Unexpected Adoption Day

Anytime I feel like I am forming a routine here in Barranquilla something happens that completely disrupts the flow. Many years of traveling have taught me how to adapt to multiple scenarios that interfere with my path, but embracing Colombian culture is unlike anything I've encountered before. Residing in a country that's making progress toward overcoming social instability has shown me a thing or two about patience and embracing the little things in life. People carry a unique perspective of compassion that one would not expect. Easy to say this mentality has taken its toll on me over the past seven weeks, and I can only see its force grow stronger in my future.

Yesterday was especially enduring considering that it imprinted a mark that will remain for the rest of my stay in Barranquilla. I had just arrived home from teaching and was so hungry I barely noticed my host aunt Ruth leaning over the bushes outside my bedroom. It wasn't until I dropped off my books and nearly trucked it toward the kitchen, that I came to realize the odd layout before me. Curiosity always kills the cat, therefore one can imagine how my decision to snoop tattooed a one-way path on my current journey in Colombia.

"Ay dios mio," Ruth muttered as my eyes caught sight of the turtle devouring the leaves off her luscious plants. The image I just presented is identical to my perspective at that moment, assuming she was annoyed with the little morrocoya. Ruth caught me by surprise when she starting speaking of her concern for the poor animal who had found herself trapped. She went on to say that a turtle had not found a way into her yard in over eight years.

I personally did not see the problem at first. Like in the United States, my thought has always been that its best to set animals free and let them find their way naturally. I listened to how she defined her concerns of the reoccurring arroyos and reckless drivers who won't even bother to stop for a child crossing the street. Basically, the morrocaya is doomed to death if placed outside the perimeter of our property.

My host brother Anderson, told me that whenever turtles find their way onto someone's property they are usually always taken in with no questions asked. He continued to explain that since they are unaccounted for on the streets, a better way of life is offered in the safe perimeter of a home. That night, we spent a solid two hours checking every nook and corner of the yard to make sure Patricia had no way of unknowingly escaping to her death.

At first I thought Anderson was exaggerating when he told me that it was common for costeños to take in wild turtles. That changed during the second hour of classes today as I was speaking to one of the other English teachers while the students did their assignments. I showed her a picture of the morrocaya Patrícia, and told her how Anderson and I plan to take care of her. She laughed and reflected about how she rescued her own turtle that she had taken in over a year ago.

It seems that my feet have touched the sand of a new path here in Barranquilla. I can say I have ever owned a turtle in my life, let alone one that has found its way to me from the wild. Lucky for Patrícia and I, we are surrounded by people who have acquainted this before. It did not cross my mind that part of the cultural immersion process would include the adoption of a wild animal. But when you are living on the coast, you always accept what comes your way without question or concern.

The Mango Man

Most people associate cultural norms to an entire country, disregarding the fact that interior regions obtain different traditions relative to environment. Colombia is considered the second most biodiverse country in the world. Containing many different species of plants and animals, it is hard to imagine that people scattered across this wonderland, share the exact same practices. Everything from cultural traditions down to simple daily routines, are impacted by the immediate environment people are a part of.

Now I have only been in the country for six weeks, having explored three cities and after this weekend that number with change to four. But with what I have witnessed so far, I can make a reflection on the unique culture of the costeño in comparison to the interior regions of Colombia. There is no better way to picture this culture clash than to put oneself in the shoes of the "Mango Man."

He is very particular to the calles of Departamento Atlántico. Everyone knows who he is without needing to ask nor even consider his purpose on the street. One might think that I am leading up to state that mango man is meant to sell mangos, but that is not necessarily the case. He embodies the stereotype of the costeño by carrying a lifestyle of leisure and hard work at once. Each day is spent picking the fruit off of the many wild mango trees in Barranquilla, and sharing the goods with anyone willing to have a taste for around 1.500 pesos. Close to the early evening he will share in the indulgence himself because who cares, he is a costeño.

