Washing my hands in a crowded bathroom, a man walks up to the sink beside me. His friend is on the other side of me. The man glances at his friend:
Puta, hay bastantes gringos maricones en el país, ¿verdad?
Which translates to: Damn, there are a lot of Gringo fags in the country
My blood freezes, then boils. I want to say something, scream something, lash out, but I decide to pretend I do not understand Spanish. Somehow I find dignity in my feigned ignorance. I calmly rinse the soap from my hands, and leave the restroom.
Now let me back track a little bit. I have been in San Salvador, the capitol city, for about a week. I came in on Monday to meet with the doctors about my asthma, and they still have not authorized me to leave. Apparently I only use 80 percent of my lung capacity when I breathe. I feel fine, probably because I have lived with asthma my whole life, but the doctors want to see if they can improve my lungs. So, here I am with two days worth of clothes trying to make my volunteer budget last over an unexpected week in the capitol. Which leads me to Wednesday, the day of the gringo fag incident.
On Wednesday I decided to go see a theatre production in a Central American Theatre Festival. I was super excited to see some performance art. It has been about eight months since I have seen any form of theatre, dance, or musical performance, and I was praising my luck for being in San Salvador at the same time as a Theatre Festival. The theatre is inside of the Metro Centro mall, a shopping center catering mostly to middle class Salvadorans. There I was, washing my hands in the Metro Centro food court bathroom, when it happened.
It was the first time anyone had ever directed hate speech at me, and it hit me like a slap to the face. The word in itself did not bother me so much as the situation. Maricón is such a common word to hear. Just yesterday, I was waiting at a busy bus stop, idly watching a family of street vendors. They had an assortment of pirated movies sprawled out on the hot sidewalk. A little boy in the family was playing among the movies with his sister and somehow got glitter on his face. His mother notices and scolds, Mira como andas bien maricoñado con brillo en la cara. Brillo no es para niños varones. (Look how you are all fagged-out with glitter on your face. Glitter is not for little boys.) I frown. The mother notices me and sends a knowing smile, thinking I frown at the atrocity of a little boy with glitter on his face. A vast chasm of difference stretches between my dismay at witnessing the creation of gender roles in a machisto culture and the mother´s smile. The point is maricón is a word I am more or less accustomed to now. I am not accustomed to having it directed at me, nor to hearing it in the capitol.
I come to San Salvador to relax, to be myself, let down the act I put on in my community, to wear V-necks if I feel like it. I always imagined San Salvador as a safe zone for my identity, a place where I can be the Eric I was in the States - go out dancing, watch theatre, see movies in English, openly consume alcohol, sit in cafes with my legs crossed. Wednesday I had a major reality check. Even though San Salvador is significantly more cosmopolitan and diverse than my rural home, it is still in El Salvador and subject to all of the biases and prejudices that exist in the culture. It was a very sobering experience.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Skype Number
Today is a very exciting day! Last night I had the internet installed in my house. I almost can't believe it. Today I set up a skype number in the states. You can call this number and I will receive your call on my computer. If I am not available leave me a voice mail and I will call you back. The number is:
(602) 490 8442
Having the internet in my house also means more blog updates. So, in the infamous words of Scar, be prepared!
(602) 490 8442
Having the internet in my house also means more blog updates. So, in the infamous words of Scar, be prepared!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Señor Rogers (Or It Is A Beautiful Day in the Barrio)
A phenomenon takes place in El Salvador every time I open my mouth. I turn into a different person each time I speak Spanish.
Eric as I have always known him disappears and I become your favorite, kind, old neighbor rocking a sweater - Mr. Rogers. I had always hoped my Spanish alter-ego would sound more like Antonio Banderas or Gael Garcia Bernal, sleek, mysterious, with sexy dripping off of each word. But no, I transform into the polar opposite of Antonio and Gael, Mr. Rogers. My voice undergoes certain changes when I speak Spanish; it deepens and adopts a warmly formal tone, one that suggests images of cardigans, checkers with your grandpa, and a warm fireplace.
