When I am on my home turf in the U.S., I consider myself to be a fairly "together", competent sort of person. I have my moments of forgetfulness or carelessness, but they're not too frequent, and the consequences are minor.
I see no particular reason why this should vary due solely to a change in location, but it seems to. It's as if I leave my brain at the border. Well, this particular border (U.S.-Nicaragua) at least, since I have successfully traveled to some 15 other countries without incident.
In the past five months in San Juan, I've committed a fair number of garden-variety gaffes, like locking the keys in the car; getting another key stuck in the lock of a gate; scraping the paint on the car's sideview mirror while parking really poorly; being cheated on prices at the market; and so forth. Nothing to stop the earth's rotation, and easy enough to overcome after a day or two of mentally berating myself.
Yesterday was different. I'm filling in for the weekend at the Internet cafe where E. works full-time, providing coverage for her co-worker who's on vacation. Long story short, a group of three thieves came in last night around 7 p.m. and managed to distract me well enough to make off with one of the laptops. The good news: the boss was more than understanding, saying that he was surprised it hadn't happened before now, and that were he working here, he had no doubt he would have been scammed multiple times. Also, though crime is definitely on the rise here--as is true worldwide due to economic conditions--Nicaragua differs from most of its Central American neighbors in that actual armed crime is still relatively rare.
The bad news: the scenario of how the robbery occurred was eerily similar to an incident 4 years ago when I was robbed at the real estate office where I worked at the time, which by the way was only two doors down from here. And yet, my instincts failed me again. "Me agarraron dormida," (they caught me asleep), I would say in Spanish. To put it mildly, I feel incredibly stupid and embarrassed.
I am generally a trusting person. I don't think my trust rises to the level of, say, Anne Frank ("In spite of everything, I still believe that people are truly good at heart")--I've had enough kicks in the pants to be a little more jaded than that--but for the most part I find it spiritually healthier to give people the benefit of the doubt. I have exchanged words with afore-mentioned boss more than once when he has gone off on a profanity-filled rant about the thieving, useless, lazy, dishonest Nicaraguans. (Um...why do you live here if you hate the people so much? I don't see the point. But I digress.)
A good part of my upset about last night's incident has to do with my own wounded pride. I have, up to now, thought of myself as a pretty savvy or street smart kind of person--this after my globetrotting and living in a number of big cities both in the U.S. and abroad. My time as a consular officer in Santo Domingo was particularly instructive. During my first year, in the course of interviewing more than 10,000 people for tourist visas, I heard volumes' worth of tall tales and inconsistent stories, and examined reams of fake documents. This turned me into a super-suspicious person--enough so that I was ultimately compelled to quit the job rather than lose my soul to the darkness. In my second year, when I worked in American Citizen Services, one of my major duties was to help out fellow U.S.ians who got themselves into jams in the Dominican Republic--both victims and perpetrators of crimes, mentally or physically ill people, deadbeats or otherwise destitute folks, and so on. There were some doozies, and I hoped that I would never personally have need to visit an ACS unit overseas.
When I was robbed in SJDS the first time, I chalked it up as one of those things that was bound to happen sometime in the course of my travels. But really, these latest thieves must have thought "it was like taking candy from a baby" as they laughed their way off to the black market trading post. And I don't blame them. I am 99% positive that if the same folks had come in when either E. or her co-worker had been on duty, they wouldn't have even tried.
So now my question is, how many times do I let myself be duped before I wise up? How do I find the middle ground between ingenuous and mistrustful? I thought I was there already but facts speak for themselves. Ergh.
Showing posts with label observations on Nicaraguan culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observations on Nicaraguan culture. Show all posts
11 October 2009
14 July 2009
Super-duper financial discipline
This is not a new idea, and it's certainly one that's gotten more play in the U.S. media since the onset of the latest financial crisis: if you want to control your consumption, buy only what the cash in your pocket (or your drawer or under the mattress) allows.
Though it seems a bit backward in this area of electronic everything--and I must admit the huge advantage of being able to manage my existing U.S. accounts online--I appreciate the fact that Nicaragua still exists largely as a cash economy. There has been a noticeable increase in the availability of banks, ATMs and the like since I first started visiting here, but it's still a very small percentage of people who actually use them. So virtually everything is cash, and small bills at that. It is always a headache to deal with 500-cordoba notes (= about $25), or even 200's; I usually take care of them at the Pali, which is the Walmart-affiliated American-style supermarket in town where I buy a few select items each week. Use of credit cards is virtually non-existent, except among the wealthier tourists & folks in Managua.
