Life goes on, on this magical island of Chiloe, but time seems to have stopped. Using traditional methods from simpler times past, the Chilote people base their livelihood on fishing, farming, and clamming. The rhythm of Life here is not controlled by the pages of the calendar nor by the ticks of the clock, but by the changes and the forces of Nature:
| A full moon signifies that it's a time to dig for clams . . . a new moon, a time to plant . . . a storm at sea, a time to fish, and
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 The sea-ground harvest will begin and everyone hopes that Mother Nature will again be generous. Nobody is really concerned about what time it is, it is time to go down to the beach.. the tide is going down. Later at home it will be time for cooking what the sea has provided. Eat what you can, save for a couple of days, and smoke the rest for winter time when tides are not always generous and weather permits it not. This festive ritual has gone for ages. The low tided beach receives and welcomes everybody. Farmers and fishermen, women and men, young and old come along with their families. Ritual? Festivity? Just a task, a harvest? An informal unconscious community gathering? Another chance for the family to be together. |
Roads come and go,
Dawn is here.
A time for clam digging.
The tide is low, the carriages,
Two to three hours the low tide will last, |
Some youngsters skip away, to look and chat with
their loved ones.
The battered straw basket sits by the old man in brown, who still has the energy to provide for his own.
Men and women carry baskets in their
hands
Others carrry children, bags and baskets on their cart.
Some will go on their own, |
The bending and kneeling, the weight carried on their shoulders is a sign of a generous sacrifice. And life goes on in Chiloe, no rush, no sense of a particular time except for house chores. Chop wood for the stove, feed the animals, get what is needed from the green garden and share by the woodstove with its scented smoke the happenings of the day. Many and very simple. The house is warm now. Dusk is here. A time to rest.
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 Not very long ago, walking and horses were the main means of transportation. But, oxen have always been present. Oxen are used to go to the main road to get what the bus from the city brings. To dig the ground to plant. To go into the forests for wood and in winter time, wooden sleds or hollow trees are used. Wheels will not make it. Mud is thick, it rains and rains. Wood, for building and cooking. Wooden tiles in silent brotherhood will stand next to each other for a life time. The scent and taste of whatever cooked on the woodstove is not the same. Frost, windstorms, and the rainy rainy season, has
left the earth green green. And longer and not so cool days send their message that the
soil can be prepared to be seeded. |
 Green into brown. Even pastures into crumbled chunks of earth.
Up hill, down hill,the plow following the oxen slides and jumps,
Man and oxen need a break, so along the dusty road home they go for a well deserved rest.
The skies water the crops, and families watch them grow, hoping, wishing that there will be enough for the family and animals for the year to come.
Somehow, somehow they know that it will not rain for some days. Grass, wheat and barley are cut from dawn till dusk. Nights and resting time at this time are short. The lands givings need to be stored before the next rain. And it works, almost always...
Some neighbor will postpone his harvest to help at the other side of the fence. They will do the same. Not a question asked, just an offer.
Time comes to store what manīs work and nature has provided. There is always enough, just enough, for the family, for the older neighbors if needed and for the animals who roam closely as distant-close relatives..... |
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 Wind determines how weather will be like in Chiloe . Southerly wind, the weather will be good, but cold. Northerly wind...Rain, wind and storm. A time to stay in for the family and for fishermen to set nets. Take their boats and defy waves and tides, wait and see what they may catch... |
 The
drowned arm, uplifting,
From "Open Sea", Pablo Neruda
And shallow waters generate long and low waves that fill the nets with fish. These will be a daily meal, some shared among neighbors, taken to the city market or smoked for them to last for some days.
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White spindrift, March on the Island, I see
 And time has come for the wind to change. It begins to move Westward, or it may suddenly stop. Deep blue skies, the whitest of clouds and the beach is green... |
Children return home from school, seaweed is there and probably they are unaware.
Farmers will put on their sleds the seaweed that has piled up in the low sea.
Each family will take enough to enrich the soil they are planting. Into the sea they have gone by boat or foot and the shallow waters they have raked. The sled is full.
Oxen pulled sleds have taken their cargo up hill. It is time for lunch and rest. Later they will take care of spreading their natural fertilizer on the ground. There is no rush for that, and the animals can wait....
The day is about to end. The golden sun touches the skies, the land and the sea.
Nature is present everywhere, and the Chilote people live with it and by it. The extremes, the calmness of the air and the stormy weather has made of my neighbors rugged people...
We do not know exactly what tomorrow will bring, but we do now that there will be a time to enjoy the simple in life, to share family experiences, happiness and sorrow, to be close to the earth to be exposed to a serene environment that very many would like to know that it does exist, where, you can have time to...and a time to... |