I have always thought of speaking a foreign language as a performance. The mimicry, opportunity to become a new personality, the memorization of vocabulary like lines for a play, always made me feel like I was on the stage. For me, being Mr. Rogers does not really come as a surprise. I always knew I was someone else in Spanish. What is interesting is that now I spend more time in the “performance” than I do as myself. I am Señor Rogers more often than I am the English speaking Eric I have known the majority of my life. The one thing Mr. Rogers and Eric agree on is that language and identity are intimately connected and we recreate ourselves each time we learn a new language.
The real question is would you be mine, could you be mine, oh won’t you be…my neighbor?
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
A Typical Day
5:30 AM wake up. Stagger to the coffee, and brew. Make breakfast (Note: breakfast usually consists of 1 fried egg, ½ plantain fried or boiled with cinnamon, ½ cup beans, or oatmeal). Heat water for bathing. Take bucket bath. Iron clothes for the day.
7:30 AM walk to the school. Visit cafeteria and talk with lunch ladies until classes start. Go to class and assist teachers with English class. Return to cafeteria to help distribute the free snack to students. Play soccer or tag with students during recess.
12:00 PM walk home. Lay in hammock. Eat light lunch (Note: lunch consists of some combination of the following: ½ cup rice, ½ cup beans, pasta, tortillas, and 1 banana). Lay in hammock. Read. Play cards with street vendor kids who stop by the house.
1:30 PM return to school. Repeat 7:30 AM routine but with students in the afternoon section.
4:30 PM leave school. Stop at internet café. Talk with Director of the Cultural Center about upcoming projects. Walk around town greeting people. Go home and lay in hammock.
5:30 PM make dinner (Note: dinner is usually 1-2 eggs, ½ cup beans, ½ cup rice, cheese, and 2 tortillas) or eat at a friend’s house. Play Go Fish, Mancala, or Uno with my neighbors.
7:00 PM retire to my house and close the door. Brew tea. Lay in hammock. Read.
9:00 PM turn off the lights. Go to bed.
2:00 AM wake up to a cacophony of dogs and roosters. Go back to bed.
5:30 AM repeat.
7:30 AM walk to the school. Visit cafeteria and talk with lunch ladies until classes start. Go to class and assist teachers with English class. Return to cafeteria to help distribute the free snack to students. Play soccer or tag with students during recess.
12:00 PM walk home. Lay in hammock. Eat light lunch (Note: lunch consists of some combination of the following: ½ cup rice, ½ cup beans, pasta, tortillas, and 1 banana). Lay in hammock. Read. Play cards with street vendor kids who stop by the house.
1:30 PM return to school. Repeat 7:30 AM routine but with students in the afternoon section.
4:30 PM leave school. Stop at internet café. Talk with Director of the Cultural Center about upcoming projects. Walk around town greeting people. Go home and lay in hammock.
5:30 PM make dinner (Note: dinner is usually 1-2 eggs, ½ cup beans, ½ cup rice, cheese, and 2 tortillas) or eat at a friend’s house. Play Go Fish, Mancala, or Uno with my neighbors.
7:00 PM retire to my house and close the door. Brew tea. Lay in hammock. Read.
9:00 PM turn off the lights. Go to bed.
2:00 AM wake up to a cacophony of dogs and roosters. Go back to bed.
5:30 AM repeat.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Top Five Things I Love about El Salvador
1. Children
Children are awesome! Living in a university setting for the past four years, I kind of forgot what it is like to have children around. Now, I am surrounded by them. The previous volunteers in my community were great and they always let kids come over to their house to play. I am living in the same house as they did, and the children are still accustomed to coming here. As a result, my house is constantly filled with a steady stream of children coming and going throughout the day. Sometimes I feel like my house is a daycare, but I love it and now the majority of my friends here are between the ages of eight and twelve. Children do not care how bad my Spanish might be, or if I even understand half of the things they tell me. They just like to talk, and I love to listen so it works out perfectly.
