Una Tortuga

08/04/08

Yesterday, I had one of the most unexpectedly surprising days. It started as a slow, boring day. I did not feel like going downtown, so I walked to the nearby park. I went to my secluded area by the stream and sat down to read. About an hour later, around seven teenagers showed up and walked about fifty feet down stream where there was a rope swing hanging from a large tree. One by one they swung and dove in. One kid, climbed a fifteen foot tree and jumped in.

An hour or so later, a group of four kids and one teenager showed up further down stream and were working their way up. The oldest of them had a net which it looked like he was using to either fish or clean trash out of the creek. The littler kids had sharpened steel rods and industrial-strength rubber bands which they had fashioned into slingshot fishing poles. I can't remember the actual name for this method. The kids each had a few fish. They were scavenging along the far side of the creek, digging through the shrubbery. I returned to my book.

A few minutes later the oldest of the fishers started yelling at the kids who gathered around him. He pulled out a large turtle that looked like a snapping-turtle. Its shell was probably a foot in diameter and very flat to the ground. The guy brought it a shore and threw it up onto the land. The turtle immediately scuttled much faster than he expected and I thought was possible. He pounced on it again, grabbing it by its sides to avoid its head. The kids gathered around and the other group of swimming teens came over. I pulled out my camera to try to vaguely take pictures from my bench. It's difficult for me to do anything vaguely and they all immediately noticed. The kids started talking to and about me. “Para el periodico?” pointing at my camera. “No, por que quiero recuerdo, no mas.” After this the hunter held up his captive and posed. The other kids began shouting “un de toto” and they all climbed over another bench striking a pose and holding up gang signs. By this time a third group of teens had showed up. This group was the equivalent of Mexican thugs, wearing baggy shorts passed their ankles, fancy shoes, and different haircuts.

Everyone was excited about the turtle. One of the hunting kids asked me if I had some money. “No”, I lied. Everyone was asking me more questions than I could understand or answer.

Some of the thug kids asked me if I smoked pot, drank, or did cocaine. “No, me gusta refrescos y jugo, no mas.” He pointed to one of the hunting kids who was holding a small bottle up to his mouth and inhaling. I guess he was huffing something. One of the other kids grabbed it and took a drag. These hunting kids were like ten to thirteen years old.

The guy with the turtle by now had began trying to kill the turtle. He tried to place the head under the bench leg, but the turtle kept pulling his head in. He put the bench on top of the turtle's back and instructed one of the young fishers to shoot it in the head with his rubber-banded fishing rod. He did and the turtle began bleeding, but the rod hadn't gone all the way through the head. At this point the main fisher ripped a shirt into strips and tied it around the turtle, leaving excess on top to form a handle. They then put the turtle into a bag and continued further up stream.

The swimming kids took off as well, leaving me and the thugs. They asked me what bad words I knew in Spanish. I told them. They reminded me of a few others and taught me some that I hadn't learned yet. In return they asked me to translate these words into English, so they could try to repeat them. I obliged them. At this point they either became bored or realized how awkward I was with what was going on, and left. I finished my chapter and returned home as well to watch the Cards lose in extra innings.