For whom are you waiting?

So, all I knew regarding arrangements in Cajamarca was that a certain "don Gilberto" would be meeting me.  I didn't figure that would be a problem, especially when I saw the size of the airport.  When I walked out of baggage claim, I immediately saw a man and a young boy with Down's Syndrome among the small crowd of people awaiting the arriving passengers.  However, when I passed by them, they made no indication of recognizing me, so I kept on walking.  A person doesn't have to take too many steps to get to the doors that lead to the parking lot, so I was soon there.  And nobody seemed to be waiting for me.  Approximately forty-nine taxi drivers were offering me rides all at once, so despite the limited space, there was a lot going on.  I denied all offers of taxi rides as I exited the airport to glance around the parking lot.  Seeing no one that particularly looked like a don Gilberto,  re-entered the building to wait.  He probably just hadn't arrived yet.  I waited and I waited and I waited.  And the man that I had initially spotted when I came out of baggage claim and the boy whom I supposed was his son were still waiting as well.  By this time, pretty much everyone else was gone.  "Should I go up to this man?" I wondered.  But, no, I was sure that he had seen me, both when I came out of baggage claim and another time when he had gone out into the parking lot briefly and then come back in.  After a little while longer, however, I had nearly convinced myself to go up to him and ask if he was by any chance don Gilberto.  At that point, though, a woman with very short hair came up to him and started talking to him before they just stood there in silence, apparently waiting together.  "Must be his wife," I thought.  So it's not don Gilberto after all.  Then he went up to an airport employee and began talking, indicating the doors that led back into baggage claim.  Then he got on his phone.  I had a phone too but hadn't had a chance to put in my Peruvian phone chip, meaning that I was still unable to make any calls.  I didn't have a phone number for anyone in Cajamarca anyway, but I did have a number for one of the sister workers in Lima.  I was just trying to figure out how to take my phone apart to get the chip in just in case I would need to make a phone call eventually, when the waiting man looked over in my direction.  His face lit up, and he and the boy started walking quickly in my direction.  "Kamela?" he asked me, grinning.  "Don Gilberto?" I asked him, smiling.  Turns out, that's exactly who it was.  Indeed, he had not seen me when I arrived, nor when he had passed me earlier, nor when he was looking around the main lobby of the airport to see if I had gotten through already.  The short-haired woman who had come up to him was waiting for someone else.  He had discussed with the airport employee the possibility of me being asleep on the airplane.  He had called the overseer of Peru to find out if I had missed my flight from Lima.  And all the while I had stood by thinking that eventually don Gilberto would come because that's what the plan was, and that's all I knew.  A slight fiasco but it all worked out in the end.  We hopped in his truck and headed to the sisters' bach, and as he drove, he made phone calls to all the workers that were worried about the visiting sister workers being lost somewhere in Peru before the rounds had even begun.