My teacher here, Maria, has taught me many things about life and struggle (almost synonymous terms here) in Nicaragua. She has a rough and slangy way of speaking, like many Nicas. She dresses casually and always looks a little rumpled, yet has a quiet confidence and assertiveness lacking in women from less modern countries (like Guatemala). Maria is the type of person who looks you in the eye and really tries to press you to explain all of your opinions and thoughts.
Maria’s main concern is for her children, and making enough money to support them and give them a better life than the one she had. She is 28 years old and has had 3 children so far (the oldest, Melanie, 9 years old), all of whom live with her extended family (12 other people) in one house. Maria doesn’t make a lot of money, I’d say probably $10-12 a day, and her husband was laid off from his factory job and doesn’t seem too motivated to find a new one. Although her income is low and she shares a house, she takes pride in the fact that she herself makes money to feed and clothe her children, and if her husband wants drinking money he has to ask her first.
Life has made her somewhat rough and unenthusiastic, and when telling me about her daily routine she doesn’t change composure or get angry when speaking about how her brother’s wives don’t help with the cooking so the burden of cooking for everyone in the family falls on her and her mother’s shoulders, because of course the unemployed men in the family won’t step up and help out around the house when their wives are working. Or how her husband does not help with the children, and she considers him too irresponsible to even be left alone with them. She explained with detachment how the water has been shut off to her house the past few days by the municipality and she’s been getting up at 1 AM every morning just to check if she can get a little water for the day’s washings, drinking, or cooking. When I reply “Well that’s awful, why would it be turned off in your area but not in other areas of the city?” She simply shakes her head and simply says, “A saber” (“Who knows”) resignedly. Its as if years of turmoil and hardship have made her put her head down, immune to the trials and tribulations of life, simply walking forward day to day, doing whatever it takes to survive, ignoring the injustices and injuries.
When this attitude really struck me the most was one day when she came back from the bathroom after a break, and asked me if I could keep a secret. She whipped a pregnancy test out of her purse and asked if I thought it was positive. After staring at the thing for a few seconds trying to figure it out (of course they make pregnancy tests intended for the less educated of the third world the MOST complicated and hard to read things ever) I looked up, unsure from the blank look on her face if me saying “Yep, it’s definitely positive” was going to be good or bad news. She just stared ahead, again with the blank expression. “Oh… ok. Another baby I don’t want… Another kid I have to feed.” For a second she looked distressed, and I didn’t really know what to say. The impoverished mother of three in Nicaragua (where legal abortions aren’t an option) having another baby is very different and has a whole different set of challenges than unwanted pregnancies of young girls in the U.S.
For a few minutes she sat there with her head down, me trying desperately to cheer her up. Then she looked up, and much to my surprise we continued with the lesson. From that moment on, although she still hasn’t told her family, she somehow has reconciled with this latest trial. The only other thing I ever heard about the baby on the way was when she seemed somewhat excited about having gotten a really cheap maternity dress at the market. I honestly don’t know how she, and many women like her, find the strength and determination to keep moving forward and take everything in stride.
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