Tuesday, July 21, 2009

No me jodas!


I wasn’t sure if it would be possible but, as it turns out, I have successfully communicated my sense of humor to my Costa Rican family. Not only do they understand it, but they appreciate it! My host father in particular is one to “joder” or “vacilar.” In other words, he jokes around with me a lot, as do many men in my town. Since day one in Guanacaste, the most machista part of Costa Rica, I decided that I was not going to take any lip from the men here. So I have learned to sass back and be sarcastic… in Spanish. This is really a survival tactic; otherwise, I think they’d make the next two years pretty uncomfortable. Now that they know that I’m “intelligente”, as they say, which really means “quick” in this sense, I may even make some male friends in Ortega.

My host mother spends considerable time at her father’s house, where her siblings, nieces, and nephews also congregate. I love the atmosphere and energy, as I have fond memories of Dempsey reunions at Huntington Common, Woodlawn Avenue, and Summer Street. I like to go with my host mother after dinner, to walk off all the starch, and to share in the conversation. Last night we had three good laughs- I mean Meghan crying, Uncle Ricky wheezing laughs:

1. The women from the aerobics class called a short meeting yesterday to plan a surprise birthday party for someone on August 23rd… hmm, I thought, is this a joke? That’s my birthday. I played along for a while- sure, I can chip in a mil for a cake… They kept on, though… hmm, I thought again, “who’s birthday is it,” I asked. “We can’t tell you,” they said. “It has to be a surprise.” Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore, “Are you really not talking about my birthday?” I asked. They had no idea. Were so embarrassed. “We can split the cake,” they said. “No,” I said, “but can you at least wish me a Happy Birthday, if you’re planning this party for August 23rd?” I asked, noticeably down. Being a lover of birthdays, this would undoubtedly be my worst nightmare- celebrating someone else’s birthday on my own birthday without receiving even a “Happy Birthday.”

2. When I heard that my next door neighbor had dengue, I went into panic mode. I dug into my suitcase for the mosquito net that Peace Corps gave us during training- still neatly packed. You tax payers will be glad to know that we do not have the pretty pretty princess nets, that hang from the ceiling and fall neatly on each side of the bed. No, we have the mustard green, nylon, grandote mosquito nets that can be hung with no less than four nails. You have to tuck it in on all sides because it was most certainly not designed for a twin bed. It took my host mother, brother, and me to put it up one night- one hot, sticky, Guanacaste, Costa Rica night in a tiny room with little ventilation. We had sweat dripping down our faces and were hysterically laughing making jokes about them finding me dead in my tent one morning, having overheated because the faint stream of air from the fan can’t make it through the thick nylon thread.
I secretly like it though- it really does feel like I’m camping, especially since I read at night by the light of a flashlight.


3. Finally, we all had stories about this little devil girl who, as my uncle put it, “jode, jode, jode.” In Spain, this word, “joder,” meant “to fuck”, and was considered a swear word. In Costa Rica, “joder” means more “to fuck with”, as in “to play,” “to bother,” “to joke around.” Anyway, this girl is a devil child. The other night we were playing “Gran Banco,” which is like Monopoly, but all of the sites are in Costa Rica. When she saw that I was playing, she ran at me full speed ahead and began to pet me like a new puppy. “Please don’t touch me,” I said. (Petting continues…) “When someone asks you not to do something you should stop doing it,” I said. (Petting continues…) “You don’t like it when I touch your hair?” She asked. “Nope.” I said. “Your toe nails?” She asked, touching my toe nails. (I hate toes, by the way.) “Nope.” I said. (Petting continues…) This went on for I can’t tell you how long. (Meanwhile, all the other neighborhood boys and girls are observing this exchange.) Finally, Francilena, who cannot be much older than this girl, says to me: “I hope my daughter is not like that.”

In other news, I have been making a lot of progress with my community interviews and am actually excited to start writing my community analysis and work plan, which I have to present to my Project Manager and fellow volunteers at the beginning of September. My goals for the next three weeks include: finish speaking with community leaders, read the project descriptions, interview the Principal, organize an informational meeting in coordination with the health clinic about high blood pressure, diabetes, and exercise, and facilitate a FODA (strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, threats). The latter is an activity you can do with community members to encourage discussion about the resources and needs of the community.

Two big challenges I will surely face over the next two years include the lack of community ownership/pride and the distrust of community leaders and organizations on the part of community members. I spend hours interviewing one person only to hear from another that they are a liar, a cheat, a thief. I hear that the development association has had the same five or ten projects for the past four years- the eco-museum, the salon comunal renovations, the elderly home, the crocodile park, the basketball court, the road improvements. Community members are disillusioned, but development association members speak confidently. So what’s the real story, I ask myself pretty much every night at 2am, when I wake up tossing and turning thinking about English class, the CAT (Community Analysis Tool), and the VRF (Volunteer Report Form). I’ve decided that rather than trying to get to the bottom of it, I will work to promote better communication and transparency.

Yesterday I pitched the idea of a community newspaper to one of the disillusioned members of the development association (yes, there are also the disillusioned development association members and the confident community members, to make matters more confusing). I explained that with a community newspaper we could promote the progress of the development association and other committees, while also publicizing events and meetings, to encourage community involvement and rebuild trust. With over twenty different associations and committees, we would also save considerable paper, markers, and masking tape spent on communicating reuniones. Finally, in order to make the paper sustainable, I had the idea that we could involve youth in the interviewing, writing, and production processes, and maybe even look to sell the paper at some time in the future. The reaction I am anticipating, unfortunately, is no reaction. For this reason, I will be prepared with plans b and c, when I finally present it to the development association. I will be armed with community support, funding, and volunteer staff. I hope.