Solidarity

So last night as I was falling asleep worrying about whether or not I should have asked for a beer at the birthday party, my tico uncle was shot and killed in his home in San Jose by burglars. His death comes on the heels of the death of my tico grandmother, who passed away just days before my arrival in May. When I saw my tico mom and tico aunts, uncles, and grandfather this morning, not only did the events of last night seem trivial, but I received instant confirmation that not only have I been accepted as part of the family, but I have accepted them as part of my family. I spent the whole day with them at my grandfather’s house, as it is customary in my community (and I think in Costa Rica) to accompany the grieving family until the body is retrieved and buried. I chopped vegetables, I tried to chop wood, I served coffee; but, most importantly, I was there. When my grandfather told me that he wished it had been him who had been killed, I told him that he wasn’t ready yet and that, besides, we were only just beginning to get to know each other. He responded, “I want to go”, to which I said “but I don’t want you to go.” Then, later this evening, with a house full of people, he called for my tico mom to make sure that she had gotten me dinner. Community members will fill the hallways, backyard, sideyards, front porch, and street when the body arrives later tonight, at which point a prayer will be said and the family will be left alone. The body will be buried tomorrow and for the next nine days at 4pm community members and family members will gather at my tico grandfather’s house to say the rosary. For the next 12 months, on the anniversary of his death, friends and loved ones will gather to say the rosary at the same hour. While I have focused many of my posts on obstacles and weaknesses (to use FODA terminology), it is an opportune time to share the opportunities and strengths that boast the community of Ortega- the most noteworthy being the solidarity of its members. I went to a beautiful baby shower yesterday for a woman named Elena who will give birth next month. Although the room was stark, and many women had undoubtedly had to scrounge together enough money to buy diapers to give to Elena and her husband in anticipation of the birth of their new baby, we laughed playing musical chairs and “panzona” (literally means “big stomach” and is played by estimating the amount of toilet paper it will take to reach completely around the “big stomach”). And although I’m sure Don Elbin is tired from not having slept last night at the news of his son’s death, he will not tire of the companionship that he has consistently enjoyed for the 83 years that he has lived in Ortega. And I feel blessed to have the opportunity to share in it for the next 23 months.