Monday, May 31, 2010

Quiere un nino?

While all the rest of you were probably eating hot dogs and drinking beer this past Memorial Day weekend, I have been in the land of Mamas. It was Nicaraguan Mother's Day and just like good old Memorial day in the states its a three day weekend. Anything that even closely resembles a holiday here gets a day off work. When the big ones roll around its much more time. Easter, for example, gets you a week of relaxation. And the entire country pretty much shuts down from the end of November to mid January for Christmas. Ridiculous. Anyways, I went into Ocotal on Friday night and Saturday day, and realized that Mothers Day here could have a different name entirely. Rotisserie chicken day! They were everywhere. Grocery stores, pulperias, the side of the street. I have never seen so many in one place.

I came home Saturday afternoon and the talk to the town was a pueblo-wide fiesta that was happening that night. I decided to go with my host sister and brother and check it out. I was wearing jeans and a tank top, she was wearing a very fancy dress with sparkle makeup covering her chest and eyes. She fit in more than I did. The night was going pretty well. Everyone was dancing, lots of people were laughing at my inability to bootyshake. Then, BOOM. FIGHT! Two bolos started fighting, crashed into a table and slammed into a speaker. One had walked away with what looked like a broken nose. I advised him to the centro de salud. If only I had an alcoholism pamphlet handy. The party died down pretty quickly after that.

The following day was the actual "Dia de los Madres". All of Dona Martha's 74 children were in attendance. It wasn't exactly that many but she does have a ton of kids. We baked a cake. It was a lovely time. Another guest at our little celebration was Dona Marthas mother. A very old woman, yet she arrived with a small child in tow. We were chatting, and I asked who the child was, where were the parents, ect. She was speaking very quickly, so I had hard time getting everything she was telling me but the gist was that she was caring for the boy. She then, in much slower and clearer Spanish, asked me if i had any interest in adopting. Slightly stunned, I asked her to repeat herself and she once again said "would you like to adopt him? you know bring him with you to the states." Flabbergasted, I tried to politely explain that no, I am not in the market for a young Nicaraguan child. I am too young and definitely not mature enough for a baby.
"What about your mother?" she counters.
"Excuse me?"
"Your mother! Your mother in the United States! Would she like to adopt a baby?"
"I dont think shes really interested in adopting either."
I then started to explain the normal range of child rearing in the states. How I am too young for children, and my mom has already raised her two and wouldn't really want to start all over. The grandmother walked away while I was mid-sentence. I dont think she wanted to be my friend.

That ended my Mother's Day celebration. I couldnt risk more random relative trying to pan their children off on me or my family so I went to bed. It was 730.

Monday, May 17, 2010

cleaning and claro

hey everyone sorry its been almost a month since ive posted but being in site has been quite a roller coaster and i promise this will be a good one if you stick with me. And by roller coaster I mean my emotions are absolutely out of control while my day to day life is about as low key as it has ever been. On a day to day basis I get up around 730 and go to bed around 9.. crazy huh?? Living in Totogalpa has definately been a change of pace from the business that was training. No one is here telling me what to do, where to go, who to talk to. This is both a blessing and a curse. Lately Ive been hanging out in my centro de salud in the mornings trying to prepare for chalas i will give in the future, making papelografo and looking up words and phrases i dont understand. I started to give classes on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons in the school to 5th and 6th grade which I thought would be a smooth transition into volunteer life. For one, let me explain that the schools here are nothing like you (or I) have seen in the states. No one has control over the classroom. Teachers scream over students. Kids talk out of turn. They walk out of class without any reprimand. I thought at first that all this commotion was due to me not only being an outsider in the school system but also an anomily in the community. As I may have mentioned in a past post I am the only white person my town has seen for the past 5 years. After talking to the teachers and sitting in on some other classes I realize this is just how school is in Nicaragua. Its not disrespect, its just the mode of education here. I naively thought I could change this behavior by pinning up a list of rules and standing till the class fell to silence. Fail. The class got even more out of hand. Thank god I have a loud voice, because without screaming my messages about self esteem, nutricion and safe sex, they would reach no one. This is not to say that my time in the school system has gone to waste. Children all over the community know my name now, along with their parents. These are including children I dont interact with directly (again, and not to be cocky, but Im kinda a big deal in a community that rarely has outsiders fall into its mist).

