And as for me, I was trying to explain to the same friend why I couldn’t even get a (clerical) job at a
library, & had to stop because tears started coming into my eyes, & anyway I don’t really know why not. By now I believe everyone just takes one look
at me & falls about laughing. Oh no, we wouldn’t give her a job. Hoho. Well anyway, I’m nearly 60, have not been employed since 97/98—oh god, is that
right?—so a proper job is basically out of the question I guess.
And there IS going to be a US "training facility" here in NT. Oh why not? The whole place (no, but most of it) has gone trotting down the ruthless road
after the rest of Oz anyway, not that it had much choice, but I can’t stand it when people make a virtue of it. You know the wunderkind, the young ones working their little hearts out... And I realise now that the very first inkling I had of the change was when I came back from Canberra & someone said to me: Oh you in your tropical shirt,
haha. And I look around me now and see: Right. We do not dress tropical any more do we. And those shops anyway have been replaced by chic ones & there
is every day one last straw after another...of old things closing down.
And I will leave this time, soon, because I do not think I can bear to see any more of this in a place I love(d). — JS
Near Laza, Galicia, Spain, Mark Nowak.
Charo told us Galicia is behind in everything. We got a glimpse of that on the bus ride from Ourense to Verin. The bus exchanged passengers at every small
town, each of which seemed to be only populated by the elderly. After passing a communal water source and countless family-sized farm plots we finally made
it to Verin. There we met Dave, Charo’s husband, an English vagabond who recently settled down to start a family in Galicia. He drove us to Rueiro
Carraxoó, his farm which we had arranged to work at in exchange for food and a bed. On the ride Dave told us that in an area where the longest line at
the weekend market is at the pesticide counter they struggle to make a living off organic farming. Rueiro Carraxoó is a medieval-looking village that was
abandoned at least fifty years ago. Dave & Charo have been squatting there for ten years now. In the ruins of a once thriving village there are only a
few habitable houses. Dave & Charo share their house with their daughters Ione and Catuxa. With no refrigerator, toilet, & solar panels that give out
at sunset life on the farm is basic. On our second day Charo hosted thirty members of the organic farmers union she founded. Even in this moment of
excitement the daily obligations of a farmer cannot be neglected. We expect things are going on as normal at Rueiro Carraxoó. Dave and Charo are still
tending the fields, raising the kids, & maintaining progressive optimism, all so far from Madrid. Q
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