Interacting with children here also makes me reflect on life in the States. I could never imagine being in the same position in the US –the single new man in the neighborhood, living alone, with a bunch of kids coming to his house. Somehow I just don’t see that happening, especially if the new person in town was a foreigner. Perhaps my interaction with children here is a reflection of child rearing being a more communal activity in El Salvador. Many children’s parents are in the US and thus the children rely on extended family and community networks to raise them. Maybe in this system it is more acceptable for a single man to look after children. Who knows? But it certainly is interesting to think about.
2. The way Salvadoran women speak
The title pretty much sums this one up. I love the way Salvadoran women speak, and the older they are the better! They have such a great lilt and very expressive voices. Their speech is decorated with long drawn out “N’ombre!”s (an expression of negation derived from ‘no hombre’), inquisitive “De veras?” (for real?), and any statement can be followed by a “Gracias a Dios” (thanks to God). I love talking with the older women in shops, listening in admiration as they tell me stories. Or talking with women as they cook pupusas, which leads us to…
3. Pupusas!
Pupusas are the national dish of El Salvador, and have quickly won a tender place in my heart and palate. Pupusas are thin tortillas stuffed with a plethora of goodies – beans, cheese, chicharron, chicken, garlic, squash; the combinations are endless. You eat the pupusa with a side of curtido, spicy pickled cabbage, and tomato sauce. One of the best parts of eating pupusas is watching how other people eat their pupusas. Everyone seems to have their own individual strategy for eating the pupusa. Some put the curtido on top of the pupusa and eat it like a tostada. Some fold the pupusa around the curtido and eat it like a taco. Some tear off bits of the pupusa and use it to scoop up the curtido. Personally, I tear my pupusa in half, separating the two sides of the tortilla, usually burning my fingers in the process as the hot steam escapes the warm gooey pupusa center. Then I rip off tiny parts of the pupusa and use it to scoop up the curtido – delicious! November 8th is national day of the pupusa, so I highly recommend that you look up your nearest local Salvadoran restaurant and go and try one of these tasty little dishes for yourself.
4. Riding the bus
“If you want to know El Salvador, you travel by bus. That’s where you can meet everyone,” explains Dulce Rivas de Gutierrez in the book From Grandmother to Granddaughter: Salvadoran Women’s Stories. Dulce accurately captures the beauty of bus travel; you really do meet everyone. The well-dressed business men taking an urbano to work, las viejitas with ornately embroidered scarves covering their heads and wonderfully frilly aprons tied around their waists, the campesinos with their broad-brimmed hats and machetes hanging from their hips, the enamored youth sitting together stealing furtive glances and whispering sweet secrets, the bolos drunk and passed out in the back seat, the pick pockets and thieves – everyone, a microcosm of the diverse strata of Salvadoran life. Although cramped, smelly, chaotic, and quite arguably one of the most dangerous places to be in this country, I love riding the bus. I love the endless parade of people in transit, and the hustle and bustle of the chaos is oddly energizing. Although I must admit that when sick the bus is the last place I’d want to be. I can imagine no worse place for a random stomach illness to strike than on the bus.
5. Pizza Hut
Imagine, if you will, that you want to go on a classy date, really impress your guy or gal. You get dressed up, put your best shoes on, and where do you go? Pizza Hut, of course! In El Salvador, Pizza Hut is an expensive sit-down restaurant, complete with a waiting staff, menus, and flat screen TVs. It is also extremely expensive in comparison to other local restaurants, and as such Pizza Hut is a place to splurge and impress a date. I always get a chuckle out of how different Pizza Hut is here and in the States, although I sometimes feel uncomfortable with how popular corporate chains are here.
