MOSQUITOS

the money here in Costa Rica

Rebecca´s house from my loft

My loft mosquito net and all

from down stairs, upstairs is my loft!

MAY 12

            After waking up this morning, we were quick to get on the road and head to Jaco. Our first bus took us to the metropolitan area of San Jose in which there is a world of difference between the metropolitan areas in the States. Similar to Tijuana, there are many shops set up everywhere with venders yelling out selling their products.

            The streets are filled with congestion from cars and people. Looking both ways before crossing the street is unheard of; people cross without thinking. As Rebecca and I spoke last night before we fell asleep, she explained to me that everything in Jaco is lived in the moment; there is no time to worry about anything else. When people talk to you, you listen rather than thinking about how it affects you. It is a beautiful part of the culture to hold on to.

            We took a two and a half hour bus ride from San Jose to Jaco and had food to go from one of the many restaurants in the San Jose area. I tried empanadas today for the first time. It is a piece of very sweet bread wrapped around cheese. I have found that the meat here may be difficult to escape for this vegetarian and that perhaps a month’s intercession may be in order. Once we arrived to Rebecca’s house (with a beach backyard that is stunning) we headed over to the River, el Rio.

            El Rio is a two block long concentration of shanty house, make-shift homes. The River is more of a sewage drainage stream but the children are happy to play in it. There are many dogs, one of which hobbles around on three legs, fully sufficient. Everyone sits on their porch and plays cards, one of the houses blasts music as all the teenage boys sit out front. One of them boldly proposed to me today; I was told that this would not be a rarity. The children run around making noise and throwing rocks. Many of the children don’t have shoes but the ones that do flaunt their flip-flops with Transformers or other cartoons. One boy was quick to show me that he got to wear two shirts. I found his comfort unbelievable because of the intense heat. The boys are easy to find while the girls go unnoticed often—evidence of the machismo, patriarchal culture that surrounds me now.

            In addition to the dogs that run around the river, there are two little pigs that mostly mind their own. There are many chickens that go unnoticed and are lucky to have a full head of feathers. The children were happy to get to know me and excited that I understood most of the things they had said. There is a couple visiting at the same time as me hoping to help with the children who speak no Spanish. When they assumed I was completely fluent, I was pretty proud of myself for faking the confidence so well. The children also seem to think that I understand all that they say, I have to repeat for them to speak slowly, despacio por favor, so that I can catch on to everything they say.

            Tomorrow I am heading to the River at 9AM to help tutor the children and play with them. As for now, I am sitting up in my little loft, waiting for the crabs that Rebecca tells me flood the floor when the night hits. One thing I am sure of is that when the sun sets, the heat will not go away but the mosquitoes will find me.

May 13

            As Rebecca said, the crabs did find me last night even up in the loft. As I went to climb into bed, I found a crab hiding in my mosquito net (some things are going to take more getting use to than others). I woke up this morning eager to go to el Rio and play with the children. At 9 AM, I headed over on Rebecca’s bike and half way there, the chain broke right off of it. I pulled off to the side of the road and began to tinker. Even though I had spent the whole year in Portland, the biking capital of the States, my knowledge was so limited I felt helpless. One of the locals, or ticos, was quick to come to my aid. He was a little old man named Juan who had his son fix everything and even oil all the gears so that I would go faster on the main highway.

            With one adventure already out of the way, I made my way to the edge of town where el Rio is and wandered in a little anxious about what was ahead of me. With Rebecca at work, a couple from Oregon met me there who were excited about volunteering as well. None of us had actually spent time in El Rio without someone with more experience so we didn’t quite know what to expect. We opened the doors to the Rancho, which is a small space that was built by the local church so that the kids have a safe place to play and to learn. As soon as we turned on the music, children flooded from their houses in our direction. They were quick to pester us for more papers yelling otra por favor! The couple from Oregon speaks no Spanish and so it was overwhelming being the only one that could understand and fully interact with the children.

