Journal, March 26, 1976 AM

Yesterday was a downer; it had me wondering why, as I swore to myself. I went to El Maizal while Jay & Susan took it easy at the rancho {beach house}. I discovered that in my absence they had broken or stolen my milk bottles, stolen the plastic "guacal {bucket}" in which I had milked the goats, broken the only decent silage fork, practically stopped feeding silage to the goats, thus leaving the silage rotting in the silo, and hadn’t given salt or hay to a rabbit even once! Why, why do I try? At least if I were working with private farmers, they would be interested in improving their operation in the interest of economic gain. At El Maizal they don’t even seem to care about that!

I laid a few of my complaints on CREHDO’s lawyer (an intelligent dude), but he wasn’t listening, only getting off on practicing his English with me. So it goes.

Eating at Don Tin’s was about the only pleasant part of the day. He’s what Dad would call “a real swell fella”. He just can’t do enough to be helpful, & see that you get served quickly, etc. Plus, he’s always got some new thing on his mind to tell you about or ask about. He’s probably 70+ years old, but he’s always thinking, planning and figuring: how to improve his business; what they ought to do to improve Metalio; even what’s wrong with the Salvadoran government. His ideas are not B.S. either. They make sense.

I plan to milk the goats today, but what I get is mine. If I’m feeding them silage, providing and cleaning all utensils, and milking them, I’ll be damned if I’ll pay for the milk too!

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