When it Rains, It Pours

Hi folks,

It has been a while. A LONG while. Well, I can attest that in my two months being MIA I've been busy just trying to keep my head above water. I withheld blogging until the storm passed, lest I be “that girl” posting a flurry of woe-is-me updates. So yes, I've been noticeably absent, and with reason.

The past two months Nicaragua has thrown me a curve ball...or two or three. I'll summarize what exactly transpired, but I'd rather not rub salt in the (still-tender) wounds, so I'll make this brief. Spare me your pity, life has decided to stop shitting on me and things are on the up and up.

I got robbed. Twice. So yes, things bring my tally up to three magical robberies for me in Nicaragua thus far. I know that the most important things in life money can't buy, and that in theory in the Peace Corps I should learn to live with less commodities, but I'll go ahead and say it- I HAPPEN TO LIKE MY THINGS. And I prefer they not be swiped right out from under me. Moreover, I'm living as a volunteer and essentially sacrificing two years of a salary, creature comforts, family, friends, and my country in general for the benefit of Nicaragua. And how does Nicaragua thank me for that? By fucking taking advantage of me every chance it gets. I could so a whooooooole lot more on this note, but I've already spent plenty of time being bitter and spiteful, and I'm trying to be the resilient PCV that Peace Corps wants me to be and let it roll off my back.

In case you're curious, the first robbery was in mid-May, I was riding my bike from Diriomo back to Diria after giving a class when a group of teenage punks encircled me on their bikes, demanded my bike, backpack, digital camera, cell phone, school books, sunglasses, everything and then rode away snickering all the way. I desperately flagged down a taxi driver and between my heaving and sobbing explained what happened and he graciously took me home free of charge. I then proceeded to go to the police station, identify the culprits, and was officiously told that they cops could do NOTHING to help me, because the little bastards were minors. Apparently in Nicaragua if minors commit a crime, the police have to catch them in the act to impose any punishment. I sat in that police station, making a grand show, wailing about the grave injustice of the world and looked this one 14 year-old girl in the eyes and let me tell you, she didn't even blink. Of course the parents of this little gaggle of teenagers took no responsibility, and pretty much wrote-off their own offspring a long time ago, leaving them to their own devices and to roam the streets sniffing out trouble. That struck me as devastating. Still doesn't make me any more sympathetic for their little shithead kids who jumped me. And of course there's no way to press charges for compensation, because God knows nobody in Nicaragua has $70 to reimburse me for my L.L. Been backpack, or my electronics. Nor would the police pursue the case. On a final note of this whole ordeal, I will say that in some twisted way my maladies have made me feel sorry for the heinous lack of justice in Nicaragua. It's not only frustrating, but terrifying and discouraging to live in a anarchic world. Think about it- if you know the police are not going to lift a finger, and turn a blind eye, why wouldn't everyone just go around thieving recklessly? In a sad way, the little punks who robbed me were probably astute enough to realize that they can run amok in their country and nobody will do a damn thing about it. Sad.

The second robbery was much less scarier for me, but left me much more enraged. A cousin of my then-boyfriend was selling a used fridge at a cheap price. I, having recently moved into my own little place, was in the market for a fridge and leaped at the offer. A little necessary background info- everything imported is super expensive here. Not only are import taxes tacked onto the US prices, but because of scarcity of quality products here Nicas pay an arm and a leg for the same things we turn up our nose at on the Walmart clearance aisle. No joke. That cheapo costume jewelry you bought at Kohl's for under five bucks? Yeah that would fetch a pretty penny. Double, triple, sometimes even quadruple the price. So you can imagine how inflated prices are for more costly items, like, fridges. So the deal was for $80 I would be getting a medium-sized, slightly used fridge in good working condition. My error was that in trusting this “friend of a friend” I didn't get anything in writing. But, I was assured, this man is a lawyer, and and upstanding person who if nothing but for his reputation's sake would uphold his end of the deal. Well I paid the money. And waited. And two months later still had no fridge. I went to talk to this man in person in his place of work. He was overly gracious, chatty, gregarious even and I left having banished any of my doubts. How very wrong I was. In a country lacking a wide pool of professionals, the people here who do have letters behind their names think they're hot shit. And, for being the elite who do have an education, they know exactly how to exploit their poorer countrymen. And foreigners, apparently. After my two months of patiently waiting I was told that, oh , wouldn't you know while the fridge was in the shop being cleaned they technicians discovered it had a minor flaw. And oh, dear Elizabeth, can' you just pay me $50 more to fix it up? He said he'd throw in a one-year warranty for good measure. Hell. No. I politely told him that I was no longer interested in buying his defunct fridge, and that I would like him to give me my money immediately. The next day he conveniently “went on vacation” and fled town for a few days. My boyfriend finally tracked him down and fists flew...literally. I'm glad I wasn't there to see the grand show. Of course his cousin denied owing me any money, and my HUGE error was in not demanding a contract upfront. Huge error. I'll be kicking myself for that one for a long time, if not to the grave.

