There are little pockets of indigenous populations all around Costa Rica, including two reservations just out of the valley and down the highway and up the mountain from my town. Except for their darker skin, round faces and history of oppression, most indigenous people live just like every other rural-dwelling Tico. But there are still some families so purely indigenous that they rarely come down from their tucked-away rancheros in the mountains. These reclusive families are usually very poor, living off the land and nothing else. They are often shy and timid, unaccustomed to the revving motors and fast-talking city folk of the pueblos.
On Tuesday a senora from one of these families asked my host mom for a favor. She was so shy she barely raised her voice above a whisper in explaining that her 13-year-old daughter had just died and could my host mom please buy a casket for the child. The child had been vomiting and had a headache, and when her condition didn’t improve after a day or two, the parents got worried, put the girl on a horse and took her to the hospital. She died before they got there. Hannia, my host mom, jumped into action, first calling a morgue, then cold-calling everyone she could think of to raise the $350 to buy the box. When the money had all been pledged, my host dad drove an hour away to pick up the casket.
Hannia, of course, was a mess. The image of the terrified, grieving woman mustering the courage to ask for help, such heartbreaking help, was shocking. The thought of losing one of her three daughters also lingered in her mind. The girl was about to start high school.
So while I have been fundraising for navy blue socks and eraser tops, my host mom has been fundraising for a casket to bury a teenage girl, who one minute had an upset stomach and the next minute was dead. So quickly my community went from being the ones in need to the ones helping the needy. There is always someone with more and always someone with less. The balance of it all makes me feel better.
1 comment:
Of all the things I've learned in my adult life this is the most poignant--people can be hard, difficult and stone cold, but for the most part, people want help each other.
I see it as the beauty of human nature. You help me. I help you. You, in turn, help your students, who, at the end of the day, teach me.
In the United States we become accustomed to seeing and being the hard, difficult and stone cold people of the world, but deep-down at heart (I hope) we all want to be better people.
The difference is that your host mom knows how to show it all the time.
Good for her. Maybe one day I'll grow up to be like her. Or, at least, I'll learn from you because you learned from her.
L.
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