A Response to Jess from the Spoiled American

I would bet that most people have yet to see the comment posted to one of my last posts about my host family so I am now going to post it here in all its glory:

From Jess: I love you Avi, but my God, sometimes you come across as such a spoiled American, it hurts. You’re bitching about how your room is too dark, and yet the people who are letting you into their home, their LIVES, are sleeping in the kitchen because of YOU. And the laundry thing… even if you were in the States still, I wouldn’t be impressed. You have only just learnt how to do laundry by hand?! What has your mother been teaching you all these years?! I feel like in one sense, you’re not cut out for Peace Corps, BUT at the same time, I am SO GLAD you’re doing it, because you need the perspective.

First I just want to point out that it is with Jess’ permission that I am posting this front and center and that I am writing this response to her comments. Who is Jess, you ask? Jess and I spent a few eventful weeks (not sure on the exact amount of time) at the same Spanish school in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala and had some interesting discussions about life, traveling, poverty etc. She is a very cool Canadian chica, great writer and photographer, and I have nothing but fond thoughts of her and maybe even a little crush. And now I will rip into her……just kidding…..well mostly.

As soon as I read her comments, I won’t lie, it hurt a little bit. Here I am in Nicaragua, in the Peace Corps, in a completely different, simpler life, thinking about how great I am to have made this decision, to try to live a bit more uncomfortably, and learn about a new culture and the field of development at the same time. Here I am sleeping on a bed too small WITH springs sticking into my back, eating rice and beans WAY too much, and trying to teach high school students about business in less than perfect Spanish, thinking that my behavior is the opposite of spoiled right now. Here I am spending my days trying to befriend Nicas and foreigners alike, bring a little more understanding and love into the world, and make sense of the terrible economy in Nicaragua right now, and I am being called spoiled. And here is Jess, up in Calgary, in her nice dorm room/apartment, spending more money in a week than I make in months, living the university life, and she is calling me SPOILED! Un-friggin-believable. So, at first glance, it made me take a step back. Who does she think she is telling me that I am not Peace Corps material and at the same time insulted my very own mother over my laundry washing skills? This is a bit off message but Jess, just so you know, I have washed my own laundry since I was 10, I separate my whites and colors, and know how to take delicate clothes out of the dryer sooner…thank you very much. But forgive me, for growing up in a country where most people use washers and dryers to do laundry! Forgive me, for not knowing how to wash clothes on a hard cement washboard, knowing the right combination of soap and detergent, and knowing how to keep your clothes staying soft and durable! Guilty as charged, if being spoiled, is complaining about how your hands hurt after grinding, twisting, and toiling dirty clothes for an hour. Guilty as charged. Ok back to the point…

Who is this girl calling me spoiled and telling me that I need perspective? Hell, I have a better perspective on life and society than most people I know. But you know what, America, she is absolutely right! (by the way that sentence was in honor of the late Bernie Mac). 100 percent correct. I am spoiled. I know it and I know that sometimes it rears its ugly head especially in my writing and for that I apologize. But I never regret or feel sorry about the fact that I am fortunate/spoiled. I was fortunate to be raised in a loving, caring, middle class family with two parents who instilled the concepts of education, social work, and responsibility in my life. I was “spoiled” by receiving gifts at every single Hanukah and birthday, yearly family vacations, and all the comforts of home and living that a kid could ever need. I was lucky to be born in a country where freedom of speech and religion is valued and where rags to riches stories truly do exist. And unfortunately, every single hour in Nicaragua, I am reminded of how fortunate I am. As I walk through the streets here, I cannot help but think about it. I see kids sniffing glue as if it is an accepted public practice, five year olds out at 11pm at night selling gum and cookies in the streets, thousands of kids sitting on the doorsteps in the middle of the day when they should be at school. I see broken families, cheating men, impoverished people, and communities without hope. If you have a heart, a soul, and a mind here, you cannot help but cry for the life that so many Nicaraguans are forced to live. You cannot help but think about how every single human being deserves to live a life of opportunity and comfort just as you did. You cannot help but want to give every kid on the street a piece of bread and few cordobas. But you cant! And this is where it gets tricky….this is where my thoughts get mixed up, my fortunate background confuses me, and I become lost.

