning 2

It’s 10:30 AM, and as usual in September, at about this hour the morning coolness is wearing off and the afternoon’s sun begins to heat up the tin roofs, making the sound of rain drops as if it were raining. Quite the contrary. It’s just the beginning of an especially dry winter day. We’ll see if this drier weather continues on to October and November, the most heavy hit months for rain.

A man passes the house, shirtless, tugging on his shoulders and head a jumble of pots, pans, and other cast-iron cooking utensils. Who knows where he’s from. I have never seen him before in the community. He’s got to be incredibly strong. He passess by house to house, hoping that a “señora” leaves her morning chores (oficios) to buy something: “SARTENES, OLLAS, COMALES!”, he shouts. These are the perfect tools for this Christmas’ tamales, chicharrones, olla de carnes, and other frituras.

I have no plans to buy anything from him. But I have to admire his determination to even try to sell anything in this heat, much less do so carrying around iron pots and pans. He probably doesn’t even profit much from what he sells, but the little he gains he will take home to his family. It’s humbling. He’s one of the many venders that pass my road from time to time selling anything from newspapers, bread, oranges, to rugs. I hardly ever buy anything from them, but I appreciate listening to their chants from inside the house as they pass by selling.