The mango man may be poor or even have a family of ten. But those questions are never asked because nosiness is not the way of the people from the coast (unless you are a foreigner of course). When it is really hot he will seek relaxation under the shade of a tree with a large canopy. Maybe he will sit there for a couple minutes or even stay for hours to sell mangos until the heat is driven out by the sunset. None of it is planned because there is no point when rain can start falling from the sky at any moment, engulfing the streets in deadly flash floods. The one thing that never changes is the mindset that all is alright and whatever happens just goes.

"Take it easy," the mango man will say. The environment on the coast is uncontrollable and especially unpredictable. Nothing can be done to alter things, so the best way to approach life here is to smile and accept whatever comes your way. If it's hot, find shade. If there are floods, find temporary refuge. The only thing one must never do, is carry any expectations of the weather. This is the mentality of the costeño.

Other departments in Colombia may argue that the costeño is the laziest person in the country who spends six hours a day indoors to avoid the hot sun. But if you were from Bogotá with year round 60 degree Fahrenheit weather, of course your perception of environment would be quite different. The mango man lives a simple life, and he probably did not choose it for himself. But what makes his costeño culture so unique is his ability to accept what life gave him.

I Love Cheap Thrills

I haven't had many classes this week since my 11th graders are on vacation. The reason being, they missed their own summer vacation since they were stuck studying for the Colombian version of the SAT, which they finally took this past Sunday. With that, I offered to assist Nayibe-one of the English teachers-with her other classes to lessen her workload a bit. Nayibe expressed excitement for me taking over different grade levels because apparently, they all have questioned why the native was not present in their classrooms.

I do not normally teach younger levels because the Ministry of Education is in need of teaching fellows for older students who have to present a certain level of English proficiency in order to succeed academically. To keep a long explanation short, it is vital that I focus my native skills on students who are about to exit high school and move onto the collegiate level of their education.

La escuela de Antonio José de Sucre is quite small, so one can imagine how quickly word passed of my assistance with 7th grade this morning. Barely taking three steps out of the classroom, I was swarmed by a group of students. My Spanish may not be terrible but believe me when I say I need much practice before I find myself fluent. The biggest test I've had yet, was having over 30 young costeños rapidly screaming questions at me en español. My attention deficit went haywire as I struggled to find a focus point to begin with.

It took about 3 minutes before I processed that the students swarming me, were the other group of 7th graders who wanted a chance with the native just like the others. Understanding their curiosity, I complied as they dragged me into a classroom by each limb. I was pushed into a chair as all of them crowded around me on the floor, toppling over each other to get a closer spot. Then the questions fired up again… ¿De dónde eres? ¿Qué es tu nombre? ¿Tienes un novio, hermano, hijo? Each time I gave an answer the room would erupt with screams and 5 more questions would be shot my way.

A headache started to form on my temple as my brain kept rapidly translating between Spanish and English. Of course when I told them my name was Brianna they all started to sing "work, work, work," and asked if I liked Rihanna. Then they proceeded to beg me to sing for them in English. I am the type of person who turns beet red when someone asks me to sing. Unless I have a few beers in me or a couple shots of tequila, my answer will almost always be a hard NO. The hope in the many pairs of eyes before me were unlike anything I have witnessed when being asked this question in the past.

Against my own judgement, I found myself belting out the lyrics of "Cheap Thrills" by Sia. The students started clapping the baseline and repeating my English verses. I forced myself to ignore the embarrassment I felt, knowing that this moment was very well making their day. When I finished they started to ask me what kind of Colombian music I was interested in. I have not heard much Colombian music other than reggaetone. Trying to remain honest but not disappointing, I told them I enjoyed the Barranquilla native Shakira, and her new song "Bicicleta." Once again, the students all stood up, clapping and singing the lyrics as they took each other's hands in dance.

The enthusiasm these students have is indescribable. I have yet to find a place in the United States with this unique character and passion. They drive me up a wall sometimes, but I honestly feel that I get to see them for who they truly are. As hard as it is to get used to kids screaming and dancing around the room when I am trying to be serious, I actually get to witness the freedom of their culture being alive in the classroom. It is difficult to tame, it can be messy, but it is responsible for the most beautiful experiences I have witnessed as a teacher.