It's interesting to observe the housing dynamics of the third world.
For instance, practically nobody lives alone here.
There are a variety of reasons. The most salient perhaps being poverty; obviously when there's a lack of economic resources, people pool together to share what they have and scrape by, housing included. Also, it's uncommon for people to just build their own homes. The tradition is that houses are passed down in families, and so long as the walls haven't completely crumbled the house is livable for generations to come. Case in point, I live in a colonial house that is appraised at being a hundred years old. Another reason why it's so rare for people to live solo is the Latin culture. Families tend to stay together, at not just on a nuclear level- more often than not aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, the cousins of in-laws, that ex-husband who still hangs around, his illegitimate kids, etc. etc. ALL live under the same roof. Many Americans like me who prize their independence would find this family-cramming horrifying (and believe you me, I do not find the idea of living with my in-laws pleasant.) But to Nicaraguans, it's the norm.
In fact, they enjoy it. If I had a córdoba for everytime somebody told me “Oh, you live alone...¡qué triste!” I'd be filthy stinking rich. Besides gringos, the only people who live alone down here are widows and widowers, the rich, or the forsaken. Essentially unless you're bereft of a spouse, have the dinero to do so, or your family has disowned you for whatever reason (alcoholism, delinquency, etc.) you live accompanied by your family. This includes newlyweds, and not just until they get their feet on the ground economically, but generally for life. It's common for grandmothers to raise their grandchildren while the moms go off to look for work. College students, too, generally live at home. Room and board is simply an expense very few families here can afford to make. Daily thousands of students who live within a 3-hour radius of Managua or other major cities make the trek to and from class via long, arduous bus rides (and no public bathrooms, I might add.)
Entonces, I am the exception. And for as much as Nicaraguans claim to not mind living on top of each other, I sure do get a lot of eager visitors. I too have taken a liking to the frequent visits. People who come to visit me see my house as a refuge, a place where nobody will nag or holler at them to mop the floor, wash the dishes, etc. There are no ornery grandpas to chide, no screaming babies, no disapproving in-laws. Just the profe and her two fluffy cats.
My house is tiny, but considering it's all mine makes it a castle by Nica standards. Accordingly, my younger students see it as a playground to color and play hide and seek. My counterparts see it as a tranquil place to escape their own chaotic households and take the edge off a long day with a cup of coffee. My former host sisters see it as a place to have sleepovers and stay up all night prattling with me. My older students see it as an open office in which I'm always available to help with English homework. I guess to make a lurid analogy my house is like the Neverland Ranch of Nicaragua- brimming with happy children, fun times, sleepovers...the creepiness factor of Michael Jackson and his fetishes aside.
I'm glad that my casita is not only a haven for me, but for my community, too.
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