"...[He] was truly sorry and promised there would be no more dogs killed in the streets. The promise calmed the General, not because he believed it would be kept, but because the good intentions of his aide-de-camp were a consolation to him" (García Márquez's The General in His Labyrinth).
The General in this passage is Simon Bolivar who is recognized as the Great Liberator of [South] America, and he knows more about Colombian culture than I do. He understands that when someone tells you something you want to hear, yet it is not true, it is a gesture of goodwill and not a lie meant as flippant or blatant disrespect. He understands that when someone honors your desires enough to tell you what you want to hear, they are caring for you. For me, reading Colombian literature while experiencing Colombian culture has been a bit like looking at the answers in the back of a textbook.
Last week I got stood up not once, but twice-- by the same person. I was actually "stood up" a lot more than two times, just by different people. Anyhow, when I arrived at my new school a few weeks ago, I was on a mission to find a Spanish teacher. And as it turns out, there are several Spanish teachers, or Castellano teachers as they refer to them here, at my school. One very nice Castellano teacher who spoke decent English said he would be happy to help me learn Spanish. Since the Peace Corps is giving us money to continue Spanish lessons at our site, I told him I would pay him because after arriving in the barrio where I was without 21 other Americans, I was serious about finding a Spanish teacher as soon as possible. He said that we were friends, and he was at my orden, here to help me. So after I asked the typical gringa questions of what day and what time, we had an appointment.
Well, I showed up... and he didn't. After a span of time, another teacher saw me waiting and called my new Spanish teacher who explained that today was his plata pica. Here in Colombia, there are certain days you are not allowed to drive your car or motorcycle depending on the last digit of your license plate number. It applies to everyone, and you will get ticketed if you are caught driving on your public transportation day. Anyhow, my response, delivered lightheartedly but directly, to the other teacher was, "His license plate number didn't change since yesterday and neither did the law, so why did he tell me would come?" Response: "Welcome to Colombia!!!"
Now, I knew to expect this coming here. Still, that doesn't mitigate the frustration I feel when I have made the effort to take yet another startlingly cold shower, put on hot clothes, and take a hot trek by foot or bus to keep an appointment. I teased the teacher a little the next day but did not ask him to meet again because I thought surely he didn't really want to give me lessons, but in a couple of days, he offered again. I gave him a sideways glance and asked if he was sure. Then I proceeded to the "When?" and "What time?" questions. I did notice that his eyes moved around a lot, but I didn't know if it was because I was just asking confusing gringa questions. I gave him my number and asked him to call me if he wasn't going to make it. The next morning, I sent him a text that I was on my way. To spare the time it takes to read an already predictable story, he didn't show up. The excuse this time was something about a medical appointment, but I didn't find out until after I had waited 30-45 minutes in the school courtyard, and I had showed up 20-30 minutes late, trying to be Colombian. I was more than just a little perturbed this time.
I've conducted problem-solving interviews since then, and this is what the Colombians advise:
1) Call, don't text, someone 30 minutes before the appointed time and see what they say. If they are on their way, leave in about an hour. If they are doing something, give it another 2-3 hours and call again.
2) Look at their eyes when making an appointment. If they are shifty, like I had noticed before, it's not because they are confused, it's because they don't really mean it.
3) And as GGM narrates above, take it as a kind gesture when someone tells you they'll give you lessons, or invite you to visit, or take you to the nearest island to visit their family. They really do wish it... or they think you do, and they like you, so therefore they are saying it. Smile.
I'm waiting for the gift of Colombian discernment.
Other updates:
I have a new host family, and I am cooking for myself. It's been only one week, and I feel different already being able to control what I eat.
Carnaval is next weekend, and my host mom from Barranquilla is calling me everyday to confirm that I'm coming. She's making the arrangements, which we repeat each time; I just have to get in the taxi. Barranquilla's carnaval is the world's second largest, and people from all over the world are coming to celebrate something like Mardi Gras meets futbol stadium furor. There will be dancing, and there will be alcohol- both flowing into the streets. I'm hoping to manifest a costume or fun mask before next weekend. Here's my host mom's marimonda mask. Its origins are making fun of Arab immigrants, and the Colombians think it is hilarious.
And lastly, I am slowly making my way into Cartagena's nightlife. Cartagena is a fun, quirky, and youthful crossing of bohemes from all over Latin America and Europe. Last night, I found this club with some other volunteers. The band is from Holland, and they are playing something between the polka and the Colombian cumbia.
Fun times. I'm still in the observation phase at my site, so I don't have anything to report work-related. I'll begin my co-teaching with other English teachers in a couple of weeks along with offering community English classes, English classes for teachers of all subjects, and an English club for the advanced students. Lots of work coming up, and I'm looking forward to it.
Carnaval post coming soon!
Love you all.