Update: I swallowed my pride, and the steep price tag, and bought a mini fridge yesterday. For the longest time I was up on my soapbox- and up in arms- about how I was going to march to this man's house and demand the justice I deserve. Well if my fiasco with t he thieving teenagers taught me anything, is that there is no such thing as “due justice” in Nicaragua, and if you can't settle things hombre-a-hombre they''ll never be settled at all. So I hauled myself to Managua with a very dear friend of mine and her family, who, knowing the whole ordeal helped me finagle a good price on a good fridge. I have to remind myself that there are good, kind souls amidst this vast sea of poverty, corruption and waywardness.

Ok, so in case it wasn't implicit from the last story, I had a stint dating a Nicaraguan. After three months his true colors really shone through, and I realized he wasn't the man I thought he was. Yes, we did duke it out over the fridge and how he led me to believe his cousin was a trustworthy person, but it was much more than that that ultimately led me to break things off. At the very least he taught me much about the character and quality of people in Nicaragua, and that I'm not such a shrewd judge of it. That and my Spanish got wicked good for bickering with him all the time. No lie. Hey now, if people here want to take advantage of me, my money and my belongings at every chance they get here, I can learn to capitalize a little bit myself. That and he was pretty much free labor and painted my new house for me free of charge while he was still lovestruck. As they like to say here, “hay que aprovechar.” (Strike while the iron's hot, or literally, “one must seize the opportunity.”)

Oh, and in case I wasn't already beleaguered enough with two robberies and a bad break-up on my plate, then I got a parasite. And amoebas. And stomach worms. All at once. I had never felt so disgusted with myself before. Nausea, vomiting, a bloated stomach (full of bugs...ewww!) and fever were a few of the charming symptoms. Even my cats avoided me- they ran away for two days after seeing me violently vomit so much. But I'm happy to report that the Peace Corps issued me some heavy-duty meds, and I have been effectively de-wormed, de-amoebaedd, de-parasited and detoxified entirely. I'll spare the gory details, but let me just say that pooping worms for three days straight is a truly humbling experience that I would never wish upon any one of you reading this.

So on the good news front: I moved into a new house! It was a real fixer-upper, but with my then-companion we fixed it up real nice. It's got a living room, a bar, a tiny bedroom and a bathroom. Modest though it is, it suits me just fine. And I must admit, with my two new KITTIES it is just as cozy as can be. Yep, I adopted to kittens. Tuna and Sparky, respectively. If you never really saw me as I cat person, well that makes two of us, but a turn of fate dropped them into my home and I have been enamored ever since. If you're interested, I'd love to receive cat toys down here. They're obsolete. Then again, if people can't afford to buy their kids toys here, there's no way their poor pets are gonna be regaled anything. They're my new cuddly little friends :)

Speaking of friends, throughout all of this nonsense life has thrown at me as of late I have had EXCELLENT friends to lend me a hand. Nicaraguans and PCVs alike, you know who you are. In the Peace Corps, when it rains it truly pours. The beautiful thing is, there's always somebody to share their umbrella with you. My host family, Elba, Alex, John, Meg, Steve, Donna, Zeneida, my students, counterparts, etc have been a great scaffolding of support for me here.

Well folks, as you can see I'm thinking things can only get better from here. In two weeks I'm heading to Mexico on a cruise with my family, so if that's not a little R&R to look forward to than I don't know what is. So excited for scrumptious food, hot water and Starbucks!

I'm going to make a concerted effort to blog more regularly. I cringe to write tediously long posts like this, because in condensing so much of life into so little text I know I come off as dramatic. Well, that I'm not, but a lazy writer I am. So I'm going to resolve to pick up the slack on that. Before coming to Nicaragua I remember scanning blogs of PCVs already here, and was aghast to read one post that simply read: “Yes, I'm still alive and I'm still here.” Well joke's on me now, but yes I am alive, and still here, and still have no intentions of packing up and heading home despite recent hardships. It's true what they say, Peace Corps people are a hardy bunch.

A final note- After my series of unfortunate events, and with living in my new house and all, I've been super paranoid about locking up at night, not opening the door for anyone after 7 pm, hiding valuables when I'm not home, etc. Well this past Wednesday at 9 pm I hear a rapping on my door and debate grabbing my butcher knife and bracing myself for the worst. I ask who it is, hear broken English, and warily crack open the window. It was two of my students bringing me a hot sugary drink and looking to stop by and chat. Heartwarming. So you see, I'm renewing my faith poco a poco. As much as I bitch and moan, I must also acknowledge the outstanding people that are here too.

Elizabeth