THE MAPUCHE WATER JUG

THE MAPUCHE WATER JUG

After the first morning of the workshop that I did for the medical faculty in Temuco, Chile, Pedro handed me off to his Dean for him to take me to his home for lunch. Apparently everyone goes home for lunch from the University in Temuco. Dr. Sabataci drove me a few blocks through the crowded streets where everything looked like 1950’s USA to his home on a residential side street. Once inside, I was introduced to Mrs. Sabataci, a glamorous woman in a very smart outfit. My professional blazer and slacks were no match for her crisply ironed day outfit. But she was very gracious and in her halting English offered the national drink—pisco. (You don’t say “no” when you’re the honored guest.) Pisco turned out to be a close relation to white lightning, but better tasting.

After pleasantries, in short phrases of English on their part and Spanglish on my part, the pisco was done and we were ushered into the dining room by the live-in cook and housekeeper. Clearly this was not going to be a soup and sandwich lunch. Oh, no. This was a three-course meal, including abalone—out of season, but somehow acquired for the tasting pleasure of the visiting American Consultant. (And you don’t say “no” when you’re the honored guest.) Of course, each course had its own special wine, (which, as you know, you don’t say “no” to when you’re the honored guest). This was followed by dessert and coffee, not brewed Columbian coffee as I was expecting, but powdered Nescafe, offered in a silver container with its own special spoon. (And you don’t say “no” when you’re the honored guest).

That’s when Mrs. Sabataci disappeared for a short while and came back, not only attired in a brand new crisply ironed frock, but also bearing a large piece of pottery—a Mapuche Indian water jug. Her husband explained to me that she very much wanted me to have the jug. “We are so honored you are here.” It was big. It looked fragile. It would take up half my suitcase. (But you can’t say “no” when you’re the honored guest.)

Somehow I got it home unscathed. And even more miraculously, somehow I conducted the afternoon workshop after one pisco and three glasses of wine. I wonder what I said.

The Mapuche water jug today has a place of honor on my living room display shelves. It is special in its own right. I mean how many other Americans have a Mapuche water jug? But more that that, it’s a symbol of what I could do when I couldn’t say “no” because I was the honored guest.