milk pick up

 

my father and two sister-in-laws live in the campo. basically, they don't live in the city. i mean, it's more complicated than that, but the campo is rural - which, for me, is anything not in a big, dominican city. 

my sister-in-law has a butcher shop in her house. and a colmado, a kind of everything you need corner-store, where the neighbors hang out and dance merengue. 

it's a nice place to visit, but i wouldn't want to live there. i mean, there's running water and electricity (i know, tecnologia que se entro, mariposa! wao!) but it's cold-as-ice water straight from the river except at 3pm when it's  kind of bearable. and well, the cooking on a fire thing scares me (because there is a gas-stove, but fire-food is so much better.)

my father-in-law works a lot. life in the campo is tougher, and agriculture is just plain not easy. there are a number of cows in the family and my father-in-law is their keeper. every morning he wakes up, gets them from their pasture, brings them to a little shed, milks them and then spends the day caring for them. he's got a little conuco, a garden of sorts for root vegetables like yuca and potatoes and there are chickens running around like they own the place (they kind of do).

i worry about how much work he does - and that he hesitates to share his responsibilities with others. and i get pissed off about it often (he's been to visit us in the city four times in my seven years in  the country), and he knows that. so, i asked him about the milk he's been selling - you know, the basics, how many calves are there, how many bulls, how many bottles of milk is he getting a day and, being nosy, who's been picking it up since the old pick-up-guy moved to the capital.

he tells me, oh, don't worry - the new guy is great, he brings a jeepeta, around every morning (referring to an SUV or pickup truck). i was excited. it would make life easier for everyone. 

imagine my surprise when the milk is measured out and a donkey comes strolling up the path, laden with two huge milk containers. i call my FIL, "ey, papi! i thought you  said a jeepeta was coming?"

he looks at me, then looks at the burro and tells me, oh! his name is jeepeta!