On Being Asked to Leave the Country

In my farm penthouse, deep in the jungles of Honduras, the electricity was still out but now I had water. Well, more like fast moving mud dripping from the faucets. I asked Lupi, my landlord, about the mudslide oozing from the pipes but Lupi had a plan.
¨Gustavo, the water would be cleaner with one of the filters you install with Agua Claro.¨

Lupi was back to playing hardball. I was sure that in her part of the house she was soaking herself with a perfect mixture of medical grade saline solution and imported Fiji artisan water.

"Lupi, it's not safe for me to wash my dishes with this filthy water."
"Sure it is, Gustavo. First you just use the dirty water from the tap, then rinse your dishes with bottled water from the store."
"With this logic, Lupi, I could easily just wash my dishes with my own dehydrated brown-syrup urine as long as I then rinsed my dishes with bottled water."

The truth was that I had been having some personal Oprah time with myself about what I needed to do. And, after digging ditches for 70 hours a week, I discovered that I actually didn´t like digging ditches for 70 hours a week. I set up some time with my immediate boss in Trojes.
"Gerson, I wanted to talk about the documentary that I am here to make."

My regional coordinators were coming to visit in a week. We agreed to start and finish the film before they arrived. The only break I took during the manic filming was when I explained to my local team that I have three nipples.
"Really, all Gringos have three nipples?"
"Yes, but best not to touch mine."


While filming, I enjoyed the easy task of getting perfect audio for an interview on a farm with constant sounds from ducks, donkeys, cows, cats, roosters, dogs, pigs being slaughtered, and finally my diarrhea belly.

When interviewing the regional doctor, I wasn't surprised when after finally setting up the movie lights, we were cast into complete darkness in her office after the town electricity went out. The doctor and I played games as we waited for the lights to come back on.
"Marco?"
"Polo!"

As I was filming all day and editing all night, I decided to move my bed to our office to increase my efficiency.


We finished the video in time to show it to the visiting Agua Claro team as they arrived in our tiny dirt town eight hours from civilization.

"Oscar, are you humming the theme song to The A-Team?" I inquired.
Understanding how isolating Trojes was, he proudly confirmed, "Why, yes, I am, Gustavo."
"Oh, Oscar, you are a cruel, cruel man. I hope you don´t find a hair in your meal--like ever."
"I also had two Wendy´s Frosties before I left the capital city today."
I don´t think he knew how close I came to pouncing on him to hum the Airwolf theme song while I sniffed his finger tips for the sweet, sweet smell of recent Wi-Fi use.

As a gift to my coworker Fredy for being such a sport while filming, I gave him a free photo shoot of him on his motorcycle.


If you find yourself in Trojes, Honduras, consider yourself pregnant.

Anyway, Fredy and I had so much fun that I decided I wanted a photo shoot too. So, with a stroke of pure genius, I had my photo shoot at the nasty dengue and vulture infested landfill thinking the relative location would make me look much more attractive.


The next day after reviewing our video, the Agua Claro team and I had a quick conference. I started the meeting with a lucrative NGO fund-generating idea.
"See, we have these hot-ass girls on an Agua Claro calendar. No, wait! They could be topless, see, as they hold cups of water over their pink parts. They could be, you know, totally panting with thirst. And, get this, the tag line would be Don´t these girls deserve to drink sanitary water? They could be the...let's see, yes, the Agua Claro Thirsty Girls!"
They promptly finished the meeting with, "Craig, we liked the video. How do you feel about going to Haiti?"