Now that E. & I are pretty much done with the construction and furnishing of our apartment--paid for from savings--we are trying to live by the rule that we will not make any further withdrawals from my U.S. accounts, but rather only spend what we are actually making. Again, I know this is not a new concept. Lots and lots of people in the U.S., and I imagine elsewhere, live "paycheck to paycheck." The major difference in this case is that we don't have plastic to fall back on. And while I've never had a super-plush job, I've been fortunate enough in my working life to earn enough that I didn't really have to think too hard about maintaining what I'd call a solid middle- to middle-upper-class existence.
Here, in our collectively under-employed and under-paid state, we are struggling to cover our basic expenses--food, first and foremost, then utilities (though we have yet to receive our first electric bill; I had a nightmare a few days back that we got it and it was $3,373. Yes, three thousand DOLLARS and change. Yikes), then the bare minimum of cell phone minutes, a very little gas for the car, toiletries, and that's about it. An occasional meal out of the house--for example, our $15 lunch yesterday to celebrate a special anniversary--throws us way further out of whack than I'm accustomed to, but it does help us maintain our sanity, so I guess it can almost qualify as a necessity. After that, we try to set aside a few cordobas every week for special purchases: first, some perfume (mostly for E., who must smell good to feel good ;-) ); some furniture; and now, less glamorously, a new set of tires. We barely finish paying for one thing before the next item occurs to us...and this is for a household of only two pretty financially conscientious/a.k.a. thrifty people.
I have commented to several friends and family that I have no earthly idea how "regular" folks get by here, when prices for so many items equal or exceed U.S. levels. For example, beef and pork both cost the equivalent of over $2.00 per pound, while chicken is $1.50-2.00; milk, $3.00/gallon; butter, $4.00/pound; eggs, almost $2.00/dozen; toothpaste, $1.50/small tube; toilet paper, $2-$2.50/4 rolls; gasoline, $4.00/gallon. You get the idea. Produce is relatively inexpensive, thank goodness, but woman cannot live on tomatoes and onions alone!
To put things in further context, E.'s monthly salary of $200, for 50+ hours of work per week, is considered very good here. This is for someone who is bilingual and has computer skills, international experience, and several years of education past high school--a serious rarity in this country. With my B.A., M.S., multiple languages, and about 15 years of U.S. and international work experience, I'm pushing the envelope by asking more than $10 an hour for some of the specialized work I do. And it's far from full-time, only temporary contracts, no benefits of any kind, no long-term security.
So I'm definitely left scratching my head about other people's paths to subsistence, let alone building for the future. Especially because--here's where the criticism unfortunately has to come in--many locals' idea of what constitutes "the basics" includes cable TV, never-ending junk food for the kids, and of course alcohol in copious quantities. There is no culture of savings, no concept of a rainy-day fund, no sense of how to budget and live within one's means. Even if people had such ideas, they almost universally lack the education, skills and socio-cultural resources to act on them.
I've seen this phenomenon in other low-income countries I've spent time in, but I haven't had to live with it day in and day out. What to do? I'm speaking not for ourselves, because I'm pretty confident we will always find a way to get by--but for the people around us. Even proven ideas that have taken hold in other places, such as micro-financing or small business development programs (e.g. Grameen Bank and all its followers), fall flat here. You want to see a vicious circle in action? Come to Nicaragua.
[And by the bye, here's the wonder of the blogosphere: my original intention for this post was to say something positive about "doing more with less" and how even a well-trained consumer could change her habits...and it ended up being a depressing, seriously superficial commentary on the chicken-and-egg nature of poverty. I feel unsatisfied by what I've said but will publish nonetheless, with hopes of explicating my thoughts more effectively another day....]
Though it seems a bit backward in this area of electronic everything--and I must admit the huge advantage of being able to manage my existing U.S. accounts online--I appreciate the fact that Nicaragua still exists largely as a cash economy. There has been a noticeable increase in the availability of banks, ATMs and the like since I first started visiting here, but it's still a very small percentage of people who actually use them. So virtually everything is cash, and small bills at that. It is always a headache to deal with 500-cordoba notes (= about $25), or even 200's; I usually take care of them at the Pali, which is the Walmart-affiliated American-style supermarket in town where I buy a few select items each week. Use of credit cards is virtually non-existent, except among the wealthier tourists & folks in Managua.