I am here working for Peace Corps. I am a United States’ citizen who has grown up very comfortably economically and emotionally with every opportunity available to me. Honestly, there is no doubt that on many levels the quality of life is stronger in the US than Nicaragua. Education, job opportunities, social services, cleanliness, technology. There is a reason that so many Nicaraguans and Central Americans do everything they can to get the States day in and day out, and its not only the money. There is no doubt that my way of living is COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DIFFERENT to the way of living for most Nicaraguans, even ones economically and educationally well off. And I am not talking culturally here….that is a whole different subject for another book. I mention these things only to give you a base for the issues I personally am battling with currently.

I make a little more each month than an average Nicaraguan teacher makes. And for transparency purposes, I make 4350 Cordobas monthly (equivalent to 223 dollars at today’s exchange rate; in purchasing power, my salary is constantly losing value as Nicaragua currently stands at a whopping 25 percent inflation rate). I am almost positive that high school teachers make 3000 Cords montly but almost all work second shifts or have second jobs, something I am not allowed to do. But I have the luxury of only having to support myself while the teachers are usually supporting other family members. You will see why money is important in the following anecdote.

I am out one night with a group of friends (all foreigners) sipping on a nice cold Toña, a delicious Nica beer, on Calle Calzada, the super touristy street in Granada filled with restaurants, tour operators, ice cream, and other touristy stuff. Every five minutes or so, we are approached by either an old woman carrying a basket of cookies, gum, etc, a young child carrying the same, a beggar, or young children trying to sell useless items. And every 5 minutes, we all briefly stop our conversation to wag a finger or say “no gracias”. I sometimes add, “I have no money, I am sorry” (which is true as I am carrying no extra) or when it is kids that are begging, I tell them, “I may give you money if you offer me a product or service because you see that is the way business works but I cannot give you money if I get nothing in return (this may sound like an asshole thing to say but I 100 percent stand by it).” I also remind kids on occasion to at least say please and thank you when they are asking, begging, selling, etc. Every five minutes, a strange feeling lurks inside as I have just turned down another needy person while I am there, being spoiled, and drinking my luxurious beer.

How do I justify enjoying a 30 cord liter of beer while not giving a hungry kid on the street at least 1 cord? How do I complain about how little money I make when so many people make so much less and live a life so impossible, so hard, that I could not even imagine? Before I elaborate further, I want to share with you one more story.

I arrive to the bus station where the nice buses to Managua reside, excited about today’s trip to the Laguna de Apoyo, one of Nicaraguan’s absolute gems. I walk up to one of the drivers/workers and ask him how much it will cost to take me to the entrance of the Laguna. I am wearing shorts, appear to be a foreigner, and have just asked them how much something costs, a sure sign that someone is not a regular. The man tells me 20 cords, 1 dollar, and I bust out laughing. I literally laugh out loud. I respond that it costs 10 cords to go to Masaya and that I am not even going that far. My destination is before Masaya and thus should cost at the maximum 10 cords. I ask for a price of 7 cords. The man swiftly replies that 20 cords is the price and I quickly shake my head at him. I let him know that I have taken this bus many times before (the truth is that I have around 10 times) and that the maximum the fare could be is ten. He doesn’t budge and then another man/worker joins in the conversation from afar, telling me to stop being cheap and that 20 cords is one dollar in my country. I immediately stop in my thoughts, taken aback, and angrily respond that it doesn’t matter where I am from, I live in Nicaragua, I work in Nicaragua, and I am fucking trying to help your community. I then storm off across the street, visibly upset because of the treatment I received and my angry response, and sit down next to the bum on the concrete steps. I then ask him if he can believe that they are trying to charge me 20 cords for a trip that should cost between 7-10. He responds by moving his mouth in a barely audible way.

I get paid around the same as Nicaraguan high school teachers yet I get treated like a dollar carrying foreigner. I work for this country, yet constantly get overcharged purely based on who I am. I argue every cent and give nothing to the bum on the street next to whom I sat. I go to the laguna to enjoy myself at a nice gringo’s house with an amazing view, and eat a delicious, free lunch, a type of trip that most Nicaraguans never, ever get to do, and I complain about the bus fare and justify it by telling them I am a teacher.

I live within my means here, within my Peace Corps given budget, but with the comfort of nicely managed saving accounts and mutual funds in dollars at my disposal. I enjoy Nicaragua, I travel, I have fun, I drink beer and wonderful rum, and treat myself to choco-bananos and Eskimo ice cream. Yet I negotiate over 10 dollars a month for food with my struggling host family who could really use an extra income and I barely ever give food or money to kids on the street.

