In the night, it rains torrentially, and it is still sprinkling and threatening this morning when we get up. We're all moving a bit more slowly this morning, especially the teens. Two of us are starting to have some gastrointestinal issues, so we start them on Cipro.
After breakfast, we all stand together and pray for each member of the group individually, for strength and health. We make the decision that all of us should go to the work site, where those who need to can stay in the hammocks as necessary, rather than split up the group.
We get into the van and again stop for water and Gatorade. It has turned out to be a good decision to set up a separate fund for water: we bought two cases yesterday plus seven Gatorades and it was only just enough, given the heat and the fact that we of course are providing water for the other workers from San Miguel, plus Arcelio, Alvaro, David and Jacobo. Today we buy three cases and lots of Gatorade.
Stopping at San Miguel, we get out and take a quick tour of the school in action. The first grade teacher, Jacqueline, is also a member of the church. She tells us about their dreams for the school, introducing us to the lively and bright-eyed kindergarten and first-grade classes, who erupt in gleeful chaos as she leaves to show us around. There is a large room ready to accomodate second- and third-grade classes, but it is completely unfurnished and would require a partition to be built. 
She also shows us the library, explaining that while they have a few children's books, they do not have reference materials, nor do they have shelving for the books. The government requires private schools to have both a library and a computer area. Since this school has neither, its rating has been downgraded. They hope eventually to build a play area for the kids as well.
We leave for the work site, bringing different people from San Miguel this time, including a girl and her ancient grandfather, who was a construction worker in his day. He proves knowledgeable and extraordinarily hard-working with his toothless grin. His work boots have no laces and the tongues hang out.
By the way, this is a bird-watcher's paradise: we see an iridescent blue bird with a long thin tail ending in a delicate medallion. This is the torogoz, the national bird. We also see huelcanchilla, chiltota, urraca, telapo, and sensontle. We collect the exotic names of birds, plants and animals which signal the unimaginable biodiversity here.
When we arrive at the work site, they've poured a little more cement and the trenches are getting deeper. The two holes for the main arch footings need to be a meter deep. There is still quite a way to go on these, and it is hard work given the volcanic rock and occasional large boulders to be pried out. We work on digging out the trenches, sifting sand for the cement, carrying rocks over for the wall footing, and probably slowing down and retarding the process but jumping in where we can.
We keep giving our gloves to the people who are really doing the work and we feel need the protection. They politely use them for a few minutes and then place them on the ground for us to take back. In this culture, apparently gloves are not comfortable for those who are accustomed to feeling the tool in their bare hand and have well-earned calluses. They will probably remember us as the crazy gringos with the silly hats who insisted on giving them gloves every time they picked up a tool.
By lunch time, we start another person on Immodium and antibiotics. The heat is also getting to people. It's OK though, the work is going on, we're here, and each person is doing what they can do. It's not too bad in the "casa comunal" - breezy and cooler. The men put up a third hammock using a scary, rickety ladder built out of tree limbs. The three dirty but cute dogs are begging for food with big brown eyes. A sleek white cat and some pullets rummage around us while we eat our tuna sandwiches, sweating. We listen to trilling birdsong in the banana tree outside, and as we lie in the hammocks it's almost like being on a surreal tropical vacation but with work boots on instead of a bathing suit and flip-flops. As we go back out to work, a health worker comes to immunize the dogs for rabies.
In the afternoon, there is more digging to do. Don Roberto starts to meticulously place the blocks on the top of the cement and rock footing, which has re-bar stuck into it at intervals. Jacqueline, the first grade teacher, comes and brings us some zapotes from her mother. They are an intensely sweet orange-fleshed fruit somewhat like a guava. Excelente!
We spend a long time watching Don Roberto's daughter and neighbor work together patiently on an enormous stump that must come out, since it is on the fence line. They use machetes, an axe, and a metal rod to hack it out, root by root, loosening the dirt from under and around it. This particular stump has required close to three hours of tireless work in the full sun and heat. Our North American mindset continually produces images of front-end loaders and stump-grinders, impatience and aggravation, while we see first-hand that persistent, patient, faithful toil is the currency of our salvadoran brothers and sisters. This is equally evident as they work for hours to remove a 150-pound rock from one of the deep footing holes. Once again, we leave around 3:30 to head home.
Memo to self: To the cocktail of drugs designed to keep us standing and functioning in the face of gastrointestinal "concerns", administer a quarter tab of dramamine to all those who are iffy before the van ride - trust me on this!
Back at San Juan, those of us who are left standing have fish, baked veggies with cheese, and the usual other good things. During the night, huge thunderstorms roll through, washing the city with rivers of rain.
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