I awoke to the crash of thunder and pounding of the
rain, magnified by the corrugated zinc sheets of the roof. Fear gripped me.
There was someone outside of my window. I pulled the curtain back slightly from
the window to take a peek. A large, wide brown eye stared back at me. Two
horses, terrified of the storm, had taken shelter on the front porch. I
released the air I didn't even know I’d been holding in, took a deep breath,
turned over, and fell back asleep. The next morning, the horses were gone. I
could have almost written the encounter off as a dream if it wasn't for the two
large piles of horse poop my host mother was angrily sweeping from the porch tiles.
It’s been a month since I've moved. My fifth
residence. My fourth family (if you don’t count the staff of Hotel Brandt’s in
Managua where I spent a month and a half in-between sites). My host sister from
my first family here in Pearl Lagoon was sent suddenly to Pueblo Nuevo for
work, taking her baby and mother with her. My new family is friendly and
welcoming; the home dry and comfortable. Still, as with all moves, it has
required some adjusting.
Obviously, there’s getting used to the new physical
environment: I am now living in a neighborhood closer to the center of town,
which means more foot traffic and more noise. My new house has a beautiful
bathroom, but lacks a kitchen and sinks. Ever washed your coffee mug in the
shower? My new bedroom is spacious, but I haven’t yet found a way to hang my
mosquito net. Every night is a mental battle: coat myself in oily, noxious
repellent, or rely on the fan to blow the blood suckers away (a not entirely
reliable method, especially with our recent bout of power outages)?
More difficult (though more rewarding) are the adjustments
one must make to happily and comfortably cohabit your new home. It takes time
to get to know people; to understand their moods, their likes and dislikes,
their ways of communicating. Even harder is finding what your place is in the
family. As you all know, Peace Corps volunteers in Nicaragua must live in a
host family situation for the entirety of their training and service. Is this family accustomed to having people outside of their
family (much less foreigners) live with them? Are they looking for a
renter/rentee relationship? Friendship? Or are they interested in “adopting”
you – treating you as a sibling, child, or grandchild? And what is it that YOU
want from THEM? There will be moments of confusion, awkwardness, and
frustration as you work to figure one another out. Hopefully, you and your
family will develop a positive relationship over time. If not, you can always
look for a new place to stay…
I was concerned
about this latest move; I didn't know how much more adjusting I could take.
Every move – every family I’d had to say good bye to – seemed to rip a small
piece from my heart. I felt depleted, raw, inflexible. I wanted no more of this
family/home stay business. I wanted my own space, where I wouldn't have to adjust.
The universe, however, had other plans for me. The move date approached and no
reasonable rental option had been uncovered. Instead, a well-respected teacher,
upon hearing my plight, approached my health director and offered to house me.
She seemed nice, and frankly I had no other option. So I packed my bags, moved
into the home she shared with one of her daughters and baby granddaughter, and
started adjusting again…
Word of the week: mudarse - to move
No comments:
Post a Comment