Dandome cuenta

Being in the capital for language training this week has been really interesting. The language classes have been fine, although not revolutionary, and being at my original host family’s house has actually been pretty great. I’ve been realizing that I might not ever become accustomed to living in the fishbowl; I prefer the anonymity of city life. In the city, we have that. I remember thinking it strange when I arrived that the houses are actually walled in on three sides and gated facing the street, so they are actually more isolated here than most parts of Portland, anyways.

In some of the conversations we’ve had this week I realized I have had some things to get off my chest. For now, what it boils down to is that the opportunism here, which probably exists in all developing countries, has me feeling constantly guarded. I feel disinclined to share, of my self or of my things. It bothers me that my levels of generosity and openness are shockingly low here. The only explanation I can find is a fear (is it well-founded?) that if I give an inch, many here will expect a mile. I’m not proud that my fear of being taken advantage of is preventing me from forming close relationships and opening myself up to those in my community. The custom of demanding and taking instead of asking and thanking me prende mi sangre (makes my blood boil). Even when it’s not directed at me. Give me a candy. Bring me water. Buy my product. Get me tal cosa. Take my picture (this one is exclusively directed at me). This is tricky because lots of people share with me, and I am always gracious (even though I am teased for it). I want to reciprocate, but I hesitate. There are plenty of people who practice good manners, both in the cities and in my campo. They show me that it not culturally unreasonable to expect it. Living in another culture has and continues to illuminate my own in surprising clarity.

We watched a Dominican movie, Sanky Panky, yesterday afternoon. It’s a satire about Dominican and American stereotypes that glorifies and perpetuates, most egregiously, the practice of being a Sanky Panky: one whose activities and efforts are directed to finding an American who will llevar you to the US. I think of it as visa hunting. I don’t think it’s funny and I certainly don’t think it’s something to be proud of. I don’t have any statistics about what is talk and what portion is real desire (as wonderful as the US is, I can’t imagine that all those who talk about it would actually go, given the opportunity), but there is a lot of talk about it. As far as relationships go here, this idea of being pursued as a means of getting llevared totally and completely turns me off to the idea of getting involved in the first place.

Not all Dominicans expect to receive. Plenty of Dominicans are gracious. Not all Dominicans are looking for their ticket to the American Dream. But some do. Many aren’t. And some are. And so, I am finding that my walls have gone up. Now, how do I bring them down?