The sun beats down unmercifully. I lug rocks the size of a basketball on my hut roof to prevent it from becoming airborne. The tall dried grass dances in the blowing wind. I am consumed. I have been stressed out for weeks, waiting for the moment when my house topples to the ground. It is only a matter of time. At nighttime, the wind blows with force, shaking my house and keeping me up all night in the darkness. I hardly sleep, listening to the screeching sounds of my zinc roof ready to fly off. At certain moments, early in the morning, before sunrise, the wind calms, and I am quick to steal a short powernap.

I do not know what to do with the weariness, with the exhaustion. I confess and surrender to defeat, the sun, and the wind. This is my life in my hut. But outside of the hut, life is normal or usual.

My village supports about 200 people and it consists of 40 mud-walled, dirt-floored houses with zinc roof. Small lawns are kept in front of each house; the grass is cut with a machete. In and around the village are planted yuccas or cassavas, bananas, plantain, sugar-cain, mango, and various types of citrus trees. Small creeks flow through the village and all bathing and washing of cloths are done in the creek. It so happens, my house is next to a small creek for my pleasure of washing and bathing. Most homes have running water for most of the year. Horses, dogs, cows, chickens, pigs, turkeys, ducks, and children frolic around the town looking for nourishment.

Men clear montés, a term for a slash-and-burn plots of a few acres. Usually all of the households have their own plot, but communal monté is common within a family. Generraly, the montés will be a considerable distance, often miles from the village. If one visits the village, the impact of farming is obvious at first.

This time of the year, the whole valley is filled with black clouds of smoke from burning the montés. Sometimes, the visibility is so low, I can hardly see the next town over. The process of slash-and-burn consist of chopping down couple acres of trees in January and February, letting it dry for two months. Making a fire line around the montés, they set it on fire around end of March or beginning of April. The rain should be on its way now to soak the ground so we can go ahead and plant rice, corn, bean, tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers.

Slash-and-burn agriculture has much in common with ecological succession in that it uses the succession process to restore the soil after use for farming. However, due to high demand for food and shortage of land, the montés don't get a chance to rest after one use as it used to be, and thus the land is exhausted. In addition, application of chemical fertilizers increase the degradation of the soil. The impact of aforementioned activities are visible throughout the town.  Life on the edge always threatens to go over the edge, however, the people here are master of adaptation, even in the toughest environments.