I work here in foreign development and have daily job responsibilities….I deserve to splurge every once in a while. If I feel more comfortable in my own little house than living in a small dark room with a host family, then I have every right to seek out that living situation. I am trying to do good work and thus deserve to be comfortable….I can do better work in that way. These are my thoughts, yet it is painfully obvious to see how these can be harmful and helpful all at the same time.

I am used to my way of living, the American style, and thus can be reluctant to change. I feel comfortable in a nice, cool house with a comfy bed, a fridge, and internet. I feel like I need certain things in order to stay happy and productive. The other side of me knows that I will never truly know how it feels to be a poor Nica unless I live in that way, unless I live among them. I will have to shed all my comforts and find comforts in their way of living….a nice hot plate of gallo pinto…spending a night watching whatever 1980s movie comes on tv…sitting on the porch letting the night pass you by.

But here’s the deal. Why would I ever want to live like a poor Nica? Why would a poor Nica ever want to live like that? Who really wants to struggle to feed a family day by day and have kids stay uneducated and ignorant? Who really wants to experience a lack of opportunity and the results of failed governments? I personally want to LEARN and UNDERSTAND the culture of poverty but yet would never want to live in that way. Why wash clothes by hand when you can throw them in the machine?

So maybe I really am not Peace Corps material, maybe a Peace Corps person should be one truly willing to go the distance and give up everything to help the poor. Maybe I should give a peso to every beggar on the street and live without any of my past luxuries. But maybe what Peace Corps is looking for are people who are willing to change their lifestyle enough so that they can serve, help, and give hope to those less fortunate around them. Maybe it is my mindset and thoughts that need to change just as much, if not more, than my actions. And if that is the case, I hope that while I am here I can become that person, even if, at heart, I am just another spoiled American.

Here’s to you Jess for keeping me honest in my writing and my thoughts and to everyone else who continues to provide me with feedback. I truly think we could all benefit from a broader perspective and I hope that some of my writing helps to at least open your eyes to another part of society, a new culture, and new ideas.

Patience is a Virtue

Just remember that when it takes me a long time to post….

I am still here, still dedicated to the blog, but very busy having a great time getting to know Granada, the community, and looking for a new place to move into. Really, I love my site…it is a great place with some really cool people and I encourage you all to visit during my two years. You will have a great time…I promise. I am lucky to end up in a site that I really like and have been healthy, spirits high, and happy. A couple of my friends arent feeling quite as hot about their sites and are thinking about calling it quits. Nica 47 started out with 40 and we are now down to 37….if I were a betting man (which I am), I would say that within the next two months we will be down to 35. Anyway, football season starts next week and I just met the owner of a sports bar here who is a HUGE Gator fan and just got satellite so it looks like I shouldnt be missing too much of the season! oh and go jags! and I hope everyone and everything in Florida dries out soon….it seems as if you have had a hard, wet week.

La Familia- Granada style

Just three days left until I celebrate my one month anniversary at site and another seventeen days until I move out of my host family’s house! Listen, my host family in Granada is really sweet but I have now lived with host families for 9 of the last 10 months of my life…pretty hard to believe….and the time has come for me to get a place on my own or at least find a situation where I can live a bit more independently.

First Week Impressions

I had met my family during the 5 day site visit so the second time around, the permanent move, was not quite as big of a shock as seeing the house for the first time. The family was still sweet, the house was still small, and there was still only one bathroom. Yet the family was no longer just four, it was now five, and the room that was previously mine, was no longer mine! All of my stuff had been moved to a completely different room in the house. Occupying what was my room, was the grandmother of the family visiting from Houston, Texas. So I was relegated to the only other bedroom in the house, a bit smaller, the bed a bit less comfortable, and the fan not nearly as good. Still, as I have learned throughout my life and especially during Peace Corps, I rolled with the punches….it wasn’t a big deal. There were now five in the house (six if you include me) instead of four which basically meant that there was one more person to fight with over the bathroom and not much else. The other interesting note is that this is a two bedroom house, one room being occupied by grandma and the other room by me. So where does the family sleep? Excellent question. The family moved a bed into the kitchen where two sleep, another sleeps in the main room on the floor, and another one sleeps on my tijera (cot) that I let them borrow given the situation.

So lets just say that during the first week, space was on my mind…would I have enough of it, how would everyone live together in this little house, is this situation really the best for me?

