Some funny tidbits of the last few weeks- identity-wise:
In a bus from Somoto to Cusmapa I set next to a 50-year-old-ish man who opened his eyes to ask me:
“You live in Cusmapa, right?”
to which I answered:
“Yes.” He then continued to inquire about my identity:
“And you are Chinese?”
I nearly spit out a gulp of water on his face, and incredulously replied:
“Um. No. I am from America. I am american.”
He pondered on that for a moment before stating with great conviction:
“Ahhhh. But whenever you walk by my house, I say to the children… ‘There goes the Chinese lady.’”
At this point I (as I do a lot here) looked around the bus to see if anyone else was paying attention… really, was this guy TELLING me that I am Chinese? Really?
Of course nobody else was there to share in my shock and awe at the situation.
I turned back to my fellow Cusmapanian and said, voice wavering with laughter:
“My family is from
And he nodded his head in agreement, before responding:
“Yes, but your ancestors are from
Now that I cannot argue.
Lesson one of my identity, thanks to a Cusmapan who probably looks at my round smiley face and assumes I am from an entirely different planet.
One of Lauren and my students, Rimen, has an incredible attitude.
He came to chat with me one day (after missing his piano lesson, then getting angry at ME for not being able to teach him on his own time). Lauren was out of the country visiting her family. He asked,
“Is it true that Lauren is older than you?”
I replied, “Yes, she’s about a year older than I am.”
He looked mighty confused.
“But if she’s older, than why are you fatter?”
(Thanks?)
Ah, yes, Rimen… you are the reason I teach critical thinking.
A + B does not ALWAYS = C.
One afternoon I was chatting with a few of my little chiguines (of about 7-years-old) and they were asking all sorts of questions about my family:
They: “Is it true that your dad is dead?”
Me: “Um. No. My dad is alive.”
They: “Oh. Then what’s his name?”
Me: “Daniel”
They: “Your DAD is DANIEL ORTEGA?” (the president of
Me: (laughing hysterically) “Yes, of course, my dad is Daniel Ortega.”
They: (mouths open wide in shock)
Me: Broma! Broma! (I am JOKING!)
Things I have learned about myself this month:
Older people are fatter than younger people.
My father is the president of a Central American country.
I am Chinese.
Stay tuned to find out what the Nicaraguan people teach me next month about my identity.
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