Dreaming...

Preface: I have had a pretty difficult week – and although this short little entry is completely biased, I think it became a really good outlet for my frustration this week. I am going to write more in a blog-style format this weekend about my new house, work, etc. This was just me venting and reflecting on some things I have observed here in Nicaragua. Frankly, I am going through some culture shock for truly the first time. It seems quite delayed – but maybe it is because I am finally really settling in to this new life of mine.
Although this country’s majority in numbers belongs to the mujeres (women), men here certainly have taken the wheel, and have been for centuries in this machismo society (machismo: a society, culture predominantly run by men in every aspect). Maybe I should clarify. Women here do all of the caretaking, cleaning, washing clothes, yard work, etc. This may not sound like a lot to women of my generation – but here it is duro. It is hard, it is daily and everything takes three times as long as it should.
In reality the typical Nicaraguan family (both that I have observed and read factually) starts with a barely out of puberty 15 year old girl and usually a slightly older male at the age of 20. The 15 year old girl, now-turned ‘woman’, is pregnant within months. She stops going to school if she hasn’t already – and prepares for the lifelong job of motherhood. The hombre, typically cannot find work in or around his pueblo – so he searches elsewhere. Most commonly I have found that the husbands are in Costa Rica working on farms, or fincas, or in the United States. They periodically send money back to the family for rice, beans and other essential items (you should see how busy Western Union is here). In my fairytale mind I would like to romanticize this idea of a father sacrificing everything for his family. The realistic part of me knows this is just that, a fairytale.
Although I have never directly asked any of these women I have come into contact with – I cannot help but beg the question: how faithful are these men, in a society that openly acknowledges and even accepts infidelity? Truth be told, these men likely have other families in one – if not multiple parts of the world. There is a sole two-story house in my town of 4,000 habitants. It has been told to me that this man has over twenty-five children just here in Posoltega. One of the families that has ‘adopted’ me, openly discussed that the father had lived in one of the rural communities for over a year and had another child with his mistress some years ago. Normal topic of conversation over my tortilla and cheese with the fam. In this same family – the 15 year old boasts about his four girlfriends – of which two are close friends.
So in reality, the typical Nicaraguan family is a single-mom, with at least four children. Running the household, bills, etc. until her husband comes home for a week every six months or so. When he returns she just has more laundry and more mouths to feed. Condoms here are seriously taboo and largely in part to the machismo attitude – few women demand such a thing, let alone from their husbands. They would quickly be chastised and accused themselves of cheating. Therefore, whenever the husband comes home – he likely impregnates the woman again, at best. One can only imagine how many STDs and HIV is transmitted through this dark corner of Nicaraguan culture. Women are often referred to here as ‘mi mujer’ or my woman. To be referred to as similarly as a motorcycle, a machete – someone’s property. A man’s property.
I must note that I am speaking in large, vast generalizations – and todos los hombres no son iguales. Just as in the United States, all men truly are not the same. I remember that every time I think of my own father.
Over the past week I had met a man at my regular lunch spot – and we instantly starting planning charlas and projects together. He works for the mayor’s office and presented as a very well educated and well-intentioned colleague. I would guess he is 37 years old or so – has two children and is married. All was going well until around 5pm today – when I received a text message from him telling me that I should dream of him tonight. First impressions aren’t everything.
I wouldn’t say I am bitter per say right now, just coming out of the fog of excitement when everything was new and rose-colored. This is probably a good thing – because if I went through these next two years doing that I would be in denial-land. I didn’t sign up for the Peace Corps to go to a 3rd world country and pretend that everything was pretty and perfect. This country has serious problems, infiltrated into the very depths of its existence and the problems they face daily.
It is all relevant to my life here and even more so my work. I can only hope that my work with some of the youth will help to improve some of these young women’s self-esteem – and thus avoid the vicious cycle of young motherhood, poverty and the limitations they both manufacture. The problem with poverty that has been prevalent for centuries – is that it is hard to demonstrate or encourage people to think of a future different than the one that was handed to them. When one does not see a possibility of change, why would they attempt to do anything different? This is the real problem. I suppose it is really no different than the work I was doing with heroin addicts in Delaware. If my client did not see the possibility of change – of something better – he/she had no incentive to change their behavior. Hope is such a beautiful thing – life is so dark without it. Even without knowing with certainty, hoping for something better may actually be more powerful than the change itself. It gives you the opportunity to dream.

I never thought dreaming was a luxury until now.