Children are awesome! Living in a university setting for the past four years, I kind of forgot what it is like to have children around. Now, I am surrounded by them. The previous volunteers in my community were great and they always let kids come over to their house to play. I am living in the same house as they did, and the children are still accustomed to coming here. As a result, my house is constantly filled with a steady stream of children coming and going throughout the day. Sometimes I feel like my house is a daycare, but I love it and now the majority of my friends here are between the ages of eight and twelve. Children do not care how bad my Spanish might be, or if I even understand half of the things they tell me. They just like to talk, and I love to listen so it works out perfectly.
Interacting with children here also makes me reflect on life in the States. I could never imagine being in the same position in the US –the single new man in the neighborhood, living alone, with a bunch of kids coming to his house. Somehow I just don’t see that happening, especially if the new person in town was a foreigner. Perhaps my interaction with children here is a reflection of child rearing being a more communal activity in El Salvador. Many children’s parents are in the US and thus the children rely on extended family and community networks to raise them. Maybe in this system it is more acceptable for a single man to look after children. Who knows? But it certainly is interesting to think about.
2. The way Salvadoran women speak
The title pretty much sums this one up. I love the way Salvadoran women speak, and the older they are the better! They have such a great lilt and very expressive voices. Their speech is decorated with long drawn out “N’ombre!”s (an expression of negation derived from ‘no hombre’), inquisitive “De veras?” (for real?), and any statement can be followed by a “Gracias a Dios” (thanks to God). I love talking with the older women in shops, listening in admiration as they tell me stories. Or talking with women as they cook pupusas, which leads us to…
3. Pupusas!
Pupusas are the national dish of El Salvador, and have quickly won a tender place in my heart and palate. Pupusas are thin tortillas stuffed with a plethora of goodies – beans, cheese, chicharron, chicken, garlic, squash; the combinations are endless. You eat the pupusa with a side of curtido, spicy pickled cabbage, and tomato sauce. One of the best parts of eating pupusas is watching how other people eat their pupusas. Everyone seems to have their own individual strategy for eating the pupusa. Some put the curtido on top of the pupusa and eat it like a tostada. Some fold the pupusa around the curtido and eat it like a taco. Some tear off bits of the pupusa and use it to scoop up the curtido. Personally, I tear my pupusa in half, separating the two sides of the tortilla, usually burning my fingers in the process as the hot steam escapes the warm gooey pupusa center. Then I rip off tiny parts of the pupusa and use it to scoop up the curtido – delicious! November 8th is national day of the pupusa, so I highly recommend that you look up your nearest local Salvadoran restaurant and go and try one of these tasty little dishes for yourself.
4. Riding the bus
“If you want to know El Salvador, you travel by bus. That’s where you can meet everyone,” explains Dulce Rivas de Gutierrez in the book From Grandmother to Granddaughter: Salvadoran Women’s Stories. Dulce accurately captures the beauty of bus travel; you really do meet everyone. The well-dressed business men taking an urbano to work, las viejitas with ornately embroidered scarves covering their heads and wonderfully frilly aprons tied around their waists, the campesinos with their broad-brimmed hats and machetes hanging from their hips, the enamored youth sitting together stealing furtive glances and whispering sweet secrets, the bolos drunk and passed out in the back seat, the pick pockets and thieves – everyone, a microcosm of the diverse strata of Salvadoran life. Although cramped, smelly, chaotic, and quite arguably one of the most dangerous places to be in this country, I love riding the bus. I love the endless parade of people in transit, and the hustle and bustle of the chaos is oddly energizing. Although I must admit that when sick the bus is the last place I’d want to be. I can imagine no worse place for a random stomach illness to strike than on the bus.
5. Pizza Hut
Imagine, if you will, that you want to go on a classy date, really impress your guy or gal. You get dressed up, put your best shoes on, and where do you go? Pizza Hut, of course! In El Salvador, Pizza Hut is an expensive sit-down restaurant, complete with a waiting staff, menus, and flat screen TVs. It is also extremely expensive in comparison to other local restaurants, and as such Pizza Hut is a place to splurge and impress a date. I always get a chuckle out of how different Pizza Hut is here and in the States, although I sometimes feel uncomfortable with how popular corporate chains are here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
