Can there
ever be such a thing? I have sadly become accustomed to the whistles, creepy
voices saying “Adioooooooos” and men and boys who are way too old or too young
checking me out. I don’t get angry every day, I don’t answer, I now just go
about my business and hope it doesn’t get to me enough to interrupt my day.
But then I
traveled to the east coast of Nicaragua. I was impacted by the new languages
that surrounded me (including English creole), the new foods, the water on all
sides, and coconut trees everywhere. Toto, we were not in Nicaragua anymore
(even though we still were)!
So it
shouldn't have been such a surprise to me that even the catcalls were different.
But still I was caught off guard by men sitting by the street yelling,
“Goodbye,” “Have a lovely day,” “Good morning,” etc. I had learned how to put
on what I call my “bitch face” in my everyday life because the men in the
streets of my town are creepy, rude, and obnoxious. But what do you do when
someone gives you a friendly greeting in the street? He is still probably
hinting at how beautiful you are, how much he loves your looks, etc, yet it’s
much harder to put up the same shield in that context. We questioned whether or
not to respond and how to deal with the nice comments. Time after time while we
walked around the city of Bluefields we were taken aback by men wishing us well
on the streets.
It’s a very
subtle difference between the east and west coasts of Nicaragua, maybe one that
not all would pick up on, yet it changed my days. I know that the coastal men are
just as machista as the mainland, but their approach to wooing a woman was so
different. I simply appreciated the fact that I didn’t feel quite as angry,
hateful, and frustrated. On the contrary, the street salutations often made me
smile, something that a mainstream Nicaraguan catcall very rarely does.
Apart from
the friendly catcalls, Bluefields and Pearl Lagoon are beautiful. White sand
beaches, water everywhere, lush green plants, GRASS surrounding the houses, and
delicious baked goods. We mostly spent our days relaxing at the beach or in
town, though the travel was extensive so we felt worn out by so many boat rides
and a long bus ride. I realized as I relaxed by the water, took the small boats
from one town to the next, and soaked it all in that I need to live near water.
I was soothed and refreshed, just as I feel when I take the time to watch the
sunset on my dock back in Minnesota.
One
challenge we faced was a constant uncertainty of what language to speak to the
locals. Most people speak at least broken Spanish, but English creole is their
first language in Pearl Lagoon. In Bluefields it was a guess as to which one to
speak because about half of the population is mixed with Spanish blood and half
African descendants from English slave ships, along with the indigenous
populations.
Additionally,
it was interesting to contrast some of the cultural and historical differences
between the two coasts. The east coast is much less Sandinista and more
efficiently abides by a traditional governing body. There are indigenous
populations, a mixed (Spanish with indigenous) population, African descendants
from the English slave ships, and a population of African descendants who first
settled on St. Vincent after a shipwreck and then were displaced along the east
coast of Central America. I was fascinated by the stark contrast between the
heavy Latino culture on the west coast versus the Caribbean feel on the east
coast.
Many of us
volunteers pondered whether or not we would have been a good fit for the coast.
Now, after understanding Nicaraguan culture on a deep level, working hard on my
Spanish skills, and enjoying the Latino life, I would like to be able to spend
time on the coast. However, I wouldn’t trade my Nicaraguan experience for
anything.
Two
different worlds, two different perspectives. My only conclusion for now is
that I would take a “Have a nice day lady!” any day over a whistle from a 14
year old boy.