Now that E. & I are pretty much done with the construction and furnishing of our apartment--paid for from savings--we are trying to live by the rule that we will not make any further withdrawals from my U.S. accounts, but rather only spend what we are actually making. Again, I know this is not a new concept. Lots and lots of people in the U.S., and I imagine elsewhere, live "paycheck to paycheck." The major difference in this case is that we don't have plastic to fall back on. And while I've never had a super-plush job, I've been fortunate enough in my working life to earn enough that I didn't really have to think too hard about maintaining what I'd call a solid middle- to middle-upper-class existence.
Here, in our collectively under-employed and under-paid state, we are struggling to cover our basic expenses--food, first and foremost, then utilities (though we have yet to receive our first electric bill; I had a nightmare a few days back that we got it and it was $3,373. Yes, three thousand DOLLARS and change. Yikes), then the bare minimum of cell phone minutes, a very little gas for the car, toiletries, and that's about it. An occasional meal out of the house--for example, our $15 lunch yesterday to celebrate a special anniversary--throws us way further out of whack than I'm accustomed to, but it does help us maintain our sanity, so I guess it can almost qualify as a necessity. After that, we try to set aside a few cordobas every week for special purchases: first, some perfume (mostly for E., who must smell good to feel good ;-) ); some furniture; and now, less glamorously, a new set of tires. We barely finish paying for one thing before the next item occurs to us...and this is for a household of only two pretty financially conscientious/a.k.a. thrifty people.
I have commented to several friends and family that I have no earthly idea how "regular" folks get by here, when prices for so many items equal or exceed U.S. levels. For example, beef and pork both cost the equivalent of over $2.00 per pound, while chicken is $1.50-2.00; milk, $3.00/gallon; butter, $4.00/pound; eggs, almost $2.00/dozen; toothpaste, $1.50/small tube; toilet paper, $2-$2.50/4 rolls; gasoline, $4.00/gallon. You get the idea. Produce is relatively inexpensive, thank goodness, but woman cannot live on tomatoes and onions alone!
To put things in further context, E.'s monthly salary of $200, for 50+ hours of work per week, is considered very good here. This is for someone who is bilingual and has computer skills, international experience, and several years of education past high school--a serious rarity in this country. With my B.A., M.S., multiple languages, and about 15 years of U.S. and international work experience, I'm pushing the envelope by asking more than $10 an hour for some of the specialized work I do. And it's far from full-time, only temporary contracts, no benefits of any kind, no long-term security.
So I'm definitely left scratching my head about other people's paths to subsistence, let alone building for the future. Especially because--here's where the criticism unfortunately has to come in--many locals' idea of what constitutes "the basics" includes cable TV, never-ending junk food for the kids, and of course alcohol in copious quantities. There is no culture of savings, no concept of a rainy-day fund, no sense of how to budget and live within one's means. Even if people had such ideas, they almost universally lack the education, skills and socio-cultural resources to act on them.
I've seen this phenomenon in other low-income countries I've spent time in, but I haven't had to live with it day in and day out. What to do? I'm speaking not for ourselves, because I'm pretty confident we will always find a way to get by--but for the people around us. Even proven ideas that have taken hold in other places, such as micro-financing or small business development programs (e.g. Grameen Bank and all its followers), fall flat here. You want to see a vicious circle in action? Come to Nicaragua.
[And by the bye, here's the wonder of the blogosphere: my original intention for this post was to say something positive about "doing more with less" and how even a well-trained consumer could change her habits...and it ended up being a depressing, seriously superficial commentary on the chicken-and-egg nature of poverty. I feel unsatisfied by what I've said but will publish nonetheless, with hopes of explicating my thoughts more effectively another day....]
01 July 2009
Not saying no, Nica-style
Nicaraguans, at least those of the Sanjuaneno variety, do not like to say "no." They seem to think that a direct refusal of an offer or request, no matter how well justified, is rude or unkind. So if someone asks you to go out to a party, for example, rather than saying "I prefer to stay home" or--heaven forbid--"I don't want to go out with you", the more common response is to make up some other commitment or simply defer the question by saying "another time," "maybe next week" or the like. If someone asks you why you didn't call, the usual culprit is the bad telephone lines, a discharged cell battery...you get the picture. White lies, we call them--but here, such excuses or equivocations are not considered lies of any color.
This phenomenon rubs me a bit the wrong way. While I don't claim to be some paragon of virtue or honesty, I do make a conscious effort to be as straightforward as possible in the way I speak and interact with others, unless it will cause the other person unnecessary or lasting harm. This was not always so. For many, many years, I was a conflict-avoider par excellence. Too often, I suffered some resentment, anger or hurt in silence simply because it seemed easier. Not so good for long-term emotional health, and I sometimes ponder what effect all that internalizing might have had on my organs.
