Pride

Despite how often I have told myself that I have the ability to laugh at my own mistakes and inevitably laugh alongside others while they laugh at my mistakes, my pride can only take so many beatings before I start to get frustrated, and often down right angry. 

As I suspect is the case in many small towns where foreigners are a rarity and any gringo becomes the token gringo, my every action is often analyzed and discussed at length. While it can definitely be fun and even an advantage to have everyone know who you are and look out for you, it also gets really (REALLY) old when you hear about the way you swept the front patio (and how they think you aren’t very good at sweeping patios) a couple hours after you did it...who knew you were being watched? And for the record, who the hell sweeps dirt?! Oh, and they water it! It is not only that I am being watched, but that my fellow community members tend to approach critiques in a, “so we hear you were sweeping earlier today...” sort of way. I then tell them that yes, I was sweeping, knowing that I am about to hear all the ways I was not doing it the way they do it or think it should be done. When they then demonstrate what I looked like while sweeping and tell me that here in Nicaragua they sweep much faster and in a more effective manner (all the while laughing and talking rapid Spanish) I can do nothing but feel silly and ineffectively try to defend myself in broken Spanish (in this case I was definitely not doing a bad job sweeping because sweeping too fast means you have dust in your face). 

I apologize for using “they” so often, as this instantly segregates me from the Nicas and creates a “me” versus “them” attitude. I do not at all mean to convey this, but at times it is hard not to feel very alone in a community where you are, in fact, very different from those around you. Undoubtedly, I have found a number of people with whom I can relate to, have deep (relatively given the language barrier) conversations with, and enjoy being around, but still there are days when I feel completely trapped in my head or unable to relate to a single person around me. Clearly I often think in extremes here in Nicaragua. As a fellow volunteer could not have said any better, when he’s not thinking about ETing (early termination of service) he’s thinking about extending. Meaning, most days are either incredible or kind of suck. One day I can be riding the bus, eating delicious bus food and thinking that this is the simple life. I can picture myself in a hammock, working for an NGO and never leaving. The next day there’s not enough water for a bucket bath, all I want for breakfast is some freakin cereal and my host mom is lecturing me on why mattresses are the cause of kidney failure. Who’s got the issues? Nicaragua or me?

The fact is, it can be easy to forget that I am living in a third world country. Not meaning that I don’t realize I’m using a latrine everyday and that my feet are always dirty, but that not everyone in the world is living this way. Haven’t I always brushed my teeth with a bottle of water and checked my bed for scorpions before climbing in? I sometimes forget that I am only here for two years, essentially just playing house, experimenting with a new lifestyle. No matter how much I hate the latrine out back or really wish I had enough money to buy a refrigerator, I know that this is all only a temporary situation. Unlike those around me, I can leave. This freedom to choose to live in a third world country is something which leaves my community members baffled and often sets me farther apart from them. Though they greatly appreciate my work, and feel the need to care for me even more since I seem to have some strange need to leave the comfort of my family and friends, they can’t quite grasp why I would leave a life they imagine is something like that of a telenovela (soap opera). 

On my first day in site, feeling completely out of my element and unable to speak a word of the Spanish I had learned over the past three months, one of the first women I was introduced to in my new school was the cleaning lady (she does much more than clean, but this is her basic role). For a little background, my area was hit the hardest back in the 80’s by Hurricane Mitch, killing thousands in floods, as well as a nearby volcanic explosion. Therefore, upon meeting me, this woman, like many Nicas takes my hands and begins asking me if I am sad to be away from home, don’t my parents miss me terribly, how could I possibly leave me good, kind parents, and what kind of a child am I? Of course I smile and explain that my parents appreciate the work I am doing and support me. I also explain that they will undoubtedly visit so she can see them and know that they are doing just fine. Unfortunately, (and this has happened more than once since) I remind our kind cleaning lady of the son she lost in the hurricane and his untimely death. This was clearly a tragic and completely unrelated event, however, she began to cry while holding my hands, weeping about how I had left my parents just as her son had left her. Well, not much to say to that (in any language).

Point being, I don’t really remember what my original point was. Perhaps, that everyone has an opinion and that these opinions are based deeply in how we are raised and where we come from (duh). Though my immediate reaction to being judged (and being told exactly what I am doing wrong or differently) is often frustration, I suppose if I can come in out of nowhere to assess their teaching abilities, they can critique my sweeping abilities (although I am going to have the freaking cleanest dirt patio in town). I’ll try to snap a picture of the dirt watering...it is funny.

P.S.

Garden update: second group of Nica teens did NOT show for garden work. I was somewhat expecting this, as my first group was filled with the older kids and older guys, who are not only more responsible but more accustomed to garden-type work. The second group was full of preteen girls who are truthfully more interested in bracelet making. I’m not too worried, as clearing the land is what I needed the machete labor for and that is done, so now we just need to get digging and planting. Hopefully I can recruit the first group again this weekend when they aren’t working. Also, started a volleyball team!! First practice last night was pretty ramshackle, but definitely going to be fun...hanging out with people my own age always makes me feel better. Nica youth definitely rock. 

Thanks for reading, lots of love, as always!