Rake, rake, rake is what I do in my yard. Clean yards being along the lines of importance of religion and food in my town, I do the minimum amount of work required to maintain a sense of decency in my community. The big mango tree is currently my enemy; I must wait 3-4 months for it to hechar las frutas and then maybe we can call a truce.

Last night, as the sun was setting, shouts from a volleyball game across the street could hardly be discerned over my labored breathing. My chosen weapon was a heavy metal rake, the strategy to move a gigantic, already mouldering pile of lives from its station beside the house to the side of the yard, about 15 feet away. By the time dusk arrived and the volleyballers had long ago wandered home for dinner, I was almost ready to wave the little white flag. When the mosquitos rose from their moist-leaved depths to devour my dirt-covered flesh I gave the pile a final pound and ran for cover.

I must note that all of this was being done while breathing in not only the allergy-inducing leaf and grass dust, but the smoke of the neighbors´ burning leave piles. Oh, it was so tempting...why not strike that match and burn the pile where it stood? I haven't even given the charla on the evils of burning trash/leaves/crops and contamination yet. However, there are the ever-present eyes, and my own integrity to consider. These little moments are when I really feel the responsibility of being a Volunteer.