Mi Casa es Su Casa…alright, it’s just mi casa

When I got home from shopping in Chalate on Wednesday, Angelita greeted me with this exciting news:  ¡Hay luz en la casita!

There’s light in the little house!

I don’t know that I’ve talked about this on my blog yet, but I was supposed to move into my own house at the end of my second training, back in mid-June.  We’re only required to stay with a host family for the first two months in our site, then we’re free to move into our own places – which most volunteers choose to do, being independent American young’uns.  This custom of solo living tends to raise eyebrows in a lot of communities, especially in ones that have never had a volunteer before.  Living by yourself is considered pretty bizarre here.  Salvadorans almost never do it – even middle-aged, bachelor men tend to live with their mamas.  (I should point out the singular exception of the capital, where many people live by themselves – but San Salvador tends to be more cosmopolitan than the rest of the country.  Which isn’t hard.)  Most people from the campo have lived their whole lives in one little town, which is the very center of gravity for them.  They tend not to orbit very far out from this center – some people here go their whole lives without ever leaving the department they were born in.  Their friends and family usually live in the same area – which places an incredible emphasis on family which we globe-trotting Americans don’t often have.

Lucky for me, my community has had experience with independent Americans, and my host family showed me the house I would move into the first week I was here.  It’s a small, one-room, cinder-block square, that lacks a bathing area and a pila (though it does have it’s own latrine).  The biggest obstacle to moving in, though, was the fact that there was no electricity.  I was hoping they would fix it while I was gone for a month during PST2, but I guess there were some problems with getting it hooked up , even though it was already wired.

I came home to the frustrating explanation of “It’ll be fixed soon.”  The problem with that sentiment, is that the Salvadoran notion of “soon” varies wildly.  “Soon” could mean tomorrow, or next week, or next month – or even next year.  I continued to ask about it, almost daily, because I didn’t want them to think I’d forgotten about moving into it.  And while I waited, I bought the things I would need to move into my house, so when the light was on, I would be ready.  I bought a bed, a refrigerator, a two-burner stove with a gas tank, dishes, and a dish rack.  Within a week of coming home, I was ready to move in – but there was still no light.

I was starting to lose hope of ever moving – when Angelita made her gleeful announcement.  It was already 4 pm when she told me, but by golly, I’d already waited a month, and refused to wait one more minute.  I surprised her by immediately beginning to carry my things into my new house.  My casita is right below my host family’s house, which I’m glad for.  Aside for the obvious facts that I still need to use their house to bathe and wash clothes, I really like my host family a lot.  I didn’t hate living with them – I just needed my own space.

Angelita surprised me by crying a little when I had finished moving all my stuff.  I patiently reminded her that I was only moving about ten yards away, and that I’d be over at her house daily to shower.  I promised to come over regularly to eat her soup, even if she put fish eyeballs in it – which made her laugh.

There’s no denying that my casita is ugly.  Like I said, it’s a cinder-block square, vaguely reminiscent of Soviet-style apartment housing.  But I can’t help thinking that it’s beautiful – because it’s all mine.  This is the first time I’ve ever lived alone in my life, and I’m taking as much pride in it as if it were my first studio apartment in the big city. 

Of course, I have a stunning view of the mountains and jungle, which I would never have gotten in a city apartment.  Don’t worry, I’ve got pictures to prove it:

My jungle

The view from my front yard

My casita

My very own latrine!

The “bedroom half” of my one-room house

The “kitchen half” – view from the front door

The road outside my house

I’m going to finish this post up with a request.  As you can see, my walls are bare and ugly.  I’d really like to cover them with pictures, photos, and letters from home.  For the Ropp side of my family, I’ll be at the wedding, and I’d love it if you could bring a couple pictures of  you and your families for me (for those of you with little guys, I’d love some drawings from them, too).  For the Chapter side of my family, it sounds like we’re gonna try to make it down to Toms River somewhere around August 9 or 10.  For everyone else, send them to my mom in Las Vegas, and she can tuck them in a package for me.  Don’t send them to me yourself, because for whatever reason, even though packages get to me just fine, letters only seem to come through about 50% of the time.  So unless you’re planning a package for me, just send them to my mom, and she can get them to me.  Thanks everyone!