Given that I was living with a host family in a little house where people were sleeping in the kitchen and that I needed to busy meeting people, getting to know the city, and doing my job, I REALLY wanted the family to provide all my meals for me. I just did not want that extra headache of having to prepare my own meals while trying to integrate into the community. Oh and did I mention that the kitchen is now a bedroom. Also I should add that there is not a working refrigerator in the house and at that point there were no forks either. Haha try eating all your meals with a spoon…its quite funny. So a deal needed to be arranged for the food. During my site visit, I tried to negotiate a price for all the food and was shot down numerous times. The price that I felt was fair was somewhere around 80-100 dollars for food but we just couldn’t agree on anything. So I mentioned the food prices the first day when I was there and we still could not reach an accord. And as I needed to eat, I went out a got some bread and bananas and figured that I would live on peanut butter and banana sandwiches until the senora of the house caved in on my asking price and saw how ridiculous I was for eating sandwiches all the time. After four days of eating my own and a meal consisting of yogurt and ramen noodles, I decided that I really needed to get something squared away. So, along with the help of my boss, Georgia, we talked to the family about the food situation and finally agreed on a price of 80 dollars a month for food. I was so happy to have it all settled and felt like I could not get a bit more comfortable in the house. Before, I had one foot out the door always.

During the first week, I spent very little time in the house mainly due to the food situation but also due to the fact that my room is small and dark and I was trying to meet people in Granada. I definitely felt as if I needed to get out of the house after my six weeks as I did not have enough space to live how I wanted and that there were just too many people in a small house. It didn’t help that the grandma was going to be staying around for at least the next month (even though she is really sweet and funny). I also felt a bit weird about staying with a relatively poor, simple family as I felt like I was basically providing a solid portion of their income. To this day, it just still makes me feel uncomfortable. The first few nights were a bit rough and I wasn’t my normal talkative self but after the first week and my first homecooked meal I settled down a bit and took off my shoes (if you get the metaphor)…

Since then…

Now I have been living with the family for almost a full month and not much has changed since my first impressions but I am a lot more comfortable in the house. I play video games with my 13 year old brother and have helped him with his homework. I have danced with the grandma at 10am in the morning to a random song on the radio and have gone out dancing and drinking with my 23 year old host brother who doesn’t get out too much. I have also had some interesting conversations with my host mother about poverty and the situation in Nicaragua and she has showed me the proper way to do my laundry.

I really appreciate the fan in my room, the nice toilet in the bathroom, and the all cold showers have not bothered me a bit. Actually sometimes, I wish the water was colder! Still, I get annoyed at the darkness of my room and the fact that there are ants everywhere. My mattress started out with one spring sticking out into my back and I just curled around it but now there are two springs sticking straight up and I am at a loss….I sleep well…but usually have a few marks when I wake up. After three weeks of doing my laundry (I paid for it) my host mother decided that she no longer wanted to do it (still not sure if I wasn’t paying enough or she really did not have the energy to do all of her own family’s clothes and mine as well), so for the first time, last week, I did all of my own laundry. It took me about an hour and my hands killed afterwards….serious pain for the rest of the day. I am now wearing less and less clothes, reusing ones that don’t smell too bad, and doing everything possible to lessen the amount of laundry I have. I now have a new appreciation for all the women here that do laundry day in and day out.

Nothing too much else to report as far as my host family goes. They are a true lower class, working family, doing what they can to get by. The 23 year old brother works and helps the family with some bills, the father works two jobs and I hardly ever see him, and the little brother goes to a private high school which is definitely costly for the family but also worth it in their opinion. The mother is definitely not well, she looks weak and tired a lot, but still does what she needs to do to keep the house afloat. I have paid for my food and my rent in advance as I know they need the money and can only imagine what a struggle it is for them every week to pay the bills. I am sure the grandmother is helping out now with her American dollars but I am not sure how much she is helping. I do really appreciate living with this family in that I get a chance to see how a poor, working class family lives. It makes me appreciate all the things I have a little bit more and keeps it all in perspective for me. Although I doubt I will be living in the house for anymore that my required six weeks…it has been a great experience and I really appreciate all the family has done for me in my short stay.

My New Address

I now have a PO Box in Granada where you can all send me presents, goodies, letters and an air conditioning unit.