            The hardest thing to deal with is watching some of the youngest be so filled with anger and prone to violence that you have to wonder what is going on at home for them to act that way. One boy, Tito, who must be about four just moved from Nicaragua recently. For no reason, he picks up rocks or whatever is near him and will chuck it at children’s faces. If you tell him no, he punches you or screams; I have never seen anything like it. He is perhaps the greatest challenge for me. While the language barrier at first seemed difficult, I have learned that the barrier between English and Spanish is not as great as the language that we speak with our bodies. The children and I have been raised in such different cultures that when our bodies speak, they mean different things. When they run to punch one another, it is playful. I am trying to understand this part of the culture more.

            After two hours of playing, coloring, and singing we locked up the Rancho and headed for home. The children were all very unsure about our leaving and had to know to the exact time that we would return again. I told them that I would be there at the same time the next day and this pleased them enough for them to let go of their strong hugs and allow me to leave. As soon as I got home, I took a shower as Rebecca has told me to each time I leave el Rio. The children’s access to clean water and sanitation in general is limited and so without showering immediately after leaving, I could easily get sick.

            Relaxing was wonderful under palm trees on the beach with a book. However it is hard for a gringo to relax anywhere here because all the men, young and old, are in constant pursuit of your hand in marriage. Sometimes it makes me feel dehumanized like I am a ticket to freedom rather than another person but other times I simply consider myself lucky for knowing what freedom truly is.

            At 2PM I headed back down to el Rio and found that many of the kids were indoors. Outside, like usual, were all the adults playing cards. The women sit out on chairs all day long smoking cigarettes and playing cards or cooking. There is only one man that I have seen so far. He is the grandfather of many and father to 18 of the children. Rebecca has told me that he has raped and molested all of his children and even impregnated one of them at fourteen. My first instinct was to stay away from all the adults. In my mind, they seemed to be the main problem in el Rio. For example today as I pulled up, a car collecting cans for money passed by and they were able to load 8 large bags filled with probably 100 cans each into the truck. About 90% of those cans were beer. When I asked the man that picked up the cans how often he came, he said once a week. This took my breath away, once a week there were 800 empty beer cans that could be hauled off. Not only is alcoholism a problem with the parents but also the lack of inherent nurturing qualities that parents assumedly have in the States. Where at home we say that maternal instinct is inherent, I am beginning to think that it is a cultural norm that is hidden from the mothers here in Costa Rica. Being a good parent is learned, and it is a lesson that seems to have been forgotten altogether in this neighborhood.

            I spent two hours sitting on the chairs with the women. I realized today that if I didn’t get to know the adults as horrifying as their choices may be to me sometimes, than I would never have the opportunity to truly be a part of this community. I need them to trust me and like me as well in order for them to let me be active in changing their lifestyle in regards to their children.

            As I biked home today, I began to think of the community that I would be spending the next month with. It is hard because coming here, I expected several families living in poverty. However, that is not the case. When it all comes down to it, the actual Rio is only one family, but very big. I think the idea that it is only one family gives me a false sense of hope. I started thinking to myself how easy this could be. However, the more I thought about it the deeper the difficulty became. I have thought of so many ways to generate money for this community but where I am at a loss is how the generation of such funds with keep the community sustainable. If I give money to the families directly, they will buy alcohol or drugs, needless to say, the money will not benefit the children. I think the most important thing now is making sure that they are all in school and learning English. If they can learn English, they can get a job. Jaco is a center for tourism, Americans are the ones buying the nice condos, the good food, and the expensive clothes; it is the American language that is necessary for success.

            I talked to two tourists today on the beach and they asked me what I had done since vacationing here. I told them what I had been up to and they said they were shocked that such poverty existed. I told them that this was the reason buying food seemed so affordable as well as taxi fares from two hours away and I think it clicked. So, in this way, I find myself in a paradox as part of the American, materialistic culture that causes the troubles for many Latin Americans and the American that is trying to put an end to the troubles. Hopefully, by the end of the trip I will find a little more hope in navigating out of this maze of a paradox. Until then, I have 24 mosquito bites and probably more soon to come, 3 marriage proposals, a funny tan line, 5000 colones in my pocket, and an empty stomach. So, I am off to find some empeladas and fried bananas! Hasta luego :]

p.s. still trying to figure out how to get pictures on here. Each time I get on the internet, I have to go to an internet cafe and I don´t quite know how to get my pictures on to their computers yet. Especially with the crazy Latin American keyboards <3