But then I spent two years in the Dominican Republic, where the m.o. is to let it all hang out--the stereotypical Latino "passion" leading to loud and sometimes vehement public arguments, commentaries, or other kinds of hoopla. Not coincidentally, during this time I began my relationship with E., who is of course Latina, and--to her credit--unusually forthright for a Nicaraguan, although she does equivocate once in a while when it's convenient. Under the stress of a long-distance relationship trying to bridge multiple cultural and social barriers, plus a very intense job I detested, plus absence from friends and family and almost all things known, my facade started to crack.
Instead of crying alone in my room, I cried in public (embarrassing, and not recommended except in very rare circumstances). Rather than avoiding fights, I sometimes picked them. My "nice girl" persona became, well, a bit more bitchy. In short order, I felt I had cried and screamed more in a year than in the previous 30. Obviously, I was going through some kind of transformation, and I wasn't sure if it was good or if I liked it, but it was often extremely cathartic. I also didn't know if it was a temporary or a lasting change. Yes, I did seek counseling during this period, but it ended up being for only a couple of months, and I stopped taking the meds I was prescribed once I got out of the D.R. and started feeling more in control of my life.
Long story short, after swinging 180 degrees over to the "let it all hang out" approach I started to move back to center, but with the goal of hanging on to those elements of emotional and relationship management that I found helpful. Ask my family, for example, if they've noticed a change in the way I speak with them; I guarantee they'll all say yes. They don't always like what I have to say, and I still hold some things back, but boy, do I feel better. And it's not just about self-gratification. I really do think that in almost all cases it's better to be brutally honest, even if it causes bad feelings in the short term, than to placate and stay silent and potentially create long-term problems. (That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!)
Yesterday, I violated my self-imposed honesty principle not once, but twice. First, one of the relatively trustworthy taxi drivers I know here asked me for a loan of $22 to buy a new cell phone. Instead of saying no, I am not an ATM, I don't make loans just because I'm a gringa and because you've occasionally given me a ride (though I would have said it a little more politely than that), I said something to the effect that I was waiting for payday and that I had virtually no cash in my pocket. Mind you, those two things were actually true. However, the truth is that if I had wanted to make the loan, I could have gotten the money. But I didn't want to, and I didn't say so. Shame on me!
Later, around 9:30 p.m., E. and I were getting ready for bed when I heard a knock on the door and a familiar voice asking if we were home. It was Amanda, an acquaintance who was coming to collect a second payment for some Avon perfumes we'd ordered from her. We'd known since the beginning that the second half would be due on the 30th; we'd set aside the exact amount we owed, and I had been expecting Amanda to show up or accost me on the street any time yesterday. So the logical thing would have been to go downstairs and just take care of it. But no. In true Nicaraguan style, I quickly turned out the lights, and "made myself deaf" until she gave up and went across the street. Afterwards, I felt pretty stupid, perhaps even cowardly. The truth was, it was late, we were tired, and I just didn't feel like dealing with her. Even so, it was the wrong choice.
Could it be that I'm adapting a little too much to the culture here? I will have to keep an eye on this...
But then I spent two years in the Dominican Republic, where the m.o. is to let it all hang out--the stereotypical Latino "passion" leading to loud and sometimes vehement public arguments, commentaries, or other kinds of hoopla. Not coincidentally, during this time I began my relationship with E., who is of course Latina, and--to her credit--unusually forthright for a Nicaraguan, although she does equivocate once in a while when it's convenient. Under the stress of a long-distance relationship trying to bridge multiple cultural and social barriers, plus a very intense job I detested, plus absence from friends and family and almost all things known, my facade started to crack.
Instead of crying alone in my room, I cried in public (embarrassing, and not recommended except in very rare circumstances). Rather than avoiding fights, I sometimes picked them. My "nice girl" persona became, well, a bit more bitchy. In short order, I felt I had cried and screamed more in a year than in the previous 30. Obviously, I was going through some kind of transformation, and I wasn't sure if it was good or if I liked it, but it was often extremely cathartic. I also didn't know if it was a temporary or a lasting change. Yes, I did seek counseling during this period, but it ended up being for only a couple of months, and I stopped taking the meds I was prescribed once I got out of the D.R. and started feeling more in control of my life.