I would now like to shread some light on the day to day living conditions that have become my reality. I have absolutely no reason to complain as I have a family who would bend over backwards to help me adjust, speak to me in the painfully slow spanish I require to communicate, and totally understand my absence (clearly to visit other volunteers) that has been the reality 4 out of the 5 weekends I have lived in site. The one weekend I have stayed here was this past one. Solely out of guilt and financial shame. But now down to the nitty gritty of why its awkward.. They stare at me all. the. time. I sit in my hammock and read. they stare. I eat dinner (everything on the plate including cheese and tortilla, fried). they stare. I wash clothes. they stare. this has actually become a neighborhood passtime. "Lets watch the gringa wash her clothes" they say. And let me tell you, it is an entertaining event for them because I clearly doing it wrong. Day one since I came here I have had the women in my family tell me how I am too busy to wash clothes, sweep my house, make my bed, ect. I am one of few women in Totogalpa that has a day to day job. That being said. along with the fact that I am an outsider they find me incompetent to do any daily chore. Normally I would be all about this. You want to clean my house? sure. Wash my clothes? if you feel the calling, go for it! However, here I feel the need to prove myself not only as a productive member of the community but also as a fully functional FEMALE worker. This means I need to handle all my household chores as well as my working responsibilities. This sounds much more daunting than it is. Handling this still leaves me 3-5 hours a day to read in my hammock. But hey, Im breaking the mold. Anyways back to the clothes. The women here scrub their and their families clothing clothes against rocks to get out the stains that are inevitable from their children playing in the mud and their husbands doing serious manual labor. I try to explain to them that this is unnecassary for me and that my clothes are too delicate for this kind of handling. Again, Fail. After letting my clothes soak in a bath of water and detergent that is customary before washing here, I come outside to see the mother of my house scrubbing my jeans telling me that she would just like me to wear something clean. They are clearly concerned. Jeans are hard to wash, so I just let i happen. Alls well that ends well.

My most recent disaster has to do with trying to get wireless internet for my laptop. So fechencha, but I dont really care. The internet cafes here are open on a whim and rarely have comupters that work. Along these lines I have decided to get a modem (something that looks more like a flash drive) for my laptop. Think 3G network from Verizon. I go to the store for the first time about two weeks ago and they give me a list of things I need as long as the list I recieved for my college Western Civ class in college. Bank statements, water and electric bills, passport, visa, family tree with a lineage dating back to the 12th century. Ok, that last one was a joke but you get my drift. This is a pain in the ass. So I finally gather up all the required documents and go to the Claro store, this is the Verizon equivalent of the states. They spend 45 minutes on the phone talking about the fact that I have an American bank account. Multiple times I was asked if this was an account from Spain or Central America. No, I say, thinking if I had a bank account in one of these places wouldnt I be better at Spanish. Wouldn't I know how to say "bank account" in Spanish at the very least?? Eventually they turn back to me. Only national accounts allowed. Fine, I say. Im going to transfer all my money into Bancentro (my Nicaraguan money handler). Ok, great well see you in an hour dictates the lovely Claro employee. Lines at Nica banks and ridiculous rules, like you cant get a statement at the counter, are nothing like you have ever seen in the US. Im going to spare you the details of these 2 hours. I re-enter the store bright faced and optimistic. Hello, I say, Im ready to buy my motem. The girl gives me a happy face smile. I am thinking, this is fantastic. Im getting internet, shes getting a commission. Everybody wins. We actually dont have the motem you need in stock. I fall into a pit of anger and depression. Thank god I still dont know how to say curse words in Spanish because in this sitution I would have let it rain. Two weeks later and several visits to the Claro store I am still without internet. Thats all Im going to say about this experience because I am still trying to censor myself for my younger readers.

Other than the Claro debacle my life has been calm. I still miss the states and all of you a lot but hopefully I may be seeing some of you sooner than you or I thought. More to come on that later. Write me!! Seriously.
PS.. This is a list of Spanish terms that I have been using or probably will use in my blog without realizing that you guys dont know what im talking about. Entonces, here is a glossery:
•entonces - soo..., about that
•funchenta - fancy, unnessary
•feo - ugly
•centro de salud - health center, all free
•charla - health talk, educational talks
•papelografo - big sheets of white paper that i prepare my notes on. Ghetto powerpoint.
•casa materna - home for pregnant women in their 9th month as to make sure they give birth in a proper facility
•alcaldia - mayors office
•counterpart - a person that is assigned to work with me by peace corps
•MINSA - ministerio de salud, the overiding health system in Nicaragua. in charge of the centros de salud
•Claro - Nicaraguan Verizon, death
•NGO - non governmental organization (think Nica Red Cross)
•campo - the country part of Nicaragua, without paved roads, proper schools, or teeth for that matter
•bolo - drunk man
•gallo pinto - mix of rice and beans that I eat for breakfast and dinner each day
•panedarea - bakery and central to my survival
•Ocotal - the closest big city to me

Members of my family you should know
•Carmen Maria - the girl that takes care of me, feeds me, ect. 21 years old.
•Dr Blanco - my boss at the centro de salud and husband to Carmen Maria (25 yrs her senior.. awk..) and im pretty sure he has another family in a city 5 hours from here. more awk.
•Elvin and Ramon Ariel - teenage brothers. Ramon Ariel is not in school and no one seems to care saying that it "basically didnt agree with him.. at age 10." not ok.
•Charon - adorable 2 year old girl who lives with the below couple and is my "niece"
•Carlos and Jorlene - my brother and sister in law who live next door
•Dona Marta - mother of Carmen Maria, lives in the campo and along that line has approximately 4 teeth. love me some Nica dental care
•Carlito - the bane of my existence. endulged 4 year boy whose origens are relatively unknown who cries at the drop of hat (to get his way) and doesnt wear clothes. only tighty whities. always. never, ever shoes.
•Don Fransisco - bolo brother of Dona Marta who loves me and hates medical care. He broke his arm are refused to put on a cast until they said they would have to amputate

talk to you soon!