11/22/11
Dear Everyone,
Today was the despedida, our going away party. All of our families gathered at the community center. After hearing so many stories, it was nice to finally meet everyone in person. We participated in traditional Tsa’chila games, such as spear throwing (of the infamous picture) and Tug of War. Man those women are strong! It must be all the water lugging. We also ran some typical American games, such as a three-legged race. In the largest pot I’ve ever seen, over the largest indoor fire I’ve ever seen (especially for a thatched roof,) with the largest bag of rice I’ve ever seen, the women made dinner for the entire community. And of course there was Tang. Giovanni and Freddy came for the speeches, and Giovanni’s was very touching. Even Teresa, the president of Puerto Limon came. She’s the typically take-advantage-type politician. She actually reminds me a lot of Cora Hoover Hooper (of Anyone Can Whistle.) She had less to do with anything than anybody, and yet she proceeded to make the longest speech. She even brought a camera crew. Sleazy politicians. Did I tell you about the time she tried to give Lizzie a shot of penicillin in a sketchy back ally, with a needle with no packaging?
Afterwards we all received homemade gifts from our homestay families. Carolina gave me a beautiful satchel. I now have a satchel made by a Tsa’chila! How funny is that? Well, I guess it’s only funny if you’ve figured out how Tsa’chila is pronounced. The despedida was fun, but the real party was afterwards for Sandro’s (Alejandro’s son, Carolina’s brother) seventeenth birthday.
Let me tell you, Los Naranjos knows how to throw a party! When I left at ten (because I had to get up to leave at four,) people were just arriving. They hired a DJ who blared music out of a massive speaker system. It was still playing when Maggie and Kelsey (who live next door) woke up the next morning. I’d never seen alcohol in Los Naranjos before (besides the Shaman’s hallucinogenic alcohol,) but for the party they ordered three hundred giant bottles of Pilsner beer. The way in which they served it was very interesting. Instead of everyone getting their own bottle or cup, there were two plastic cups that everyone shared. The women would pour a cup, the recipient would drink it immediately, and then it would go to the next person. Perhaps it’s about community or pacing yourself? There were also unlimited (as long as you said “salud” first) shots of sweet white wine. Golly gosh I think I might have had a fifth of a glass’s worth! Anyway, I spent the night dancing with a gaggle of little girls and it was tons of fun.
I’m going to miss it here so much! Yes, if I had to do one more day of our work project, Machete Freddy would probably get a digger in the face, but I could live in Los Naranjos for at least another month. Another year if not for the bugs. I’m going to miss so many things. I’m going to miss the sense of community you get from people shouting “Carolina” from their own nearby houses at all hours. The sense of safety when you get lost walking home in the dark, and you get attacked by dogs, and then the owner of the dogs comes and saves you, and then you ask them if they know how to get to the home of Carolina and Victor, and then they tell you how lost you are, and in their nightgown put you in the back of their truck and drive you home. I’m going to miss the firemen in Puerto Limon and their pink camo uniforms. And the scarily machete competent children, where will I ever find that again? I’m going to miss all the beautiful names. Elena, Viviana, Carolina, Lupita, and Luciana with her three beautiful daughters: Milena, Diana, and Annai, it all sounds like a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel. I’ll miss being able to pick a cocoa whenever I’m hungry. And eating every meal with spoons, even beef. I’ll miss the strange mix of shamanism and Catholicism (which was only introduced thirty years ago.) What do I do now if I need to be cleansed? I’ll miss the freshest eggs of my life (before a meal I’d be sent to collect them from the nest, and we would eat them immediately.) And perhaps, just perhaps, I’ll even miss Machete Freddy and his habit of watering the plants with the excess water in his boots.
And although I won’t miss avoiding the drinking water, or poisoning myself with deet, I also won’t have Carolina sneaking into my room in the morning when I’m sick (beware the water) and fixing the blinds. I’m going to miss her most of all. In my first blog post in Los Naranjos, I said I wasn’t sure if I resented or respected TBB for sending us to Ecuador first, and refusing to ease us into the habit of culture shock. But now I understand perfectly why Ecuador is stop number one. For the first time in our lives, we left our families behind. However, the transition was eased by the strong sense of family we all felt in Los Naranjos. Whenever I would come home after dark, there would be Carolina, standing in the doorway with her flashlight. When Lizzie came home from the hospital (seriously beware of the water,) Carolina was the first to run out there and get her from the car. When Lizzie was late coming home from the cultural center, the other two girls in my block of houses and I decided we would go looking for her if she wasn’t back by 7:30. At 7:00 Elena (their host mother) came over with flashlights to start the search. How many communities do you know where they would bring cousins, let alone homestay cousins, to a five-year-old’s school beauty pageant?
For our media project, we interviewed over twenty of the community members. That’s about 10% of Los Naranjos. Watching those interviews, I realize how endeared I feel towards each and every person. I find myself desperately trying to cram every last memory, picture, and recipe in. I want to come home, and remember how to make panfryed plantains! Just chop them up real small and fry them in a wok with canola oil, in case you were wondering.
Perhaps if I was made more cynical about the future of the environment, and about the effectiveness of NGOs, at least I learned that I can feel genuine love for a people of a culture completely different from mine.
Love,
Katherine
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