Eleven Angry Men, or Labor Pains

[Editor's Note: This is the second of a string of posts on how things have been for us over the past few weeks. This is actually a draft written August 25th.]

Well, we've developed a bit of a tradition on Friday nights. We start the evening by pouring a cocktail and exhaling slowly before remarking that this has got to be one of the most stressful weeks we've had here, and in a long time in general. Then we thank our lucky stars that it should be relatively smooth sailing from here out. Then we tend to fall asleep exhausted just after finishing the dishes. This past Friday was actually quite a bit worse.

I had a rather long day of running errands all over town (thank God I can complain of this, rather than relying on finding someone to drive me). At about 4:30, I approached our gate and honked the horn for our day guard, Francois, to open it. While waiting I noticed several men sitting on the side of our road, but didn't think much of it in our busy neighborhood. I pulled up the driveway, parked, locked up the car, opened the door and stepped out. Immediately I felt crowded as several angry (but controlled) men were so close that I had to say, "excuse," to shut the car door. One of them approached, smiling, and demanded that I listen to their complaints. He said they were all their to be paid. He told me that Senora had told them the day before that they could come for their back pay at 4:00 this afternoon at the house. After they arrived and didn't find her here, they called her, and she told them that Andrea's work had not paid her, and so they would not receive any pay until then; and that furthermore, they hadn't finished the work and so would be lucky to get any pay. Only two of the eleven spoke any English, and so several side conversations were constantly underway, with a brief translation for my benefit. Apparently, they felt that since Senora hadn't paid them, that I should. I called Andrea at work to tell her that we had an angry group of workers in our driveway, and she told Irene (the head of logistics), who told us in return to just tell them to find Senora and get off our property.

I went inside to put away my bag, and said hello to Zoe, before locking the door and returning outside. On the way out I noticed Francois standing by the gate with a stupid smile on his face, waiting to let the next angry mob in whenever they came along. I later determined that he could no longer be called a guard but a doorman.

When I told the guys that Andrea's work pays Senora and not us, this did not solve anything. They insisted that they had been working with the promise of pay for several weeks, and that they all had debts of their own to pay. Several of them angrily asserted that if they were turned away without satisfaction, that they would have no choice but to take the work they had completed with them when they left. For example the pave (French for cobblestone) man would just take the driveway with him. The one who had installed the master bath shower would leave with the shower. And so on. I didn't like where this was heading.

I called Andrea back and told her of this, and that I really did have an angry crowd. I said that if Irene thought that someone should put them in their place that she should come do it her damn self, as they're already making open threats against our house. And surprisingly, Irene told Andrea she was sending Samuel, the head of the guards to clear them out.

The men started insisting that I demand an immediate audience with Senora and Irene. I told them that I had no control over either woman, and that I really wished almost every day that I could get Senora to show up when she promised she would. I said I could no more conjure her up than I could demand an immediate audience with Bill Clinton. Well, eventually the rhetoric continued heating up and I called Andrea (and Irene) back, and was surprised. Andrea had convinced Senora to come, and that she and Irene would be here soon as well.

Sorry, but this is all the further I got. I've decided to include this as is to illustrate how things looked to us at the time. More to follow on the subject.