Long story short, after swinging 180 degrees over to the "let it all hang out" approach I started to move back to center, but with the goal of hanging on to those elements of emotional and relationship management that I found helpful. Ask my family, for example, if they've noticed a change in the way I speak with them; I guarantee they'll all say yes. They don't always like what I have to say, and I still hold some things back, but boy, do I feel better. And it's not just about self-gratification. I really do think that in almost all cases it's better to be brutally honest, even if it causes bad feelings in the short term, than to placate and stay silent and potentially create long-term problems. (That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it!)
Yesterday, I violated my self-imposed honesty principle not once, but twice. First, one of the relatively trustworthy taxi drivers I know here asked me for a loan of $22 to buy a new cell phone. Instead of saying no, I am not an ATM, I don't make loans just because I'm a gringa and because you've occasionally given me a ride (though I would have said it a little more politely than that), I said something to the effect that I was waiting for payday and that I had virtually no cash in my pocket. Mind you, those two things were actually true. However, the truth is that if I had wanted to make the loan, I could have gotten the money. But I didn't want to, and I didn't say so. Shame on me!
Later, around 9:30 p.m., E. and I were getting ready for bed when I heard a knock on the door and a familiar voice asking if we were home. It was Amanda, an acquaintance who was coming to collect a second payment for some Avon perfumes we'd ordered from her. We'd known since the beginning that the second half would be due on the 30th; we'd set aside the exact amount we owed, and I had been expecting Amanda to show up or accost me on the street any time yesterday. So the logical thing would have been to go downstairs and just take care of it. But no. In true Nicaraguan style, I quickly turned out the lights, and "made myself deaf" until she gave up and went across the street. Afterwards, I felt pretty stupid, perhaps even cowardly. The truth was, it was late, we were tired, and I just didn't feel like dealing with her. Even so, it was the wrong choice.
Could it be that I'm adapting a little too much to the culture here? I will have to keep an eye on this...
07 June 2009
In case you were wondering...
The title of my blog refers to one of my favorite passages from the Tao Te Ching, specifically the 1989 translation by Gia-fu Feng and Jane English. I first read the text for a course in Japanese religion in the spring of 1992, and it's one of the very few books that's accompanied me during the ensuing 17 years of peregrination.
While I don't subscribe to any particular religion, Buddhism, and Zen Buddhism in particular, holds a lot of appeal for me as a source of wisdom and comfort in navigating life's challenges. One of these days/weeks/months/years I need to make time and space to study it in greater depth.
I've come back to this chapter again because, as I try to adapt to the Nicaraguan lifestyle for the second time, I find myself constantly having to revise my expectations and stopping myself from reacting to situations in the manner I might if I were in the U.S. One of the things that has always struck me about Nicaraguans is that the majority seem to believe that they have very little control over their own lives. Either God, some other higher power, or simply "fate" is running the show. This is comforting in some ways, because it makes it easier for people to accept the many, many obstacles they face here; however, I think this mindset also holds them back from achieving a higher, more sustainable standard of living. On the flip side, the majority of U.S.-ians probably feel that they have 100% control of their lives. In my opinion, neither viewpoint is entirely correct.
All this to say that I am trying to be a bit more flexible and relaxed when things don't go the way I anticipate. I am trying to yield, to bend, and let things happen as they will, all the while keeping some semblance of a smile on my face. This is often far easier said than done...
Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new;
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.
Therefore the wise embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel,
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, "Yield and overcome."
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.
While I don't subscribe to any particular religion, Buddhism, and Zen Buddhism in particular, holds a lot of appeal for me as a source of wisdom and comfort in navigating life's challenges. One of these days/weeks/months/years I need to make time and space to study it in greater depth.
I've come back to this chapter again because, as I try to adapt to the Nicaraguan lifestyle for the second time, I find myself constantly having to revise my expectations and stopping myself from reacting to situations in the manner I might if I were in the U.S. One of the things that has always struck me about Nicaraguans is that the majority seem to believe that they have very little control over their own lives. Either God, some other higher power, or simply "fate" is running the show. This is comforting in some ways, because it makes it easier for people to accept the many, many obstacles they face here; however, I think this mindset also holds them back from achieving a higher, more sustainable standard of living. On the flip side, the majority of U.S.-ians probably feel that they have 100% control of their lives. In my opinion, neither viewpoint is entirely correct.
All this to say that I am trying to be a bit more flexible and relaxed when things don't go the way I anticipate. I am trying to yield, to bend, and let things happen as they will, all the while keeping some semblance of a smile on my face. This is often far easier said than done...
Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new;
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.
Therefore the wise embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel,
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, "Yield and overcome."
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.
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