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.

What ISN'T Integration

So I am sitting here on a Saturday night at 8pm feeling like I’m a freshman in college again. (Piper, this one’s for you, girl.) Margaret and Erin, I put the “say yes” policy into effect this evening, and accompanied my host mother to the birthday party of a 17 year old second cousin, maybe? I should have known based on the way the mothers of the 17 year olds behave, that the party was going to be a flashback to Hoffman and Lorillard. Oh, I forgot to mention that the night started off with my mother telling me that she and my host father have noticed that I’m getting fat. It’s funny how ticos can be so indirect about so many things, yet have no problem telling you to your face that you’re fat.

Anyway, I went to the party and there they were- the four bottles of cacique, the cooler of ice, and the bottle of Squirt. The guilas were sitting around staring at the floor pounding back drinks. Knowing it would be difficult to make it to the one hour requisite of the “say yes” policy, I went to the kitchen and asked for a beer. Even that felt weird. Flashback Ohio driver’s license at MaxFish. No, wait, I’m 24, I can have one beer. Nevertheless, I shouldn’t have done it. I gave in to peer pressure from non-peers.

Step in to my shoes for a moment- I am in a foreign country, by myself, and my host mother is drinking with the guilas like a guila. There goes my wing woman. Not to mention, I quickly noticed one guy make eyes at another, glance in my direction, and look back at the guy with a suspicious grin. Translation= ha, mae, ask her to dance! “Ahorita,” I said to the instigator, which can mean anywhere from “one second” to “in three hours” to “next month.” After excusing myself to get some air, I decided I was fully entitled to exaggerate the headache I had had all day and announce my departure.

As soon as I walked through the door, my cousin “Mancha” (which means stain, which is a reference to the huge birthmark he has on his stomach) grabbed my hand and started twirling me around. He’s safe, so I played along. At least they saw me dance, I thought. I have earned my exit. Mom, don’t read this part, but my bad habits from six years solo in New York City manifested themselves in my insistence that I could walk home by myself. Unfortunately, when I want to leave, I want to leave. Lesson learned: the “say yes” policy has an addendum for a reason. Integration is not worth compromising personal safety and security. Going to a baby shower is integrating; going to a baptism is integrating; going to a soccer game is integrating; going to a 17 year old’s birthday party to get drunk, stoned, and dance is not integrating.

Glad we got the cleared up. On another note, I have learned a tough lesson about the community of Ortega, which has been confirmed by personal experience and hearsay. They start many things for curiosity’s sake, but rarely finish them. After four meetings of my two Centro Cultural classes, 5/16 students have already missed at least two classes. After three solid months of aerobics, the class has come to a screeching halt. What’s my plan of action? One, take control of my own schedule. If my students are going to pick and choose their schedule, I am going to make mine. I plan to stick with the same two Centro Cultural classes, but I am going to meet with them once a week for three hours instead of twice a week for two hours. This will free up time to commit to giving three aerobics classes a week, which is something I want as much for me as for the other ladies. I remain hopeful that another teacher steps up again but, in the meantime, I can play aerobics instructor.

Other projects for 2009-2010 include:
* improving communication, collaboration, and unification among organized groups by facilitating monthly meetings, reinstating the community newspaper, and initiating a voter registration campaign in anticipation of the November election for members of the development association.
* supporting organized groups of women so that they succeed and progress and, hopefully, create job opportunities in the community. This would include: working with the group of craftswomen to promote their work, creating an informational brochure with basic English words and phrases for groups and individuals who are involved in tourism, and proposing the reorganization of the group of “active women” around a cause- i.e. suggesting they become active!
* reforming the comité tutelar, which is a group that fights to protect the rights of children and adolescents. My goal is to give information sessions to interested members of the community so that when it comes time to rename its members, the newly formed group is educated and motivated. I also hope to take one of the development association’s projects- a multi-use recreational space- and “sign it over” to the comité tutelar, as the intended audience is youth.
* promoting community service in children and youth through the institution of programs such as Boy and Girl Scouts, Powerful Boys and Girls (programs designed by Peace Corps volunteers), and a mentoring/ Big Brothers/ Big Sisters program.
* educating community members about Recycling, Reducing, and Reusing, instituting a recycling program (this depends on whether or not the Municipality approves our request for trash collection. I was told when I asked at a recent lecture that Ortega was “difficult” because of its distance from Santa Cruz and the condition of its roads.)