When something can go wrong, it will.
Murphy's Law

Now I know how investors feel. You watch it going down, down, down. A feeling of complete impotency. You're suddenly at the mercy of forces beyond your control. It all happens so fast. Later comes the comprehension, the "what if we had only..."  Then you pick up the pieces and move on. Fortunately no one was hurt.

For me, it was not the stock market that went into free fall today. It was the 500 lb. concrete culvert pipe that we were gently lowering into a newly dug well. The end of the dry season is the traditional time to dig-or deepen-wells in Guanacaste. The ground water is at its lowest point in the year. Rain doesn't mess up the edges of the hole. The ropes don't get all wet and slippery. You're not flailing around in the mud. And the bonus for the guy in the hole is the refreshing coolness of artesian groundwater springs after a week of sweating through layers of increasingly rocky subsoil. When he hit water, "Papi" came up caked in mud, but elated.

Eager to have a backup well close to my kitchen, I had joined forces with some of the true notables of my town. "Papi", noted equally for his prowess in the cantinas and the dangerous work of well digging, was more than willing to work through Easter week. An occasional advance kept him lubricated enough to make it to work but not so much that he constituted a danger to himself. He brought an interesting selection of hung-over help; some of who lasted only long enough to earn a shot or two to take the edge off the morning's shakes.

All things considered, the actual digging proceeded apace. Anyone who can tunnel straight down ten feet in two days definitely makes it in my book. Reversing the sequence of geological time they went through black soil then red, and then began to unearth the familiar "lastre" that is so common on our roads. Equipped with a digging bar and short handled shovel, the going got tougher but the tough kept going until "Papi" was practically up to his waist in water and it was time to seal the sides of the well.

This practice helps to keep the shaft from caving in and ensures that the water entering the shaft comes from the bottom up, hence aiding to filter out sediment and impurities. Back in the day, this was done with handset stone, now, the preferred method is pre-cast culverts, like the ones used for channeling streams under roads. Smart people use a backhoe to lower them securely down the well shaft. We went for another approach.

"We're doing it Estilo indio-Indian style," Papi announced proudly. You may have marveled at the rope work in the village fiestas. Complicated knots and deft turns manage the friction on wood that keeps the bulls in, the gates shut and give the riders a chance for their moment in the limelight. That's more or less how we were ‘planning' to proceed. Forty meters of brand new ¾ inch rope that would have easily brought a hefty Brahma bull to its knees was deployed around the culvert, over a stout teak pole and wrapped around a couple of laurel trees, to slowly feed out as we lowered the thing into the hole. We were ready.

As a firm believer that the laws of physics indeed do apply in our universe, I humbly admit that at times it seems that the law of Murphy trumps those of Newton. Looking back, it is easy to analyze what went awry. However, the rifle shot report as the rope snapped and the culvert disappeared found the crew scrambling for cover and the boss considering Plan B.

With all due respect to the Indians, I informed Papi that I didn't fancy any more dead ones around my place. The crew was happy to consider alternatives that would keep them alive until payday. We had the talent and broke out the tools. Predrilled holes to hang the beasties without wobbling, a hand winch to lift them into place and the best of Papi's rope and wood techniques. Like dressing for a wedding. Something old, something new, etc.

Total piece of cake. Respecting the laws of physics, we made short work of the remaining tons of pre-formed concrete and high-fived around the newly completed well. Murphy, meanwhile, was up to his old tricks out by the highway.

If you haven't seen the new highway from 27 de Abril to Paraiso, be prepared for a shock. It's not just the reflectors at night that brings back memories of landing at Heathrow.  In front of my house the roadbed has ‘risen' at least four feet. During the re-grading of the entry, simultaneous with the physics experiments in the well, the backhoe broke the water line-twice. At times like this there is a very important rule to remember.

You are forbidden to let the following pass through your consciousness, "Oh, God. What else can possibly go wrong?" Don't let your mind go there! In stark contrast to my non-karmic, non-crystal worshipping, non-cosmic based, vibration centered, aural rainbow view of the universe, I never mess with Murphy. With me it is axiomatic that if you give the mental space to the Murph, he'll obligingly complicate your life, make your best-laid plans go the way of my infamous culvert and otherwise intrude on your pura vida lifestyle.

In that sense, today was my lucky day. I managed greater control of the inner workings than the physical world and avoided that fateful third strike. The scary experiences will probably mutate over time into a palette of colorful anecdotes. Evolution has apparently selected for optimism. A more positive ‘spin' on past events helps us get up, wash off the mud and face the new day with hope that things will get better.

In the future, I'll be pulling buckets of clean water out of my new well, for a long, long time. Worldwide, millions of individuals have seen their personal futures disappear with the geometric rate of acceleration that sucked my culvert into the void. Politicians are doing everything possible to keep hope alive and bending the rules of economics to accomplish the task. I'll stick with trying to understand and apply the laws of physics. All the while maintaining a profound respect for the law of Murphy.

Tom Peifer is an ecological land use consultant with 14 years experience in Guanacaste. Phone: 2658-8018.  peifer@racsa.co.cr
El Centro Verde is dedicated to sustainable land use, agriculture and development.
Web site: http://www.elcentroverde.org/