Señor Avi Richman

Apartado Postal 236

Granada, Nicaragua

Central America

Refer to the old post about some tips in sending packages….and send away…it really is easy and I LOVE getting mail. It makes me feel loved

1st Week Update…live from Granada

It is 9pm and I am sitting at the NGO taking advantage of their free internet and electricity. I made friends with the two guards that are here 24-7 on rotating shifts so now I can pretty much hang out here whenever I want. In my house, just one block away, we have no electricity right now due to a problem with the power lines (my host brother told me “welcome to nicaragua”) so I figured I would come here to type. The issue right now is that it seems that whenever I want to write, I have very little thoughts, but when my mind is racing and thinking of everything I want to write, I am not near my computer or do not feel like wasting my thoughts by taking the time to write them down. Does that make sense? I like thinking and I like writing but in order to be a good writer, you have to like to them both at the same time. I am having some minor difficulties with this right now and I am hoping that this will change in the future.

From my first week in site, I have this idea that I want to write an entire entry on my host family experience, the school experience, and then my community experience. I have started a couple of these more detailed entries but they wont be ready for a couple of days so for now I just want to give everyone a brief update on what is going on in Granada, what my first week in site was like, etc.

I am now in my ninth day at site. You would think that I would be a little more used to Granada, my work, and my life here after nine days and that I would already be going full steam ahead but if you think that you would be wrong, dead wrong. In nine days, I feel as if I have accomplished nothing (the fact is that I have accomplished nothing) and that the city and my job is in many ways winning the battle. I am sweating profusely due to the heat, the electricity has gone out two times already leaving me without a fan (actually hasn’t been too bad at night), and my work schedule is still totally up in the air. I am meeting Nicas, tourists, and ex-pats living here and although it is good to make contacts, I am not too sure how many of them I actually like. Well, to be fair, I like the Nicas a lot more than the ex-pats and tourists, but it takes a lot more time to relate and build relationships with people of entirely different backgrounds, systems of communications, and culture than myself. I have been pretty stressed worrying about the fact that I haven’t accomplished anything, while reminding myself that everyone and their mother have told me not to expect much in the first month at site. Just relax, take it easy, and enjoy. Well that is great advice, if you don’t have a competition to plan in September for the entrepreneurship course. I am in charge of putting together the competitions in all my four schools. The competition is between all the different student groups who have formed their own businesses and is supposed to be a big deal at the local level as most groups will not be moving onto the regional level. Anyway, I still have no idea what I am doing and 4 of the 6 classes seem really far behind with only five weeks to go.

Ok I am going to breathe right now and try to give you a little more positive image of Granada and my life. Yes, it is crazy right now because I honestly don’t want I am doing and feel lost in Granada but it is also exciting meeting new people, learning the city, and slowly understanding more and more what my actual job will be about. In this case, I must walk before I can run. And in Nicaragua, I must crawl before I can walk. I have already been taking out to dinner three times by ex-pats living in Granada and we chatted about the city and various projects going on. I have been solicited by many others to help out with their community projects and am just weighing some options right now as I try to figure out how much time I will have left after teaching and the work at the NGO. I am becoming much more friendly with the Nicas at my NGO and I think I will learn a lot from them and hopefully form some really solid relationships with working class Nicaraguans. I took a run by the lake while the sun was setting and was able to witness hundreds of Nicaraguan families enjoying the end of the day together. Already 3 teachers have invited me over to their houses to chat and share some food (when I have a free minute, I will go). At my schools, many students have come up to chat with me and find out what the gringo was doing at their school. All of the high schools girls L-O-V-E me and aren’t shy about expressing it (the line between teacher and student is far thinner in Nicaragua, I have already observed) which as bad and inappropriate it is, still can be a confidence booster. I am still waiting on those 22-27 year old girls to start calling…jaja.

I am slowly but surely learning more about the different neighborhoods and streets of Granada and can really see how great it would be to live in a neighborhood and get to have that community feeling. Above all, I am learning by observing and although it can be tedious and boring (I prefer learning by doing), I do recognize that I am learning. I just need to spend a little bit more money on beer this week and knock a few back every night to help me relax.

My first week in site has been an interesting ride, to say the least. Part fun, part stress, part sad, all new, and all different adds up to the Granada rollercoaster ride. One moment I am happy and thrilled to be here, the next moment I am dreading it. One day works goes well, the next day horribly. And for someone like me, who believes that moderation really is the key to life and is able to keep emotions in check, this style of living is taxing. But as they say (who says this I don’t know) the show must go on.

Stay tuned for future detailed installments about my first week observations/thoughts on the host family, classes, and community life.

Go Jaguars!!!