Trucks, Scorpions and Woman

I stepped on a scorpion last night. It REALLY hurt.  I was glad the kids were asleep so I didn't have to put on a brave face.   But after a few minutes the pain had almost completely subsided.  A neighbor had told me it was like stepping on glass.  That is a very good description.  I thought that is what had happened until I realized that the chances of someone breaking a glass in the bathroom when no one was awake but me was pretty small.  I never even saw the perpetrator. 

Someone pointed out to me that I pitch my voice higher when I speak Spanish and ever since they pointed it out I have been noticing it.  I know that when I was learning Czech I tended (and frankly enjoyed) copying other female native speakers that were fairly nasal in their speech.  I am not even sure how common it was since I was never that great at it-  but I am aware that I was a mimic. I don't think I did so in Swedish- probably too young and I don't recall trying to sound like anyone in Ilonggo.  In Spanish, I know that a big part of pitching it higher is because I am unsure if I am saying it correctly or perhaps unsure even if what I am asking makes sense (who doesn't know how to cook field corn, right?) But because I have spent some time trying to get my female younger cousin NOT to sound as if everything is a question, I am frustrated that I am doing it in Spanish.  Granted, I do not want to sound as if I am COMMANDING everything either.  I am a bit averse to that after hearing so many gringos sound brusque in their Spanish.  Perhaps I can find something in between. 

Commanding a truck.  We now own a large double-cab, diesel 4x4 truck.  Because of rough roads it is fairly necessary here.  It felt pretty weird to drive it (or even just to be the owner of it) but let me clarify that the weirdness of it all stems from me as a person, me as a short person driving that big of a thing.  The other day, I was driving someone around and HE mentioned that he found it amusing to watch a woman drive a 4x4 truck. I like to think of myself as amusing but just because I am a woman driving a truck.

Is a woman wielding a scalpel amusing?   I met a surgeon on the beach with her family.  We ended up hanging out and the kids had fun together and I had a nice time talking to them.  And then, as we were calculating the bill, the husband (not a surgeon) made a series of comments to his wife including, "Do you think you're better in math than me?", "Have a drink and dumb it down a little." It was so awkward. I am glad I don't hear that sort of thing from the people surrounding me but it is sad people still feel weird about a woman being smart. 

Sonatinas and Sandinistas

The neatest thing happened with Ari today. She chose a book from the library here. I let her know it was in Spanish but promised I would do my best to translate. She was sure she wanted it. While Calhoun napped, we looked at it. It turned out to be a poem by (Nicaraguan) Ruben Dario, illustrated in a really fun way by Carmela Mayor. The illustrations were mixed media- cut paper mixed with sketches and watercolor and Ari loved it. I loved the poem. I had to look up a couple words on most pages but most of them were such fun words; ivory, sovereign, fairy, dragonfly. Ari was so patient. 

There was something magical about the poem slowly unfolding to us together.

 

 

I also briefly tried to explain how presidents are not solely responsible for a country, why some countries are poor, who the Sandinistas were/are and other light and uncontroversial topics. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cliché but true

It is really amazing how few toys you need.  We brought a few toys and the kids almost never play with them.  Ari does use the art supplies we took with us (and some we've bought since) but they spend most of their time:

Playing with the rocks down by the pool (they make us a lot of milkshakes and pizzas with those rocks)
Playing various pretend games in the pool (there are often sea lions and sharks)
throwing shingle pieces at trees
making art out of old boxes
Reading the same books
Building (and razing) sand castles

I keep asking Ari why she likes Nicaragua better than New York.  I think it's because in a way I find it so hard to believe that she doesn't miss her friends, her school, the vast array of food/toys/you-name-it.  But as free-spirited as I consider myself to be, it's me who misses that stuff more than she does.  She has swimming every day, beaches, more time with her parents, stars in the sky and all the mango she can eat.

What else does she need? 

Shoes here!

Ari read "shoes here" in Spanish today.  I have been explaining that reading Spanish is easier than reading English but today was the first time we tried it.  We were at the fast food chain Tip-Top (heavenly refried beans) and she was reading the sign above the shoe rack by the indoor playground.  She was probably aided by context but it was pretty exciting nonetheless. 

For those of you wondering if I ever showed up to the school again after being shamed, I did.  Ari started attending there too.  I made clear to Ari's teacher that I would need very clear directions on any food that I was expected to make.  Calhoun's teacher and I seem to be on OK terms although it seems like we are expected to send him with a juice box and I do not want to send him with a juice box daily.  We will have to take it up with her on Monday. 

Rabies

A visitor at the compound where we live got bitten by the guard dog here. No one could speak for the dog's vaccinations. The visitor did some research (and spoke to the resident nurse here- that's me) and knew the chances of him contracting rabies were very small. But he also has a 9 month old daughter and didn't want to take any chances. I offered to drive him to the local clinic because of my obvious qualifications (a car, some Spanish, medical training). I learned the following:

1. All care is free.

2. The personnel at the clinic have not treated anyone for rabies for 2-3 years and are certain that no dogs in SJdS have rabies.

3. The personnel see a lot of North Americans who have been bitten and are convinced that they need the rabies shot.

They were not persuaded by my argument that since other animals in the area (I am pretty sure we were talking about skunks but I could have misunderstood. It's possible we were talking about stinky foxes) have rabies, a dog in SJdS COULD have rabies. The visitor, after much discussion, was given a tetanus shot (his last one was over 9 years old) and a prescription for Cipro and Ibuprofen (he did not fill them). He will be back in the U.S. before the 10 window on getting the shot and Kaiser can decide if he needs it.

Githeru

 Last Friday I had been asked by Calhoun's teacher to make the food for Monday.  It seems parents (and by that I probably mean mothers) take turns making the daily food.  I couldn't seem to get very clear directions for what I was supposed to do with the bag of food I was handed and she was awfully busy with 24 kids.  There was a big bag of dry black beans, a big bag of what I would call feed corn, some odd grayish powder and a big bag of rice. I was clear on the rice and beans but was a little unsure about the corn and the powder.  Over the weekend I meant to ask a native Nicaraguan but didn't.  And I realized that I had cooked feed corn (my term) before in Githeru (a Kenyan dish).  I LOVE Githeru, checked with my Tanzania-born neighbor and cooked it.  It was delicious.  But when I brought it to Calhoun's school, the teacher's response was, "What did you do?" I also, evidently, was supposed to have bought (so-called) juice to mix with the grey powder.  I had not done so.  So I left feeling silly but irritable that somehow the clueless gringo had been chosen to make the food on his 4th day in school.  To add to the day I missed four calls from Calhoun's teacher during the morning (my Nicaraguan cell phone doesn't work well at our place). Calhoun had an accident so I went to the school and found him pantsless, shoeless and in a diaper.  Later, I was explaining to Calhoun that he knows his body and can tell when he needs to go.  He countered with, "There is no bathroom in the classroom and I am not big enough to open the gate."  He is correct on both points.  We've since worked (again) on bathroom words in Spanish.  The teacher told me that none of the kids would eat the food I cooked, that I needed to bring toilet paper, soap and diapers and returned the pots and containers I cooked in empty.  I am sincerely hoping they did not throw out the Githeru, as I would have eaten it.  I walked out into the very hot day carrying a large plastic bin, a big metal pot, a bag of poopy clothes and a 35 lb kid. 

It was a crappy day until we had a picnic at the beach and then there were crashing waves, kids playing, delicious food and all was well.